by J. N. Chaney
Oragga lived in the Sterling Heights corridor, known for its impressive views of the western horizon during sunset. The homes here weren’t stacked on one another like in the rest of the city. Instead, they were single-unit spaces that retained the entire area of their property for themselves. Homes of various kinds stood at all different heights, made from all different materials. Some looked like futuristic starships ready to launch into orbit—hells, maybe some of them actually were starships. Others were made of organic materials that looked as though they belonged along rocky outcroppings or in dense jungle forests.
The driver pulled up to Oragga’s front gate, which gave way to a dark glass tower not unlike the complex buildings. He pulled up to the main doors, came around to let me out, and left me in the care of Oragga’s butler.
“Mr. Reed?”
“Yeah,” I replied, offering him my hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
The man looked at my outstretched hand as if unsure what to do with it. He pinched my palm with his thumb and forefinger, then wiped them off with a white handkerchief. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir.”
There was something familiar about the way he spoke, but I couldn’t place it. “And you are…?”
“The butler, sir.”
Damn if this guy didn’t need to loosen up. “Okay then, where to?”
“Mr. Oragga has requested you join him at the pool.” The butler pointed a finger straight up.
“The pool?” I echoed, looking up. I guessed it was on the roof. Fan-frickin-tastic.
“Yes, sir. Is there a problem?”
Aside from the fact that I wasn’t looking forward to being in another skyscraper again—even if it was a smaller one—I wasn’t exactly dressed for a swim. I turned from the tower’s summit and looked down at my street clothes. “You think he’s cool with skinny-dipping?”
“Skinny what, sir?”
“You know what? Never mind. The pool it is.”
“Right this way.”
The butler led me through Oragga’s home, which really was more like a small corporate building than a residence and guided me down a glass-lined hallway to a spacious elevator.
“Mind if I take the stairs?” I asked.
The butler turned to look at me, his brow furrowed. “That is an unusual request, but not at all. This way, sir.”
The man led me a few meters further along the hall to a stairwell. He indicated that we ascend, and I started marching up the stairs one at a time. Images of my encounters with the thieves flooded back. This stairwell was a lot like that one, only in miniature. At least this time I wasn’t carrying automatic weapons, several kilos of flour, or an improvised detonator that could blow my legs off.
We rose steadily, in no particular hurry, passing the numeric placards indicating each of Oragga’s mini-tower floors. What anyone needed with so much space was beyond me. But then again, if you were an eccentric billionaire, I guess you needed creative ways to spend your fortune. Gods knew I’d probably build a house too big for myself if I were him.
The butler and I didn’t talk much. He didn’t seem the chatty type, which was fine with me. After so many questions from everyone who met me in the last two weeks, it was nice to not have to be “on.” And, guessing by the people this man spent his work-life around, he was probably grateful for the quiet too. That, or he just thought I was a blue-collar security guard who made in one year what he made in a week. I’d have asked, but—again—he wasn’t the chatty type.
By the time we made it to the top floor, beads of sweat had formed along my forehead. I was nowhere near as winded as I’d been in the complex buildings, but my legs still burned.
The stairwell door opened to a large glass foyer that looked out over a sunken pool, though I hesitate to call it a pool, at least any that I’d seen. First, the water was surrounded by ornate landscaping, which included clusters of palm trees, gardens, and at least two gazebos that I could count. The pool itself had several sections, including three main bodies of water fed by waterfalls flowing from smaller raised pools that were staggered around the roof.
“What is this, paradise?” I asked the butler.
“Something like that, sir.”
I looked at him. “So, I just go out there?”
“Indeed. You will find Mr. Oragga on the gazebo overlooking the city’s edge.”
“Great, thanks.” I was about to open the glass doors, when I stopped to look back at the man. “Hey, I never did get your name.”
“That’s because I didn’t offer it, sir.”
“Do I need to ask more politely or something if I want it?”
“No, sir. I did not offer it because in my line of work… well, most people really don’t care.”
“Maybe you’re in the wrong line of work, then,” I suggested.
I could have sworn the man smirked a little. “It’s Larthinian, sir. Charles W. Larthinian. But you can just call me Lars.”
I stood, staring at the man for a moment. If I’d been a weaker man, I might have shed a tear. “Nice to meet you, Lars.”
“And you, sir. If you need anything further, please do let me know. I hope you enjoy your stay.”
“Thanks,” I replied, and then watched as the man disappeared back down the stairwell. Seemed he wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to use the elevator.
I pushed open the doors and was met by warm evening air. Somehow it seemed fresher this far out on the rim. My nose filled with the scent of orchids and treated pool water while birds called from the palms and the sounds of running water pushed away the city’s noises.
I made my way along manicured stone paths, moving under palm fronds and passing along wooden bridges. I saw the roof of the farthest gazebo as I crested a small rise. As I got closer, I noticed several dozen people standing within it. Music was playing and everyone seemed to be having a festive time, drinking from champagne glasses and eating from small plates of food. I stopped on the pathway leading down to it, thinking I must have the wrong structure. But this was where Lars told me to head.
