…

Y is for — You can sort it out.  The boss thinks certain people are not needed until they are.

…

For someone who continually professed that they would never let work affect them outside of business hours, and who usually dropped off to sleep when their head hit the pillow, I was still awake at 2:30 am.

Perhaps it was the unofficial rumour running through the company like wildfire that the CEO of the family-run business had disappeared, and the prodigal son was considering selling the company off to the highest bidder, something his father would never do.

Perhaps it was the fact I knew that son, Jeremy McMaster, only too well, practically from the day he was born, we both went to the same schools, university, and I watched him turn into the disloyal, lazy, incompetent fool, and eventually, the major disappointment to his father that he was now.

Perhaps it was the fact that without the old man in charge, the company would soon be on life support and a great many people who depended on it for their livelihood would soon be out of work, and then, like other cities around us, it would wither and die.

Perhaps it was the fact that good people were leaving every day in the absence of any news that could give them hope.

Perhaps it was the fact that I knew there was nothing I could do to turn things around.  I could try, but the prodigal son had forbidden it and dismissed anyone in Management who could have made a difference.

At least he couldn’t fire me. The old man had ensured that I would have a job for life or as long as the company was in business.  That was the promise my father had extracted when he lent a swag of money to the old man when things went awry about 30 years before.

Now, it didn’t seem it would be long before my tenure would be over.  Either way, to me, it didn’t matter.  The prodigal son would soon discover that he had to repay my father’s loan before he could take anything for himself, and the way it was going, he was not going to make anything at all.

And the interesting part of all this was that I don’t think he knew what would happen in the event of the business being sold.  That, I figured, would be within the next three days when an offer would be tendered to take over the business or parts of it

Someone had anonymously sent me a copy of the draft proposal, and it was horrendous.

Maybe that’s why I couldn’t sleep.

I dropped into an uneasy sleep, only to be woken by the shrill sound of my cell phone.  Obviously, I’d forgotten to turn it off the night before, but usually, that wasn’t a problem.

Very few people called me, and even less knew I had it.  I had a work phone as the main point of contact, and I turned it off.  By the time I had gotten out of bed, it stopped ringing.  Good.  If it were important, they would call again.

I moved it to beside the bed, glancing at the time.  3:37 AM  I sighed, getting back under the covers.  It was cold, and I was tired and a little annoyed.

13 minutes later, the phone rang.  I rolled back the covers, picked it up, and glared at the screen.  Private number.  I considered ignoring it and switching off the phone, and going back to bed.

I didn’t.  Wondering who it could be, I pressed the answer button.  “What?” I put just enough annoyance into my tone to make the caller think twice before they annoyed me.

“That’s a nice way to greet a long-lost friend, Michael.”

I knew that voice and the girl it belonged to, the one that had broken my heart ten years ago when she abruptly up and left without so much as a goodbye

Elaine McMaster, quite literally the boss’s daughter.

The girl I had been madly in love with, and quite likely still was, if missing a few heartbeats just hearing her voice was anything to go by.

“You have a new phone, and if you didn’t, I wouldn’t have answered.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

Nothing ever was.  She was one of those people who always had an excuse, always passing the blame to anyone else but herself, and had a Daddy who could buy her way out of trouble. She was quite literally the female version of Jeremy.

“Not a discussion I want at this hour of the night, nor at any time.  Go away, Elaine and make some other poor wretch’s life miserable.”

Silence.  I hoped she had hung up in my ear.  She hadn’t.

“Can’t.”

“Can’t what?”  I wasn’t going to forgive myself for taking the bait.

“Can’t go make some other wretch’s life miserable.  I’m outside your door.  I thought it best to call first before pounding on your door.”

“I could have moved.”  It was a lame comeback, but only she could make me feel like this.  I could never hate her.

“You’re a creature of habit, Michael.  A place for everything, and everything in its place.”

“Except you.”

“I told you from the outset that loving me would be your greatest challenge.  But, having said that, I chose you to go to the prom for a reason, and that reason holds today as it has for most of my life.  Now, are you going to open the door, or do I have to start pounding on it?”

That begged the question: how did she get past the security?

“I’m hanging up now.”  And did

I was of two minds whether to open the door.  I knew the moment I saw her I would melt, so it was probably wiser to leave her there

Damn her.

I knew I was going to regret it the moment I opened that door.

I never understood why she picked the shy, gangly, awkward teenager I once was to go to the prom when she could take anyone.  That one night changed me forever.

