Awakening, 2nd edition

by Kuili, Ray N.

  The door opened.

  “So, tell us, Mike, ” Brandon enquired from the doorstep, “w hy was it so important to be here precisely at seven-fifteen?”

  As for Robert, he didn’t say anything. Silently, he was shifting his glance from one half of the cue to the other . From the floor to Alex ’s hand. Then he looked up at Michael.

  “Alex wanted to talk to me tête-à-tête , ” Michael explained.

  He turned to Alex.

  “He has some interesting ideas about the identity of our Mr. X.”

  Stella was bewildered.

  “Are you serious? A broken cue on the floor?”

  Robert nodded.

  “Half on the floor, the other half in Alex ’s hand. And there ’s no way someone could have broken a stick like that by accident.”

  “So you’re not buying this?”

  “Not for a moment. Had he leaned on it like he said, worst case there would ’ve been a crack. And even that would ’ve been a stretch. But this wasn ’t anything like that . Someone had taken that stick and smashed it hard against something.”

  “But why would Michael lie to you and Brandon ? Sup pose Alex did indeed smash that cue —t his is insane —b ut suppose he did, why would Michael lie? You were practically witnesses.”

  “So the boat was fine, right?” Robert asked, with no obvious connection to her question.

  Stella waved him away.

  “Get out of here. We have a good reason to keep silent. We don ’t know who ’s behind it and we have to look for him. But I ’d imagine Michael had a better idea about who had been chasing him around the room with a cue , don ’t you think? And why? Why would anyone do that? It ’s just so weird, so stupid. Alex trying to hit Michael with a cue . . . This is absurd.”

  “And a damaged gas meter isn ’t?” Robert was obviously in the mood for philosophical questions. “Mike has his reasons, I ’m sure of that. Don ’t know exactly what these reasons are, but , trust me, he knows what he ’s doing. He may be as interested in exposing that guy as we are. Everyone is now.”

  “Maybe. Still . . . w ell, at least he doesn ’t know our plans.”

  “He knows.”

  Stella’s face darkened abruptly.

  “You told him? Wasn ’t the whole point to keep it to ourselves with no exceptions?”

  Robert gave her a look an adult might give to a child.

  “Of course I didn ’t. He told me.”

  “What? How could he possibly know? Wait! I didn ’t tell him anything!”

  “I know you didn ’t. Don ’t worry, he doesn ’t know exactly what we ’re plan ning to do.”

  “Okay, now I ’m completely lost. Is that what you wanted?”

  “No, but this is a nice bonus. No , seriously, he doesn ’t know about our plan. But he offered his own version.”

  “You mean he guessed everything ?”

  “Not everything, but close. Mike told me, of course, that he fully buys our story and has no doubt that the boat was fine. No odd breakages, no odd coincidences. But . . . had there been a breakage , and had he been the one to suffer because of it , and had he wanted to find out who was behind all that, then he would ’ve . . . That was the spin, more or less.”

  Robert picked up a flat pebble.

  “His idea is very similar to what we ’ve been doing.”

  “No way! Exactly the same?”

  “In fact, better.”

  He threw the pebble and it went on a bouncing journey across the calm water.

  “Eight. Not so bad.”

  “Are you trying to be funny?”

  “Not at all. It ’s just been a while. Anyway, his idea is better because we came up with ours before Chris had his epiphany about that vote transfer. Now , if we take advantage of that little thing , everything becomes even more beautiful. More reliable. But still, it ’s the same approach.”

  “So he told you all this in front of Alex?”

  “No. Not even in front of Brandon. Later.”

  “And when you talked man-to-man , did he bother to change his story about the cue and the railings?”

  “No, he didn ’t. Although I don’t think he would have mind ed .”

  “How’s that?”

  “He asked me again if everything on the boat was fully functional. And when I told him that , yes, everything was fine, he looked at me, you know, the way he sometimes looks, and said that a whole lot of things were so unreliable around here : t he power boat, the cue . . . But I didn ’t say anything, so he started talking about all the would haves and could haves .”

