The Unincorporated Man (73 page)

“Alright, Brenda,” said The Chairman, as he came back online, “I’m convinced. Tell the board I’ll meet with them
personally
in my suite.”

Brenda was visibly relieved. “Thank you, sir.”

“You don’t need to thank me for following good advice. We’ll speak shortly.” He blanked the screen and thought about the next steps. He even for a moment considered making Brenda the new head of Special Operations. It didn’t take long for him to put the kibosh on the idea; he remembered that, given her competence, he’d eventually have to kill her, and he liked her too much to sully his hands once again. He then called the security director. The figure of one Franklin Wots appeared above his desk looking nervous and official in his black GCI security uniform, with its metallic orange piping. SD Wots managed to pull off the effect of standing at attention while remaining seated at his desk.

“Good evening, Mr. Chairman, sir!”

“Good evening, SD Wots. I’ve decided to address the board personally. Please prep the teams and have the meeting room adjoining my suite prepared and sanitized.” The Chairman was waiting for a crisp salute followed by a “yes, sir,” but none was forthcoming. Instead, his order was met with nervous silence and the face of a man not bothering to hide his doubt and worry.

“What is it, Security Director?” asked The Chairman, starting to grow weary of all the babysitting he suddenly found himself having to do.

“Sir, I don’t think you should see the board personally. Holographically would be far more secure.”

“Thank you for your concern, SD,” answered The Chairman. “If security were the only consideration, I’d tend to agree. Suffice it to say other factors make a personal appearance necessary.”

SD Wots returned to his best game face. “Very good, sir. I’ll have a comprehensive plan ready to present in the next twenty-four hours.”

“I’ll need it in ten.”

“I can’t make any promises, sir.”

“Do your best, SD.”

The Chairman cut the connection and got back to work. He spent a few minutes making sure that the various groups he was funding in the outer systems would continue to receive aid for the next year or so. It was quick work, and would probably be the last in a series of direct contributions to the cause that he’d be making for some time. He’d put off the task until he was sure Hektor was out of the picture. There was no telling how far Sambianco had gotten his claws into the system, and therefore no reason to raise suspicion earlier than need be. The real work lay ahead, as he now had to figure out how to fund this most awkward of
evolutions
that his new partner so desperately believed in. It would mean dialing back his once grandiose plans, but if Cord wanted to experiment for a decade or two, or even three, The Chairman figured he’d let him.

Dialing back the outer system seemed like the easiest place to start. Most of its residents were not Majority Party inclined, in that most of them, realized The Chairman, had already achieved that rather dubious distinction. The fact was that, as a people, those out in the belt had an almost natural aversion to strangers telling them what to do, and so the idea of aiding and abetting them in that attitude had seemed like a good idea. At a minimum, thought The Chairman, it would add to the general level of discontent. Not that the belt needed much prodding. The discontent in both the inner and outer systems seemed to be building just fine without him. He finished closing off the last of his “outer” system accounts with a fat credit deposit toward some sort of upcoming demonstration on Ceres. The shame of it, he judged, was that the belt contained so many of these hard-headed people, but they were spread so far and wide that their ability to have much of an impact on the human race would be minimal at best. No, he surmised, the future of humanity was on Earth and within the core planets. He’d concentrate his efforts there. And so he spent the next nine and a half hours making sure the inner systems’ Majority Party and its various nonviolent splinter groups—out of respect for Justin’s vision—were well funded and equipped. In a final flourish he sent an anonymous message off to Justin’s tunnel-rat friend, Omad Hassan, informing him that it would be in his best interest to be on Ceres as soon as possible. He’d even seen to it that the contractor for whom Omad was working was more than compensated for the loss. The Chairman figured that, while Justin would probably not get the girl, he could at least have the friend.

Once again the room was filled with the sound of a soothing ring.

Though SD Wots had called right on schedule, it soon became obvious that things were not going according to plan.

“Sir,” said the SD uneasily, “can I talk with you again about your plans to meet personally?”

“Not unless you mind losing your job, SD.”

“If that’s what it takes, sir,” answered the man, unblinking.

“Brave man, are you, SD?”