Until, of course, she left.

And there she was, the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, with that whimsical expression I used to think she saved for me. It wasn’t, but I had my fantasies.

She stepped over the threshold and into my space, and without a second hesitation, put her arms around my neck and reached up that short distance, inviting me to kiss her.

The first time, I had not understood the nuance, and it annoyed her

How could I refuse?

And in that short period, anything from a few seconds to an hour and a half, I lost myself in a world I thought I’d never go back to.

“Damn you, Elaine,” I cursed under my breath.

“Because you never stopped loving me, or because I never stopped loving you.”

She brought her roller case over the threshold and closed the door, leaning against it.

“My mother, just before she died, sent me away to her sister in Switzerland.  The reason I left in such a hurry and without a word was that I was pregnant.  Not your child; I was raped by one of Jeremy’s friends the day after the prom.  They were all staying over and were drunk.  It was not a pleasant experience, and my parents refused to believe me, preferring to blame you for my predicament.  It was terminated, but I was forbidden to see you or even communicate with you.  I’m sorry.”

It was a compelling story, but was it true?  She also had a reputation for telling the most convincing lies.

“Proof?”

“Ring my aunt in Berne.  Go ask Bernard Davies, the guy who raped me, and got paid a lot of money to shut his mouth.  And if that doesn’t satisfy you, I’m happy to go to any doctor you choose who will tell you what happened to me.”

Was she banking on the fact that I wouldn’t, that I would take her at her word?

“Why are you here, now?”

“To see you.  I want to pick up where we left off, but I’m willing to accept that you might have reservations.  If that’s the case, I will try very hard to convince you that there never was, and never will be, anyone else for me.”

“What about your parents, who have this thing against me.  Your father never mentioned it, just you and your mother were off travelling.  He never treated me any differently.”

“He was like that.  I think he hated me more than he hated you.  He always said that he had big plans for me, that Jeremy was a waste of space, and when what happened to me happened, all those plans went west.”

“Where is he now.  All we know is that he’s taking an extended leave of absence and that the company was in good hands while he was away.  Pity he didn’t consider that Jeremy would fire the management team he trusted and install himself as the lord and master.”

“He had to leave because the customers were getting worried about his health.  It turned out to be stage four lung cancer.  Came to Switzerland for what was touted as a miracle cure, and it wasn’t.  I buried him a week ago.”

It didn’t make sense, but nothing the McMasters did ever made sense.

“But before he died, he changed his will and left me with his shareholding, and with yours,  he told me we have a majority, certainly enough to bury Jeremy.  He doesn’t know yet that Daddy changed his will, and he now just has a minority shareholding.  Daddy knew what he was doing and had to wait until he died to rearrange things.”

“You’re too late.  He’s all but wrecked the business, and there’s not much left to salvage.”

“Well, all you have to do is resign, and then we’ll see what we see.”

The Elaine I knew had no business sense and was content to spend the family fortune on clothes and overseas holidays before she disappeared without a trace.

Whether the old man changed his will or not, the company had been destroyed in the six months he had been gone, and Jeremy had taken the reins.

If I resigned, it would precipitate the clause that would compel the company to pay back the loan my father had given them.

It would benefit both of them financially as well as get a millstone off both their necks.  I couldn’t discount the possibility that Jeremy and Elaine were working together now their father had died, with the idea of maximising their inheritance.

I shook my head.  “There is a spare bedroom, you can put yourself there.  I have some calls to make.”

“At 4am?”

“The people I know don’t have 9 to 5 jobs.  Or the luxury of swanning around Europe without a care in the world.”

“Those days ended when Jeremy stopped paying my aunt for my upkeep.  I literally just got off the plane after travelling in coach.”  The expression on her face was priceless.

Yes, how the mighty have fallen.  She was about to find out how cold and harsh it could be in the real world.  “Then have a long, hot shower and get some rest.  We’ll talk again later. I’m going back to bed and trying to make up for the interruption.  Some of us have to work for a living.”

With that, I went into and shut the door to my room, leaving her standing by the door.  If she had any common sense, she would leave.  Whatever I may have felt about her, it would not affect my judgment in business matters.  It was perhaps the one thing the old man and my father had taught me.

The first call was to my lawyer, who, like me, never seemed to sleep.

His father was my father’s legal representative and was, for a long time, old man McMasters.  After the two men clashed, McMaster found a new legal practice to handle his affairs

Alistair Crewsbury was the son, third generation named Alistair, and still had copies of a lot of McMaster’s documents, one of several secrets between us.

