“Confessions” Serial, Tech Wars 8
Arthur Erskine was worried. Over the past weeks he had grown to trust Brett but now the man had gone to ground. He did not answer his phone or email and the Professor had no current address for him. He hoped the young man was all right and had not been harmed or even killed by the baddies. All he could do was wait and hope that Brett would re-contact him. Meanwhile, his techies had finally ironed out the flaw in his Supply Chain system and they were nearly ready to launch. He just wanted Brett’s input on the safest way to present the new program, without it being sabotaged or somehow have his revised data stolen.
• • •
Johansen was furious. It wasn’t so much that he needed to know where the O’Reilly woman was at any given moment, it was rather the sheer incompetence of his surveillance team.
“Jesus, anyone’d think you were tailing a skilled CIA operative, not some IT geek, who happens to have stumbled on something she should never have seen in the first place.”
He slammed the phone down and glared at his laptop. He wondered who he could shout at next. With an effort he forced himself to calm down. It was time to report back to his senior. He wondered how he could skew his report in such a way that it would appear that they were making progress, which they were in all other areas. It was just that goddam woman who worried him. If she evaded him again or, worse, started to broadcast her suspicions, he would definitely have to take extreme action.
• • •
When Ben arrived at the Montauk Yacht Club in the Hamptons nearly three hours later, Sandy was fast asleep on the seat next to him. He was pleased that she had slept. She had been overwrought about the situation until exhaustion had overcome her.
He was also anxious to learn what Sandy had uncovered that could have sparked the interest of some clandestine group – but her well-being and safety was his first concern. On the way to the Hamptons, he had made a couple of detours on country roads and through small towns to ensure that they were not being followed.
Sandy sleepily opened her eyes, sat up and looked out of the window. It was almost dusk but the Yacht Club was well lit and she could still see the ocean beyond the luxurious trappings of the Club.
“Where are we?”
“The Montauk Yacht Club.”
Her eyes widened as she took in her new surroundings. She turned to Ben reproachfully. “You have to be kidding. This place must cost a fortune.”
Ben sighed. He knew he would have to finally come clean. “OK. When we’re settled in, we’re gonna exchange information. You tell me what’s goin’ on and I’ll tell you some stuff about myself. Deal?”
“Oh my God, you’re about to tell me you’re some kind of closet millionaire!”
He laughed. “Less of the closet, more of the … well, let’s book in first.”
Sandy nodded, looking thoroughly bemused. Ben had clearly planned this excursion well before picking her up from the office. He popped the trunk as a bellboy approached. The youngster opened it and pulled out a suitcase. Ben smiled at Sandy’s expression. “Yes, I packed for you too. Just basic stuff.”
She remained silent, trying to process everything that happened to her over the past few days. They entered the reception of the Yacht Club. A distinguished-looking grey-haired man stepped forward and extended his hand to Ben. “Good to see you again, Mr. Gibson. It’s been a while.”
“Too long, Thomas. Far too long … I’d like you to meet my fiancée, Sandy O’Reilly.” Thomas Burnwood, the general manager of the Yacht Club, shook Sandy’s hand and welcomed her. “I’ve reserved the Commodore’s suite for you. I hope you have a real pleasant stay with us.”
Brett smiled. “I can’t imagine any other kind of stay. How long have I been coming here, would you say?”
Thomas considered the question. “I think you must have been about fifteen when your parents brought you for the first time and, by the way, I was very sorry to hear about your parents.”
“Thanks. Time does heal things … up to a point.”
The bellboy led the way to the suite, inserted the coded card and ushered them inside. Sandy looked around with mixed emotions. At one level she was terribly impressed but at another she was dismayed. Having grown up in a moderately successful middle-class family with a father who constantly railed against the money elite, she was conditioned to seeing excessive wealth as the domain of the enemy. She wasn’t envious as such. Her life had always been comfortable enough, but her father had inculcated in her the belief that the elite considered themselves to be special and felt they were the natural rulers of the world. He had added that they were a closed shop who resented outsiders, whom they considered to be their inferiors.
Over time she had realized that her father had been almost as bigoted as those he despised but remnants of his attitudes had remained with her. What had shaken her more than anything had been Ben’s subtle changes of personality, first while evading their tail and now another change when talking with Thomas. He had suddenly become, not exactly patronizing but very much aware of his status, when speaking with Thomas. They obviously knew each other well but it was equally clear who was the valued wealthy client and who was the polished hospitality professional. It was out of character for Ben, and she hated it.
Ben, sensing Sandy’s conflicting emotions, tipped the bellboy, who left. Just as soon, Ben turned to the most important person in his life. “OK. Confession time and from that expression on your face, I guess I’d better go first.”
Sandy nodded and sat down in one of the comfortable-looking armchairs in their private sitting room area. Ben sat down opposite her. He gazed at her for some moments as he gathered his thoughts for the speech he had been rehearsing on and off for months.
“My parents were originally from Boston, true Boston Brahmins! Yes. they both came from great wealth. Dad eventually relocated to New York and set up a stockbroking firm that specialized in shares for the electronics and later the digital industries.”
Sandy listened without expression. Her head was slightly bowed, and she would not meet his eyes.
“I went to all the right schools and then inevitably Harvard. My future was assured and I knew with total certainty that I would eventually meet some gorgeous chick from Vassar, get married, have beautiful children, live somewhere around here in the Hamptons, sail a large yacht, drink too much, snort a few lines of coke or whatever was fashionable at the time – and in due course take over my father’s corporation … that is, if I wanted to work at all!”
Ben took out a beer from the fridge, opened it and returned to his seat, taking a swig from the bottle on the way. In fact, he preferred to drink from a glass but felt it would only serve to reinforce the image he now realized he had created since their arrival at the Yacht Club.
“So, now that I’ve painted a picture of myself as the typical wealthy bum that I already know you despise, let’s see if I can redeem myself.”
Sandy looked up at him for the first time since he had first spoken and searched his face as though trying to see through the emotional barrier he had so abruptly built between them.
He leaned forward and spoke quietly but with great passion. “Sandy, the word love is sometimes totally inadequate for expressing the full range of emotions that I feel for you. Of course, I love you, goes without saying, but much more than that, you complete me, you complement me, you fulfil me. I’m not whole without you … so let me try to explain why the person you saw today is not the person you met nearly a year ago and who you have said, often enough, that you love.”
Sandy’s eyes remained on his face. He could see a hint of tears welling up in her eyes. She finally spoke. “Today’s been rather like knowing someone who claims to abhor racism only to find that he is a paid-up member of the Ku Klux Klan.”
Ben drew in a breath. “That bad?”
There was just a hint of a smile on her face as she replied. “Well … maybe not quite so bad. The jury’s still out. Let’s hear it for the defense.”
An ExoTech Ltd shareholder, Chris is currently authoring two of the four books to be published the day ExoBrain launches and has helped to create ExoBrain’s introductory video to the Confidential Technical Briefing. Chris has spent his working life in the film and television industry, starting with BBC Television in London, then ATV in Birmingham becoming, at the time, the youngest Studio Manager in Britain.
Later, in South Africa, he wrote and directed film and TV commercials, having four South African entries at the Cannes Advertising Festival. After a number of years of writing and directing or producing documentaries (eight international awards) and corporate videos, he concentrated on writing feature film screenplays (five screened) and television series (seven screened). He has a novel, ”Pursuit of Treachery,” with a literary agent and is currently obtaining finance for an action adventure feature film he has written and is co-producing. He is a published poet and has given many readings.