[The Fear Saga 01] - Fear the Sky (2014) (33 page)

Though they could not see his expression, Lana thought he sounded broken, malleable. Good, she disliked being spoken back to by the host of commoners and low-ranking nobles that made up the Council. Back on Mobilius none of them would have dared to speak back to her. So hearing Shahim’s lack of fight was fine by her, it was just one less among them to resist her will.

John Hunt also felt that Shahim Al Khazar sounded defeated. Something had changed in him since the beginning of the mission. Long ago all of the eight had been privy to the Councils of War that preceded the launch of the Armada against Earth. During those sessions John Hunt had taken the opportunity to carefully study the people who would be his fellow Agents. The man that inhabited the body of Agent Shahim Al Khazar was a noble of the Empire of Hamprect, and a captain of their armadas. During their planning, he had proven to be thoughtful and incisive, and had appeared every inch the proud warrior: honorable, in his way, and fiercely loyal. Maybe the ugliness of his assignment had shaken the man that had been a lord. Interesting, thought John Hunt. He could only hope it would make the other Agent easier to kill once the time came.

Shinobu Matsuoka had been born of a powerful family and his father’s company was already an important international conglomerate when Shinobu started working for the firm out of college. The pretense had been maintained that he was starting at the bottom of the firm and would have to work his way up, but no one had ever been under any misconceptions about his rightful place in the company, least of all Shinobu himself.

After a fast rise through the ranks, Shinobu had eventually become chief operating officer of Matsuoka Industries two years before his father’s planned retirement as CEO and chairman. He had been the heir apparent in more ways than one, winning allies in the company’s senior leadership through the weight of his presumptive claim to its throne coupled with an ambition and intelligence to rival his entrepreneurial father.

The ensuing fifteen years had witnessed the sad passing of the father, but they had also heralded in a surprisingly successful new king. Matsuoka Industries had become one of the top companies in several fields, from computing and chip manufacture to shipping and submarines. But while their diversity of portfolio had helped them weather the vagaries of the world marketplace, it had also stopped them from becoming a true leader in any given field. A commitment to quality and the fierce ambition of their president driving them to be persistently one of the best in all areas, but never
the
best. Until now.

He stood looking at the machine. It was actually here. He had been promised so much. The investment had been risky but relatively minimal: only $6 million. And the speed of development had been unparalleled. He had seen so many research projects come and go. All hope and glory at the beginning but the fuse usually fizzled before anything came of it. It was par for the course. But early on during this unusual effort, his project manager had reported that this was no façade: the theory had a depth and solidity that shocked the diligent man whose task it had been to oversee.

But then this particular project had been unusual right from the very start. The two mysterious ladies that had approached him not long ago had come not with an idea, but with a fully fledged plan. More than just fledgling, in fact, the designs they had shown him had been thoroughly fleshed out and, apparently already realized, the product of research they said was being conducted in secret by the US government. Well, they had never actually said it was the US government, but even though the dark one might have been European, the blue-eyed one was most certainly an American, and she was the one who actually knew how the system was supposed to work.

Fearful of the recriminations of an angry US military, he had willingly and faithfully observed the strict censures of the two ladies. No e-mail, no telephone. Handwritten letters only, or personal visits. And here he was. A letter from the project manager Shinobu had assigned to oversee the development of the device had stated simply: “We are ready for you. Please come as soon as possible.”

He had rerouted the company’s private jet and had it whisk him from his estate outside Kobe to the research plant in North Dakota, deep in America’s Midwest. And now here he was. Staring almost lustily at the machine that promised to take his company to the next echelon.

