My second theory was, she might be working for some secret service or other. Possibly, ours — either acting on a tip from Major Igorevsky or following my phone call about the missing Joseph boy made from the Uber taxi. Alternatively, they could have been alerted by my blanket discovery of missing people for the search and rescue groups. I'd left plenty of traces so it couldn’t have been so difficult to track me down provided they’d wanted to.
Or could she have been someone working for our friends across the ocean? That would have made it even easier because I’d entered my real data on that Rewards for Justice site. Sending someone to keep an eye on me would have been a piece of cake had they so wished. They could have easily collated a whole dossier on me complete with my psychological portrait, then offered me a honey trap, a supposed damsel in distress whom I couldn’t refuse.
Which I hadn’t.
And my third theory was the most fantastical of all. Maybe I wasn’t the only one with the interface installed? Really, what prevented other people from having it too?
And if Stacy was one such interface user, what was her secret agenda in coming to us? Who was she? A lone player? An agent of the entity which had spoken to me through old Panikoff? Or one of Valiadis’ people?
Talking about Valiadis... I opened my interface and activated the city map. My heart fell; it felt as if I was in freefall. I was still lying in bed while the map was projected onto the ceiling, offering me a bird’s eye view of the city.
The map obeyed my mental command, showing me the oligarch’s location. He was in town.
He was actually very close even though formally, his mansion wasn’t even within the city limits. I jumped from the bed. This was my chance to get at least some answers to my questions.
Misunderstanding my intentions, Boris also jumped off the bed and rushed to the kitchen, howling invitingly. The poor thing must have thought she might get an unscheduled meal.
I didn’t disappoint her. Then I started rummaging through the manila file where I kept all the paperwork I’d amassed during my time in Ultrapak. I knew I’d never had Valiadis’ business card but whatever had happened to the one given to me by his right hand man, Alex Hermann?
Dammit. Mr. Ivanov must have filched it. I could remember him fiddling with it before he’d made the phone call.
So what was I supposed to do now?
My cell phone reminded me of its existence. Who could that be calling me so late? Vicky? Yanna?
Neither. It was my old friend Gleb Kolosov.
“Phil, is that you?”
It took me some time to recognize his lifeless voice. “Hi, man. Whassup?”
“Sorry to hassle you so late.”
“It’s okay. Just spit it out.”
“You see, I’m having a bit of an issue here...” he fell silent. Judging by his tone, he was drunk as a skunk. “Could you lend me some money? It’s very important. It’s a bit of an emergency.”
“How much?”
“A lot. Really a lot. I need a couple of million. You’re the last person I’m calling. I’ve already tried everything. Can you help? Remember I lent you some money in the casino? I really need it. Otherwise I’m a dead man.”
“Listen man, I just don’t have that kind of money. Can you tell me what’s happened?”
“I see. Just don’t bother,” he hung up.
I called him back but he kept rejecting my calls.
According to the map, he was at home which made me feel slightly more at ease. I’d call him back tomorrow and try to arrange a meeting.
I spent some more time watching his marker. It seemed to be all right. The marker wasn’t moving which meant he’d probably gone to bed.
Now, how сould I go about meeting with Valiadis? Should I do the same thing again and go around town trying to track him down? Or should I go straight to my ex-boss Mr. Ivanov and try to pry Valiadis’ contact information out of him?
I really should try both. As soon as I finished my session with Kostya tomorrow morning, I’d have to check the map for Valiadis’ whereabouts. If he was out of my reach, then I’d phone Ultrapak. But first I needed to come up with a good story because if I asked for Hermann’s phone number point blank, they were sure to say no. Why would my ex-boss want to help me?
But if or when I managed to speak to Valiadis, I might just be able to work out Stacy’s identity and agenda.
That was it, then. All decisions made and tasks set. I accepted this as a working plan and fell asleep straight away.
* * *
I REMEMBER the time when I would wake up in a lousy mood whenever I’d had a difficult or busy day in front of me. All those mornings before difficult exams, job interviews, unpleasant meetings... Or those like today: the first morning after the day that Vicky had left me.
On mornings like those, nothing can cheer you up. You remain deaf to the birds’ singing or to the aroma of your coffee... even a cold shower doesn’t do anything to jolt you awake. The best motivation to survive a day like this is looking forward to the inevitable evening when everything is finally over and you can retreat into a game or immerse yourself in a good book — in other words, escape reality.
This time it was different. All the things that worry us, all the problems and unavoidable tasks aren’t going to disappear unless you solve them. It’s like an aching tooth: you can postpone a visit to the dentist indefinitely... until it actually starts hurting. Because sooner or later, it’s going to remind you of itself so badly that you’d wish someone ripped it out ASAP just to stop the pain. So seeing as you’re obliged to visit the sadistic dentist anyway, why not do yourself a favor and have your tooth fixed before it’s completely rotten and sending waves of pain through the jaw?
It was this logic that drove me from the bed the moment I’d been gently woken up by my virtual alarm clock.
Good morning, Phil!
Today is Wednesday July 18 2018. The outdoor temperature is 21 C (70 F).
