The Lazarus Protocol: A Sci-Fi Corporate Technothriller (The SynCorp Saga Book 1)

by Pourteau, Chris

  She dropped into a deep leather chair, still holding the image-in-motion. Crinkles formed at the corners of Jie Qinlao’s eyes as he smiled. Her father had been a man who smiled with his whole face like the happiness was radiating out of him. In the background, little Ming grasped after the butterfly. The picture reset and little Ming was kneeling again, her father’s expression once more becoming serious.

  Over and over, the photo reset and replayed its captured moment from her life .

  Had she misjudged him? Ming and her mother had never wanted for anything when she was growing up. Papa visited Mama regularly until Ming herself put a stop to it. In fact, all the tension between her father’s old family and the new had been a result of Ming’s petulance. A hurt, little girl’s black-and-white interpretation of her father’s actions.

  She argued with herself. He’d left her mother when she’d needed him most. He’d found a younger wife and had a son, all for the sake of the company.

  But today, JC Han had told her how often her father had mentioned her. He’d known about her posting on the Moon. He’d even complimented her engineering prowess.

  The picture cycled again. Her father, wrench in hand, smiled at her. Who was this man she thought she’d known well enough to hate?

  The doorbell rang. Ming sat up in her chair, wiping her cheeks. She hoped the makeup proved waterproof after all. The time on her retinal display said it was after midnight.

  Ito met her at the door to the office, dressed in a robe. He showed her a personal access data device with an image of their visitor.

  Ming stared at the PADD. The young man waiting in the foyer was long and lean, his dark hair cut in a stylish rake, his eyelids painted with shadow. He wore the latest in tight-legged trousers and a bespoke, plaid jacket. In the crook of his arm, he held a huge bouquet of real flowers.

  Xiao Deng-bo, Danny Xiao, the eldest son of the Xiao manufacturing empire. Ming vaguely remembered him from company social events in her youth. The memories did little to entice her to receive him, but she had new responsibilities now. This was not really a social call.

  Ming retied her cravat and slipped on her gray coat. She nodded to Ito. “Let him in.”

  Ito keyed the entry and returned to his room. She noticed he left the door cracked.

  Danny Xiao’s tall, thin frame cast a long shadow. He bowed deeply to Ming and presented the flowers to her.

  “Congratulations, Ming.”

  She accepted the bouquet with a gracious smile. The heaviness of its scent filled her nose. They were beautiful. “Thank you, Danny.”

  “Your auntie said I might find you here.”

  Ming kept her expression fixed, hospitable. “Oh, did she? Well, in that case, please do come in.”

  Chapter 12

  Anthony Taulke • San Francisco, California

  Anthony never would have dreamed his biggest opposition to saving the world would be his own son.

  “I don’t see the profit in it, Pop,” Tony said, sitting across from him. “What’s in it for us?”

  Anthony stared at him. Tony may have inherited his father’s cosmetically enhanced square jaw, rich wavy locks, and dark eyes, but that kind of comment just reinforced what Anthony had feared for a long time now: there was something disconnected inside this kid. A wire pulled loose. Something.

  “We’re talking about saving the world, Tony. You know, our species .” As if speaking the obvious might elicit compassion in Tony for his fellow man.

  His son sniffed. “And I’m trying to save you—and our company—from your own humanitarian instincts.”

  Anthony bristled at our company , but let it pass.

  Tony raked a hand through his hair. “What happened to Mars as the new Eden? You’ll take resources to work on this little save-the-world sideshow—the one that failed before, remember? If you want to save humanity, develop Mars. It’s cheaper!”

  Convincing Tony to help him was supposed to be the easy part. Anthony needed him to work behind the scenes within the company. Set up sub-projects, move money, reassign people. Run things off-book. As CEO, every move Anthony made would be studied and dissected by Taulke Industries’ board of directors. He needed an inside man, someone he could trust.

  Instead, he had to settle for Tony. Anthony tamped down the spark of anger that threatened to fire his words.