The research lab was large. It was stereotypically oppressively white: white walls, white floor, white ceiling, with only some metal tables and several computers to add some limited color. Well, those and the big, ugly device that dominated the center of the big laboratory. Several things leapt out at the initial observer. Firstly, that the machine had a clearly spherical core, about one meter across. Next that the core was heavily ordained with various clamps and protrusions, none of which seemed to follow a particular pattern, but which were all hitched by various cables to a series of computers and transformers, all humming away with inconspicuous energy. But by far the most notable feature of the big, strange-looking machine was that the sphere at its center seemed to be made of solid, gleaming gold. Shinobu stood staring at it. His project manager, Ito Hanso, stood just behind him, wringing his hands and glancing at the lab’s hermetically sealed double doors.

For a while Shinobu just stood there, transfixed by the golden center of this extraordinary machine. The design schematics that he had been shown not three months ago had detailed what that central sphere must be made of, and why. But that had left him no more prepared for the sight of that smooth, shimmering gold shining back at him. After a moment’s contemplation of what the golden sphere was going to give him, he gathered himself, composed his voice back into the commanding tone he had been born to utter, and spoke to the project manager.

“Well, Hanso-san? Start the machine, please. Show me what it is that has made you request my visit,” said Shinobu. His composure was impressively resolute, like a man of his stature should be, but the project manager seemed agitated.

Bowing several more times than was strictly necessary, Ito Hanso stammered, “Yes sir. I will have the team show you immediately, sir. I assure you, you will not be disappointed, sir. It is … well, there is just one … minor … consideration.”

Consideration? The team? They were the only people in the room and Shinobu was becoming impatient. He had been there for several minutes and he was used to his people being prepared for his arrival. He interrupted the junior man’s explanation, as was his right, and made his displeasure known. “Mr. Hanso, I have come a long way. Where is the team? Why are you not ready?”

Ito Hanso shook visibly with concern. He had been under strict instructions to tell the president if there was progress on the project. He had also been under equally strict orders not to discuss the details of the project over the phone or via e-mail in any way, but merely to send a letter to the president telling him if there was anything that required his attention.

That all seemed reasonable. He had previously been working on a sonar jamming device for the submarine division of Matsuoka Industries so he was used to secrecy, even if this was a little more stringent than most. What he was not used to was working with someone who did not seem to be as beholden to the company’s president as Ito Hanso was. The truth was that he had been utterly unprepared for the Western woman’s refusal to update Mr. Matsuoka herself, and very uncomfortable at having to go behind her back to get the president to come and see their progress.

And now here he stood, stuck between his professional obligation to his superior, something his culture took very seriously, and the upstart American woman who had so boldly driven the project to its current state, its current
very successful
state. He was obligated to tell his superior that the prototype was complete, but that did not mean that he also had to confess his duplicity to the fearsome American woman. So he had decided it was best not to anger her, even if only to save his own hide from her considerable wrath.

It had seemed like the best solution when he had come up with it. But now he stood facing Mr. Matsuoka, unable to operate the machine without Madeline’s assistance, and to make things worse he knew that Madeline would be arriving any moment, like she always did. A quivering in his gut told him that this was not going to be pretty.

“Mr. Matsuoka, if I may,” said Ito meekly, “while the team has been working very hard to build the machine to the specifications given to us by Madeline-san, she has also been careful not to reveal all the details of its operation to us.”

Shinobu whirled to face the man, staring at him, “You mean I have invested $6 million dollars in a machine that not one of my employees knows how to use? This is unacceptable, Mr. Hanso. Completely unaccep …”

Matsuoka stopped as Ito Hanso turned suddenly to the laboratory’s door. He had been alerted by a faint beeping. Someone was using the keypad outside to type in the entry code.

Oh dear.

The door swung open and in wafted Madeline, all focus and purpose, her excitement at the experiments to come leading her to thoroughly ignore the two men as she headed for one of the tables to deposit her jacket, hat, and gloves. October in North Dakota was very different from the balmy weather she had enjoyed as a child in Florida, and she had been forced to bulk up her insulation accordingly. Glancing up, she took in the project manager standing looking concerned but did not really register the president of the firm standing over by the machine.

