Authors: M.D. Hall
If the man had any strong political opinions, he kept them to himself.
When discrete enquiries were made at, what was to become, Black’s old law firm, both the staff and partners were fiercely loyal.
After digging for a while, he gave up, forced to conclude that apart from a marriage that failed, because two talented young professionals were too busy with their careers to get to know each other any better than when they dated, this man was as clean as they come. This meant he was incorruptible as well. It was impossible to trust a man who was beyond pressure, or blackmail. In any negotiations, his hand could not be forced.
No, Gerry Wye did not like Hugo Black, at all.
Δ
Hugo waited until they were alone in their flyer. ‘Did I make a mistake?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Liz replied. ‘If you’d acceded to his demand he would have walked all over you, and…’ she paused as though wondering whether to voice what she was thinking. Hugo's silence encouraged her to continue, ‘…I don’t trust Gerry Wye.’
‘Good,’ Hugo smiled, ‘I thought it was just me. What’s Tala up to? She seemed intent on leaving us out of the loop
,
and now she does a complete turn around. I can't pretend I know what’s going on
,
but I was wondering...’
‘If I would keep my eyes open?’
‘Yes.’
Liz smiled. ‘Anyone might think you didn't trust
her
.’
Hugo, looking more serious replied. ‘She doesn't act arbitrarily and,’ he permitted himself a little smile, ’I don't think it's because she feels guilty.’
Liz's response completed his line of thinking. ‘Now she chooses to leave the four out. It's like a game of musical chairs, and you know what happens next?’
‘Everyone will do anything to get the next chair. We know what they’re doing, all we now need to learn is what they hope to achieve.’
‘It’s odd,’ Liz mused, ‘they knew we were desperate and would have done almost anything, to get out of the predicament with the asteroid. But now, with the danger behind us…it doesn’t make sense. You're right, we need to find out what game they’re playing.’
Hugo, satisfied there was nothing else they could usefully do, sat back in his seat, closed his eyes and decided to relax for the remaining six minutes of the journey.
Liz, for her part, looked at her boss and began to formulate a plan. He had to be kept out of it, he was far too important to lose the trust of either the Te, or the four.
Neither she, nor Hugo could possibly know that losing the trust of the Te was of no consequence, whatsoever.
Δ Ω
Three days after the meeting with the President, Liz found her opportunity to uncover more about their Te'an visitors. It came about, purely by chance, following a site visit - she was standing in for Hugo - which had gone on long after dark. She returned to her office, using her personal anti-grav
car
.
All TeCorp personnel used small anti-grav transports, that were less sophisticated than the Te’an originals. For a start, they were virtually indistinguishable from standard cars. Where Te’an craft were open, relying upon energy fields to protect their occupants from the elements, the Earth bound versions still relied upon roofs and windows. Also, they were restricted to TeCorp sites and programmed to follow the existing road network.
About to enter her office, she overheard voices coming from the suite used by the Te; usually, the Te’ans had left before evening. Whoever was there would not expect Liz to be in the building, her office was in darkness and, until moments before, her
car
was not in its usual space.
The Te’ans lived in apartments on lower floors in the office complex, and so it was likely they were walking towards one of the teleport stations. With an uncharacteristic lack of judgement, she removed her shoes and made her way, as quietly as possible, towards the sound of the voices. Drawing closer to the sound, she could make out the voices as belonging to Tala and Beron. He was doing most of the talking, and all she could make out was: ‘Garnoth, needs to be told…’ then something from Tala she was unable to make out, followed by Beron again, ‘the time taken to conclude this…’ a gap, and finally, ‘Black is beginning to suspect…’
Beron’s voice then cut off sharply. Fearful, she had made a noise, or they had some technology that could detect
eavesdroppers,
she turned and ran to the nearest teleport station where she thought of the car park, which then materialised as the corridor faded out of view.
Quickly slipping her shoes back on, she stepped off the teleport platform and briskly walked to her
car,
the only one in the park.
Tala, having sent Beron away, walked over to the window at the end of the corridor where, only moments before, she had received notification, courtesy of her cortical implant, of an unauthorised presence in the Te’an office section. Looking out of the window, she saw Liz’s small
car
glide away. This changed things markedly. The conclusion that Liz Corcoran had heard everything Beron had said was the only safe one. Thinking it through quickly
,
but thoroughly, she decided what needed to be done. Gerry Wye, the US President’s Chief of Staff had been pressing for a private meeting. It was time to accelerate the timeframe of her second meeting, she would return Wye’s calls.
Liz looked in her rear view mirror, and saw the elegant curves of the office complex, now darkly silhouetted against a full moon rising behind it, presenting an altogether more sinister aspect. A single pale light on the floor she had just vacated, now a malevolent eye within which, she knew stood Tala, watching, scheming. Cursing to herself, she realised matters had become a great deal more difficult, and dangerous. She swept down the road towards her apartment, glancing at the mirror a lot more than she normally would.
The following day, she arranged another site meeting, and insisted Hugo attend. He knew better than to ask why and simply went along with it. Once they were far enough from TeCorp headquarters for her to be satisfied they could not be overheard, she told Hugo of what had happened the previous night.
‘It could mean something and nothing,’ he replied, ‘although at a guess, it’s more likely to be something. We need to keep alert to anything different. If we went to the President with gut feelings, they’d cart us off and I couldn’t blame them. You can't take any more risks, we’re both on their radar.’
Liz nodded, knowing that she would disobey her boss. Her plan needed a lot more work under the radar, including his radar.
Ω
On the same day, Tala was fomenting her own plans, which included her second meeting.