  “That was then, Tony. This time is different.” Anthony winced. Even he thought his argument sounded lame. Were things really so different now? He had the clandestine approval of the President of the United States, but climate change was a global problem requiring a global solution, and that meant buy-in from the United Nations. Did President Teller really have the juice to pull off a global initiative?

  “Is this about the money?” Tony asked. “I never should have introduced you to H. She said the White House wanted to invest in Taulke Industries. I thought she meant the Mars Project, not some crazy-ass, save-the-earth bullshit. What about Adriana Rabh? And the other investors?”

  “Teller’s a bird in the hand, Tony.”

  Anthony launched himself from his leather chair and strode to the window overlooking the ocean. He needed a moment to regroup. He’d established his office in the penthouse atop the Taulke building as his war room for the new project.

  A brand to sell the venture, that’s what he needed. A quick, impactful way to win over the court of public opinion. He’d spent half the night considering names. Something that would sound good for the history books. Simple, recognizable, and laden with historical significance.

  He’d settled on the Vatican Project. Recognizable in any language, symbolic, but also a poke in the eye to all the religions that had failed to pray their way out of a global catastrophe. One day they’d have to acknowledge it was Anthony Taulke, not God, who’d saved the planet. His son had laughed out loud at the name.

  “Did you at least get the money?” Tony asked. The boy’s tone was infuriatingly condescending.

  Nodding at the serene Pacific vista, he said, “It came in this morning, but I need—”

  “—to run this project off the books,” Tony finished for him. “I get it, Pop. You need my help.”

  Anthony stayed silent, considering his son’s reflection in the window. Surprised at himself, he’d been hurt by Tony’s rejection of the name Vatican for his venture. Now, it sounded like he might be coming around.

  Tony pushed himself out his own chair in a way that mirrored his father’s movements. “Fine. I’ll open a couple of skunkworks projects and funnel the money back to you in ByteCoin, so it’s untraceable.”

  “Thank you, Tony.”

  “Don’t thank me yet, Pop.” Tony rested his hands on the back of the chair, his powerful shoulders set. “You haven’t heard what I want in return.”

  Anthony felt his upper back muscles clench. “In return?”

  “We’re businessmen, Pop.” Tony chuckled. “You get something, I get something. One hand washes the other. You know, all that crap you taught me growing up.”

  A half-dozen responses sprang to Anthony’s lips. You miserable sonofabitch, I put you on the board. You greedy … He bit them all back. There was no time for that argument now. He needed the boy, and Tony had his old man right where he wanted him. Now was the time to make the deal—when the other guy needed it most.

  Just like Anthony had taught him.

  “Well?” he said through gritted teeth. “What’s the ask?”

  Tony turned the screws. “Ask implies you have a choice, Pop. You don’t.”

  Anthony glared at his son. He may have taught this kid the art of the deal, but he never taught him to gloat like a prick. That was a skill his son had developed all on his own.

  “Get on with it, Tony.”

  “Mars.”

  Anthony’s eyes narrowed. “What about it?”

  “It’s mine now.” Tony smiled. “You save this world. I get Mars. We’ll see who corners the market on salvation. Deal?” He walked up to his father and thrust
out his hand.

  Almost without thinking, Anthony took it. He didn’t need a family squabble now. He had a job to do, and he needed all hands on deck. He could feel his heart beat a little faster at the thought of a new project. The early stages were the best, when the outline was still murky and anything was possible. Tony could have Mars. It was a world-sized money pit.

  Screw Mars. He was going to save his world first.

  “Deal,” Anthony said. He deliberately turned away from Tony’s self-satisfied smile to face the infinite expanse of the Pacific. A stiff breeze was pushing fog inland, uncovering the bones of the city below him. Disappointment, rage, excitement—they all swirled inside Anthony, stirred by lack of sleep. It created in him a sense of disconnection.

  “I’ll get started setting up Vatican right away,” Tony said, heading out the door.

  “You do that.”

  That kid will be the death of me .

  • • •

  He’d just poured himself a second bourbon when his virtual announced his second visitor of the day. This one, at least, he was looking forward to.

