The Fair & Foul (Project Gene Assist Book 1)

by Potts, Allie

  “It was definitely nice to have a reset button, but you can’t know for certain that he was going to react that way. I mean, I’ve never even met him. I’ve only seen his photograph.”

  “That might be true if I based the simulation on only your brain patterns. But while you were obsessing over the unknown, I was adjusting the program to look up supplemental digital information. Now, the system doesn't just create a simulation based on your brain patterns; it also creates a response profile based on digital history—in this case, Nadia’s and her father’s social media interactions, browsing history, and spending behaviors. Using that data as a reference point, the system was able to incorporate their probable reactions into its prediction of your future, even though it has never taken their readings.”

  “Er . . . not that I am not completely impressed, but doesn’t that violate their privacy somehow?”

  “It might have been more black and white fifty years ago or so, but it’s more of a gray area today. The data is out there, just waiting to be utilized, as long as you know the right channels to go through—and I do. Now, I believe you made me a promise yesterday.”

  “Well, you technically can't say you showed me the future.”

  "I never promised that. I said I would show you your probable future. You have to admit what I've done is far better than your silly Magic 8 Ball. Shall we get back to work?"

  "Forget about the presentation. You could make billions with this playing the stock market."

  “Please. We’ve only barely begun to scratch the surface of its potential.”

  “Well . . . you’re the boss. What do you need from me? Should I go and get you some more coffee?”

  “You should get a few cups for yourself as well. Neither of us will be sleeping again anytime soon.”

  Seven

  Juliane smiled. Her system's predictive model wasn’t perfect, there would always be some element of chaos, but it was pretty impressive nonetheless. A butterfly had flapped its wings in the Amazon, triggering a breeze that changed the weather pattern, resulting in Nadia wearing a light jacket, but Chad reported that the evening as a whole had played out so closely to the simulation that it almost felt scripted. Chad surprised her by making good on his promise. Juliane could only assume that Nadia was pleased with his performance. In any event, there had been no further debate about personal privacy, and the last few weeks leading up to the symposium passed without further interruption.

  The new predictive capabilities were a benefit that could gain the attention of analysts on Wall Street, but she and Chad both knew it would be impossible to capture the market's attention if the only exposure to the technology was from one-on-one demonstrations. They had to make it bigger, much bigger, and make it a shared experience. With that in mind and Louis's signature on the bottom line, Juliane and Chad built up several other scanner pillars. These pillars, once assembled, would transform the entire presentation room into an emulation chamber.

  Satisfied that all her equipment had been packaged and shipped to her standards, she made her way to the airport. After the grueling pace, Juliane was grateful that the ACI had taken care of making all of the arrangements. The gate assignment on her ticket stub had brought her to a portion of JFK she had never known existed. It was a private hangar on the far side of the airfield, and she had reached it only by boarding a small trolley car.

  When she entered the hangar, she was met with the sight of a single aircraft, whose image was mirrored in the high-gloss hangar floor. The aircraft itself could be considered a work of art by some circles. It featured a blended wing and body rather than the more traditional tubular fuselage and separate wing design. Juliane had heard that the various aircraft builders had been refining similar constructions for the past several decades as a way of trying to make aircraft quieter and more fuel efficient, but to date, the only adopters were those whose stock valuations could handle a bit more risk in their fleet management. The ACI logo was visible from every angle in the hangar.

  Juliane smirked as she found herself wondering if the Evans men were the type to overcompensate for shortcomings through acquisition of large, fast, and expensive toys, and she attempted to muffle a chuckle before someone overheard and forced her to explain herself. A glance around soon proved that she hadn't needed to worry. Louis was nowhere in sight. Juliane realized she was relieved yet disappointed. As she entered the craft, she paused in the entranceway. Louis might not be there, but she wasn't flying alone. Seated in one of the many swiveling, leather-clad chairs, was a man pouring himself a drink. She’d never seen him before.

