by I. T. Lucas
Except, Bridget suspected that wasn’t entirely true. Turner didn’t lack the capacity to feel, he actively stifled it. The only question was whether he did it consciously or subconsciously.
The why was pretty damn obvious.
He would benefit from a few sessions with Vanessa, but the chances of that happening were slim. Victor was stubborn, and it had taken bribery combined with pressure for him to agree to chemotherapy.
One battle at a time.
The cancer had to be dealt with first.
Chapter 30: Kian
Her expression somber, Annani remained quiet during all of Bridget’s abbreviated presentation, listening intently but not offering comments or asking questions.
It wasn’t like her. She almost looked subdued, which greatly unsettled Kian. His mother was a force of nature who didn’t know the meaning of accepting defeat or even slowing down her forward movement.
“What are your thoughts, Clan Mother?” Bridget asked when she was done.
Annani sighed. “If you are asking me whether I am shocked, I am not. This is nothing new. Women and girls have been exploited throughout history. It saddens me on many levels, but fighting this phenomenon is larger than the clan, larger even than the capabilities of superpowers. I still believe that the only way to cure humanity’s maladies is more education, more progress, and more innovation. Redirecting our resources to a Sisyphean effort is not going to solve this problem or any of the others.”
Fuck, Kian had been so sure that Annani’s soft heart would make her an enthusiastic supporter of their undertaking. The one time he was counting on it, his mother decided to respond with her brain rather than her heart.
Deflated, Bridget sank in her chair. “Does it mean you’ll oppose it?”
Annani re-crossed her legs and leaned forward. Taking one of Bridget’s hands in both of hers, she smiled. “This is a very big and ambitious plan you have hatched. We need to take it apart and address each section separately. Perhaps some are less costly than others. Unless you can show me that none of the other projects we are working on will suffer as a result, I cannot support this effort.”
Bridget cast Kian a pleading look, but there was not much he could help her with. Annani was right.
Still, he was not going to give up so easily. “Several of our businesses are just for profit and have nothing to do with innovation. We can sell a couple to finance this project.”
Annani arched her brows. “I know that, Kian. But I also know that we need those profits to finance our technological and educational agendas.”
She got him there.
Annani rose to her feet and walked over to him. “Do not look so despondent, my son. You just have to work harder to find a solution. If you can increase profits while maintaining the current trajectory of progress, I will consider approving a less ambitious plan.”
Easier said than done. It wasn’t as if he was idling and not dedicating every moment to achieving just that. How the hell was he going to increase profits enough to finance such a huge project? He’d already stretched the clan’s finances by building the new village. They were operating on a barebones budget.
It was impossible.
“I’ll prepare a financial plan for you to look at.”
What that plan was going to be eluded him, but he wasn’t going to admit he had nothing.
“Very well. When you are working on it, I want you to concentrate on education and increasing awareness. Those are not as costly as some of the other things Bridget mentioned.”
“If I may,” Bridget interjected.
Annani waved her on. “By all means.”
“This is not as clear cut as it seems. We need the old Guardians back. The keep and the new village are not safe with only nine of them serving. The problem is that in peacetime they have not much to do. Training only takes up so many hours of the day and it’s not enough to give them a sense of purpose. Rescuing enslaved girls will give them that. I believe most will come back if given a good enough reason.”
Annani nodded. “There is something to that.”
Encouraged, Bridget continued. “The Guardians’ salaries represent a big portion of the budget, but we would have been paying those regardless of the project just to maintain the force in case we needed it. I think we can take it out of the cost projection and apply it to the security budget, which needed fortification regardless of anything.”
Kian regarded Bridget with even greater appreciation than before. It didn’t matter that the money to pay the Guardians still came from the same pocket, which wasn’t as deep as he would’ve liked it to be. Perception mattered. If they took out the salaries out of the projected cost of the project, the budget would be much more palatable to the clan members.
The cost of security was at Kian’s sole discretion, and he didn’t need to get the clan’s approval for it.
Annani sat back in her chair and readjusted her floor-length gown. “I think the two of you still have a lot of work to do before the big assembly. First of all, clean up from the budget all the items that do not belong in it, like the salaries. It will make it easier for you to sell your plan. Then reevaluate everything based on what will bring the most bang for the money and discard the rest. Also, I want that financial plan before the assembly begins. Preferably several hours before so I will have time to go over it.”
“Of course.” Kian stood up only to kneel in front of Annani. “Thank you, Mother.”
She leaned and kissed his forehead. “You are welcome, my son. And next time you come, I want you to bring your lovely wife and stay for a few days.”
“I will.” Once he surfaced for long enough to take a breath.
Mothers were not the most rational of people. Or maybe it was just his. Annani had just dropped a huge chunk of work in his lap but was still expecting him to take time off to visit her.
Back on the plane, Kian dove right into the financial reports. It would take days to go over everything and figure out where the money would come from. The bottom line was that he needed to find a way to make more of it.