I looked over my shoulder, thinking I might find the butler, when suddenly, I heard the sound of clapping. It started with one set of hands and then spread to several more. I turned back toward the gazebo to see everyone filing out. Their claps turned to cheers, which then turned to shouts as a short elderly man in casual business attire emerged from the middle, motioning me to come down the path. He wore a monocle over one eye, and had angular facial features accented by thinning dark hair that was combed away from his face.
Feeling exposed and at least a little awkward, I moved toward the man, guessing it was Oragga, though I’d never even seen a picture of him before. The people continued to file out of the gazebo and started to surround me. That was when I noticed some familiar faces. I’d seen them in my sniper scope, in the hangar bay, and in the stairwell. They were the hostages.
Women in beautiful sundresses wiped tears from their eyes, while men in casual business attire nodded at me with stiff upper lips. The adulation continued for almost a minute until the short man with greying hair and sparkling eyes raised his hand for silence.
“Mr. Reed,” he said, extending his hand to me, “I am Min Lee Oragga.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” I replied, shaking his hand.
“It might be. But I assure you, not nearly the pleasure it is for me to meet you. On behalf of myself and those gathered—” he gestured at the onlookers with his other hand— “I would like to offer you my sincere thanks.” Oragga held on with both hands now, shaking my arm intently, and looked into my eyes. “Thank you for risking your life, thank you for looking out for my company, and most of all, thank you for saving my employees’ lives. You are a hero to us all.”
The group burst out into cheers and clapping again, whooping and whistling as the praise went on. When at last it died out, a woman stepped up behind Oragga. She had blonde hair and wore a green dress. She handed someone her champagne glass
and pulled a note from inside the top of her dress.
“You’ll have to pardon me,” she said, unfolding the piece of paper. “I’m not good at this.”
“You’re doing great, Liz!” a man yelled from somewhere in the back.
She laughed and then brushed her hair back. “Everyone wrote you a little something in a book. It’s there in the gazebo when you want it. But, they asked me to say a little… well, anyway. I’m just gonna read it.” She cleared her throat and brought the paper up. “Dear Mr. Reed, when we went to work two weeks ago, none of us ever could have imagined what the night would hold. As we sat there on the lobby floor, realizing that we might never… that we might—” She put a hand to her lips, choking back tears.
“It’s okay,” a brunette woman said, coming to stand to Liz’s left. “I’m with you, Lizzy.”
Liz nodded and brushed her hair over her ear. “That we might never see our loved ones again, we felt alone and hopeless. But little did we know that there was a guardian who’d been sent to watch out for us. To protect us. And ultimately to save us. That guardian was you, Mr. Reed.”
Several people in the crowd affirmed this, many of them clapping.
Liz looked around, fighting back tears to resume her reading. “We’ve said goodbye to a few friends, but we know they’re watching us now. And if they were here, they’d say the same thing we all want to say. Thank you for saving us. We are forever grateful.”
Liz folded the paper and walked toward me as the crowd erupted into adulation again. She threw her arms around my neck and squeezed me, sobbing into the corner of my neck. When she was done, another woman embraced me. Men shook my hands. And more than one woman who’d had a little too much champagne squeezed my butt. By the time the last person looked me in the eyes and thanked me, I needed a drink and a place to sit. All this praise was exhausting. But it seemed there was one more thing to do before I got my wish.
“Mr. Reed,” said a distinguished-looking man. He was tall with tanned skin, an all-too-white smile, and a perfectly swept coif of hair with some grey at the temples. I’d recognize him anywhere, even though I’d never met the man personally.
“Mayor Belmont,” I said, shaking his hand, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“No, my boy, the pleasure’s all mine. All mine.” He snapped his fingers as a man in a blue suit stepped up beside him and opened a small velvet box. “On behalf of the citizens of Sellion City,” he said, removing what looked to be a small piece of silver on the end of a blue ribbon, “I’d like to present you with the city’s highest honor, the Distinguished Service Medal, for risking your own life in preservation of the city’s safety.”
The audience clapped as the mayor placed the ribbon around my neck and laid the medallion on my chest. The cheering went on for several seconds until the mayor motioned for everyone to be quiet, but he had a hard time of it. “In addition,” he said, having to repeat himself a second time. “In addition, at the special request of my office, and despite your long hiatus from the department…” He turned to his assistant who produced yet another flat velvet box. The mayor pulled a second medal from it and turned toward me.
“I am pleased to present you with the Sellion City Police Department’s highest award, the Medal of Honor, for incomparable heroism and distinguished bravery in the line of duty, with a full pardon and reinstatement to the rank of Detective within the SCPD effectively immediately, at your discretion, of course.” He winked, and then placed the medal over my head. The praise that erupted from the employees was near pandemonium, complete with back-slaps and kisses on the cheek.
The whole thing felt like a dream, if I was being honest. No one should get this much attention, let alone me. But then again, I had risked my life, and if this was how the city wanted to repay me, I was okay with that.