“Ah, Ito, good. You’re here. Let’s get started, shall we?”

She was already powering up her computer when Ito finally drummed up enough confidence to talk. He was being made all the more nervous by the clear indignation the president was showing. The important man was not used to being ignored.

“Umm, Madeline-san, we have an honored visitor.” said Hanso quietly, stuttering slightly as he did so.

Madeline turned her head and saw the president, pausing a moment to let his presence sink in. Seeming unperturbed, she then turned her whole body to face him and composed herself. An ingratiating smile spread across her lips. “Ah, Mr. Matsuoka. How wonderful to see you. To what do we owe the pleasure?” she walked over to him and extended her hand. He begrudgingly shook hers in return.

Speaking with the force of his position as chairman and CEO, Shinobu Matsuoka said, “Hanso-san informed me that the prototype was complete. I have come to inspect your work.”

“Oh, he did, did he?” she gave Ito a sideways glance, her smile faltering for a moment but still staying valiantly upon her cherubim face. She would deal with that little pen-pusher later. For now she had to deal with this one in front of her. “Well, we are honored to have you here. Please, Mr. Matsuoka, come. Take a seat, and we can discuss the project’s progress.” She was about to continue when Shinobu interrupted her.

“Ms. Cavanagh, Hanso-san has told me that the prototype is fully functional. Before we discuss anything I would like to see a demonstration, please.” The president stood firm.

“Of course, Matsuoka-san. If you will just take a seat I will initiate the system. It is just a prototype, you understand, but I think we can show you some very strong progress.” As Ito Hanso brought a chair for his superior, Madeline went to one of the computers on the other side of the room and logged in.

Calling over from the far side of the lab, she said, “I’ll just be a minute, gentlemen, I am just … initiating the system. We should be ready to go in about an hour. Ito, maybe you can offer our guest some refreshments?” Hearing Ito quickly respond and take some cursory requests from the uppity Mr. Matsuoka, Madeline quickly pulled up the web browser on one of the lab’s few PCs that was hooked up to the internet and logged into an anonymous gmail account she had set up after arriving in North Dakota. Ayala and Madeline’s plan had accounted for eventually having to deal with the president of the company and Ayala had told Madeline to let the other woman know if the president was asking questions. They hadn’t exactly accounted for him turning up unannounced like this, but nonetheless Ayala had asked to be informed and Madeline would take any assistance Ayala might be able to provide. Suppressing a surge of anger at Ito Hanso, she selected Ayala’s equally anonymous e-mail address, selected ‘new message’ and then typed simply: ‘have an old friend over today. looking forward to seeing you soon.’

With that innocuous sounding proverbial distress flare sent up she closed the browser and turned to one of the labs offline PCs to start the procedure of switching on the mysterious device in the center of the room. She would take her time as she did not want to get through with this any faster than she had to, but clearly Ito had told the man that the big unwieldy looking machine had worked. And almost on the first test. Of course, he couldn’t know that she had been just as surprised as he was when it had.

* * *

‘looking forward to seeing him. landing at 4pm.’

That was all Ayala’s reply read and it was all Madeline needed. Ayala had seen the message and gotten on the next flight from wherever she was to Minneapolis, which was a two-hour drive from the facility. Somewhat luckily for Madeline, Ayala didn’t really mean she was landing at 4pm, she meant she would be arriving here at the Matsuoka plant at 4pm.

Unfortunately, she could not delay the demo till Ayala arrived, especially as her team already knew the machine worked. If it had been just her and the president she could fake a system failure, but while she had been able to keep the team in the dark about the full workings of the machine, she was not really that knowledgeable herself either. Rather than risk doing anything that might damage the machine or tip her hand to the rest of the team, she would have to give the CEO a demo. Well, part of one.

Like the machine’s original inventors back on Mobilius, her team had also not realized the full potential for the machine when it had first been invented. But John had told her what it would truly be able to do and now that she had seen it in action she could not help but believe him.