Mindguard (16 page)

Simon Bayles was
tall and slender, with a bald head and bulging eyes. Before joining Ayers-Ross,
he worked as a fighter pilot on Terra Nova. He was the only member of the team
with a military background and he had been with the agency for a long time. Ray
Manner had the sort of physique that one usually cultivated in prison. He was
very muscular and his skin was covered in cryptic tattoos. His face was hidden
behind a bushy black beard. 

Then there was
Francois Gaultier. Tall, rather slim, with a face that sported a mischievous
smile and the look of a predator. Tamisa had been informed that this veteran
bodyguard, a long time associate of Ayers-Ross, had the reputation of an
aggressive womanizer. This made her instantly dislike him. The look in his eyes
made her sick to her stomach. This would be the man she would most enjoy
bringing down.

She tried to
analyze all of them with the same level of concentration, but she always found
her attention returning to Sheldon Ayers. Somehow, though he looked the least
threatening, she perceived him as the most dangerous of them all. He was her
real enemy. Not Ross, not Mensah or the other five bodyguards. Tamisa couldn’t
explain it but she had the feeling that there was some sort of connection
between herself and Sheldon Ayers. For some reason, she felt that the entire
mission came down to the conflict between the two of them. They were the
central pieces in this chess game. The rest were just pawns.

“It will be you
and me Sheldon Ayers,” she said out loud, as though the holographic image could
understand her. “It will all come down to you and me. Only one of us can be
victorious. The other one has to lose.”

She could hear
her voice echo in the room.

“One of us
has
to lose,” she repeated, and even though she knew it was her own voice, for a
fraction of a second, it seemed to be coming from Sheldon Ayers. Not from his
mouth, but from somewhere inside his mind. It almost sounded like Sheldon was
repeating what she had said, throwing out a challenge at her.

“One of us has
to lose!”

PART 2: THE SOUL

- It is time to
move the relationship to the next level.

- She is in a very
vulnerable state, Commander, more than we anticipated. I’m not sure we can
direct her emotions according to our original expectations.

- I appreciate
your concern, Mr. Kantil, but she is still well within parameters. We have no
choice but to go forward any way, you know that and you know what is at stake.
Any added risk will only increase the reward. She is capable of this, more than
capable, but the timing has to be perfect. We cannot move a second too early
and, most importantly, not a second too late.

-Yes, sir. My
concern is only for the trajectory. Her movements, her reactions, have to be
within the exact path.  Deviations in any direction could endanger the
whole mission.

- Villo, you are
my most prized officer and, next to my brother, you are my closest advisor.
Your dedication to our duty and your faith in our judgment is unparalleled. I
ask you to have faith once more. It is more important now than it ever has
been. You have always trusted my decisions. I ask you to do that one last time.

- Yes, sir!

Horatio Miller
was lying in bed, taking a few more minutes to relax before being forced back
into the hustle and bustle of a new day. From his bed, the large windows
offered a stunning view of his private vineyard. The first pinkish rays of the
rising sun were waking the world from its late autumn slumber. Emilia, his
secretary, was in the adjoining kitchen making him coffee. He could smell the
wonderful aroma of his favorite brand, imported from a planet called Terra
Brazil. Horatio felt that unbridled happiness that marked the early hours of
the morning, when a new day lay before and the possibilities seemed endless. He
felt very relaxed and in a good mood, but he tried not to let it show. He was,
after all, still grieving. 

When Marcus
Miller stepped through the gateway on Horatio’s estate, it was the last time
anyone would ever see him. Horatio had made sure of that. Apparently, the
device suffered a tragic malfunction. It failed to properly connect with the
receptor on the other end. Thus, Marcus Miller, only particles at the time of
his travel, was never rematerialized. It had been a tragic accident, a
one-in-a-trillion occurrence and a sign that, no matter how powerful and
successful, how beloved by those around him, one was always bound by his destiny.

Horatio had
spoken those exact words, teary-eyed, at the eulogy held for his dear brother
at the Miller estate, with the press broadcasting every second of it.

“This tragic
accident, no matter how incredibly unlikely, serves to remind us that nothing
is perfect. Everything in the world can be improved. That is why, in memory of
my brother, Mylonas Industries will always keep striving, not only to innovate,
but also to improve itself and the world around it. I love you Marc, and I will
always remember you, big brother. Excuse me!”

