The Clock

by Kathryn Wise

  The Clock

  Clairvoyant Serial - Book 2

  Kathryn Wise

  Soul Words

  From Kathryn Wise

  In the off chance you haven’t read The Key, the first installment of the Clairvoyant Serial, you really must read it before you start The Clock.

  Go get it!

  It’s forever .99, but if for some reason you don’t want to purchase the book, I’m offering another option. If you sign up for my regular newsletter, I’ll send you The Key FREE. Details can be found in the back of the book.

  Previously…From The Key

  Jack Trader sat at the head of the table opposite the grand entry doors. Behind him a media curtain had been hung, as if there were plans for a presentation to be delivered later on. The room was otherwise vacant, leaving it cavernous and cold. Rachel and Grayson had arrived a few minutes before, quickly clearing security and then suffering the irritating slowness of the elevator. Grayson was in Michael Raphael mode, but on the short trip to the building, he had warned her of the change in format. The first 30 minutes would be with Mr. Trader. Alone.

  “Good morning Michael. Thank you for escorting Ms. Wheaton again. And thank you as well for chiming in yesterday about needing to take a break. In retrospect, that was a good call on your part.”

  “Thanks, Jack. Anything for Virtual Life,” Grayson said, flashing an upbeat smile.

  “And good morning to you Ms. Wheaton. You look refreshed. I trust you’re ready to proceed with the interview?”

  “Why yes Mr. Trader. I am completely refreshed and ready to proceed. Thank you so much for your gracious flexibility. I’ve had time to prepare and look forward to spending more time with your team.” Rachel sat down in the chair at the opposite head of the table from Trader. Grayson sat a few chairs down from her. “I understand you’ve decided to spend the first 30 minutes without your management team in attendance?”

  “Oh yes. I sometimes like to have one-on-one time with key candidates; you know…to help them along. We have a very diverse group of heavy hitters on my team and sometimes their personalities can be…oh, how shall I say…off-putting?”

  “I see. So you’re going to give me some tips?”

  “Um…in a manner of speaking. I want to introduce you to someone.”

  “I see. Of course. Whatever you think is best,” Rachel said. She noticed Grayson shifting in his chair. Apparently, this was a surprise.

  Rachel’s internal alarm went off. She felt a new tension in the room.

  First, there were the sounds.

  The click of a closing door.

  The sound of spike heels on a tile floor.

  And the whoosh of a fabric curtain opening.

  Mr. Trader rose from his chair.

  Through the media curtain a woman appeared.

  Mr. Trader cleared his throat. “I would like to introduce Ms. Veronica Priestly, one of our newest stars on the team.”

  There she was, standing in all of her Cruella de Vil splendor, dressed to the nines from head to toe.

  And hanging from a simple chain around her neck…a blindingly brilliant platinum key.

  The Clock

  “There is another kind of time that the Greeks also named. Kairos. While chronos refers to chronological or sequential time, man-made time, kairos signifies a time in-between, an uncounted moment in which something outside of chronos happens…In the New Testament, kairos is used when referring to the moment that fulfills the purpose of God, the moment God acts.”1

  1Praying the Hours in Ordinary Life: (Art for Faith’s Sake) Lauralee Farrer and Clayton J. Schmit

  Chapter One

  The Game’s Afoot

  Grayson was stern, his affable demeanor dissolving into a tense sobriety. Rachel forced a polite smile, pretending not to recognize the woman who’d just entered the room, standing slowly to show a cordial respect. Grayson followed Rachel’s lead.

  The woman nodded. “Oh please, do sit down. We won’t be long. Jack was gracious enough to allow me a few pre-meeting minutes with you…uh, Ms. Wheaton is it?”

  “Yes, but you may call me Patricia.”

  “Yes, I see. Patricia. That’s a very nice name,” the woman said, her voice trailing off as she pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. “And you’re Mr.-”

  “Raphael. Michael Raphael,” Grayson said, barely polite as he sat down. “We’ve met several times before.” The air in the room stalled, suddenly stagnant.