What was more important was his father’s notebooks that gave a great deal of detail on McMasters affairs, and particularly relation to my father’s investment, and in the handling of his affairs in the event of his death, and his disbursements to his children, Jeremy and Elaine.

Admittedly, it was twenty years old and may not be relevant, but there was no indication that  the old man was dead or that he was in Switzerland getting cured.  His cancer, Alistair had said, was real, and he had gone to Europe to be with his daughter and left the running of the company in Jeremy’s hands.

It wasn’t ideal, nor did he trust him, but at the time, blood was thicker than water.  I was not blood, but my family had a lien, of a sort, on the business that had to be settled if it wound up or was put out of business

Alistair had said more than once that if the McMasters wanted to get around that lien, they had to run the business into the ground. Until it was worthless.

Jeremy was certainly trying to do that.  And it would not leave me with any options.

This much was clear.

Weigh in with the fact Elaine was back on the pretext that Jeremy had cut her off, didn’t sit with the fact her father had gone to see her, on his way to get treatment.

When Alistair answered the phone, knowing who was calling him, he said, “So Elaine McMaster has landed on your doorstep.”

It was a statement rather than a question.

“You know.  I don’t think I want to know how. Yes.  Some story about being cut off.”

“I believe she sent you the plans for the company’s future.  I’m not sure why, because it alerts you to the fact that Jeremy intends to just hand it over to a rival for nothing.  In doing so, he will be relieved of the outstanding loans and says liability.  It says nothing about the fate of the employees, but you can be assured that four-fifths will be fired.

“He has to get something out of it.”

“According to the consulting accountants, he’s been squirrelling away nearly fifty million in offshore accounts, which he thinks no one is aware of.”

“Can it be proved?”

“Not yet.  He’s not as stupid as some would think.  He has managed to hire some very clever and very interesting employees to do his bidding.”

“No surprises there.  Where does this leave me?”

“Do you care?  Your father left you far better off than the McMasters are currently.  I don’t think your father ever expected to recoup the money he gave McMaster, and it didn’t bother him.  I’m sure if my assessment of you is correct, I doubt it is a concern.  It’s probably a principal thing.”

“I care more about the people losing their jobs, as hadvold man McMaster, and I’m surprised he hadn’t done anything to curb his son’s excesses.”

“If you want an opinion, Elaine returning means he died.  Recently.  I haven’t yet heard from his new lawyer, but they will have to tell us soon.  It was a codicil on his will.”

“What if I simply resign and walk away?”

“As you are aware, it would invite a clause in the loan agreement, and given the financial state, you would be blamed for bringing the company down and cause the workforce to be made redundant with no benefits.  That at least would leave the McMaster children much better off, and with their reputations intact.  Go on leave and watch from the sidelines.”

“It would be difficult.  A lot of those people are my friends.”

“Well, here’s a thought.  If you could find a way to sabotage the company and not make it a going concern, according to the terms of the sale, the agreement would lapse.  The magic expiry date is the 25th, in twelve days.  As they say in the classics, the ball is in your court.”

It was.  The fact that the blame would rest on me if i resigned and that the McMaster children would get off Scott free was reason enough not to.  Best let Jeremy be the reason, through bad management.  His advice to take some leave and watch the fun from the bleachers was good advice.

He then added a very interesting fact, that one of his associates had seen Jeremy and Elaine together that afternoon over lunch, having what seemed to be a friendly discussion.

It wasn’t the cheapest restaurant in the city.

I thanked him for his observations.

My second call was to William Prentice, the production manager, and I asked to see him at 9 am.

Staring at the ceiling provided two observations: the first that the roof needed repainting, or I had a slow leak that was wrecking the roof; the second, what was Elaine’s game?

If I tried to think too hard about it, it would probably lead me down the path to hell and damnation.  I wanted to believe her, but it didn’t quite stack up.  The thing is, a lot must have happened to her in the last ten years.

And that story about Bernard?  I would have a chat, but it wasn’t going to be pleasant for him.  The thing is, I knew Bernard, and he always had a thing for Elaine.  He was also a bully, so if he did what he did, it would be totally in character.

Except Mr McMaster would have killed him, not paid him off to keep his mouth shut.  I never had any illusions about the old man. You didn’t get where he was without a few strong-arm tactics

And he would not let any man do that to his daughter and still be around to talk about it.