With those
words, he left the podium and retreated to his private quarters, to be alone,
leaving everyone else to continue the wake. Once he got to his room, he sealed
off all access, went to his generous bar and picked up a bottle of single malt.
It was an import from Old Earth and it had been his brother’s favorite. Horatio
himself didn’t much care for whisky. He was drinking it more out of spite, to
mock the memory of his brother. He lifted the glass in a theatrical toast and
said ‘Cheerio’, imitating Marcus. 

Horatio had
never really liked his older brother. He always thought of him as a nuisance.
His physical appearance - short, overweight, with his eyelids always half
closed, as if he had just woken up from his afternoon nap - created the
impression that he wasn’t too bright. In reality, Marcus was rather intelligent
in his own right, though he could never match Horatio’s accomplishments. That
is not to say he ever even tried. Instead, he chose to just rest comfortably in
his younger brother’s shadow, something Horatio had always considered pathetic.
He was very needy and easy to intimidate, scared of making his own decisions,
relying on Horatio to tell him what to do. He was a difficult man who never
managed to build a family, because he never found anyone capable of putting up
with him for an extended period of time.

Horatio himself
was divorced. His first marriage had produced only a daughter. His wife,
Simone, left him when she found out about his numerous affairs and about his
two other daughters, whom he did not officially recognize but whose mothers
were smart enough to keep their mouths shut. In the end, Simone had also chosen
to be smart, so they parted amicably when Horatio made sure that she, as well
as their daughter, Sophie, would never want for anything financially.

He had every
intention of one day producing a son and proper heir, but at the moment he was
otherwise engaged. In any case, his extensive geriatric treatments would keep
him young and in good shape for centuries to come. He could put off having more
children for a longer time without worrying about any biological limitations.
Of course, he had other things to worry about instead, like avoiding future
accidents such as that which had tragically cut short the life of his brother.

Marcus never had
the opportunity to pass on his questionable genes, so he would now effectively
be erased from history, with a footnote in the Miller family tree serving as
the only reminder that this man had once burdened the universe with his
existence. Horatio was not worried about the circumstances surrounding his
brother’s death. There was nothing to indicate foul play. Nobody knew of his
brother’s treachery, so there was no reason to suspect Horatio and there were
few people in the world with the technical understanding of the workings of a
Muench-Henriksen gateway.

The enforcers
would no doubt put two and two together, but Horatio knew that going public
with the information was not an option for them. The simple truth was that his
own popularity within the IFCO was growing, while that of the enforcers was
slowly, but steadily, declining. Thomas Anderson himself had less support than
ever. Powerful as they were, they could not go to war with the entire world.

In public opinion,
Horatio was a grieving brother. If Anderson were to openly accuse him of
murder, Horatio would claim slander and the population would quickly turn
against the enforcers, severely hastening their drop in popularity. He knew
that Anderson could not take the risk. Public opinion was the one force in the
world that could cost him his position as leader of the Enforcement Unit.

He thought of
Sophie. At that moment, while he was lying comfortably in his king-size bed,
his daughter was no doubt near the border of the Djago Desert, protected by
Maclaine Ross and the legendary Sheldon Ayers. She was so close to fulfilling
the mission. From the comfort of his sheets he stared at the sky. Somewhere
beyond that layer of ozone, nitrous and oxygen lay a vast man-inhabited
universe, administered by the IFCO, the most capable and far-reaching
government humanity has ever known. Still, somewhere beyond the edges of this
universe lay another: one uncivilized by man, a universe of danger and anarchy.
It was there that Sophie was heading, towards the most important discovery in
the history of civilization, heading there in order to destroy it.

“Coffee,
Educator Miller?”

Emilia’s voice
startled him. He quickly wiped the satisfied smile off his face. His expression
grew somber, befitting a grieving brother. He was glad that she was behind him
and couldn’t see the transformation. 

“Thank you,
dear,” he said, taking the steaming cup.

The coffee was
delicious. Emilia always made wonderful coffee, even at the office, but the one
she made in the mornings after they had sex tasted decidedly better. That was
the main reason Horatio still kept her around and took the time to satisfy her
once in a while. She was a decent secretary but she was incredible in bed. She
also possessed two more qualities that Horatio found very endearing.

The first one
was that she always called him Educator Miller, not only at the office or in
public and not only in bed as some sort of dirty talk, but all the time. They
had now been intimate for a year and a half and every morning it was ‘Would you
like a cup of coffee, Educator Miller?’, ‘Did you sleep well, Educator Miller?’
or ‘You were incredible, Educator’. Horatio found this very amusing and it made
him feel great.