  “I don’t like this, ” Stella said , watching the second pebble heading away. “What if he is the one we ’ve been looking for? Now he knows what we ’re about to do.”

  “No, he doesn ’t, ” said Robert. “I didn ’t say a word about our plans or about the boat. He knows nothing. Well, I did tell him about your friend Kevin. Do you mind?”

  “It’s a little late to ask me now, isn ’t it? No worries, I ’m just getting even. No, I don ’t mind, of course. So how did he take it? Was he surprised?”

  “You can’t surprise him with anything. He smiled, he said thanks —and within five second s he’d changed the subject.”

  “Still, it just doesn ’t sound right that he ’s off the hook now. He isn ’t above suspicion.”

  “Yeah, he’s sort of off the hook now. Listen, Mike didn ’t do it. He gained nothing from this whole deal and he didn ’t even try to . And now he ’s out of the game anyway.”

  “I see,” said Stella, still sounding doubtful. “Oh!” she brightened up, “What did Alex say about that Mr. X? Supposedly, that was why they were meeting.”

  “Ah, nothing useful, ” Robert looked around in search for the next pebble. “Just another proof that they were meeting for something else. Some random bits and pieces. He heard the sound of the boat in the middle of the night, the note he found in the room had been for some reason planted with a bottle of red wine. . . And he doesn ’t drink and he ’s clueless . . . And he ’s very concerned about the whole situation . . . And he ’s looking forward to us working together . . . I ’m sure he improvised. It was too clumsy. For whatever reason they met , it wasn ’t that one.”

  “And why did he have to meet with Michael alone?”

  “That remained a secret, ” Robert finally found the object he had been looking for and tossed a dark—gray pebble in his palm. “The thing is, none of this matters now. Nothing is going to happen until tomorrow. You and I know it better than the rest. Hey, did you know they have official tournaments for this? There was this guy who made it bounce forty times. That ’s what I call persistence. Now , look, I ’m going to break my ten -skips record.”

  So where is he? Joan looked at the clock once again. It ’s almost eleven. He ’s not at the bar, he ’s not by the fireplace, he ’s not in the games room (well, he ’s never there) and no one answers in his room upstairs. What a perfect ending to such a dull evening.

  First Alan. Then Kevin. Then—imagine that!—Chris. Alex has disappeared into thin air. And now, the final chord, Ed is gone. All the men have gone crazy in this place. Really, all of them. Paul was the only one who turned out to be normal and showed an adequate reaction to heavy hints about future work together. His palms even got sweaty. His reaction was so adequate, that he was clearly eager to start efficient collaboration tonight. But who ’d let him? There ’s a lot of work ahead in the future—why rush? Now he ’s in the perfect state . The only problem is that after a whole week of hard work , there ’re no other votes to count on. Everyone else is completely unpredictable.

  At least Ed’s notebook showed up opportunely . That was the best thing to happen since the beginning of this workshop. Now at least it ’s possible to make some serious meaningful advances and promise serious payoffs. Much better than it ’s been until now. But , then again, up until now the men here had at least been sane!

  Take Chris, for example. He really wanted it. Oh, yeah, he di
d. He was just dying to get some action. Whether because of the vote or because he ’s human —but he wanted it. And now? He ’s become Alan ’s clone. Both are acting like zombies. “You are ri-i-ight . . . We ne-e-ed to be in touch and wo-o-ork closely together . . .” Yuk! What happened to that man? He ’s still the same in public, but try dragging him out for a private chat and suddenly you ’re facing some robot —and not the brightest one , either .

  Or Alan . . . a w alking —or rather wandering —mystery. Another case of , “Who knows what happened to him ?” This one doesn ’t even try to play to the audience. He ’s rude, he ’s impatient, and he doesn ’t care about public opinion. Openly! Poor Ross was shocked to his bones when he heard that friendly statement of support. You ’re such a schmuck ; I ’m not going to vote for you no matter what you do. Way to go, Alan. And all these comments he ’s been dropping constantly .

