Shattered Legacy

by Shane R. Daley

  ***

  Sinclair Dorian was now sitting up against his thick pillows. He looked more alert than before, and Tyler could not help but wonder if the old man had been exaggerating his fatigue earlier. Dorian cleared his throat, and his voice returned to its normal strength. “Shut the door, Samson, and close those damn blinds.”

  Tyler walked over to the window and pulled the drapes together, blocking all the sunlight except that which filtered in from the window edges. He pulled up a chair beside the bed, sat down and folded his hands in his lap, patiently waiting for Dorian to speak.

  “There are a few things we need to discuss.” Dorian cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “Jacob's my closest friend in this world, but right now I don’t have time for his sympathy. We have too much work ahead of us to be caught up in sentiment.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dorian cleared his throat again, and with narrowed eyes and a thin smile, he stared up at the ceiling. “When I was child, Samson, we lived in an era of fear. Fear of war. Fear of disease. Even if you had money, what could it buy you? A million dollars back then could not have bought you a cell phone, or a personal computer, or even a microwave oven.”

  Tyler nodded attentively, hands still clasped in his lap.

  “Today we can perform miracles. We can split the atom, speed data around the world in seconds, and even restructure the foundations of life itself. But somehow we can’t feed a billion starving people, or raise the standard of living for eighty percent of the world population.” He turned his head, his eyes glinting in the dim light. “Private space industry might not feed the world, but it may very well provide the tools to do so. There are miracles waiting that I will never live to see.”

  Tyler had heard this speech before. He wasn’t in the mood to hear it again. “I visited Javier Ristau today,” he said calmly, completely changing the subject.

  Dorian’s eyebrows lifted. “Did you, now? How's he doing?”

  “We spoke about Templar and the problems we had during our initial public offering. Is there something you want to tell me, Sinclair? I mean, besides the usual crap about how we’re all changing the world for the better and so on.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about when you bought back Templar and retooled it for aerospace. I’m talking about our IPO and the investigation by the Securities and Exchange Commission a few years back. What was going on that no one wants to talk about today?”

  The old man glanced away. He bit his bottom lip.

  “Sinclair…”

  When Dorian looked back, his voice began to waver. “You’ve always been loyal, Samson. I appreciate that. I think you’ve earned an explanation and, perhaps, the truth.”

  In the grim silence that followed, Tyler felt his stomach tighten. “What truth?”

  Dorian hesitated. “Our company is not going to see profits in five years.”

  Tyler relaxed a bit. “I know. Jacob shared the current numbers with us. It's not pretty.”

  The old man grunted. “Did Jacob tell you that we’re probably not going to make a profit in ten years? Or twenty? Or ever? Did he tell you that Templar Enterprises will be long out of business before our industry finally takes root?”

  Tyler's stomach clenched again. “No, he didn’t.”

  “In all the financial assumptions we made after I bought back the company, we always chose fiscal predictions that were most favorable to us.” The old man took a breath and released it. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Dorian was speaking in almost a confessional tone now, and Tyler felt a growing unease. He hoped this wasn’t the admission he feared. “In business, there’s nothing wrong with using helpful financial assumptions,” he said carefully. “Or being optimistic.”

  “We fudged the numbers,” Dorian burst out. “We lied during our public stock offering. Our SEC applications were pure fiction. We made up our own ‘financial analysis’, and hired shills and bogus think tanks to back it all up. We knew we could make the science work, but there was no way in hell we could ever make it profitable.”

  And with that, the truth was laid bare. Templar Enterprises was never intended to be profitable. All the work of so many people had been in vain. Those people who had bet their futures on Sinclair Dorian’s dream had been betrayed from the start. Tyler ran his hands through his hair. His doubts and suspicions were now proven true. None of Templar’s problems were politically motivated. The crimes had been real, and Tyler had helped cover them up – from his very first day at the company.

  Through fraud and manipulation, Dorian created a quest that had captured the imagination of millions. Now, because of their apparent success, other private companies were investing in the space industry, seeing opportunities for profit and growth that went beyond even Sinclair Dorian’s ambitions.

  In the end, would it matter if a new age of discovery had been founded on a lie?

  Samson Tyler considered that for a long moment, and found the question impossible to answer.

  “So you threw your money away,” he finally said, “on a fantasy.”

  “I primed the pump, I got things moving. Somebody will make money from all this, and in the end, the entire world will benefit from our work.”

  “But you took other people’s money and got them to invest in your company - by lying to them. How will they react when they find out they’ve been ripped off? What good does that do for your cause?”

  “Our average stockholder has a little over three hundred dollars invested in us. Over the course of a year, they spend more than that on beer and pizza.” Dorian shook his head. “I don’t know if we ripped people off, Samson. But the only way I could get anyone to invest in us was to appeal to their sense of adventure… and their greed.”

  Tyler stood up and took a step back. He had trusted Sinclair Dorian, and though he disagreed with the man on many issues, Tyler always believed that Dorian was honest in his convictions. For the moment, Tyler set aside his bewilderment and forced himself to analyze the situation objectively. He looked back over at the industrialist. “Did it ever occur to you that you could have simply appealed to their intellect or, as you like to say, their ‘spirit of adventure’?”