  Viktor Erkennen liked to cultivate the persona of a mad inventor. Short and stout with a shrewd gaze, Anthony’s oldest friend eschewed cosmetic enhancements, preferring to sport ragged gray stubble on his sagging double chin and allow his thinning gray hair to frizz around his head like a halo. He walked in wearing an ill-fitting, rumpled gray suit with a too-long coat. Anthony couldn’t help but smile as he embraced Viktor. Despite his ratty appearance, Viktor was a germaphobe, and he smelled of fresh soap. He carefully dabbed at his cheeks with an antibacterial handkerchief where Anthony had kissed him.

  “Still think I’m going to infect you, Viktor?”

  “Just a precaution.” Viktor had a soft, feminine quality to his voice, but the tone was playful. “I’m never sure where those lips have been.”

  Anthony laughed, a genuine sound of comfort and relief. Viktor was such a breath of fresh air after dealing with Tony.

  “I saw Junior downstairs. He looked very full of himself.”

  Anthony growled, pouring his friend a drink. He added a single ice cube to Viktor’s.

  Erkennen pursed his lips. “Ow, touchy topic, I see. Well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, you know.” He jerked a thick thumb at the closed door. “You made that.”

  “Don’t remind me.” Anthony sat down again. Hearing the obvious from an old friend like Viktor was painful.

  “I’m sorry,” Viktor said, dropping into an open chair. “That was cruel.”

  Cruel, but true. Anthony clapped his hands. “Yes, well, I have good news for both of us.”

  Viktor’s eyes brightened under his thick, black eyebrows. “Do tell.” He steepled his fingertips.

  “I’m launching a new venture and I want you to join me.” Anthony paused, then chuckled lightly. “Actually, that’s not true. I’m re-launching an old venture and I want you in on it.”

  Viktor’s eyes widened. “The atmospheric seeding project.”

  “Exactly.”

  Viktor rose from the chair. His short legs propelled him around the room. “A UN charter? Are the Chinese in this time? We can’t do it without the Chinese. We learned that lesson last time.” He stabbed at the air as he spoke.

  “Not quite,” Anthony replied. “It’s a US project. A secret project, commissioned by the president. A Manhattan Project kind of thing.”

  “President Teller?” Viktor stopped pacing, his steady gaze focused on Anthony. “What’s in it for him? ”

  Why is that the first thing everyone asked? Anthony wondered.

  “It’s the world, Viktor. He wants to save the planet.”

  “He wants to save his own political skin, you mean.” Erkennen began pacing again. “Politicians have been paying lip-service to this problem for a hundred years. It’s a little late, isn’t it? Wait, let me guess,” he said, finger in the air. “He wants a working prototype he can take to the UN before the election in November? Save Earth, save his political hide.”

  “Are those two goals mutually exclusive?” Anthony shot back.

  Viktor studied Anthony’s face for a long time. “Not necessarily, I suppose. The seeding idea we had before was a good one, but bacteria have serious limitations. Fortunately, I’ve had some real breakthroughs in the last few years on nanites.”

  “Nanites. Really?” Anthony rested his elbows on his desk. Moments like this were what he missed. They were few and far between on the Mars Project, where he’d spent more time worrying about budgets and manpower than how to innovate technology.

  “By combining nanites with an engineered bacteria, we get the best of both worlds. The efficiency and the growth factors of a biologic but the precision of mechanics. There’s even a possibility we could tune the biologics.” Viktor’s eyes sparkled as he spoke. “It’s just a concept now, but it’s feasible. The team I’ve got on this will blow you away, my friend.”

  In the back of his mind, Anthony considered the problems he was having with control of the oxygen-producing bacteria on Mars. If he could apply the Erkennen nanites to his own venture …

  He pulled himself back to the problem at hand. Maybe he was just like all the rest of them, looking for his slice of the pie from the bigger picture. Maybe he really had taught Tony everything he knew.

  “What about dispersal?”

  Viktor rubbed his eyes. “We can use aircraft for the first test, but that’s not practically scalable. To cover the entire planet evenly, we’ll have to build a network of low-earth orbital satellites. But we’d need every nation in on that. It’ll cost a fortune.” He ambled to the window and gazed at the ocean. There was a long silence as Anthony mixed two fresh drinks, then joined him. Viktor Erkennen barely came up to his shoulder.