  “Good grief, is it getting stuffy in here?” Trader asked, chuckling as he stood up to find the thermostat. “This building is like one huge AI organism. The temp in here should be perfect.”

  “Maybe it’s just you, darling,” said the woman.

  Trader winced.

  Interesting. Is he afraid of her? Rachel sensed a kind of chaos between them. Priestly clearly had the upper hand. Had she humiliated Trader? Rachel thought so. Maybe more than once.

  “Mrs. Priestly, is it?” Rachel asked as she took her chair. The woman nodded. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to be rude, but have we met before?” Rachel smiled and looked directly at her, waiting for an answer.

  “Gee darling, I don’t think so,” the woman said, her eyes narrowing as she tilted her head forward. “Do you?”

  “Oh, it’s probably nothing. It must have been someone who looks like you. It’s not very often one sees such an impeccably dressed woman. Is that Versace?” Rachel asked.

  “Why, yes it is, Ms. Wheaton. You have a good eye,” Mrs. Priestly said.

  “Yes. So I’m often told,” Rachel said. The two women sized one another up, setting the rules of engagement for the meeting. The men had no idea what was going on.

  “Lovely key,” Rachel remarked. It was a good thing she’d secured the key case at the hotel. This time in a different place.

  Mrs. Priestly smiled wryly. “Oh this? It’s nothing, really. Just something I found hidden away in the back of a closet.”

  “Your closet I presume?” Rachel asked.

  Mrs. Priestly ignored Rachel’s repartee, and turned to Trader. “Jack darling, let’s get started. The others will be here soon.”

  Trader sat up straight. “Yes, of course.” Opening the portfolio in front of him, he hesitated.

  Grayson cleared his throat. “Hey, Jack. I appreciate you including me in this pre-interview session. Ms. Wheaton tells me she spent considerable time last evening researching Virtual Life’s short history, particularly in the area of acquisitions. Might I suggest we spend some time talking about the overarching goal that drove those acquisitions?”

  Trader looked over at Priestly for direction. All doubt about who was in charge had been removed.

  “Yes, darling, let’s do that,” Mrs. Priestly said.

  A chill ran down Rachel’s back. Trader nodded tentatively. After a few seconds, he said, “No, I think not. First, that discussion will take much more time than we have, and second, we haven’t yet made a formal offer to Ms. Wheaton. And...uh…there’s no NDA in place.”

  Rachel could almost see the steam spewing from Mrs. Priestly’s ears. Trader seemed to realize he’d stepped in it.

  “However, I’m willing to attempt something this afternoon. The offer and the NDA, if it’s still needed by then, can be taken care of by the end of the day. That said, I propose we schedule a subsequent meeting for the afternoon. We can brief Ms. Wheaton on the details of the mission then,” Trader offered, recovering pretty well. Priestly sat back, apparently satisfied with his answer.

  Rachel thought the acquisitions discussion, if it were to happen now, would be poorly timed. When she was on assignment, it was her practice to have an answer for every question that might arise, and a response to every scenario that might unfold. She knew quite a bit about the acquisition
s already, but she wanted more time to prepare…more time to focus and connect the dots.

  “Mrs. Priestly, I suggest we cover your agenda items,” Trader said. “We have ten minutes before the others arrive.”

  Grayson looked poised to jump out of his chair. He was conspicuously tense around Mrs. Priestly, as if itching for any sign of provocation. Priestly abruptly swiveled her chair around, stood, and walked back toward the media curtain. Trader gave up his head-table seat and moved about six chairs away, presumably to give her a wider berth. Rachel sensed she was preparing to mark her territory. Her mind flashed on an image of the woman pacing the room as she made her proclamations, underscoring each with a dramatic gesture: standard fare for demonstrating dominance in a corporate hierarchy.

  Priestly turned toward the window, unbuttoned her suit jacket and slipped it onto the back of Trader’s former chair. She hovered over the table, putting both hands down spread wide on the surface while tilting her head ever so slightly, her eyes burrowing into each of the other three.