  “Wake up, Samson. If I couldn’t promise a quick profit, no one would want a part of the venture.” He coughed weakly. “We once sent men to the moon just to beat the Soviets. We didn’t do it for money. We did it to win the space race. It was done just to say that we did it first, just to prove we could do it. I always thought there was something noble about that.”

  “So what’s our motive today? It’s certainly not to make a profit.” Tyler's frown deepened as he sat back down. He shook his head. “I always towed the company line because I took you at your word. Who else knows about all this? Ramona?”

  “Ramona was only a division head when we went public.”

  “Did Javier know? He quit the company after the trial. Is that why most of the original legal team left the company? Did they all suspect the truth? What about Jacob? He must have known what was going on.”

  Dorian shrugged, and Tyler felt his cheeks burn. He felt foolish. He realized that his elevation to general counsel was not because of his skills, but simply because he had proved unwavering loyalty throughout the SEC scandal. Everyone else had left in fear or disgust. Had he been the only person in the company who actually believed that they were innocent?

  “Jacob handled the early work with the SEC,” said Dorian. “He was the one who kept us looking good on paper.”

  “How could he do that? Why would he risk -”

  “Jacob’s been my friend for thirty years, and he’s always believed in the dream.”

  “But the dream is a lie.”

  “No!” So quick was Dorian’s movement, that Tyler feared the old man was about to jump out of the bed. Dorian jabbed out a gnarled finger. “If I had to convince people to act against their better judgment, so be it. You can’t tell me that y
ou don’t want to see us succeed. You go to that space center, watch the Naiad when it lands. Touch it. It’s not a dream. It’s a reality!” Then he shook his head in disgust. “Why am I even talking to you about this? What do you care? You don't even believe in our mission.”

  The switch in topic took Tyler off guard. “Of course I believe,” he replied hesitantly. “Sure. Space travel -”

  “You don’t believe in the concept of commercial space travel. It’s impractical, too expensive.”

  Tyler could not find it in himself to disagree. “Well, it’s unprofitable. I think we agree on that.”

  “But it’s not about money, Samson. Templar Enterprises is not about contracts and factories. You need to understand that.”

  But Tyler was shaking his head. “Sinclair, if they ever find out what we did in the past -”

  “They won’t find out,” Dorian insisted. “We destroyed the evidence years ago.”

  “What about today? They’re investigating our purchasing and acquisitions. That includes our finances. Hell, the FBI already has half our records. And if the SEC gets back into this…”

  “I told you, we destroyed the evidence. And ever since that investigation, Jacob has made sure that Templar’s finances are completely legitimate.”

  “Do you know that for a fact? I’ve found information linking our purchases to outside, unauthorized dealers. I’ve tried to find more information, but -”

  “But you were pulled away and Dustin was ordered to settle the matter with the government. I know. Ramona told me.”

  Tyler’s eyes widened. “You know what she’s doing?”

  “Of course I know. She called me right after it happened. She thought you were being obstinate. I agreed.”

  “Sinclair, if you want us to get through this mess, then let me do my job. Something is wrong within the company. We need to get to the bottom of this, no matter where it leads.”

  Slowly, Dorian shook his head. Then he sighed and spoke in a low voice, one without pride or conviction. “I don’t know anything about this purchasing business, Samson.” He looked away. “God, I hope we get through this all right.”

  For what it was worth, Dorian’s admission gave Tyler a small bit of relief. Then Dorian closed his eyes once more, and his face went slack as his labored breathing filled the silence. For several long minutes, Tyler stared at the old man, trying to grasp the implications of his confession. To learn that Dorian had originally engineered such a massive fraud was staggering. His confession brought up a whole range of legal and ethical questions, none of which he wanted to consider at the moment.

  Tyler sat back down. “Tell Ramona to call off this settlement nonsense. Let me do my job – or I’ll quit.”

  “You won’t do that.”

  “Try me.”

  Dorian considered that for a long moment, but then shook his head. “Before you quit - before you do anything - you need to visit to the space center.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Just go out there and walk the place. Ramona is taking the jet out there tonight. She’s going to be there for the Naiad landing and will be making a speech.”

  “I’m sure she won’t want me tagging along.”

  “That’s her problem. Go with her. You can fly back tomorrow. After you’ve seen the space center, we’ll talk about our legal tactics.”

  Tyler didn’t want to go to New Mexico, but if it would get him back in charge of his duties, it might be worth it. It would also give him a chance to meet with Noah Gettleman. He still wanted to follow up with the senior flight director’s request for help. Perhaps problems with the company extended beyond the New York offices.

  “All right,” he said slowly, putting his hands to his knees and standing up. “I’ll go. For one day.”