You wanted to wake up at 6.00. It’s now 6.12 a.m, which is the best awakening time based upon your sleep cycle.
The state of your health: Good.
Based on your activity levels, we'd recommend you start your day with a breakfast containing no more than 500 calories from proteins and complex carbohydrates.
Here are the tasks you set for today...
I had a long but very important day in front of me.
I got scrubbed up and headed for the stadium downstairs to train with Kostya. I had no idea how it was going to work out but he’d offered me his help, so I suppose I’d done the right thing to accept it.
He was already there, walking along the running track warming up, looking focused.
“Hi, Kostya,” I said.
“Ah, there you are! I was about to call you. I haven’t got much time. You ready? Let’s move it!”
As we trained, he kept frowning. I could see he wasn’t in the best of moods. I didn’t know what to put it down to: he might have had a bad night’s sleep or some problems he’d had to deal with; he might even have regretted his offer of help. In any case, I adopted a similar businesslike attitude just doing whatever he told me to.
I hadn’t noticed any particular difference between his training method and Matov’s, apart from the fact that we’d only trained for about forty-five minutes. Once we were finished, Kostya bade me a very curt goodbye.
“When do we meet up again?” I asked.
“How about the day after tomorrow?” he offered. “Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, sounds like a good schedule. All the other days I’m at Matov’s as you well know.”
“Okay. Do I owe you anything? I could pay you like I paid for my private lessons.”
He hesitated. “Er... nah, don’t bother. It was my idea. It’s good for me as well because we train together. Okay, I’ve gotta get going. I still have to take little Julie to the kindergarten before work.”
“Julie?”
“Yeah, my little sister,” he nodded and left.
&nbs
p; I spent another twenty minutes jogging and leveling up Stamina until I’d finally made it.
Congratulations! You’ve received a new skill level!
Skill name: Stamina
Current level: 11
You’ve received 1000 pt. XP for successfully leveling up a main characteristic!
Current level: 15. XP points gained: 7340/16000
That’s a good start to the day! In the course of last night’s fight I’d sensed I’d been running out of steam. Level 10 in Stamina was only a world average, after all. You know any ordinary men who’d be able to take a round of boxing? So I still had my work cut out for me, leveling my physical and breathing stats.
I headed back home. According to the map, Valiadis was already up and running, judging by the fact that he was already on his way downtown. I minimized the map so that I could still keep an eye on his marker.
Mechanically I took a shower, had a tomato omelet and a couple of rye bread and chicken breast sandwiches, put on my business suit with +5 to Charisma and set off to work — on foot as usual.
Halfway to the office I saw that Mr. Ivanov, Ultrapak’s CEO, was already in his office. I could give him a call at last.
As I scrolled through my contacts in search of his number, an idea struck me. It might not be the best of solutions but Vicky had had a point: it might take some time to get my unorthodox business model up and running. How about if I offered our services to my old boss? Not the way I’d done before but by making out an official contract with him? Having said that, he wasn’t the only potential customer around.
I called him but only got an engaged tone. He was already busy talking to someone. Never mind. I’d call him again once I was in the office.
I put the phone back into my pocket and continued pondering over my new idea.
Selling sales? Why not? I’d already thought about it before but I’d always ignored the idea as not having any socially meaningful purpose. I much preferred helping people in person. But behind every company, there’s always a bunch of people who are either beginners or just plain not too successful. The likes of Veronica with her event organizing agency or Kesha who’d mortgaged his apartment to buy equipment for his tiny printing shop. Then there was Mr. Katz and his wife Rose...
The more I thought about it, the more inspired I felt. Besides helping small businesses, this could also garner some decent income — certainly more than we could ever expect from the ranks of our unemployed customers.
I ran up the steps leading to our business center.
“Morning, Phil!” Gorelik greeted me.
I was in such a hurry I hadn’t even noticed him. “Good morning, Sir!”
“Could I keep you a minute?”
“Absolutely.”
The building manager took me aside. “How’s things with you? Have any clients? I heard you’re doing pretty well. Wish I could say the same about all the others. Almost a third of our tenants are late with their payments. We’ve opened up a sewing sweatshop in the basement, they're the only ones who're doing relatively well. They’ve hired some migrant workers who’re sitting there sewing 24/7. And they’re all illegals!”
Behind his incoherent speech, I could smell last night’s party on his breath.
“As for all the others,” he continued, “they ain’t doing so good. And why? Because they don’t know how to sell, that’s why! Us Russians just aren’t good at selling.”
Having made this rather unexpected conclusion, he stopped to catch his breath.
“Excuse me, Sir? What are you getting at?”
“What I’m saying is that this Saturday, we’re having a sales training course in our conference hall,” he laid an intimate hand on my shoulder. “The person who’s giving it is Aram Ovsepyan. He’s an Internet star and an expert in proactive selling. You young people must know him. The course’s curriculum contains a number of very important skills and practices indispensable for any sales manager striving for success,” he rattled off the pre-rehearsed pitch, all the while fidgeting with my shirt button. “Want me to sign you up? It’s only 9,999 rubles.”