  And just when you think there could be nothing weirder, Kevin proves you wrong. On the one hand he listens to you, and he looks at you, and he gives you the right sort of responses, and he becomes all warm and fuzzy . . . But then on the other hand, the word voting makes him look like a rabbit who’s just ran into a hound. And when he hear s about Michael—the guy he supposedly hates and despises—he all of a sudden straightens up and delivers a little speech about Michael being smart, caring, insightful, shrewd and by and large a talented individual. Now , when that happened, there was no choice left but to put aside all ethical-political considerations and remind him about his own conversation with Stella just two days ago. Back then, according to his own words, the talented individual Michael was “A wife-beater and a scumbag.”

  At that point, Kevin seemed to have gone into a silent nervous breakdown. For about half a minute it wasn ’t even clear whether he was abo ut to yell, burst into tears , or flee the scene. Finally, he proclaimed that he had never said anything of that nature to Stella, and that if such weird storytelling had take n place (which, knowing Michael, he really doubt ed ) , it did not happen in his presence.

  After delivering that statement, he began fishing for details about what Stella had said, combining his attempts with a thick mixture of puzzlement, irritation, sadness , and to some extent completely unjustified frustration. Upon learning more details, he expressed his shock in a more articulated fashion and remarked that it was really inappropriate for Stella to smear two innocent people so treacherously. Next, he was up on his feet and rapidly walking away.

  And now Ed is missing in action . . . Now this is a new low—calling a man repeatedly, like some lousy attention -hungry chick. And as if that were not enough, the man is a pathetic worm . . . And even he— Wait! Could it be that . . . No, it cannot! Still, could it be that they all fled for a reason? That dreaded reason? She crossed the room and walked to the desk above which a monumental mirror hung in a golden -plated frame.

  But as it turned out (and to little surprise) everything was all r ight. She conducted a thorough inspection of all her ammunition, leaving no part immune to the scrutiny , only to arrive once again at the same conclusion : a ny man in his right mind and with the appropriate orientation shoul d find her irresistible. Or at the very least (some men are so weird) at tractive. So it ’s not about her. Then what the hell is it all about?

  All right, let’s swallow the pride, she thought, it won ’t be the first time today, so it should be relatively easy—and call that number again. Eight—six—nine—one . . . No need to look it up anymore. And the result will be just the same —“Yes?”

  The response was so unexpected that she even flinched. Gotcha! Now you ’re not going anywhere.

  “Ed! Ed, tell me, where—”

  Short scornful beeps.

  What?! That . . . that jerk hung up on her? Is this why it was impossible to get a hold of him? Maybe he wasn ’t picking up on purpose? I ’ll teach you to hang up on me! You— Eight! Six! Nine! One!

  “First of all, don ’t you ever think about hanging up on me! Second—”

  “Joan—”

  “Second, you can forget about—”

  “Don’t call me again .”

  “What?”

  “Don’t call me again. And don ’t talk to me in public. Just forget that anything ever happened. Please.”

  And short beeps again . . .

  For a second Joan struggled with an overwhelming , infuriating desire to hurl the phone against the wall. All right, take a deep breath . . . Inhale . . . Exhale . . . Inhale . . . Exhale . . . Now put the handset back to the cradle. It ’s not its fault. Good girl. Besides, a loud bang would reach too many ears. Not to mention, it ’ll make a sizable dent in the wall. The last thing I need now is a bill for a mutilated phone set sent to Randall. The way things are looking, he ’s going to get enough pleasant news to digest without this. It could ’ve been a nice touch , though. Now breathe . . . breathe . . .

  She sat down on the bed, feeling completely drained. Yes, most definitely, all the men in this house have gone crazy. All of them.

  Ross was getting cold. It hadn’t been smart to rush outside without a jacket. Not smart at all. But Alex had said , “In a minute in the backyard.” And when Alex tells you something , you better be prompt. What does he need this time? Everything has been taken care of already. The voting is tomorrow and with Michael out of the way , it ’s a no -brainer . There ’s simply no one else. And Alex will become our boss.

