Chapter 4: A Secretary for the Boss
Wilson came to work a few days later and found a young woman sitting at a desk inside the door to his suite. He still hadn’t moved out of the conference room. By now it was home. A couple of his staff people had desks in the hall outside the conference room. His aid, a young lieutenant usually camped out, outside his office ready to run errands for him. Mac, his security officer usually sat outside the door too. Mylea had an office somewhere in the building, he wasn’t quite certain where. The Palace AI usually let Mylea know he wanted to see her and she showed up.
“Who are you?” Wilson asked.
“My Lord,” The young woman replied, “Lady Hawthorne sent me up.”
“I see,” Wilson commented, “Why did she send you up?”
“To be your secretary sir,” The young woman answered, “She was concerned that you didn’t have someone to run interference for you, and run some errands your aid shouldn’t. I used be one of her husband’s secretaries until he abandoned the business a few weeks back. I have been hanging out at the Lady’s place helping her. She thought you could use me.”
“I see,” Wilson murmured looking the woman over. She was a knock out. She could have modeled anything she wanted to. “Mac!”
“Yes sir!” Mac came into the office with a broad smile he had just won a bet on how long it would take Wilson to yell for him.
“I take it you have passed this young lady?” Wilson asked.
“Oh yeah,” Mac answered, “I ran her check personally. She was assigned to you earlier this week. I’ve had her on ice for a couple of days while I vetted her. Let me introduce you to Liz Tanner. She is twenty six years of age, has no children, and is not married. Her coworkers have all reported that she is one hell of a secretary and administrative assistant. She’ll be housed in the staff apartments. She knows she is on 24 and 7.” Wilson winced at that, “within reason.”
“Ms. Tanner is that acceptable to you?” Wilson asked.
“Yes milord.” Liz said, and Wilson realized that she was a little shy.
“Thank you Liz, I’ll try not to be too demanding of your time.” Wilson said, “Let’s go over the calendar.”
“Yes sir,” She pulled it up from the computer as Mac quietly slipped out. “I see you have either breakfast or lunch with the Queen most days. And that twice a week you have a formal brief of your progress. Today you are schedule for lunch with her majesty and have a staff meeting afterwards.”
Wilson nodded and discussed the calendar for a few more minutes.
A few days later Wilson was convinced that Liz was a mind reader. She knew what Mike needed when he needed it. In addition she was a superb organizer. She had taken a look at all the notes hanging from the walls in his conference room and had them categorize and organized as to class and type. She even had his table of organization posted on the wall. She was also handling routine stuff routing the work to the proper staff person, and working very closely with Mylea. She had made friends immediately with Lisa, Abby and Jill. It was Michelle Klond who got his attention.
“Michael,” The old surgeon said when she was giving Michael his physical. It was something that as MO for the operation she insisted on doing. “You realize that you have started a legend don’t you?”
“Legend,” Wilson asked.
“Yes,” Michelle replied, “there isn’t a woman on your staff, who isn’t absolutely drop dead beautiful.”
Wilson shrugged, although he had noticed that all the women working with him were indeed good looking, he hadn’t thought it unusual. For the most part it happened without his conscience effort.
“Yeah you shrug,” Michelle chuckled. She wrote a few notes in his chart, and then turned to him.
“Okay Mr. Perfect.” Michelle was the only one who could say that to his face and not suffer from it, “over all you look to be in good health. Especially for a man who has been abused like you have over the years. Your shoulder is giving you some fits isn’t?”
“Yeah some mornings it’s sore as hell,” Michael admitted, he had been shot twice in his right shoulder, and while it had been repaired by some of the best surgeons in the IRS, it still gave him problems. Part of it was that it had taken him a week to get to medical treatment the last time it had been injured. The medics could only do so much. The IRS surgeons had replaced the shoulder with artibone but it still gave him fits. He was one of the few people who didn’t receive regenerative treatments too well. Nano medical technology had not been rediscovered at the time of his injury.
“Do anti-inflammation drugs help?” Michelle asked. Wilson nodded then said, “Sometimes when it’s real bad I let Lisa work it over. Her treatment keeps it okay for a couple of months then. But I don’t let her do it that often. It takes so much out of her.”
“Worse than usual,” Michelle asked she knew how much it took out of Lisa to perform her empathic healing. She had worked extensively in the past with Lisa to help her hone her skills, and learn how to pace herself. Twenty years ago she had helped Lisa to become the best physical therapist on station 51.
“Naw,” Wilson replied, “I guess I am more sensitive to it than others.”
“I’ll drop by and see her later.” Michelle saying she really didn’t trust the palace surgeon with her two good friends. She owed Michael a great deal. They went back to her days on station 51 and later on other assignments. Michael was more a son than a friend or coworker. She also owed that to Joyce, Michael’s step mother, and one of her best friends.
“Marshal,” Liz knocked on the door and came in, “You’re 1500's here.”
“Thanks Liz,” Michael said, and knew that Michelle was right his staff was made up of beautiful women who could name their price as models in any photographer’s studio.
Every Last Mother's Child Page 60