  She looks like a vulture ready to swoop.

  “Ah…such a lovely table. Have you talked with the designer yet about these chairs, Jack?” Trader gave her a blank look. “Uh huh, I see. Well, that’s for another time. Now, what should we talk about first? Yes…Patricia…I want you to know that I’m here for you. If you have any questions, ideas, or suggestions, you just come to me and I’ll make sure you get what you need. That’s number one. Number two is this: As I’m sure you’ve learned through your research, Virtual Life has made extraordinary strides during the last 18 months. We’d like to see this trend continue. In order to ensure that happens, we’ll need to be more aggressive in our market positioning.”

  Trader looked lame, hanging on Priestly’s every word. Rachel had seen enough to know she was only using him as a pawn in her quest. She just didn’t know specifically how or where Priestly intended to take them.

  Chapter Two

  The Aim

  The noisy hum of people talking outside the conference room doors grew louder. And then the double doors abruptly opened as the clock struck the hour. The executives entered slowly, talking quietly in pairs, walking huddled together as if into a memorial service. Silence settled like a blanket over the room while each person chose a seat. Mrs. Priestly remained standing at the head of the table until the doors closed and then moved to a chair two seats to the left, returning the one at the table’s head to Trader.

  Trader welcomed the congregants with a grandiose waving gesture, a rather awkward one at that. “Good morning, everyone. Coffee should be here momentarily,” he said, smiling too broadly.

  Rachel was distracted. Her spirit felt heavy, overwhelmed by a feeling of sadness so tragic, she could be at risk of performing poorly during the interview. She needed to shake it off, and quickly. The heaviness wasn’t from her. It was in the room. She looked across the table, quickly and discretely glancing at each face. Nothing. Until she reached Grayson.

  Grayson’s face looked different: fallen. And his eyes were drooping. It dawned on her that during the few moments Mrs. Priestly had had the floor, Grayson’s countenance turned uncharacteristically angry and annoyed. But it was more than angry and annoyed. Rachel realized that Grayson was grieving. Over what? Or who?

  “Let’s get started. We have a brief agenda today. Ms. Wheaton, yesterday afternoon we took the liberty of conducting what we call a pre-meeting, the purpose of which was to air any concerns or questions that might stall the progress of the interview. I feel confident that everyone is on board with our plan for today’s second interview….unless anyone has any new concerns they’d like to raise?”

  Trader looked around the table. Mrs. Priestly sat like a queen holding court, arrogance oozing from the tilt of her head to the way she sat cross-legged and indifferent in her expensive suit. She kept looking at Grayson, staring at him, communicating something secret and disturbing. Rachel tried to be discrete as she observed. The intensity of their dynamic seemed almost too obvious. Others would certainly notice unless Grayson pulled his emotions back and composed himself. She needed to do something, but wasn’t certain if the enhanced sound system had been switched on. The notepad would work. She grabbed it from her bag and scribbled a brief message.

  Mr. Raphael, Thank you for walking alongside me through this process. It means more than you know.

  She leaned toward Grayson, sliding the note under his hand. He took it below the table surface to read, a faint smile relieving the tightness of his jaw. He whispered, “You’re welcome. The pleasure is all mine.”

  She felt her face get warm and a slight thrill rise up into her chest. Maybe that was too much, but at least he would be okay for now. She wasn’t so sure about herself. The fact that someone in the room could be linked to her parents’ murder was no small distraction. If she let herself ponder the possibilities, the emotion would pull her down, rendering her useless for anyone, including Virtual Life. She had to get inside. Blowing her interview was not an option.

  “All right…last call for concerns.” Silence. “Okay, then. Let’s get started. I’ll cut right to the chase. Ms. Wheaton, we’re prepared to make you an offer. The job itself will likely evolve in its form, but we all agree on the overarching purpose: to take the number 1 spot in the market.”

  It was a stunning proclamation. How did they expect her to do that?