Δ
The next nine days were the most hectic the cadre had experienced. After long discussions and analysis of the copious document that was the agreement, they officially asked to join with the Te. Naturally, as their visitors had instigated the idea, the request was favourably received and a date, three weeks ahead, was fixed for the Unification Ceremony.
In anticipation, the Te’ans had begun adapting a room within TeCorp headquarters. To describe the place where the signing was to take place, simply as a room, would be a gross understatement.
What was to happen there would, to the representatives of Earth, fix mankind in a future they could never have imagined just a few short months before, a future they would not face as disparate peoples. What they did, in anticipation of the asteroid strike, was merely an essay, preparing them for the greatest novel they had ever written.
No, to describe it as a room did it an injustice, but a room is what it was. Bearing in mind what it would bear witness to, what kind of room did it need to be?
The ideas were Te’an in origin, but Tala did consult with the cadre and Hugo Black, before instructing subordinates to effect the necessary changes to a large boardroom.
There was no mistaking the use of Te’an technology, but in appearance all parties agreed that it was to be simple, neutral in design, to symbolise a new beginning.
For posterity, it was to be called the Unification Chamber, but most people would refer to it as the
signing room
.
It was large and windowless. There were two doors: one from the upper floors, through which the President and his entourage were to enter, three minutes before the signing ceremony; the other door would be used by everyone else.
The room was lit by its walls and ceiling which were suffused with a warm natural glow. The walls were uncluttered but for three clear screens, and two large analogue clocks, close but unconnected to their adjacent walls - unconnected to anything in the room - simply floating in their allotted places. One of the clocks was situated behind and above, where President Conway and Tala would be positioned, the other diametrically opposite.
The walls were curved and slightly undulating. The combined effect of this and the materials used, was to render the room nearer to acoustic perfection than anything a Tellurian would have previously experienced. The floor was soft yet firm, with no sound emanating from footsteps.
A mean temperature was achieved through the installation, within the walls and ceiling of individual microclimate control units, which monitored the heart rate, body temperature and other physical conditions of every person present.
The six agreed that the President and Tala would position themselves behind a large polished black granite table so that they, and the three screens, were facing the invited audience. On the centre of the table, positioned between the seats, was a pad upon which the two representatives would place their hands, simultaneously, thereby recording their ratification of the agreement.
No cameras for the press corps were necessary as images, recorded by the walls themselves, were fed directly to their parent organisations. Apart from the communication devices of the secret service, the only other means of communication with the outside world was a seemingly incongruous intercom that appeared to be an afterthought.
Approved facsimiles of the agreement, which had been painstakingly examined by senior lawyers representing the cadre, together with authenticated palm prints of the two representatives, would appear simultaneously in the Te’an flagship - due to arrive, shortly before the ceremony - and the offices of all the governments of Earth. There were to be no actual signatures appended, but as is often the way with such events, the public latched on to a term that seemed to encapsulate the spirit of what was about to happen.
This was the room in which the future of mankind was to be determined.
Three Days ago
Δ
Nathalie had gone back into the house, she had forgotten her gloves.
I suppose she'll probably need them where she's going
, he thought, knowing that she would most likely never stray outdoors during the entire trip.
Jonathon ‘Jon’ Tyler looked into the rear view mirror, still no sign, and his mind drifted back to the time they first met. He was in the Musée d'Orsay, Paris and had been standing, she later told him, for over thirty minutes looking at a painting by Monet of the painter’s garden at Giverny. Lost in himself, he failed to notice the approach of a stunning French girl who, when alongside him, asked what it was about the painting he found so fascinating.
A year later, he was still unable to give a reason.
She had occasionally mentioned it, when in the mood to tease him, and the teasing continued when she moved with him to England, after his unexpected, but pleasurably extended stay in Paris came to its inevitable end.
It would have been more convenient for her had they lived in London, but when he offered to give up his lectureship, she would have none of it. Nathalie found that she loved York, and enjoyed being away from hubbub that surrounded all capital cities. She reminded him that she now balanced her work and personal life perfectly, had never been happier, and would not want things any other way; he believed her.
Three years earlier, he had inherited a huge redbrick house from his paternal grandmother. Like his father, he was an only child, but his grandmother had made it clear that as her son had already fashioned himself a very comfortable lifestyle, she would skip a generation, his parents did not resent the sentiment.
He could never have afforded a house like this on a lecturer's salary and, on more than one occasion, had seriously considered selling it. Now, he was glad he had resisted the temptation. Standing in a third of an acre of ground, that had seen better days - he was no gardener - it had the advantage shared by all such houses, built in the early part of the twentieth century, solid, thick walls and high ceilings. Nathalie loved it, partially because of its atmosphere, but also because it afforded her the perfect surroundings to practice; her recording company actually paid for the conversion of one of the ground floor rooms.
Jon loved classical music, but could not play a note on any instrument, so what Nathalie, an up and coming concert violinist, saw in him remained a mystery.
He looked, once again in the mirror,
she must have put them somewhere really safe
.
The life of a gifted, musician is a busy one; the life of a beautiful, gifted musician is hectic and, despite cutting back on her schedule, she remained very much in demand. The more she resisted, the more she was fêted. She was on her way to China to start a three week Asian tour, and this would be the longest they would have been apart.
The passenger door opened, and she settled herself into the seat beside him. 'Sorry,' she smiled, ‘they were not where I left them.'
'Wouldn't any colour have done?' He knew, the moment the words were out of his mouth, that it was a stupid question. Her eyes looked skyward as she smiled indulgently, then pointing ahead said. ‘To the airport James,’ in a very poor rendition of an English upper class accent.