|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
2007 Old Friends
Before the door to Mason Eckhart's office had completely opened, the red-haired woman in the dark teal dress and darker teal jacket swept inside.
Eckhart remained intent upon his monitor, allowing not even peripheral vision to distract him.
Stalking across the floor with rapid strides, the red-head slowed slightly but only slightly to push a chair around his desk.
At the sound of the rolling chair Eckhart visibly startled, pulling back from his work with anger at her intrusion.
Seating herself without hesitation, the woman set down a slim black leather briefcase, met his eyes, and smiled.
"And Good Morning to you, Mason."
Anger faded from his face, replaced by conflicting blend of surprise, pleasure, and mild dread. "April."
"Ignoring the people who come into your office is a fine ploy for keeping your minions in their places, but so dangerous! Surprising to find you taking such chances."
April Dancer had seated herself no more than three feet away from Eckhart, studying his reactions while he noted her jacket partially concealed her customary firearm.
"You know very well having anyone this close makes me uncomfortable."
"I want to see your eyes as we talk. When you hide behind those tinted lenses, I miss half of your meaning."
Eckhart smirked. "That's the object."
April laughed. " I know. All too well. But you cannot fool me. I was a field agent before you could read. Can we speak freely here, or do we need to go elsewhere?"
"I personally seal this office every evening, and scan it personally every morning, and every time after returning to it."
April nodded. "Acceptable."
"When have you ever known me to take chances with GSA business?"
"Never. Your painstaking attention to detail is one of your greatest strengths."
"Flatterer."
"It's true. There are people I would like to send here to work under you and learn what attention to detail means. Some of my young'uns are sloppy."
"They'll learn or they'll die."
"After what I put into training them, I'd rather not lose too many. But I'm not here to commiserate about staffing woes." April bent over and retrieved a small black, 3" cube-shaped leather-textured box from the briefcase, and handed it to Eckhart.
"I saw this in a museum shop in New York, and knew you would like it. The size fits well with the scale of your personal quarters."
"Thank you, April, but how do you know about the scale of my quarters? Have you been spying on me?"
"No need. I inspected the architect's drawings before signing off on building them."
"Ah."
Eckhart opened the box, carefully removing a 2 1/2 ", perfectly scaled reproduction of Frederic Remington's "Bronco Buster", rotating it as he inspected it. "This is exquisite. Thank you." He carefully set the delicate miniature down on the glass desktop.
"And it can be autoclaved. Mason, I will be blunt."
"You almost always are."
"Neither of us has time or patience with charmers. How is your health?"
"Much the same."
"Can you keep weight on? You look thinner than I recall."
"That is difficult. The predigested nutrient rations are designed for ease of uptake and absorption, not palatability. My enzyme levels are now measurable, but just. Every attempt to re-establish normal gut flora is, well, messy."
"Do you still require transfusions with the same frequency?"
Eckhart shook his head. "A raylet of hope, April. I've started making blood cells again, red and white alike."
April looked pleased. "You are so hard to kill. You keep disproving the experts. Perhaps you won't always be a 'vampire'."
"Vampire?"
"I have heard people refer to you as such. In joking, of course. I am concerned that you have no allies here."
"I am surrounded by fools."
"As am I. Every new crop of recruits has less sense and even less dedication. But even among the fools, you could develop useful allies."
"I keep looking."
"Good. No one can watch their back twenty-four seven. 'Check six', and all that." April rose from her chair to stand near the glass wall of the office, observing the podding operation below. She turned to face Eckhart, then returned to her chair. "I think you're too kind-hearted putting so many people into stasis. Some of them are too dangerous or insane to take the chance of them ever slipping their leash."
"No one has ever escaped from a stasis pod."
"Nevertheless, some of them should have been taken care of with greater... finality . Like Breedlove."
"More murder , April?"
She shrugged. "Execution. I prefer to call it execution."
"My authorization for actions of that nature is phrased in such weasel words I had no choice save to exercise the option with caution."