  Well, maybe it’s not such a bad deal after all. Of course there ’s always the option of staying at the current company —but why? He ’s frightening, but he would be able to recognize devotion. Yes, devotion . There ’s nothing bad about that word. You want something more politically correct, something softer? No problem. How about loyalty ? True loyalty is such a rarity nowadays. And real devotion is nowhere to be found. Everyone thinks about himself, counts his own money and is concerned only with grabbing a slice of the pie. True loyalty is a thing of the past. “Our people are businessmen .” That line from The Godfather says it all.

  And yet, it’s the loyal folks who pull it off at the end of the day . Not the sly foxes and bootlickers. If you ’ve got no loyal people you ’ve got nothing. They are the core of every team and every company. If you ’re a general , you ’d better have at least a couple of truly loyal lieutenants —those who will sell you their souls and follow you no matter where you ’re going. Come hell or high water, they are your people. And a true leader would always know how to recognize devotion. Otherwise , who ’d be loyal to him? As for all that rudeness . . . all that arm twisting . . . it ’s not really necessary. “Shanghai Bells ” . . . we could work together without things like that .

  We could’ve simply discussed the matter back then. I would not have refused help ing such a man. I would not have walked away from a chance to support him. Granted, I could ’ve had some doubts, especially back then, before we knew the truth, but still . . . a discussion would ’ve worked just fine. You take one look at him and you already know this man has a big future. And then you realize that you ’re better off following such a man instead of trying—completely hopelessly—to compete with him. It ’s always critical to recognize the right man to follow. The sooner you do that , the better off you are.

  And all these Roberts and Stellas who are so full of themselves will realize who's the boss around here . Even Michael will get it. Eh . . . n o, this one won ’t. This one is different. This one— oh, who cares? Whether he gets it or not , who cares? If he doesn ’t get it quick enough, we ’ll fire him. Yep, just like that. Alex will simply show him the door and that pompous ass will be out for good. Next time he ’ll know better than to pry into people ’s heads. That snob thinks he ’s a shrink —what a nerve! He ’s a good candidate for the Shanghai Bells . Well, who knows —perhaps Alex will show it to him one day. There ’re other people around here who ’d benefit from getting that demo , too. And that smartass Alan is the first one in line. For all I care, he could get some Beijing Whistles as a bonus. He ’s became too much of a lou
dmouth.

  Is he coming? It ’s getting really cold . . . Perhaps it ’s time to sneak back in and get a jacket. Really, it ’d be just a minute. It ’d be— No. Cold or not, it ’d be smarter to wait here. If he ’s late, he ’ll have a good reason for it . He really knows what he ’s doing. By the way, he still needs to hear the story about this morning ’s interrogation in the middle of the lake. And , by golly, it ’s a good story to tell. It feels good to know that , despite all the pressure , no information has been leaked. Not even a hint.

  It was rather tempting, but there was enough willpower and smarts left to pretend to be stunned and appalled by Michael ’s suggesti ons instead of opening up and whining about the beating. This is what they call real devotion. When you do something not for personal gain. When you do something because you know that he ’ll need it. One day. You know that you ’re doing it for him and that ’s quite fulfilling. He, of course, would appreciate it. Too many people around here are just waiting for the right moment to strike, to backstab him. So he ’ll appreciate an act of pure loyalty. Silence is sometimes worth more than the most eloquent words. He ’ll appreciate—“You cold?”

  Here. He gets everything instantly. How did he manage to come close so silen tly? He showed up from nowhere.

  “I’m fine, don ’t worry.”

  “Sorry I ’m late. Got delayed.”

  “Don’t mentio n it.”

  “I had to talk to someone. Something urgent has come up.”

  He doesn’t trust me yet. It ’s a shame. He should know that he can really trust me. That ’s something to work on. Anyway, his tone is different now. Much warmer than usual.

  “Let’s go for a walk. Too many ears around here.”

  “Where do you want to go? It ’s really dark out there.”

  “Anywhere. I just want to make sure it ’s safe for us to talk. What —you don ’t feel like it?”