  “You need my nanites,” the scientist said as he took his glass. “Maybe on Mars too, eh?” Viktor smiled at Anthony’s self-conscious blush. “Listen, my friend, together we can save the whole fucking solar system. Not just this old backwater garden we’re standing on.”

  “Two men, two planets,” Anthony said with more bravado than he felt.

  Viktor slapped him on the back. “That’s the spirit!”

  When the door closed a few minutes later behind his old friend, Anthony stayed at the window. Gray-green thunderclouds massed on the horizon, lightning cascading across their swollen underbellies. When he caught his own reflection in the window, Anthony Taulke raised his glass in a toast to himself.

  Not a bad first day on the job.

  Chapter 13

  Ming Qinlao • Shanghai, China

  Ming switched off her retinal display and kneaded her temples with the heels of her hands. The UN commission was stonewalling her, she was sure of it now. She’d given two years of her life to those bastards in charge of LUNa City’s construction, and now, when she needed them to come through, they were screwing her over. She cursed, pounding her frustration into the desk.

  Ito appeared in the doorway, one eyebrow raised. His gaze swept the room, security conscious as ever.

  Ming managed a weak grin. “It’s just me, Ito. I’m … frustrated.”

  “Your father used to do the same thing,” he said. “He swore a lot, too.”

  Her expression bloomed into a smile. “Did he?”

  Ito nodded. “He said you should always let the other party know where you stand.” Ito bowed and left, closing the heavy carved door softly behind him.

  Ming felt the grin evaporate from her face. It was an odd feeling, occupying her father’s space in the Qinlao corporate offices, like she was a voyeur in his old life. She’d done her best to make the office her own. The artist’s rendering of LUNa City from her office on the Moon hung on the wall directly opposite her desk. Despite the current challenges with the UN contracts office, the image still inspired her.

  Sying and Ruben shared a posed picture in a heavy silver frame on one corner of the dark wooden desk. Mahogany, Ito had said, a valuable wood from the
tropics. On the opposite corner sat an image of her mother, healthy in her youth, in an ebony frame.

  Next to it, framed as a paperweight, a smaller version of the photo of Ming and her father at the Korean job site when she was seven. She’d switched off the 3D animation to freeze it when her father’s smile, and her own attempt to catch the butterfly, had reached their fullest expressions. Unlike the others, this photo was not for decoration but for everyday use, a reminder of the pragmatic approach to business she shared with Jie Qinlao.

  Ming pushed away from the desk and strode to the eastern window. The chair, a highly-engineered auto-stow model, slid under the antique desk. Just like Jie Qinlao to mix the old and the new. The ocean was invisible, hidden by low-hanging clouds, but the sunset turned their tops a beautiful red-orange. People on the street, tiny from this height, wore air-filter masks, making them appear as faceless drones crowding the sidewalks.

  She worked her shoulders to loosen them. The pressure made her want to give up corporate leadership and retreat to her safe haven on the Moon with Lily and her old life of comfortable predictability.

  The forces arrayed against her were closing in. There was no pity in the world of high-stakes business, no second chances, no do-overs. If Auntie Xi was orchestrating everything that was happening—and Ming was certain she was—the older woman was winning handily.

  First, Danny Xiao. A bold move on her aunt’s part, inserting Danny into her life. Ming was in no position to snub the eldest son of a board member and the largest manufacturing conglomerate in China. So she had gone along with the charade to buy herself time to find a way to distinguish herself to the board.

  Ming had seized on her contacts with the UN lunar project. Closing a deal on Phase III of LUNa City’s development would be a prize for any company. She knew the LUNa project inside and out. There was no way anyone could beat her proposal.

  But an anonymous complainant had questioned the safety of the technical specifications, and now the entire letting process was on indefinite hold. Even Ming doubted Auntie Xi had the influence to derail the LUNa City contract. Maybe she’d gotten some help from the Xiao family.