“Not exactly, sir, but you hired me to do my job, and my job is to protect you to the best of my ability.”

“Very well,” fretted The Chairman. “Your job is secure… for now.”

“Thank you, sir. Sir, we can’t guarantee your safety.”

“Of course not,” snapped The Chairman. “You’re paid to improve it.”

“Which is why,” answered the unflustered security director, “my staff feels it would be safer to have you come down from your suite rather than to let the board come up.”

“I dislike leaving my suite, you know that, Franklin.”

SD Wots did not like the fact that The Chairman used his first name. It was clearly an emotional play.

“I dislike it as well, sir, but I would ask that you consider the security needed to move over two dozen people into your suite.”

“It’s certainly not easy,” agreed The Chairman, feeling his blood begin to boil, “but GCI supposedly has the best security in the system, recent events notwithstanding, and if it doesn’t I’d like to know who does… so that I could hire them to replace ours!”

The SD didn’t flinch in the face of the barrage, though he did manage to raise an eyebrow. “I would connect you myself, sir, if I knew of anyone better.”

The remark brought The Chairman back off the precipice. He realized he was being unfair, and that it probably wasn’t the wisest of moves to insult the very people charged with his personal security. “My apologies, SD,” said The Chairman. “I’ve been on edge since Hektor’s death.”

“None needed,” he answered, though the look of relief on his face belied his response.

“But that’s the crux of the problem,” The Chairman continued. “We don’t know how Mr. Sambianco’s murder was triggered, nor how someone managed to sneak a nanovirus past our sensors, and, last but not least, who caused it. We have to assume that it was an inside job, and that any one of the two dozen or more people coming up to meet you will try to kill you—perhaps in a way just as ingenious as that used to kill Mr. Sambianco and his assistant.”

“And my going down the beanstalk?”

“Is safer, sir. But only marginally so. Again, I reiterate; it would be best for all to just have you speak with them holographically.”

“Yes, SD,” nodded The Chairman solemnly, “but that’s not an option.”

The irony, mused the real assassin, was that he knew himself to be completely safe from harm, yet to act in that manner might arouse the suspicions of those already inclined to be suspicious—indeed, he thought, paid extremely well to be suspicious.

“I’ll meet the board personally, SD Wots,
and
I’ll trust your judgment. Down it is. I want it to start tomorrow morning at eleven sharp.”

The SD seemed only somewhat relieved. “I’ll see to it myself, Mr. Chairman. Are there any large items that you’ll be bringing with you, or any staff required?”

The Chairman thought about it for a moment and decided not to make his visit too big a deal. The more personal he could be—especially at a time like this—the more effective he’d be at putting the board at ease. “No, SD,” he answered, this time more calmly, “you need only concern yourself with me.”

“Very good, sir. We’ll be in touch in the morning.”

The Chairman watched as the SD faded from view. He thought about doing some more work, but then thought better of it, and decided to get some rest. He went to sleep content that GCI would eventually stabilize and give Justin Cord the decades needed to evolve the mess of humanity into something they would both be proud to have fathered. For the first time in many years, The Chairman slept well.

The next morning he took the lift down the beanstalk. It was such a rare occurrence that the lift’s gregarious avatar, riser, seemed genuinely pleased to have him on board again. As he descended from his perch, The Chairman stared sadly at the devastation still evident below, but knew that, at least in time, it would all be repaired.

He was met in the corridor by SD Franklin Wots, who then informed him that he would be The Chairman’s personal escort to the lower boardroom. The plan, The Chairman was informed, was that he would arrive first and be seen by each member of the board as they entered—which would not be what they were expecting. This, explained the security director, would allow him to scan the board members with near total scrutiny to see if they would give away any biometric indicators about possibly harming The Chairman. Though The Chairman wondered why the same exercise couldn’t have been done atop the beanstalk, and thought the whole charade a terrible waste of time, he once again reasoned that he would have to play along with Security to keep them looking out and not in. He entered the boardroom and heard the wall seal behind him. He was surprised that SD Wots had not followed him in. He also saw that one of the chairs—his chair—was turned away, back facing him, with someone’s legs dangling underneath. Before the “legs” could speak, The Chairman knew he’d been played—by his own board members, his own security apparatus, and the intended victim himself. He also knew at that moment that he was a dead man.