  Dorian closed his eyes once again. The trace of a smile parted his lips, and he said nothing more.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  The bedroom was silent. Sinclair Dorian laid in the darkness, propped up with several large pillows. He stared out of the wall-sized picture window at the night stars. It had been a lifetime ago that he had discovered them shining down from the night sky in their silent glory. He could not remember the exact moment when he first noticed them, but they always held a special place in his heart, knowing that the light they cast was from a distance and expanse of time greater than all of human experience. People, wrapped up in their brief, insignificant lives, rarely paused to contemplate the greater universe around them.

  The stars beckoned him. The most profound answers, he felt, were far beyond the small sphere of Earth.

  He had spent a lifetime searching for something to prove his own worth, to make a difference - as a factory worker, an Air Force pilot, and later a businessman and philanthropist. No matter where he was, he always wanted to see more, go farther, and experience everything he could in life.

  His legacy was to expand mankind’s reality.

  He inhaled deeply from the oxygen tube under his nose. The bright moon hung high above the glowing horizon. He wished he were further north, for there was nowhere in Westchester County where city lights did not hide all but the brightest of the night stars.

  The door opened a crack, and a pulse of light shone as Shannon came into the room. Silently she moved to the bed.

  “Could you open the curtains a bit more?” Dorian asked, without turning his head from the window.

  “Of course,” she whispered. She made her way through the darkness and pulled open the curtains of the high window as far as they would go. When she was finished, she paused to follow Dorian’s gaze outside. “It’s pretty,” she said, leaning against the windowsill.

  It was like this almost every night. When it came time to put him to bed, she usually found he had already turned off the television and was staring out at the night sky, lost in his own thoughts.

  “I wish I was in New Mexico.”

  “I know.” She stepped away from the window and approached the bed. She leaned down, touching his stubbled cheek. “How’s the pain? You haven’t taken anything all afternoon.”

  “I’m all right.” He looked up at her. In the dim moonlight his face wrinkled into a tired smile. “Do I ever thank you for putting up with me?”

  “Every day, Sinclair.”

  She walked to the door and looked back. “When are you going to tell them?”

  “Pardon me?”

  “When are you going to tell your friends - everyone - what’s happened to you?”

  “Tomorrow’s a big day,” he said in the darkness. “When the astronauts come back, I want them to visit me here. I want to speak with them.”

  He had ignored her question, but she let it pass. “I’ll get you up in time for the landing. Sleep tight.”

  “I know they’ve been worried about me,” he told her as she closed the door. “I’ll tell them everything soon enough.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  After a late-night arrival at Albuquerque International Airport via a chartered flight, Ramona Vargas, Samson Tyler, and his security detail went directly to their hotel. Ramona had not been happy to find out at the last minute that Tyler was going with her. They barely spoke during the flight, making the entire trip uncomfortable for everyone.

  As a precaution, the rooms had been cleared by security by the time the executives were escorted through a side entrance. Ramona’s room was on the second floor. Tyler’s room was on the third. He noted with mild disappointment that the place was not nearly as plush as the Strathenge. They settled in at almost eight o’clock local time.

  “I’ll be back later,” Lynn told him, as she made a final check of the room. “Someone will be guarding your door at all times. Keep your drapes closed. If you need anything from room service, call me and I’ll make the request.”

  “I know the drill,” he said, tossing his suitcase on the bed. “I want to use the hotel phone. Has it been checked?”

  Lynn nodded. Part of the procedure was to sweep the room for surve
illance devices. “The phones should be fine,” she said, heading for the door. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

  After Lynn closed the door behind her, Tyler walked over to the desk, picked up the phone and dialed out. He was still avoiding the use of his cell phone for important calls. It was two hours later in New York. Yesterday he had called Cindy early in the morning; now he worried that he was calling her too late.

  After the second ring, she picked up. “Hello?”

  “Cindy, it’s me. I’m in New Mexico.”

  “What are you doing there?”

  “Just a quick visit. Did your husband get the information?”

  “Samson, I hope this doesn’t become a habit. My workday seems to be extending to a twenty-four-seven schedule.”

  “I know, Cindy,” Tyler replied soothingly. “I wouldn’t be doing this without good reason. So, did you husband find anything from the item I gave you?”

  There was a pause. “Sort of.”

  Tyler felt a rise of excitement. Finally, he would have some solid information on Merrick. “And?”

  “Your person’s name is Evelyn Haley Merrick.”

  Tyler frowned. So her name really was Merrick. He had assumed it was a pseudonym.

  “I don’t understand,” said Cindy. “Why do you care about this woman? She hasn’t been with us in over six months.”

  Tyler’s frowned deepened. “What do you mean 'with us'?”

  “She’s an ex-employee. A contractor.”

  Tyler reached out for the desk chair and sat down. “Hold on. Are you telling me that Merrick actually worked for Templar Enterprises? How did you find that out?”

  “After my husband came up with nothing, I ran the digitized prints against Templar’s personnel records. High security-level employees have to provide fingerprints. I figured that with everything that’s going on, you were probably looking for information about one of our employees. There wasn’t much in her file, though. I mean, for a woman who spent nearly two years with the company, you would think–”

  “Two years?”