  Juliane's eyelashes were longer than the man's hair, so blond it was nearly white. He wore a tailored suit similar in style to one of Louis’s, which had to cost more than what she paid for rent in a month. As she crossed the threshold, he stood at attention, like a gentleman of old, but had to be close to the same age as Louis. He stepped toward her while placing the drink to the side in one graceful motion, and he clasped her hand in his own. She was taken aback at how very strong his grip was.

  “Ah, you must be Dr. Faris. I’m Durham Ladensham, professional entourage and part-time legal counsel, at your service.” He must have seen Juliane’s wince at the strength of his handshake as he immediately softened his hold. “My apologies. I’ve recently taken up fencing and occasionally forget that my grip is significantly greater than it used to be.”

  Juliane attempted to smile back in understanding but wasn’t quite sure how to process his statement. She’d never encountered anyone who had taken up fencing as a sport. The people she typically interacted with tended not to take up any sport unless required to by their doctor; even then, it was typically either jogging or golf.

  He continued, misinterpreting the cause of her hesitation. “I’m a longtime friend of Louis’s, and he asked me to serve as your unofficial tour guide while he wraps up a few other details ahead of the symposium. Don’t worry. He’ll be joining us in Vegas.”

  Juliane raised a single eyebrow. So Louis thought she needed a traveling companion, did he? What did he think she was going to do? Wander off and miss her chance to stand in the spotlight?

  “He’s not told me much about what you are getting ready to present,” Durham continued, oblivious to her reaction. “He likes to keep even those of us closest to him guessing until the main event, but I am hoping that you might be a little more loose-lipped.” He smiled, daring her with his eyes.

  Juliane met his gaze and shrugged. If Louis wanted to play coy with his friend, she could play along, but first, she had to dispense with any suggestion that she was some country maiden in need of an escort. Without breaking eye contact, she moved to the aircraft railing and swept up the drink he had been in the process of pouring. She raised the glass to her lips, halving its contents. She tasted smoke as the rich scotch warmed her belly. It was the type of drink one might suggest would put hair on your chest. Certainly not one a stranger would have poured for a lady. She savored the flavor before asking, “So, fencing?”

  Juliane felt victorious as his eyes left hers, tracking the motion of the glass. His smile deepened in appreciation along with the tone of his voice. Her message had been received.

  “Well, it’s hard to keep up with the old lacrosse circuit when you travel as much as I do. I felt like the ultimate FOGO. I figured that, this way, all I have to do is find a club nearby.” He shrugged.

  “Sorry, I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.”

  “Oh, well, some of us aren’t as lucky as you are, and have to find other ways to maintain our girlish figures.” Durham snorted at his own joke.

  “It’s not been that hard. I just don’t go out to eat much.” Actually, Juliane forgot to eat altogether some days. It depended on how engrossed she was with her work and whether or not Chad was around to remind her that Nadia was waiting on him for their next meal. “No, what I meant was I have no idea what FOGO is.”

  “Oh, I see. Louis and I
played on the same team for a while. FOGO: Face Off, Get Off. I felt like I would only show for a game and then wouldn’t see the team again until the following season. Louis has this huge banner of the WLA, er, Welsh Lacrosse Association, on one of the walls at his place. I tend to forget that not everyone grew up with the terminology.”

  The crew must have completed their final safety checks because the aircraft door was closed, and an attendant interrupted the conversation, motioning them to take their seats. Juliane sank into the plush cushion. “I may never be able to fly coach ever again,” she sighed, sinking even further with the jet’s rapid acceleration.

  “Well, if your presentation goes even a fraction as well as Louis anticipates, I suspect you may never have to. Welcome to the good life.” He had poured himself another drink right before their ascent and raised his glass from his own seat. She returned the gesture, emptying the balance of her glass.

  Their ascent was over before Juliane could put her glass down. As soon as cruising altitude was reached, Durham swiveled in his chair toward her. “So what is the big hush-hush project anyway?”