Mayor Belmont leaned in after a minute while the people were forming some cheer out of the words “Flint” and “Reed,” and yelled in my ear, “If there’s ever anything else I can do for you, just let me know. I mean it.”
“Actually, there is one thing,” I said right away.
The mayor pulled away in surprise, then leaned in again for me to go on.
“Any chance we can arrange for a new Chief of Police?”
Belmont laughed and grabbed my arms. “I’ve been wanting to get rid of him for years, son. This might just be the leverage I’ve been looking for.”
28
When the last guest finally left the roof-top, Oragga invited me to follow him to a second gazebo, one slightly higher up a raised knoll, boasting a spectacular view of the setting sun. A soft breeze rustled the palm fronds as the birds roosted for the night.
“Please, have a seat,” he said, motioning toward the opulent patio furniture.
“Thanks,” I said, trying to make sure I didn’t spill my glass of scotch. It had been such a great night already, more than I could have hoped for. But to get some extra minutes with the man himself, one-on-one? I wasn’t gonna lie—it felt pretty damn good.
“Cigar?” he asked, opening a small humidor near the bar.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
Oragga brought a small box over and allowed me to select from a small assortment. Given that I had never seen the labels on any of these, I guessed they were all out of my price range. He clipped the end of the one I chose and then held the lighter as I lit the end, forming a strong starting ember that flared orange in the fading light. I puffed on the rolled tobacco and savored the taste before blowing a thick plume of smoke over my head. If this was the good life, I could get used to it.
“So,” Oragga said, sitting down across from me, “how have you enjoyed the evening so far?”
I chuckled. “So far? I already don’t have any words, Mr. Oragga.”
“Please, Flint, just call me Min.”
“I don’t have any words, Min. And if there’s more, then I’m definitely speechless.”
He nodded, a look of satisfaction washing over his face as he lit his own cigar. “Good, good.”
“Listen, about all that, all the people and the mayor and everything… thank you.”
“You deserve it.”
“Eh, you still went to all the trouble to put it together. And I think it really meant a lot to your employees, and I know it meant a lot to me.”
“The most important rule to know about running a successful business is that everything rises and falls on the dreams of your employees. If you help them aspire to be everything they dream of, then there is no telling how far you will go.”
I stared at the man for a moment, admiring him as he blew out a steady stream of white smoke. The funny thing was, I believed him. By that, I mean I believed that he believed what he was saying was true. It was not like I had any experience running a company or anything. But the conviction in his tone made me think this guy wasn’t just about the credits and profit margins. There was something more to him, something a lot more human and a lot less cutthroat than I had expected.
“If I ever lead something, I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, taking a drag on my cigar and following it with a sip of scotch.
“How about a starship?”
I coughed on the liqueur. “Excuse me?”
“I want to hire you, Flint.”
“You already have, sir.”
“As a security guard, yes, I know. But a man of your aptitude and experience? Your time is misplaced.” He adjusted his monocle and looked at his cigar, rolling the tobacco around in his fingertips. “You know, I personally reviewed your file when HR hired you.”
I guessed that was unusual for a man of his power, so I raised my eyebrows and frowned as if to express a small measure of gratitude mixed with being impressed.
“You don’t get many former SCPD detectives applying for positions, you know.”
“I can imagine,” I said.
“But after what you did for me, after everything I saw on the holo-feeds—”
“You… watched it all?”
“Every second, Flint.”
I didn’t know whether to feel honored or annoyed. But, what the hells, it was his company. He could do whatever he damn well pleased.
“Let me ask you, do you know what Oubrick was after?”
“Sir?”
“In the vault. Do you know what he was trying to steal?”
I took a sip of scotch and swallowed. “Not really, sir.”
“Ha! Marvelous,” Oragga said, tilting his head back.
“I just know it wasn’t credits.”
“And how did you conclude that?”
“Because the guy spent a small fortune just to pull the job. If you already have credits, you don’t spend more just to get the same amount back… unless you’re really bored.”
“Maybe he was bored, then,” Oragga suggested. But I felt like he was playing the devil’s advocate.
“Eh,” I said, then sucked on the cigar for a second. “Seems like there are better ways to entertain yourself than getting people killed—his and ours, sir. Min.”
“Fair point.” He looked off to the cloud-covered horizon and watched the red sun as it dipped below the planet. “I want to offer you a position unlike any other I’ve ever created. The way I see it, if you’d risk your life for people you hardly know to protect a possession you know nothing about, how much more would you fight for a crew you do know while pursuing a prize you are familiar with.”
“So what’s this position you have in mind?” I asked.
“First,” Oragga said, taking another drag on his cigar, “I need to know if you’re interested. Haking this conversation requires a level of mutual trust that is quite unprecedented. As I know Lars told you—the AI, not the butler—” he winked— “knowledge about the vault’s contents is highly privileged. Therefore, I’m about to divulge information that will require your utmost discretion.”