So, the first job inside the room was to check for any obituary notices for one Bernard Davies and after spreading a larger net than the five towns nearby, found the versatile man, dead from a car accident a week after the prom.

I guess Elaine really did believe I would take her on trust.

Morning dawned, and having got a couple of hours of restless sleep, I decided it was enough and went out to make some coffee.

It was already made.

Elaine was wandering down the passage when she looked up, saw me, and jumped, giving a little squeal of surprise.

“I’m not that scary,” I said

“You are when you’re creeping about like that.  Get some more shut-eye?”

“A little.  Wouldn’t be the first time I went in more tired in the morning than I was when I went home.”

“Stay at home then.  You can reacquaint me with the town.”

“It’s one street, Elaine, and only two shops have changed hands, and they were two you never went to.  You don’t need me to hold your hand.  You’re all grown up and heiress to an alleged fortune.  Well, maybe not so much a fortune, but what was once a great little earner.  I have to go in.  Besides, didn’t you say I had to resign?”

“You can do that over the phone.”

“You might, but I have principles and integrity.  I’ll be doing it in person as it should be done.  When I get around to it.  I will have to clear my desk.”

I was going to do more than that, but she didn’t need to know.

Elaine wanted to go with me, and I said there was no point alerting Jeremy she was back and plotting against him.

She seemed to accept that, but an odd look from her when I mentioned Jeremy’s name was interesting, to say the least.  She would never make a good poker player.

I drove to work as I did every morning, parked in the car space that had my office title on the ground, not my name, and made that walk from the car to the front door

At the hour, nearly everyone on the day shift had arrived, and the car park was quite full.  There were 2,500 people working on this particular day in seven of the eight factories and warehouses on this site.

All were dependent on the main assembly line, in building C had been the subject of a dozen lengthy memos that basically pointed out that if it was not stopped for a period of three weeks to perform major maintenance, it was likely to stop permanently

The major maintenance would cost upwards of 10 million dollars, an expense Jeremy had vetoed because he believed it would last long enough for the sale to go through, and then it would be someone else’s problem.

At 9 am, William Prentice arrived at my office, closed the door, sat down and shared a wee dram of a single malt I had sent over from my father’s favourite Scottish whiskey distillery.

At 9:05 a.m., he stood, nodded, and then left.

At 9:10 a.m., my 4 weeks off on annual leave began with a walk down to HR.

As Jeremy’s personally selected employee, he refused.  I simply said I would see him in four weeks’ time and left my work phone on his desk before walking out the door.

Behind me, he snatched up the intercom receiver and was dialling Jeremy’s number.  The lift door closed before I could confirm who it was he called.

I made it as far as my car in the car park.

Jeremy was coming towards me, the fastest I had ever seen him move.

“Michael.”

I thought about ignoring him, but it wasn’t worth the problems.

I turned and waited until he arrived

“Jeremy?”

“You can’t go on leave.  Not right now.  It’s imperative the plant remains operational “

“Whether or not it remains operational doesn’t depend on me being here, Jeremy.  Last managers’ meeting I believe you said to me specifically, and the others in general, that nothing in this place depended on my being here or in Timbuktu.  That being the case, Jeremy, I thought I’d go there to see what happens.:

“Go where?”

“Timbuktu.”

“You’re mad.  I was just making a point, Michael. It didn’t mean anything.”

“Well, too late.  I’m off.  The place can run without me, like you said, the first day you took over as CEO, and you were right.  Back then, I had overinflated ideas of my worth to the company.  Now I do not.  Now, I have to pack a bag and get to the airport.”

As I turned to unlock the car door, a siren ramped up, similar to the one used in London at the time of the Blitz in WW2

Jeremy’s head swivelled around to look in the direction of the buildings, and we could both see workers exiting from them quickly and orderly.

“What’s happening?”

“You’re the CEO, Jeremy, you’re supposed to know everything that happens.”

“That’s why I employ fools like you, so I don’t have to.  What’s happening?”

“One of two things, Jeremy.  It’s a fire drill, or the main assembly line just crashed.  I hope for your sake it’s not the latter.”

“So should you.  Go sort it out.”

I shrugged.  “I’m on leave.  That’s officially now William Prentice’s purview.  I suggest you find him, and he’ll tell you what’s happening.”

“If you leave, you’re fired.”

“Sorry, Jeremy.  You can’t.  No one can.  Read my employment contract.  Now, you’d better hurry up and see what’s going on.”