  “Does Louis normally keep you in the dark about these sort of things?”

  “Normally? No, which is why I am now so intrigued. I’m not just a pretty face here. I like to know what is going on so that I can advise him on what he needs to do to come out on top.”

  Juliane shrugged. “Well, I suppose he has his reasons this time for keeping you in the dark. I would hate to ruin whatever he has planned.” Juliane watched the smile slip from Durham’s face for a moment. He bowed his head, and when he raised it again, he did so with a fox’s grin.

  “Well, we are heading to Vegas with some time to kill. How about I play you for the information?”

  “What kind of game do you have in mind?”

  “How about the game of kings?”

  “What? Chess?”

  “The fact that you even caught that reference tells me that it’s a great choice. You’re a genius, right? Well, then, you’ve got nothing to fear. What do you say?”

  “Chess.” It was a question as much as a statement. Lacrosse in Wales, fencing around the globe, and chess as his go-to game of choice. The man sitting before her had quite the different upbringing than she had. Durham did not waste time waiting for her to answer and pulled out a chess set from a small compartment located near his seat. Durham pushed a small button, and a table rose from the floor.

  “Convenient that you have the board ready.”

  “Isn’t it, though?” Durham grinned like a child. The pieces were set up in a matter of minutes. “Ladies first.”

  Juliane marveled at the board as Durham placed the final piece. It was a beautiful set; each piece appeared hand carved out of marble and polished to a high shine. She hesitated to mar their surfaces with her fingerprints. She moved her first pawn as if it might shatter on impact.

  A few moves later, several of her pieces had been captured. As she suspected, Durham was quite skilled with the game. She watched as he swooped in to take out another, this time a knight. With each move, he had grown bolder and bolder while her available moves dwindled.

  “Really, my fine doctor, you ought to pay more attention to the game at hand—a couple more moves like that and your king will be completely exposed.” He paused.

  She had been hunched forward, studying the board, but looked up when he had begun speaking.

  His smile widened to a near leer. "Or are you hoping for an excuse to bare all your secrets?" She glanced down to realize that her neckline had drooped low, providing him with a display of cleavage. She successfully fought back a blush. Stay confident, Juliane, she told herself as she acknowledged his comment with a quick tilt of her head and a single raised eyebrow.

  She watched as he raised his own eyebrows in surprise. She saw his Adam’s apple bob in a quick gulp before he himself regained his own composure.

  Juliane turned her face back toward the game at hand, although she continued to look up at Durham through her eyelashes. “Oh, I think I might still have a chance. Don’t you?” Her voice deepened to a near purr as she reached out to caress one of her chess pieces. “You know, we never did agree what I get if I win.”

  “In full disclosure, I feel that I do need to tell you that I’ve beaten some of the best in the world, including Louis. But in the event that happens, you can name your reward.”

  “Anything I want?”

  “Anything at all.”

  “Day spas, shopping sprees, fine dining?”

  “Sure. I’ll hand over my card, but you might find yourself needing a big strong assistant to take you to all those places.”

  “And you’d be willing to do all that if I win?” Juliane drew the piece she held ever so slightly along her face so that its tip rested just beside her lips.

  “All that and more. If you win, I’ll be your personal slave as long as we are in Vegas,” Durham responded eagerly.

  Juliane shifted her head so that it rested on her other palm as she placed the piece back on the board, rubbing her thumb along its head. Durham took a quick glance around, as if verifying that they were alone in the cabin. “Well then, I believe you should hand over your wallet, as do I believe you have found yourself in a back-rank checkmate.”

  Durham’s eyes darted back to the board. His king was firmly trapped behind his own ranks with no available moves, and it was at the mercy of her queen. Juliane smiled, batted her eyelashes, and said, “Oh, and while you are at it, would you please fetch me another drink?”