"As of this moment, you have my unambiguous approval to exercise the option with far less caution, and to do some house-cleaning to make up for past...leniency."
"I believe you are the only person on earth would could associate me with kind-heartedness."
"Quite likely true, Mason, but I knew you before --before living became so complicated for you-- and I know very well that weasel words had nothing to do with some of your decisions."
"Life changes all of us."
"Few so much as you. Are your people doing any research into practical applications of stasis technology? Short-term stasis would seem to be an improvement over anesthesia, especially so in veterinary surgery."
"No. That is a fascinating suggestion."
"And it would not hurt to generate some profits."
"You realize we'd also be funding Adam."
"How? He must have signed an agreement when he joined Genomex that all inventions made during his time of employment became the property of the company. That's standard in all industries."
"Unfortunately, the critical patents are rooted in some of his graduate work."
"Too bad. I still think it's worth looking into. The reports you've been sending me about Adam are disturbing. With all the talent among mutants, why hasn't he recruited a higher caliber of mutant? And why so few?"
"You have to remember what Adam is really like, as opposed to what he says about himself. Adam has never gotten over being told as a teenager that he was the smartest human on earth. Actually, Breedlove told me he was poking fun at Adam's juvenile pretensions when he said that, but Adam believed him. Paul was so amused he kept repeating it just to see how much work he could squeeze out of Adam with continuing flattery."
"Pity we could not keep Paul."
"Yes. Without Breedlove to manipulate Adam, he is simply lazy. He surrounds himself with malleable people who are easily awed. He sends them out to take risks while he remotely tells them what to do."
"This Brennan is a common street thug. Just prosecuting him for the crimes he's committed would take years."
"True. But there is a method to what Adam is doing. If he loses a recruit like Brennan, he hasn't lost much in terms of time and training."
April nodded grudging agreement. "I am not comfortable with the GSA using mutants in the field."
"They all wear governors."
"Of course, but Mason, they're going to breed , and multiply our problems."
Eckhart smiled.
"You look pleased with yourself. I know that look. I can see it in your eyes. That's why I'm sitting on this side of the desk. Tell me."
He laughed. "My mutants can breed all they like. Each of them is permanently sterile."
"I haven't seen anything about that in your reports."
"Certainly you haven't. Admission of anything so invasive, if revealed, would cause a public uproar. Worse, it would leave us vulnerable to lawsuits."
April rolled her eyes. "I do not want to know any more details. Weren't you wearing that suit the last time I saw you?"
"Probably."
"There is one other matter. You know I have faith unbounded in your ability to cope with Breedlove's unfortunate anomalies."
"I work tirelessly to be worthy of your trust and faith." Eckhart smirked.
"And it shows. However..." April opened the briefcase and removed a multiple page memo, and handed it to Eckhart. "I've highlighted the questionable material. Now, the nature of what we do mandates a certain amount of flexible spending . I expect that. But I'm not an accountant, and even I read these figures for what they are. I haven't turned this in, and if anyone quibbles, I'll back you fully. But Mason, as near as I could figure, you're hiding approximately five and a quarter million dollars of expenses here. What did you do?"
"I'm hiding seven million dollars. I purchased an egg."
"An egg?"
"A Faberge egg."
"Not your kind of taste," she said, glancing at the tiny sculpture on his desk.
"No. I bought it for what was supposed to be inside. But this egg was empty. Alas."
"And where is this egg? Can't we re-sell it?"
"I smashed it as soon as I realized all I had was a Faberge egg. And it felt damn good doing it, too."
April laughed. "Only you . That is funny. I wish I could share the humor with someone else, but I dare not let this one get out."
"I kept the sweepings of the remains. Want to see seven million dollars worth of dust and gemstones?"
"No."
"April. I see you're still armed and dangerous. Care for a little friendly competition down at my GSA range?"
She visibly brightened. "Excellent idea. I haven't had a good match since Drake stopped by after his retirement party."
|
|
|
 |
|
|