The workers were now assembling in the fields adjacent to the car park.

I got into my car and drove off, just as the wailing of the fire service trucks started heading towards the site.

I was half expecting Elaine to be gone, accepting I would resign, and then join her brother to execute the fait-accompli.

Instead, she was sitting in a lounge chair reading a women’s magazine.  She looked up when I came into the room.

She didn’t have that guilty look on her face, but a whimsical smile.  “You were always the most unpredictable boy I ever knew.  And never did what I asked, no matter how politely, or with the most tempting bribes.  Did you ever care about me?”

It was an interesting question.  I did realise when I was eight that she was trouble and that Jeremy was not above using her to get at me.

“Of course.  I loved you with all my heart. And you broke it.  It was a pain I felt for a very long time, and in that time, I realised you never really cared about me.  So, coming back, laying that story on me like pancake makeup, well, a leopard never changes its spots.  Was any part of that story you told me true?”

“It was.  I was raped by that moron nnnn, and Daddy had him removed.  I hated Jeremy for a long time after that, grateful that Daddy sent Mother and me away.  To be honest, I never wanted to come home even more to see you again because I knew how you would react.  But Jeremy was a shit about everything and cut off my allowance until I agreed to help him with you.”

“And yet you failed to realise that as my wife, you would be richer than Jeremy or you could ever hope to be?”

“I know, but I left you without so much as an explanation, and I knew that I would only get one chance. Daddy always said that you were too good for the likes of me, that if I didn’t hurt you at first, it would not take long before I did.  He was a very astute judge of character, Michael.  I came back several times, but when I saw you, I couldn’t go through with meeting you.”

“You could have said hello.”

“No.  I knew how you would be when you saw me, ever the optimist.  Yes, you’d hate me, but you wouldn’t turn me away, just like now.  Just like I knew you’d scratch below the surface and find out what Jeremy was up to.  Jeremy believed you were the same naive fool you’ve always been, but I know you’re not.  Daddy told me how you kept the place going, how you were the son he always wanted, and how he wanted you and me to be together until that day after the prom.  While he never said it, I knew I was as big a disappointment to him as Jeremy.”

I could see the tears, and not fail to notice the break in her voice.  It was perhaps a little churlish of me to think for a moment that this was one of her best acting performances.

“For what it’s worth, Michael. I really did love you. Then and now.  I don’t think I’ve had any sort of relationship since you that’s lasted longer than a month or two, and I honestly believe there is no one else.”

“Then stay.”

“And how long would it be before you really despised me?”

“Couldn’t you try not to be despicable?”

…

©  Charles Heath  2025

…

X is for — Xanthic.  It’s the password, and to guess it, you have to know it’s yellow.  The one person who knew the code was murdered

…

I stood in front of the vault door, recently installed, that, when opened, led to what we called ‘Aladdin’s cave’.

It was, in reality, just that; the gateway to a new technology that was going to change the world, the brainchild of Augustus Beatony.

We were not exactly sure what that brainchild was, except that it was going to be the next evolution in artificial intelligence, and the company, or more to the point, the consortium of public and private enterprise entities, investment of nearly a trillion dollars had diligently paid for.

The launch would be in three days, where everyone would learn what it was.

My guess, after spending the last five years handling the accounts, with almost as much secrecy surrounding them as the project itself, was that it was a computer, but not just any computer.

Many had speculated, some said they knew but wouldn’t tell, but the truth was, no one was sure.  And Augustus Beatony was nowhere to be found to ask.

This development, discovered last evening when a delegation of reporters had arrived at the hall where Augustus was going to tantalise them, and us, with some non-specific details of what to expect, and found he had failed to arrive.

A search was instituted, people going to his residence, this university office, his work office, even his mistress’s residence, but no one had seen him.

The last anyone had was me.  Two days ago, outside this very door, he had a special password that he was not going to share with anyone.

Including me, his most trusted friend.

Apparently, I like everyone else, could not be trusted.

And rather alarmingly, he stated that he was the only one who knew the password.

No one else.  No one.

Aloysius Magreve, the man the government had appointed to oversee their interests in the project, and probably the only other person in the universe capable of understanding the technology, was standing next to me.

He had just expended a lot of energy and anger at the situation.  I was not the prime target this time. It was Major General Fitzwilliam, head of the security detail, who was on the end of this tirade.

“How hard can it be to keep an eye on one man, given the resources at your disposal?”