“No, thanks. Sorry but I’ve got a lot on my plate today,” I said, wriggling myself free from his embrace. “Why don’t you pop down and see Vazgen who sells those PVC windows? I’m sure he’ll sign up, even if only to support a fellow Armenian.”
“You think?”
“You can always give it a bash. Especially if you mention that Naeel is also going to be there.”
As I walked up the stairs, I heard Gorelik’s puzzled voice, “Who the hell is Naeel? Is he one of the tenants? Auntie Ira, do you know him?”
Both Alik and Stacy were already in the office. The former hood was fussing with the electric kettle in the kitchen while Stacy was busy lining up numerous potted plants on the window sill. She was wearing a demure floor-length white skirt — but the other half of her outfit didn’t quite live up to it: a skimpy black tank top which completely contravened last night’s agreement that she should tone her dress sense down.
“Hi guys,” I said.
“Good morning, Sir!” Stacy’s clear titillating voice immediately reactivated my Smitten debuff. “What happened to your eye?”
“Howdy,” Alik looked up from the kettle he was dismantling and whistled. “Have you been in a fight?”
“Don’t ask. How’s it going?”
“The kettle’s busted,” he replied, looking all hot and bothered. “I’m trying to fix it.”
“What if we get a new one? Where did you get the plants from?”
“That was Mrs. Frolova, imagine. She got them for her.”
“Who got what for whom?”
“The plants. Mrs. Frolova gave them to me,” Stacy explained. “I met her on the stairs and we had a chat. I said our office looked pretty empty. It needed some life breathed into it. So she offered me the plants. As far as I understand, she’s the local bookkeeper, Sir. Er... do you mind if I call you Phil too? Just to simplify things.”
I shrugged. “You can call me whatever you want,” I took my place at the desk, unwilling to pamper to my own ego. I wasn’t interested in creating any kind of hierarchy with them.
Our objective was productivity, not fake subordination.
Mr. Ivanov’s number was still engaged. I might need to go and meet him in person. Valiadis was in the town hall so it was probably not a good idea to disturb him there. Which meant I should really try and get Hermann’s contacts instead.
The only problem was, how was I supposed to leave the office unattended? Because without me, these two wouldn’t be able to sell jack to anyone.
“Guys,” I said, “I’d like you to drop what you’re doing. Let’s have a quick briefing because I need to go out to meet someone.”
“Phil, mind if I carry on with the kettle? It’s driving me nuts! I won’t get any peace until I’ve fixed it.”
“It’s no problem,” I said.
They sat in front of me: Alik still fiddling with the kettle and Stacy devouring me with her eyes. She had a pen and a brand-new agenda on her lap: the girl had come prepared for her first working day.
“We have three things on our agenda today,” I said. “The first being, how you're going to carry on working in my absence. Stacy, that applies to you first of all but you’d better listen up as well, Alik. The more information we have about our clients, the higher the probability of their successful placing. Which is why I’d like you to start asking for their CVs. Stacy, I’m going to email you a blank form in a moment for them to fill in.”
“Very well, Phil,” she nodded, jotting it down. “If you give me your address, I’ll send you a test email.”
I dictated the address to her and immediately received her letter, then emailed back with the client questionnaire attached. I’d prepared it quite a while ago but I hadn’t needed it until now as I’d always managed to find jobs for all my clients virtually on their very first visit.
“It’s imperative we get a good picture of them,
” I went on. “So if a client hasn’t thought of bringing a mug shot with their CV, I suggest you take their pictures on the spot. You can use your phones if you wish. Is that clear?”
They nodded simultaneously.
The door opened, letting in Veronica. “Hi everybody!” she gave me a peck on the cheek. “Are you having a meeting?”
“A briefing,” I said. “Would you like to join in?”
“Briefings, bah! They’re boring. I’ll pop back later,” she said. “I needed to talk to you about something, remember?”
“How about after lunch?” I offered. “I have to go out to a meeting.”
“Perfect!” she swung round and left.
Alik’s eyes followed her every move to the door. “Look Phil, I think I’ve fixed it,” he finally said as he, for reasons known only to him, tried to hand me the wretched kettle. “Would you like me to turn it on? We could use a cup of coffee.”
“Do you mind doing it later?” I said. “Let’s finish the briefing first. Are you listening to me at all?”
“Eh... sure! You’ve got to go to a meeting and Veronica is coming back after lunch.”
‘And what did I say before that?”
“Eh... you told us to take pictures of all who don’t have their own photos. And fill in the questionnaires.”
“Anything else, Phil?” Stacy asked. “Nothing about the forms you’ve just sent me?”
“Oh yes. There’s a question there about their work preferences. I want you to remember that they’re probably going to either list something they already have work experience in, or something safe, because they don’t think they can aspire to something bigger. So I want you to try and ferret out where their hearts lay. Let’s say, a woman walks in saying she’s looking for a shop assistant’s job, while her heart is really into something totally different, something that she thinks is either too good for her or won’t pay the bills. These are the kinds of things I want you to draw out of them.”
Stacy beamed. “Consider it done! I’m very good at worming my way into people’s confidence. They seem to think they can open up to me. It only takes me a few minutes to make them pour their hearts out to me.”
Hero Page 19
