and the limo moves out, gliding swiftly from the garage and out through the “estates,” a planned community of low-rise condos and parks built and maintained by a consortium of the city’s major corporations.
The ride along Highway 30 into downtown Philadelphia passes quickly, the limo taking the express lanes and moving fast. Ohara spends some time watching real estate vids on the console trideo. His success with Exotech Entertainment has put his career back on track. A few months more and he’ll be in a position to demand that the board of KFK renegotiate his contract. After that, he’ll begin to work on his next objective, control of the board of directors, and, eventually, the chairmanship. The investigators he’s got quietly researching the board members’ backgrounds have already turned up a few choice tidbits of information that should prove very useful.
Once he has his new contract, with a significant increase in salary and benefits, he’ll be ready for a new home, possibly an estate in the very exclusive preserve of Villanova. Almost anything would be an improvement over the Platinum Manor condominiums. Him, in a condominium? The very thought is repugnant. Practically a slap in the face.
Will his two playmates survive the move? He’ll have to decide that soon. Certainly, the board of KFK would be more content with him if he could come up with a wife and some children.
Perhaps a rapprochement with his ex?
Something to think on.
* * *
“Good morning. Mister Ohara.”
“Enoshi and cha.”
“Yes, sir. Right away.”
Ohara waves a hand vaguely and continues on up the plush carpeted hall to his office. The iconic blonde at the reception desk knows how to react, and how to jump. Ohara likes that. He especially likes it when people act as if pleased to knock themselves out doing what he wants. It’s the kind of loyalty he’s always preferred, people panting like eager puppies.
Real talent eventually gets ambitious, then greedy. Eager puppies like the receptionist are too busy wagging their tails to concoct ways of screwing him.
The double doors at the head of the hall snap open. His Birnoth Comitatus guards accompany him into the office and take up positions flanking the door. Ohara steps onto the low dais on which his desk sits before a wall of windows. The floor-to-ceiling window panes are constructed from heavily insulated macroplast and form an effective defense against all but the most powerful weapons. The windows are also mirrored on the outside to prevent anyone from looking in, and have a special coating that inhibits laser-borne surveillance devices from picking sound vibrations off the surface. A variety of other devices prevent snooping as well.
Ohara lays his briefcase on the desktop and drops into his chair, then switches on his computer terminal. The keyboard slides out the back of the desk. The monitor rises out of the desktop. Ohara snaps his fingers.
“Initiate privacy function.”
“Acknowledged,” says one of the Birnoth protectors.
The other one nods.
The Comitatus guards are elite in every sense of the word. When the privacy function is initiated, implanted headware blanks their memory of everything they see and hear every sixty seconds. At the end of the day, they’ll remember nothing except accompanying Ohara into his office and then out of it again. Of course, that function would immediately end if an emergency occurred or if they perceived a need to declare a security alert. In either case, they would immediately inform him that the privacy function had been discontinued.
Ohara looks to his computer monitor. The stylized circular logo of KFK fills the screen. He enters his personal security code, then taps a final sensor tab and finds a number of memos in his queue, as well as the report on the Special Projects Section requested from Bairnes.
Enoshi comes in to give his morning report and ticks off the day’s appointments.
The office lady delivers tea.
“Get
The ride along Highway 30 into downtown Philadelphia passes quickly, the limo taking the express lanes and moving fast. Ohara spends some time watching real estate vids on the console trideo. His success with Exotech Entertainment has put his career back on track. A few months more and he’ll be in a position to demand that the board of KFK renegotiate his contract. After that, he’ll begin to work on his next objective, control of the board of directors, and, eventually, the chairmanship. The investigators he’s got quietly researching the board members’ backgrounds have already turned up a few choice tidbits of information that should prove very useful.
Once he has his new contract, with a significant increase in salary and benefits, he’ll be ready for a new home, possibly an estate in the very exclusive preserve of Villanova. Almost anything would be an improvement over the Platinum Manor condominiums. Him, in a condominium? The very thought is repugnant. Practically a slap in the face.
Will his two playmates survive the move? He’ll have to decide that soon. Certainly, the board of KFK would be more content with him if he could come up with a wife and some children.
Perhaps a rapprochement with his ex?
Something to think on.
* * *
“Good morning. Mister Ohara.”
“Enoshi and cha.”
“Yes, sir. Right away.”
Ohara waves a hand vaguely and continues on up the plush carpeted hall to his office. The iconic blonde at the reception desk knows how to react, and how to jump. Ohara likes that. He especially likes it when people act as if pleased to knock themselves out doing what he wants. It’s the kind of loyalty he’s always preferred, people panting like eager puppies.
Real talent eventually gets ambitious, then greedy. Eager puppies like the receptionist are too busy wagging their tails to concoct ways of screwing him.
The double doors at the head of the hall snap open. His Birnoth Comitatus guards accompany him into the office and take up positions flanking the door. Ohara steps onto the low dais on which his desk sits before a wall of windows. The floor-to-ceiling window panes are constructed from heavily insulated macroplast and form an effective defense against all but the most powerful weapons. The windows are also mirrored on the outside to prevent anyone from looking in, and have a special coating that inhibits laser-borne surveillance devices from picking sound vibrations off the surface. A variety of other devices prevent snooping as well.
Ohara lays his briefcase on the desktop and drops into his chair, then switches on his computer terminal. The keyboard slides out the back of the desk. The monitor rises out of the desktop. Ohara snaps his fingers.
“Initiate privacy function.”
“Acknowledged,” says one of the Birnoth protectors.
The other one nods.
The Comitatus guards are elite in every sense of the word. When the privacy function is initiated, implanted headware blanks their memory of everything they see and hear every sixty seconds. At the end of the day, they’ll remember nothing except accompanying Ohara into his office and then out of it again. Of course, that function would immediately end if an emergency occurred or if they perceived a need to declare a security alert. In either case, they would immediately inform him that the privacy function had been discontinued.
Ohara looks to his computer monitor. The stylized circular logo of KFK fills the screen. He enters his personal security code, then taps a final sensor tab and finds a number of memos in his queue, as well as the report on the Special Projects Section requested from Bairnes.
Enoshi comes in to give his morning report and ticks off the day’s appointments.
The office lady delivers tea.
“Get
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