Sink: The Lost World (2 page)

“Miss Tate,”
Rosetta said with a warm smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again.”

Zoe Tate shook Rosetta’s hand. Zoe had five inches on Rosetta, but she quailed under the shorter woman’s stern expression, reminding her of a dislikeable French teacher from school.

“Nice to see you again too,” Zoe said.

Zoe’s assistant, Gavin, shook Rosetta’s hand too, letting himself hold it for a little too long.

“What lovely skin you’ve got,” he said.

“You think so?” Rosetta said, raising her hand and making each finger move independently. “It’s made of synthetic stem cells, grown in the lab and then grafted onto my robotic arm. It’s a great improvement on the plastic sheeting I had before.”

“You look great to me,” Gavin said, leaving no room for confusion of his meaning.

Rosetta took no notice of him. She turned to Zoe.

“Are you ready for the presentation?” she said. “I know Bryan and the executives are very much looking forward to it.”

Oh great
, Zoe thought.
Expectations.
Zoe silenced the butterflies in her stomach with the wave of an imaginary hand.

“Sure,” she said. “Lead the way.”

“Here are your passkeys,” Rosetta said, handing over a pair of cards on ribbon thongs. “I’ll take you to the meeting room now.”

Rosetta led them through the plush lobby of the Angelo Building. People in business suits came and went, getting their passkeys at security and moving through into the main building.

Rosetta’s robotic arm was a marvel. Looking at it, you couldn’t tell it wasn’t natural. Zoe had often wondered how Rosetta had lost her arm but was too polite to ask. But there was a problem with the way Rosetta moved. The arm hung from her shoulder like a piece of spaghetti clinging to a fork. Most people fidgeted, disclosing their innermost thoughts and feelings with their hands, but Rosetta’s did not. Not that Gavin would ever notice. He couldn’t take his eyes off Rosetta’s shapely rump as the fabric of her dress pulled tight around it.

They paused a moment at the elevators and waited in awkward silence. Zoe mumbled under her breath, going over the presentation one last time.

Gavin leaned in close.

“Relax,” he said. “It’s only the biggest, most important presentation of your life. What’s to worry about?”

“Thanks,” Zoe said. “I’d almost forgotten about it. What would I do without you to remind me of these things?”

Zoe closed her eyes and tried to pick up her presentation where she had left off, only she couldn’t remember. She glared at Gavin, who was too busy admiring Rosetta’s profile to notice. It was the most important meeting in Environment Solutions’ recent history. She had met with Bryan Angelo nine months earlier to provide analyzes of various worksites across the state. Angelo Industries wanted to build a drilling site using modern equipment. Fracking was a relatively new process of drilling. The system was often cited in the newspapers for causing earthquakes, sinkholes and landslides. It was Zoe’s job to ascertain whether these were genuine concerns on the sites Angelo Industries was interested in using. Zoe was chosen because she had made a name for herself as among the first to allay public concerns over genetically modified food. Although it would take time for the truth to trickle down to the public, opinions were already beginning to change.

Her argument to the FDA went like this: “We’ve been modifying plants and animals for our own benefit for thousands of years. The only difference is now we’re better able to harness technology and do it in a more effective, safe, and cost-effective way.”

Zoe had gained a reputation as honest, vocal and hardworking. Now society had a problem with fracking. It was a relatively new industry, with plenty of room for growth, at least that was what Bryan Angelo was counting on.

The elevator hummed as they ascended at an unconscionable speed, their ears popping like they were in a rising airplane. At each floor they stopped at they saw the title of a new division of Angelo Industries:
Advanced Robotics
,
Aerospace, Electronics,
etc
.

They got off at
Resource Management
. This was the division Angelo had started his company with almost twenty-five years earlier, the division that was closest to his heart and still provided him with the most profit. How Bryan began his company was the stuff of legend in business circles.

The story went that a local farmer discovered a large oil well under his land, but refused to let anyone drill and destroy the view out of his bedroom window. Many companies had come to him, requesting permission to drill in his back yard, often making outrageous offers, but the farmer had flat-out refused. He did not need the money, he said, and preferred to keep the beautiful view out of his bedroom untainted with pumps. The oil companies moved on, concluding the old man had a screw loose. More than one company made a note in its files to pursue the farmer’s children once the old man was out of the picture.

But Bryan Angelo had another approach. At the age of eighteen, Angelo went to see the farmer with a plan of how to build a pump without spoiling the view. The farmer carefully looked over the young man’s designs and asked him if it would really work.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Bryan had said. “But I give you my word the structure will never breach the height of the sycamore trees on your land.”

The farmer took to Bryan immediately. He’d worked in the farmer’s fields before, during the summer months, picking fruit and vegetables to pay for his college education. As a rule, the farmer did not work with those he did not know, a benefit Bryan exploited to his benefit. Bryan began building the very next day, with a skeleton crew handpicked from his group of friends.

There were some issues. The reason pumps are so tall and ungainly is because they require the movement to generate enough pressure to pull the oil up from deep within the earth. But Bryan had come up with a complicated combination of wheels and pulleys that had the same effect, but required less vertical space to do it. It looked like something from a Rube Goldberg drawing. Bryan patented the design, and it was one that conservationists later pressed for other companies to adopt. It was less of an eyesore on the natural landscape, in its own way quite beautiful. If companies insisted on pumping for oil, then it was better done in a way that didn’t offend anyone.

The pump built, the farmer continued to drink his coffee in the mornings, view unspoiled.