It was a common misconception that the Major General had a whole army to throw at the problem.  The truth was he did not.  He was limited to six men and two women in rotation.

Augustus, on the other hand, was the Houdini of subjects being guarded, was as slippery as an eel, and was known to shake his bodyguards as easily as a bartender made cocktails

It’s not my analogy.

Major General Fitzwilliam was out looking for him.  Well, not the Major General himself, but his men and women.  They all thought the other was watching him.  Yes, Augustus was very good at pitting them against each other.

“What does it matter,” I said. ” He will be back to open the door, and then the games will commence.”

“Games?”

“Figure of speech.  He will tell us how it works.”

“You know what it is?”

“No.  But we will find out soon enough.”

“You seem quite blasé about a one trillion dollar funded and unseen project that could turn out to be a glorified Atari console.”

The fact that Augustus had likened his project to just such an item was worrying in the extreme.  And having heard Augustus refer to it as the world’s most expensive Atari console? I was more than a little worried that I’d given him too much attitude.

“He will turn up, don’t you worry.  The man had one other fault: he loves the limelight.”

I barely made it back to my office before my cell phone rang.  Major General Fitzwilliam.

“We’ve found him.  I’m texting you the address.”

When I received it a minute later, I typed the address into the maps app and zoomed in on the location.  An industrial estate on the edge of town.

Another quick search found that it had once been a thriving place with all manner of business, as well as a shopping mall, but a fire some years back turned the whole area into a ghost town.

Some said it was haunted, and others said it was where the drug addicts and homeless ended up, with a drug-related death at least once a week.

Our offices, the warehouse used to be there, but we moved five years ago when this new project started.

It was a twenty-minute drive, and I was the last one there.  Fitzwilliam had brought a platoon of troops, and they were being deployed.  What for, I was not sure, but it seemed to me they were prepping for action.

Magreve was standing beside the command truck.

“What on earth is going on?” I asked.

“Betoney’s cell came back on, and is in that building.”

He pointed to the one that had a faded sign on the wall above the door, our company name.  What was he doing in our old building?

Two soldiers stood cautiously on either side of an open door, weapons ready.  Five more were finishing kitting up.

“What are they doing?”

“Infra-red scan says there are three people inside.  They’re going in armed and ready.

“Has someone told them they’re not to shoot him?”

“Don’t panic.  The Major General has got this.”

The leader raised a hand, and when it stopped, the two men at the door went in.  The other five followed.  I just hoped they didn’t shoot first and ask questions later.

Seven minutes.

For seven minutes, there was nothing, and then the sound of Magreve’s communicator made a noise.

“Magreve, you there?”  The commander of the team wasn’t the best at communication with civilians.

“I am.”

“You need to see this.”

“Is it bad?”

Silence then, “Get in here.”

I followed Magreve inside, where we were met by one of the soldiers, who had obviously come back to take us.

We went down several passageways towards the back of the building, the smell of waterlogged carpet, and something else.  Death.

We came out into a large room, which had been a breakout area where tables and chairs had been stacked against the wall, and then in the middle of the open space, a single chair.

In it was Aloysius.

Dead.

He had died a very painful and horrific death, one that was very recent.

“We think the perpetrators are still here,” the officer whispered, “and the body is still warm.”

My God.  Aloysius was dead.  Just the true notion sent a chill down my spine.  And the obvious question was on the tip of my tongue.  “Why?”

“Because whoever kidnapped him wanted the secret technology. This is the result when a person refuses to give away his secret.”

I hadn’t realised I’d spoken the question out loud.

“Has he been…?”

“Tortured.  Yes.  And my guess is that he didn’t tell them anything.”

“It’s a bit late to be asking any questions or finding out what happened from him.  If they got what they wanted…”

“He was kidnapped, brought here, a bit poetic, by some people who wanted to get their hands on the tech.  Heart attack, by the look of it, and unexpected by the interrogators.”

“You can tell that how?”

“I recognise the work.”

I didn’t ask him to elaborate.  I was a numbers man, not versed in the machinations of espionage.

A shot rang out very near to us, and then, shouting, followed by a volley of shots, one of the bullets clanged into a metal wall not far from us.

Both Magreve and I ducked.  The officer headed towards the shooting.

This went on for several minutes until silence returned.  Not long after that, major General Fitzwilliam returned.

“We have two suspects.  It is time to clear the scene and bring in the investigators.  This is a bad business, very bad indeed.”