“You’ve been awfully quiet during this trip,” Bridget said.
Kian lifted his head, but it seemed she was talking to Anandur. The guy hadn’t said much during the meetings, but he usually didn’t butt in during those. Except, he hadn’t said a word on the plane ride either, which was unlike him.
“Did Syssi tell you about her dream?” Anandur asked.
So that was his problem. Again, Kian lifted his head but the question had been addressed to Bridget, and he decided to keep his mouth shut. Syssi’s dream could’ve meant anything.
“No, she didn’t. Was it a prophetic one?”
“Maybe. She dreamt that I was comforting a crying young woman. But she didn’t know what the girl meant to me.”
“It can be anything,” Bridget said. “You hang around clubs where a lot of young people go, and there are bound to be dramas. Someone says something offensive, a breakup, a lost purse, there are plenty of reasons for tears. Not every tear is shed over a catastrophe.”
“I know. But Syssi never dreamt about me before. That’s why I think it must mean something.”
“Not necessarily,” Kian butted in. “She dreamt about a little boy and thought he was ours, but he was Eva and Bhathian’s. Her visions are real, but the problem is interpreting them. I wouldn’t lose sleep over this.”
“Listen to the boss,” Bridget said.
Right. When it was convenient, he was the boss. Which reminded him that he hadn’t complimented Bridget on her quick thinking yet. A good boss should offer praise when it was due.
“You did well in there. I would’ve never thought of the Guardian angle.”
“Thanks. Though I should have realized that earlier and removed it from the budget. Without the sticker shock, we might have gotten Annani’s approval.”
Kian shook his head. “Annani is more shrewd than she lets on. I thought we had it in the bag. But apparently, she only get
s emotional when it suits her agenda. She was all business today.”
Bridget chuckled. “Who would have thought, huh?”
Kian closed his laptop and leaned back in the comfortable seat. He was exhausted. “I should have known better. With all her drama-queen antics, it’s easy to forget who we are dealing with. Annani wouldn’t have achieved all that she did by being soft and emotional. Her remarkable journey required smarts and unyielding determination.”
Chapter 31: Losham
“Money makes the world go around,” Losham said.
“Indeed it does.” His assistant poured him a shot of whiskey and sat down in the other armchair.
The table between them was set up for a chess game, but they would not be playing tonight. He needed to think aloud, and Rami was an excellent sounding board.
Losham took a small sip and put his glass down. The Lagavulin was good, but it wasn’t on a par with what Losham was used to. A shame he’d had to give up the good stuff for the sake of appearances.
Navuh had demanded budget cuts, and one of the first things to go had been fine spirits. It wasn’t as if Losham couldn’t get whatever he wished, he was Navuh’s son and was exempt from many of the rules and limitations others in the organization were subject to, but he had to set a good example.
“The clubs are doing well,” he said.
“Yes, sir. We are opening another one in Copenhagen.”
“They could be made more profitable.”
Rami picked up his yellow pad. “How so, sir?”
“Paid services to club members. We are now providing them per request by collaborating with local escort services, but we could double and triple the clubs’ income by having our own in-house escorts, catering to the various tastes of our members.”
“An excellent idea, sir. I’ll contact the managers and tell them to start recruiting.” He scribbled on his yellow pad.
“The structure should be twenty and eighty. The girls get twenty percent, the house gets eighty.”
“Naturally, sir.” Rami added the numbers to his notes. “The escort services offer a better split, sir. It would make it difficult to lure service providers to our clubs.”
Losham took another sip and grimaced at the inferior taste. “We don’t have to lure them from other places. We could do what we do on the island.”
Rami lifted a brow. “They have nowhere to go on the island. It’s not the same in the big cities.”
The man was still so naive after all the years he’d worked for Losham.
“That’s why they will get twenty percent and not work for tips only like they do here. Don’t worry about that. It’s quite simple to get quality young flesh for low pay. Between threatening their families if they refuse to cooperate and offering them compensation that is more than they ever dreamed of making, they will do what they are told.”
Rami nodded. “What should I tell the club managers? How should they proceed?”
“We will take care of the supply for them. They will get the girls after they are already fully trained. In fact, we will need one more person on staff who will be in charge of managing them.”
“Any ideas where we could find the appropriate people for the job?”
Losham smiled. “We have plenty right here under our noses.”
Rami looked doubtful. “Lord Navuh will not agree to allocate warriors to civilian jobs.”
“That’s where you are wrong, Rami. Lord Navuh’s instructions are to make money generation a priority. The warriors’ thralling ability would come in very handy while managing a bunch of reluctant prostitutes.”
“Yes, sir.” Rami still sounded unconvinced.
“The world is changing, Rami, and we need to adapt. Sending our warriors to instigate conflicts and assist allies is getting more and more difficult given the surveillance cameras and drones and satellites. Besides, the new wars are not fought on the battlefield using swords or rifles, they are fought in dark rooms behind computer screens. Whoever controls the technology, controls the world.”