Bryan Angelo used his profits to invest in various energy company stocks. Over the course of fifteen years he developed a lucrative portfolio. But he tired of trading stocks, feeling like he was just pushing paper from one place to another. He sold his stocks and shares just before the economic crash of 2008 and used it to invest in his company.

He found new entrepreneurial talent, letting them have free reign over their various areas of expertise, stepping in only when the partner wanted to do something too expensive or risky. Bryan had a way with people, encouraging them to take less risky decisions, to shelf their revolutionary ideas until they were more feasible and thus more likely to be a success. Now, Bryan was entering the fracking market. It was familiar, but yet new, territory, and he needed the aid of a research company to look into the potential dangers involved with such a project.

A seismologist by trade, Zoe had all the experience of working with earthquakes and other natural phenomena associated with fracking, as well as other intrusive digging techniques. She cared very much about nature but understood the ever-hungry need for businesses and consumers to meet goals.

Rosetta pulled the heavy door open with ease using her robot arm. She had to lean back quite far and position her feet just so, but the door opened with little pressure. The floor was quiet and Zoe could hear the whirring of the hydraulics in Rosetta’s arm.

“The port for the projector is just under the table here,” Rosetta said. “Light controls are beside the door. If you need anything, just ask.”

She handed her card to Zoe, but Gavin intercepted it.

“Is your personal number on here?” Gavin said.

“No,” Rosetta said. She turned to Zoe. “Good luck.”

She turned and left through the heavy doors.

“I swear, I could watch her walk all day,” Gavin said.

“Give me a hand with setting up my laptop,” Zoe said. “Pervert.”

“If it’s a perverted thing to admire a beautiful woman, then I guess I’m a pervert,” Gavin said.

“Congratulations,” Zoe said. “The first step to recovery is accepting you have a problem.”

“Anyone who doesn’t appreciate beauty has a problem,” Gavin said.

“Admiring is one thing,” Zoe said. “Ogling quite another.”

Gavin shrugged.

“I don’t see Rosetta complaining,” he said.

“That’s because she doesn’t know you’re doing it,” Zoe said.

“I like to think she does,” Gavin said. “Bryan Angelo is well-known as a hard ass. Are you sure you can handle this presentation?”

“I’ve had meetings with him before,” Zoe said. “He always seemed fair.”

Zoe was underwhelmed when she first met Bryan Angelo. Despite his wealth and power and the prestige of his personal story, there was an everydayness to him that took Zoe by surprise. He wore a suit off the peg, choosing not to splurge on the Hugo Boss variety. This from a man worth two hundred million dollars.
Probably an old miser
, Zoe had thought. People got rich for a reason, and it was often because they refused to spend anything. But she was surprised again by how young he was. He was in his early forties, in good shape, with piercing blue eyes and wavy blond hair.

He had seemed slightly stiff during their first meeting, and laid out all his ideas for what he wanted from the report. Zoe asked probing questions, and he’d replied with thorough answers, clearly not a man to leave anything to chance. He had done his homework. It wasn’t until the following few meetings that he began to develop a personality in Zoe’s eyes. He was caring and thoughtful, knowledgeable about art and literature. He was a country boy from Ohio, and a part of him would always belong there.

“Angelo the Fallen Angel, they call him,” Gavin said. “Nicknames exist for a reason. I’ll be glad to see the back of this deal.”

“Environment Solutions won’t,” Zoe said. “We need this.”

Zoe looked down at the long broad walnut-colored table in front of her. The butterflies in her stomach began to flutter again.

“I hate giving these things,” Zoe said.

“Do you want me to do it?” Gavin said.

“No,” Zoe said. “I got us into this mess, I might as well get us out of it.”

“By that, you don’t mean losing the deal, do you?” Gavin said.

There was the loud raucous boom of male voices, and the door at the opposite end of the meeting room opened. Half a dozen executives, each with matching grey pinstripe suits and black suitcases, filed into the room, talking amongst themselves as they took their seats.

Bryan Angelo, as the CEO of Angelo Industries, took his seat at the head of the table. He did not enter into the conversations going on around him unless spoken to directly.

The sight of all the executives made Zoe clutch her notes close to her chest. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat. The executives continued talking and took no notice of her.

“Okay, let’s begin,” she said, clapping her hands.

They still took no notice of her. Except Bryan. He raised his hand to rap on the table with his knuckles to get the executives’ attention, but before he could knock, Zoe said in a booming voice: “Break time’s over, ladies. If you want to continue gossiping, please do it in your own time and stop wasting mine. I’ve got a job to do.”

The executives blinked, turned in their swivel chairs, and glared at this woman. Bryan lowered his hand and smiled. Gavin flinched and shrunk in his seat.

“I’m Zoe Tate,” she said. “I was hired by Angelo Industries to investigate the health and safety requirements at your intended fracking plant site at Lakota Forest. First of all, I would like to thank you all for your very kind help and assistance with our research project. It’s not always easy to get companies to comply with our requests for information, but Angelo Industries has been very easy to work with.”

“We aim to please,” Bryan said with a smile that curled one corner of his mouth.

Zoe blushed and tucked a finger of hair behind her ear.

“Lights, please,” she said.

Gavin switched off the lights and turned on the projector.

“I appreciate you’re all busy people, so let me tell you the result first, and then we can go through the details,” Zoe said. “The good news is that there is very little risk of long term environmental damage at the intended site. The earth is strong and there is no sign that it might give way to fracking techniques. But there are some minor issues I would like to go over-”

A head-shaped shadow rose from the bottom of the projected image.

“Thank you, Miss Tate,” Bryan’s voice said. “And thank you for your presentation. If you’ll notify Andrew of the details of the issues you mentioned, we’ll get to work in solving them. Good day.”