The chair suddenly swung around. “Good morning, Mr. Chairman,” said Hektor Sambianco. “Thank you for coming.”

The Chairman could feel the effects of the immobilizer immediately. He didn’t bother to move. Doing so would only prolong the agony.

Hektor got up from the chair and approached his kill slowly. Hektor didn’t appear angry or, for that matter, in any great hurry. He was studying The Chairman as a man would a perplexing painting. He continued to circle his victim as if viewing him from all angles might clear things up. It didn’t.

“I have many answers, but not all of them,” Hector said calmly.

The Chairman would have shrugged if he could have. Instead he waited.

“Did you think you’d be able to keep it secret from me forever?”

“Obviously not,” answered The Chairman. “That’s why I attempted to kill you.”

Hektor laughed. “Stupid question.” Then, “More please.”

The Chairman began to feel a heavy pressure on his chest as the immobilizing field complied with Hektor’s orders.

“That’s why,” continued Hektor, almost face-to-face with the man he was in the process of torturing, “you never promoted anyone to head Special Operations who could be a threat.”

“Partially,” gasped The Chairman, trying to buy some time, “but mostly my best defense was… that no one bothered… to look… until now, that is.”

Hektor looked away in disgust, then turned back once again. “Answer me this one question and I’ll show you mercy.”

The Chairman wasn’t buying it, but felt that, even if there was the remotest possibility he could make it out, billions of souls demanded that he take it.

“OK,” he managed.

Hektor’s glare turned sorrowful, as if the question he was about to ask was causing him pain. “How… how could you?”

Now it was The Chairman’s turn to scowl. “How… could I not? This… this… system will… enslave the vast majority of… humanity for the rest… the rest of eternity.”

“If they can’t rise above their own petty limitations,” Hektor shrieked, “then they should be enslaved. That’s the beauty of the system.
You
taught me that! Incorporation enslaves the weak and allows the strong to rise!”

The Chairman looked at Hektor and didn’t bother to answer. Arguing was futile. It seemed, too, that Hektor had the same idea.

“And what… of your mercy?” asked The Chairman, still hoping against hope.

Hektor answered with a malicious grin, then slowly produced the third Davidoff Aniversario from his inner pocket.

“Tell you what,” Hektor said, indelicately shoving the cigar between the lips of his immobile prisoner, “smoke this and I’ll spare you the long, slow suffocation I’d had planned. Either way, you’re dead.”

The Chairman used every last fiber of his strength to thrust the cigar from his mouth. It bounced harmlessly off of Hektor’s chest and fell to the floor at his feet.

“More,” said Hektor, “
much more
.”

The immobilizing field acted on command and further tightened its viselike grip. The pain was excruciating, and The Chairman’s lips could no longer form words, but his eyes told Hektor everything he’d wanted to say.

“And to you as well,” spat Hektor. “And, by the way, you’re fired. As for your precious Justin, I’ve sent orders to have him and his deviant girlfriend arrested on Ceres. So now you, your revolution, and its vainglorious leadership will all soon be dead.”

The Chairman, realizing the enormity of Hektor’s mistake, knew that the only thing he could do to help was die. He baited his number two once more with a challenging glare. It would be his last. He then watched helplessly as Hektor picked the cigar up off the floor and shoved it back into his now fully paralyzed mouth. Hektor then pulled a mask over his own face, struck a match, and lit the end of the death stick. Then, with sadistic glee, Hektor mouthed the word that sealed The Chairman’s fate.

“Less.”

The immobilizer suddenly released all pressure, forcing The Chairman’s body to involuntarily inhale as it reflexively grabbed for air.

Sorry, Justin
, thought The Chairman, as his innards began to writhe,
looks like revolution wins
.

The view out of the forward observation deck was pretty much what Justin had expected—at least based on his research. Ceres, once a desolate hunk of stone, now appeared as a multifaceted diamond twinkling against a canvas of black velvet. Bright, shimmering lights emanated from beneath its ice-covered surface.