  The look of shock upon Durham's face was too much to resist, and Juliane threw back her head in a burst of unrestrained laughter.

  "What just happened?" Durham asked as he moved to refill her beverage.

  "You don't play women often, do you?" she asked as she shrugged a shoulder with a look of mock innocence.

  "You play dirty. I'll remember that the next time we play," he replied.

  "Who says there is going to be a next time?"

  "There is always a next time. Just ask Louis."

  "Oh dear. It sounds like I may have bitten off more than I can chew."

  Durham launched into tales of he and Louis's various exploits. By the time they landed, Juliane felt much more knowledgeable about her new boss. However, she now understood why Louis hadn't told him the details about her project. Durham was a voice in need of an ear. She found herself looking forward to sharing his company in Vegas.

  Eight

  She had gone into the first boutique more out of curiosity than need. A sideways glance at an exposed tag showed a price well beyond her average means. As she moved through the rows of clothing, Juliane had selected garments without hesitation, interested to see how far Durham would let her take her victory. Rather than stopping her, he had given an indulgent grin along with his personal credit card. She didn't swipe it once. Juliane felt sorry for the sales clerk as the clerk put back what would have been a significant commission.

  "You know you really could have gained an entirely new wardrobe," Durham announced as they made their way toward her hotel.

  "Thanks, but it wouldn't have been right."

  "Why not? You beat me fair and square."

  "That was just a game. I'm not going to spend your money on my clothes. Especially not here. Did you see those prices?"

  "Chess is so much more than just a game. It's about strategy, and our strategy for the presentation should involve getting you outfitted in something that will take the room's breath away. Please, let's make one more stop. You earned it."

  Not waiting to hear her protest, Durham steered Juliane into another boutique. Juliane's eyes widened at the outfits on display. Before she could turn around and leave the shop, Durham flagged the attention of the store's clerk. This clerk was not as willing to abandon a commission, and within a short order, she pulled a white suit from the back of the shop.

  It was made of some newly-developed material that put st
andard cashmere to shame. It was the color of Antarctic snow and accented by subtle lines of silver piping. The sales clerk dragged Juliane to one of the fitting rooms. Juliane couldn't help herself. The fabric was so soft, she had to try it on. The outfit fit as if it had been designed for her and her alone. It complimented her every curve.

  "Gorgeous. Simply gorgeous," exhaled Durham as she exited the room.

  "I still can't accept this," Juliane sighed.

  "That's really too bad, because I paid for it while you were in the fitting room, and I am sorry to say this shop doesn't have a return policy. However, to really complete the look, you really need to do something with your hair. Good thing I've already made you an appointment at the hotel's spa."

  "You really shouldn't have," protested Juliane.

  "Yes, I should, and you shouldn't pretend you don't want to go. This could be your regular life soon enough." Durham's expression softened. "The world won't know what hit them."

  Durham left her at the spa entrance to go check in with Louis. She had been plucked and trimmed with near surgical precision. Her skin, normally pale, had taken on a rosy hue after their ministrations and shimmered due to a post-treatment moisturizer containing a subtle body glitter. Without a single split end to mar her hair's shine, her dark hair cascaded down her back as if it was a blackened waterfall. Looking into the mirror, she had never felt so stunning.

  Before he left, Durham had arranged private transportation for her between the spa and the auditorium. Seeing how the bright white shone, she was relieved not to have to risk her new clothes on the monorail shuttle. She entered the recently renovated convention center like a queen, basking in the admiring glances turned in her direction as she made her way down the hallway, all the while pretending it was just another day. Durham was right, Juliane told herself. She might as well act like this was a regular day.

  Though the common areas were crowded, she recognized Alan’s voice. He was seated under bright lights and giving an interview to a reporter. She acknowledged him with a subtle nod of her head as she passed. The reporter was forced to repeat his question. Alan’s response had none of its usual polish. Her lips turned up ever so slightly as she continued toward her own room.