That’s when Magreve and I were escorted out of the building, just as the first police and ambulance personnel arrived.

He was right.  It was indeed a bad business.  Questions were going to be asked, including the one trillion dollar question.  How were we going to find out what Augustus Beatony did with the money?

If, in fact, he had not given up the password, and he was the only one with it, and the vault was set to self-destruction if it was opened any other way than with the password, we may never know.

And I knew who was going to get the blame.

Back at the office, a meeting was convened to discuss the situation. The situation was clear to me: Beatony was dead, no one had come near the vault, so he hadn’t given it up.

That meant that there was no one alive who could open the vault, so we would have to break in and hope the self-destruct didn’t work

But, knowing Beatony as I did, it would have been the first thing he made sure to work.

So…

We were up the proverbial Creek. My overtures to various people he had worked with brought up nothing new and verified that everyone hated him equally.

It was the shortest meeting for the project we had.  Mangreve was given the job of approaching the vault builders to see if they had kept a back door.  It was a possibility but unlikely.

My suggestion was, failing everything, I was going to wait and see if the door opened itself.  It was the mother of all Hail Marys, but knowing Beatony as I did, nothing could be ignored.

For the man who thought of everything, he must have devised a day to make his work visible, even in the event of his death.

An hour before the appointed time of the reveal, Beatoney had set up nearly three months before, I sat outside the vault.

In my imagination, the night before, I’d worked through any number of possible scenarios, all of which seemed impossible because he was dead.  A dead man can not get up and do stuff.

Then I went through all of the possibilities of what it might be, trying to discard the expensive Atari console type computer and then factor in all of the materials that I’d purchased.

I’d done that once before, trying to work out what it might be, but it wasn’t until the very end that I discovered he had two suppliers, both unknown to each other.

It was just another method of keeping his project results secret.

A half hour later, I was joined by Magreave and the Major General.  They had been told I was hanging around the vault door, so they thought they should be there too.  All the while, several technicians were studying the blueprints, the manual, the alarm schematics, looking for a way in.

At the appointed time, nothing happened.

Perhaps I’d been wrong about him.  Or maybe…

From within, there were a few weird sounds that, if I were to hazard a guess, the door going through an unlocking process.

Five minutes later, the sound of the warning almost drowned out all other responses, an action designed to make people aware of the vault door opening.  Getting hit by a hundred tons of metal door was going to hurt.

We stood back beyond the arc and watched the door slowly open.  When it had, and the smoke had cleared, another door opened, and then…

…Beatony walked out and stopped, several paces from us.

I think, to a man, we were all just simply gobsmacked, and definitely speechless.

“Great to meet the three of you, finally.  I am Augustus Beatony version two.  A fully functional, lifelike Android that is faster, stronger, smarter, and able to live, work, and function indefinitely in any circumstances.”

“You do realise Augustus Beatony version one is dead.”  I finally found my voice after getting over the initial shock of seeing a perfect replica of Augustus.

He had made a lifelike robot of himself. I’m not sure it was worth the trillion dollars.

“Yes.  Unfortunately, but he knew his time was limited and had prepared for it.  It’s why I’m here, now, to complete his work.”

“Are you not his work?”

“A small part of it. I have all the knowledge that went into building me so that we can make more and finally start exploring space.  Humans can’t survive. We can.”

“So the project…”  The Major General found his voice, too.

“Was to build the people and the spaceships to travel into the outer reaches of the galaxy.  I have it all in my head.”  The robot tapped his head.  “Now take me to the briefing, and I will tell everybody how this is going to work.”

“Isn’t there a convention where robots are not supposed to be human-like?”  Magreave had finally got over his astonishment.

“And you know the backers didn’t agree with that stipulation.  We don’t have time for semantics.  The briefing.”

I looked at Magreave and the Major General.

Both shrugged, Magreave saying, “Lifelike Robotics and artificial intelligence.  Why am I not surprised?”

“Because this was what they wanted all along,” the Mahor General added.  “Super soldiers.”

He turned to Augustus Beatony version two.  “We can’t switch you off, can we?”

“Nor destroy me.  Not without very serious consequences.  Shall we go?”

He warned me, and I realised the truth in that moment.  Three days before his disappearance, he said that if anything happened to him, there would be consequences.  “You’re in charge now, Magreave.  My involvement ended when he stepped out of the vault.  May God have mercy on all our souls.”

…

©  Charles Heath  2025