Rami shook his head. “Then we are in trouble. The clan is decades ahead of us when it comes to technology.”
Losham took another sip, then put the glass down. “True. But that doesn't mean we cannot catch up or perhaps surpass them. Even with the recent setback of losing our biggest client, we still command more resources and certainly more manpower. It will take years, maybe even decades, but with the right focus we can beat them at their own game.”
“We need better education for our men,” Rami said. “They are trained as soldiers, not software developers or even simple operators.”
“Precisely. That’s where we need to start.”
Rami tapped his pencil on his yellow pad. “The breeding program favored the strong and ruthless, not the smart. I’m not sure our men can rise to the task.”
Losham sighed. Since the very beginning, he’d been trying to tell Navuh that the program was producing inferior specimens and that better quality humans should have been used to breed the Dormants. But Navuh had been shortsighted and insisted that a mighty army which was easy to control was better than a smart army that wasn’t.
“That is true, Rami. But we have many men. I’m sure we can find a few who are more than goons with muscles. Look at you. You’re the product of the program, but you’re smart.”
Rami dipped his head, “Thank you, sir.”
“I hope Lord Navuh will reconsider the parameters of the program. All those influencers we get in here can be used for more than politics and information. They can help us breed a better stock.”
“So no more warriors?”
Losham laughed at Rami’s alarmed expression. “There is always a need for soldiers, Rami. All I’m suggesting is some diversification. We need both the brains and the muscles. Unfortunately, they don’t usually come in the same package.”
Chapter 32: Turner
“Right this way, sir,” the hostess said as she led Turner to the table.
“Thank you.” He took off his suit jacket, hung it on the back of his chair, and sat down.
“Could I offer you something to drink while you wait for the rest of your party?” the hostess asked.
“Water, please.”
“Of course.” She handed him the menu and left two others for Douglas and his fiancée.
Looking at the familiar menu, Turner thought about how different this trip was from the many previous ones he’d taken to meet his son.
Usually, when flying to the East Coast for their semi-annual get-together, Turner stayed for a couple of nights, using the opportunity to visit with some of his Washington contacts. This time, however, he’d scheduled only one dinner appointment and was taking the redeye back to Los Angeles.
It wasn’t that he had some pressing business to attend to back home. He just couldn’t stand the thought of being away from Bridget for any longer than was absolutely necessary.
Was that need to be with her what people called love?
If it were, it was nothing like what Turner had imagined. This wasn’t about a storm of emotions, or about an all-consuming passion, or an uncontrollable longing. There was nothing irrational about what he felt for Bridget.
The best description he could come up with was that he was comfortable with her. Perhaps to others that would have seemed too trivial of a feeling, but to him it meant more than all the craziness people associated with love put together. For the first time in his life, he felt completely at ease with another human being, well, an immortal being, but that was semantics.
With Bridget, he was no longer alone in the world, and that meant everything to him.
Naturally, the passion and attraction were there, but they were merely a bonus and not the most important components of what made his relationship with Bridget unique.
Turner had been attracted to plenty of women in his lifetime, but he could think of none of them as a potential life partner. In fact, the thought was as appealing as being strapped to a chair and
getting tortured.
“Here is your water. Would you like a basket of bread?” The waitress smiled sweetly.
“No, thank you.” To maintain his physique, Turner had to watch his carb intake, especially given that his training routine had shrunken to a third of what it used to be before he’d met Bridget.
Was cohabiting with a woman the reason married men grew flabby middles?
Given the many jokes floating around about the misery of marriage, Turner would have thought the opposite should have been true. If someone was unhappy at home, an evening training session was a good excuse to get out and spend a couple of hours away from the wife, not to mention that physical activity was a constructive way to release aggression. But since that was obviously not happening, the jokes must have been a lie, and most married men must have enjoyed staying home with their wives and their kids.
He wondered at the source of those jokes. Perhaps men viewed home life as unmanly and therefore pretended they were suffering through it.
Glancing at his watch, Turner confirmed that Douglas was late.
As a foreboding déjà vu washed over him, of another restaurant where he’d been waiting for two people who hadn’t shown up, Victor had to remind himself that he’d called Douglas back and verified where and when they were meeting.
This time it hadn’t been an imposter calling to invite him for a deadly rendezvous.
A few minutes later, Douglas and his fiancée entered the restaurant.
His son hadn’t changed much from the last time Turner had seen him. He was still the same stocky young man with a friendly smile, though he must’ve stepped up his weight-lifting regimen because his biceps were bulging. The sleeves of his T-shirt were straining to contain them.
The girl was exactly the type Turner would have imagined with Douglas. Early twenties, short, a little on the chubby side, with a pretty round face and flushed cheeks. It wasn’t cold outside, nor hot, so the flush must’ve been due to anxiety. Meeting the scary future father-in-law was the probable cause.
