Thirty-Eight #2
“Wilson’s been in SoCon GasPro nearly as long as you have,” Martim said, still stunned.
The subdirector of Risk Management had held over a dozen jobs in the division over the years and been doggedly devoted to SoCon GasPro and to the director personally.
His blunt manners rubbed people the wrong way, but he was respected, and his role as someone who called Uchi out on his bullshit made the old-timer invaluable.
After witnessing the man’s clear-eyed, unsentimental behavior on the night of the Field 93 disaster, Martim had developed a wary but productive relationship with him, had counted on him as someone who could talk sense into any difficult situation.
Wilson had been a crucial participant in Martim’s plans to prepare his client for the Board confirmation hearings.
“With all due respect, sir,” he said, “ what the fuck were you thinking ?”
The director bristled, his face darkening in a way that would make anyone in the office start sweating. From her usual vigilant position in the corner of the room, River Thea tried to catch Martim’s eye and make a surreptitious warning hand gesture, but he ignored her.
“The division’s at a major crossroads,” Uchi declared.
“Wilson and I had serious differences of opinion about how to move forward. He said that unless I changed my mind about certain things, he was out. We all know he can be stubborn as hell. Really, this shouldn’t be a big surprise to anyone on the team.
I know for a fact that most people don’t even like him very much. ”
“He knows more about SoCon GasPro than just about anyone else.”
“Wil won’t betray us, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Uchi said with certainty. “Even if he hates my guts, he’s little-E through and through and he cares too much about this division.”
“Then why would you—” Martim threw his hands up with a strangled noise. “The two of you have gone after each other in full-on shouting matches before. But you always managed to work it out. Why couldn’t you do it this time?”
As soon as the question left his mouth, Martim had a bad feeling he knew the answer.
Uchi and Wilson clashed heatedly over business matters, but they knew it was in the best interests of the division that they compromise.
This time around, for the relationship to be completely sundered, the conflict hadn’t been about SoCon GasPro. It must have been something personal.
Wasn’t he your best friend?
“You’re going to need to explain this,” Martim said.
“I don’t need to explain shit!” Uchi roared, surging to his feet.
“Not to the public, not to the press, and not to you! I’m sick and tired of everyone in the fucking Company questioning and prying and thinking they’re entitled to explanations for my decisions, as if they could possibly know what it takes to run my division. None of you know a goddamn thing!”
The director brought his hands down on the table with a loud bang, and to Martim’s surprise, he grabbed his coat, scarf, and hat.
“Why am I even here? I’m a Board nominee, I deserve a single night of peace and quiet away from all this bullshit ,” he snarled, and without another word or look at his stunned atier, he stormed from the office, slamming the door behind him.
Thea gave Martim a glance of alarm, then hurried after their client.
Martim was left alone in the middle of the director’s office, heart pounding, numb and faintly astonished that he was still employed—at least for the moment.
What had he been thinking, tempting the director’s unpredictable temper with only a few weeks left in his Principal contract?
All that he’d worked toward for nearly three years could’ve been erased in an instant, but to his own shock, the risk hadn’t been on his mind at all when he’d come through the door. He’d been too angry.
Uchi was wrong to have fired Wilson. Yes, he’d dismissed people suddenly before, but this was different.
Wilson wasn’t someone with performance issues and he hadn’t done anything wrong.
He was a longtime fixture in the division and one of Uchi’s oldest friends; if there was anyone who should’ve been safe, it was him.
Getting rid of him wasn’t just shocking, it was bad for SoCon GasPro.
And just like Wilson, Martim cared too much not to speak up.
The minor revelation calmed him somewhat, brought his thudding pulse back down.
The Code demanded that he serve his client unconditionally, but what if his client was doing things that didn’t serve the best interests of his people?
Martim saw many parts of the division and stood next to the director with his hand on the steering wheel.
Sandbar Uchi ruled SoCon GasPro, but it had become Martim’s division, too.
What could Uchi and Wilson have fought about so badly?
Glancing at the director’s desk for a clue, his eyes drifted over the blue data visor, the multiple upright screens with the usual displays of gas field performance metrics, an empty nutrition-shake bottle, and…
a familiar slim white shape, partially hidden under a pile of strawpaper reports.
An injection pen. Unmarked, so nothing over-the-counter.
Something off the street or custom-made.
Martim’s heart plummeted into his stomach.
A wave of nauseous fear bathed him in a cold sweat.
Shit. Was it one of his? Had he carelessly left one of his empties somewhere in plain sight, where his boss had seen it and picked it up?
For a long time, he’d been very, very careful to use the stuff from Vincent only in the privacy of his apartment, but he was barely ever home when he needed a hit, and the pressure to secure his client’s Board nomination had been so intense…
Even after he started carrying a pen with him to the office, though, he always kept it hidden at the bottom of his locked desk drawer…
With trembling fingers and one eye on the door, Martim went to the desk and picked up the small white cylinder. It was similar to the ones he bought from Vincent, but empty, and there was a tiny line of unfamiliar writing on one side. Sudexatrine 02. Not one of his, then.
Martim sagged against the table in relief, feeling faint, as if he’d narrowly avoided being run over and killed in a freak tram accident.
The sound of the office door opening again made him spin around. He palmed the injection pen behind his back with instinctive guilt. Thea entered, but her eyes and frown were aimed at the floor and she didn’t see Martim slip the tiny object quickly out of sight into his pocket.
“Where did he go?” Martim tried to rouse enough lingering aggravation in his voice to sound normal, while stepping casually away from his client’s desk.
“Just back to his place. There’s a security detail assigned to him in case that changes.
” Thea hesitated, then closed Uchi’s door behind her and leaned against it, glancing side to side in a distinctly human gesture of nervousness that recorporalization hadn’t changed.
“Look, Martim… the director hasn’t been himself lately.
He’s been canceling and declining meetings, spending more time alone. ”
“Maybe he’s worried about recorporalization coming up so soon.
” Sometimes, people got cold feet and backed out of the Process, decided that they didn’t want to exchange their original bodies for a longer lifespan after all.
Uchi didn’t have the freedom to delay, though, not if he wanted that all-important seat on the Board.
“He’s been working on the 8G model for years and I know he’s scrutinized all the test results from my experience.
Does he seem like the sort of person to second-guess himself?
” She grimaced and shook her head. “No, he’s been in a bad state ever since you discovered the information about the Great Silence. ”
It weighed on Martim’s mind, too, the magnitude of that secret knowledge, its potential to change the world in ways he couldn’t fathom.
He could only imagine what a burden it presented to Uchi, who, unlike him, was in a position to make decisions that could preserve or rewrite society.
“Is that what he and Wilson were fighting over? Were you here when it happened?”
“No, Wilson said—” Thea stopped.
“What? What did he say?”
A conflicted beat of hesitation hung over the bodyguard before she turned her face away in apology.
“Sorry, that’s not for me to tell you. I wish I could, but…
” The Code applied to her as much as it did to Martim, binding her to keep her client’s secrets, even from his own atier.
She opened the door for him to leave. “I’ll let you know when he gets back.
But, Martim…” Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“For your own good, watch yourself around him from now on.”