  Mrs. Priestly cleared her throat. “You look a little surprised. Don’t tell me you’re not aware of your own stellar reputation, Patricia. May I call you ‘Patricia'?"

  “Mrs. Priestly, I’m flattered, believe me. And I appreciate the confidence you all seem to have in my abilities. But I’m just a technologist, not a miracle worker. Were I to bring experience in market strategy and positioning, or technology innovations for that matter, it might be different. But honestly, I don’t really see what Virtual Life sees in me.”

  “Oh, my dear Patricia, please don’t be coy. We don’t have time for that. There’s work to do, and despite your own short-sightedness, you do have what we need to carry out our plans,” Mrs. Priestly snarled through a stiff smile.

  “You’re much too flattering.” Rachel paused, pretending to consider Mrs. Priestly’s point. “Well, I suppose I might consider an offer, but I’d like to know more about this overarching purpose of yours. Mr. Trader described it as taking the number 1 spot in the market. How exactly do you plan on doing that? I mean really, unless you’re planning on acquiring the top three companies, I don’t see how you could possibly build the infrastructure necessary to eclipse your competitors.”

  A few of the executives looked down at the table, frantically scribbling notes. Rachel recognized the dodging tactic. Others sat up in their chairs, looking at her, and then Trader, and then back at her.

  Trader perked up, as if a light bulb had switched on. “Service, Ms. Wheaton. Impeccable service. We plan on outdoing our competitors in social media up time and world-class customer support. You may have read that our competitors are already struggling to meet uptime demands. Their customers aren’t going to put up with that very long, so we see this as a huge opportunity.”

  “So, your intent is to put the top 3 out of business?” Rachel asked.

  “Uh…no, of course not. We here at Virtual Life believe in free market forces. If we can outperform the other guys, we think their customers will begin migrating over to Virtual Life. After all, we plan on offering the entire spectrum of social media services, and more. It would be a complete one-stop-shop relationship,” Trader said. He looked over at Mrs. Priestly who nodded in approval.

  Rachel was intrigued by the direction the interview had taken. “I see. Sounds like some kind of social media utopia. So your theory is that if you’re successful, any customer establishing a Virtual Life account wouldn’t want to go anywhere else, right? They could establish their virtual presence, connect with other Virtual Life customers, get all of their news, handle their business marketing, and run their business operations
apps all through Virtual Life?”

  “Exactly. That’s the strategy,” Trader said.

  “Interesting. Virtual Life would then control all content, the look and feel of the interface, and the data security protocols across all social media experiences for what would be an increasingly larger base of customers. That seems…oh, how should I say it? Ambitious.”

  “Well, we like to think big around here, don’t we?” Trader asked, looking around the table for agreement. The response was tepid at best, but no one disagreed. Mrs. Priestly looked like a tabby cat purring with delight at the end of the table.

  Rachel decided to back off the harder questions for the time being and make a hard-left shift to next steps. “It all sounds quite intriguing. But I need to know a few things before I’m willing to entertain an offer. Most importantly, I want to know what success looks like in your minds. Aspects such as performance indicators, timeframes, support resources at my disposal, etc. I cannot, in good conscience, blindly accept a job offer based only upon a flattering assessment of my value,” Rachel said, noticing Grayson had turned completely round in his chair to face her as she spoke. So had several others at the table.

  Mrs. Priestly chimed in. “I see. I suppose that’s a fair expectation. Jack, have a modified offer letter drawn up with acceptance contingent upon agreement on a job performance plan for Ms. Wheaton.”

  Trader coughed. “Thank you for your suggestion, Veronica. Let’s see…let me give this a think.” Trader looked up and down the table, presumably to seek input from the others. No takers…again. He continued. “Ms. Wheaton, in my few years as CEO, I’ve learned better than most how important it is to build a good team. I appreciate your concern and agree that it’s only fair to allow you some insight into my starting list of team members. I’ve asked Calista Lawrence, head of Systems Improvement and Innovation, and George Kendall over Market Research and Media Innovation to select their top people and devote them to your team on a full-time basis.”