Her second
quality was that she did not care that he was sleeping with other women. If he
could make time for her, that was fine, but if not, she just patiently waited
for her turn. Of course, the situation was not mutual. Horatio did not allow
her to sleep with other men. It wasn’t for reasons of jealousy or love, but
rather because of hygiene and safety. Very homophobic by nature, Horatio found
it disgusting to sleep with a woman who was, at the same time, allowing other men
to enter her. He strictly forbade all of his lovers from sleeping around. Some
of them did not accept his condition and Horatio had no problem letting them
go.

He never once
tried to threaten or harass a woman into going to bed with him, a quality for which
he commended himself. But most women decided that sleeping with him was well
worth the sacrifice. Not only would he take care of them financially for the
duration of their relationship, but he was also extremely capable at satisfying
them. That was due to the enormous sums of money he constantly invested in
physical enhancements. Those ensured that he was extremely well endowed and had
nearly unlimited endurance, at least from his partner’s perspective. Once
again, these were not easily accessible commodities. Very few people in the
world could afford these enhancements and, of those few people, most were old
and already married businessmen, who saw no reason in investing in the pleasure
of their wives.

The bottom line
was that all of his girlfriends were very happy and thankful to be with him.
However, none of them could hold a candle to Emilia, who was in complete awe of
him, willing to do everything he asked of her for just a fleeting moment of his
attention. At that moment, she was watching him drink his coffee, delighted
that it pleased him. She looked at him with all the passion and love of a
psychopath, of which Horatio had dated a few. Unlike a psychopath, she was
never a nuisance and always made sure not to bother him with her presence when
he didn’t want her close. 

“Do you like the
coffee?” she asked. “I can pour you another cup.”

Of course you
can pour me another cup, thank you for pointing out the obvious
, he thought
but instead he said: “It’s absolutely delicious, Em. Thank you. You are a treasure.”

Her face lit up
with sheer joy. “You’ve been so great,” she said, “through all of this.”

He put on a
brave and sad smile and held back a chuckle seeing the expression on her face.
“It is what it is, Em. Life has to move forward. It’s what he would have
wanted.”

With concealed
amusement, he studied her emotional reaction to his tired platitude, as if it
had been the wisest declaration ever uttered by a man.

“Would you like…
I don’t know… would you maybe like to go out with me today…on the lake …you
know, maybe get your mind off things,” she timidly suggested.

For convenience,
Emilia lived in an apartment on the Miller grounds. Aside from the vineyards,
the large estate contained a small forest, a large flower garden and a lake.
Emilia enjoyed taking the boat out in the early hours of the morning and
reading a good book in the solitude of nature. He had joined her a few times
and, once, they had even made love in the boat, although it had been entirely
uncomfortable and they almost toppled over. Still, she thought it was romantic
and Horatio enjoyed doing little things like that to keep his girls happy.

“It’s a busy
day,” he said. Then, seeing the disappointment in her eyes, he added: “But, you
know what,  I could use a little breathing space. And your company is
always so beneficial for me.” He smiled. “Why don’t you just give me half an
hour to prepare and we can go have a picnic on the lake. Go ahead and make a
nice basket for us, will you, dear?”

Excited beyond
reason, she hurried out of the room to prepare the snacks before he even had
the chance to ask her to pour him another cup of coffee. Horatio sighed. He had
lied; he wasn’t in the mood for company. Whenever he was in a good mood he
always preferred being alone, but he didn’t want to risk disappointing Emilia,
especially after the night they had just spent together. After their little
picnic he had to find a way to be alone for a while and think. He had to
properly plan out his next couple of days.

He gave the
vocal command and the wall with the bookshelf retracted to offer access to the
hidden communication chamber. Horatio knew it was a tad dramatic, but he always
got a kick out of it. The communication chamber contained nothing but a
comfortable armchair and a small table for his glass of wine. It offered a
high-end communication system based on hyperspace linking and shielded from
surveillance technology with the most advanced encrypting software in the
world. His men at Mylonas had designed it especially for him. He was well aware
that there was probably no need for such means of protection; he was surely
safe on his estate. But he was also of the belief that you could never be too
safe, and he spared no expense for secrecy.

He gave the
authentication code. The holosense scanned his iris and speech patterns as well
as his genetic markers. When it decided that it was indeed Horatio Miller, it
placed the call through. The person on the other end took a long time to pick
up. When he finally did, half of Horatio’s room turned into part of a coffee
shop. At the table facing him stood a man drinking out of a small cup.