Читать книгу Seeds of the Bitter Harvest - John Sheppard - Страница 6

Chadwick felt sheer exhilaration as he rode the private corporate elevator back up to his office. Yes, it was very late even for him to be working, but there were details to handle for Andy’s accounts that he wanted to personally handle.

Almost no one knew that he had once loved Andy’s mother; Jacquelyn Nordstrom-Whitman. , better known as Jackie Whitman. Jackie was married to Doctor Carl Whitman, a famous Oncologist. Doctor Whitman was a top ranking Oncologist, not just here in his home country, but in this region of the world. Before the war, he traveled the world, speaking at medical conferences and providing hope to cancer victims around the globe.

Jackie normally dispensed with using her family name, Nordstrom, unless she needed it to advance some cause which had her interest. The Nordstrom name went back to the founding of this country. The family wealth easily eclipsed even the most powerful in the land. There had been male heirs to the family name until Jackie’s mother ended up being an only child, as Jackie was. They inherited the Nordstrom name, and increased its wealth.

Landing the ‘Nordstrom Account’, as his firm called it, had put Chadwick on the fast track to becoming a Vice President at KML. Other major accounts followed just because of the attraction of being associated with the Nordstrom family. Jackie might have been a stay-at-home mom but she was a shrewd, effective business woman. She handled not only the Nordstrom inheritance, but her husband’s accounts too.

Chadwick had met Jackie while attending university at Harvard. He was from England, and she was from here. Jackie was intelligent, talented, and vivacious. As she walked by, every male head would turn. The females tried to pretend Jackie was only an apparition.

He had followed her back to this country; giving up his own family back in England, and so much more. Despite Chadwick’s willingness to surrender all he valued for Jackie, her mother would have none of it. He would be allowed to handle their money, but he was never to have Jackie.

Chadwick’s thoughts were interrupted when the elevator door opened to his floor. It opened to a small, but well-appointed vestibule. Only the highest corporate officers used this private elevator. There was a parallel elevator, which could also be accessed from the restricted parking garage below. It was used by those employed by KML to do the more clandestine operations on the floors above his office.

Lange punched in his code at the security lock, had his iris scanned, and the door opened to a short, dimly lit hallway. He gently pulled at a concealed latch, and a panel smoothly slid aside, granting him access to his office.

As he slid the panel shut, Chadwick heard the very faint sound of Ramos running the vacuum cleaner in one of the outer offices. Just thinking of Ramos made him smile a bit. The man was so very simple and pleasant.

Ramos cleaned this wing of the offices. His homeland was in Mexico. The story was that his family was executed by a drug cartel while he was at work. They had mistaken his family for another family on the same street. KML had thoroughly vetted Ramos before bringing him to do their cleaning here in the Port City.

Some in the office made fun of a man they viewed as so far beneath them. Yes, his English was broken, at best. He walked with a slight limp, and he appeared to need some dental work. The man wore an eye-patch over his left eye, and his right eye looked to have the beginnings of a cataract. Chadwick was amazed at how well Ramos did his job, without complaining.

Many failed to notice Ramos’ wiry, strapping build, which was not easily seen through the baggy clothing he wore. Chadwick guessed the man to be in his early to mid-forties, maybe a little younger. The man’s neck was thick, and the veins protruded as he worked. Powerful hands grasped the heavy vacuum cleaner, and moved it along effortlessly. Chadwick felt safe with Ramos around, no intruder stood much of a chance.

It was normal for Chadwick to exchange pleasantries with him. Sometimes, the man talked of his homeland, and his family, but didn’t shirk his cleaning duties. He would also thoughtfully clean Chadwick’s office while he was out for dinner.

Chadwick would use the main front elevator when leaving for dinner, so Ramos would know he was leaving. They would often talk for a minute, as Chadwick headed for the elevators. Tonight was no different; he hadn’t gone to dinner until after 9:00 PM. Ramos had never intruded all evening, just kept himself busy doing other cleaning, until after Chadwick had gone.

After the cleaning was done, in the evenings, Ramos was instructed to dim all the lights in Chadwick’s office, with the exception of the task lighting around the desk. The reduced lighting forced him to focus on his work, besides it cut down on the electricity being used, and just made more sense.

As was Chadwick’s routine, when he returned from dinner, he moved to the window which faced north, the direction of their fallen Capital. It was like he was morbidly drawn there. He touched the pane, remembering when the distant light of the Capital would have danced, and twinkled on the horizon during clear nights. The night the Capital fell there were no dancing lights; just a fiendish orange glow as it succumbed to another kind of darkness.

He wondered if somehow Jackie, Carl, and the girls, were still alive. If not, how had they faced the end? The Capital City was only about forty miles away, but it might as well be four million miles for those still trapped there. Were they in pain, or suffering something unimaginable? Could they see the glittering lights of the Port City?

As he thought of Jackie and her family, he remembered her as being equally as comfortable in a boardroom or a laundry room. Able to exchange stocks, as she was to change a bandage on a scraped knee. Yet, like so many women, she was afraid of failure.

In the midst of his reminiscing about Jackie, suddenly, Chadwick felt like he wasn’t in the room alone. He spun around to see a man in the shadows near the secret entrance to his office. It was Mr. Rant, the Regional President of KML. Chadwick’s heart was almost in his throat, but he knew better than show any sign of surprise. Mr. Rant gained pleasure from watching others in discomfort.

Edward Rant was a thin man; about six feet tall, with a well receded hair line, what hair remained was snow white. His skin color was almost pasty in appearance. Chadwick guessed Rant’s skin color was partly due to the man seldom being out in the daylight. He usually came into the office after 3:00 PM, and left for his penthouse by 7:00 AM the next day.

He was known, among other things, for being emotionally cold. Rant never expressed concern for another’s welfare. His only passion, as far as Chadwick could ever surmise was for money. It was rumored that Mr. Rant’s granddaughter was in the Capital when it fell. If Patrice Rant had been there, her fate would have been grim. Yet, he didn’t express feelings of concern for her, or anyone in the Capital for that matter.

The man wore fine suits, normally dark blue or charcoal grey; and expensive shoes. He liked conservative silk ties, with either a white or pale blue shirt; once in a while, he wore a black suit, with a flashy red tie. It was at those times, the staff referred to him as Count Rant. His pasty skin was accentuated by the black suit and the touch of red, gave him a vampire look.

Chadwick had his own secret name for Mr. Rant – ‘Croc’. Rant’s thin lips were usually pursed tightly together in a frown. On the rare times when he was pleased, or thought he had the advantage over someone the lips would change direction into an unpleasant grin. Teamed with his green eyes, he gave every appearance of a crocodile awaiting his prey.

There was more to the nick-name than appearance. Chadwick knew Mr. Rant to be a fierce predator; always looking for a weakness to exploit in everyone he met. When he found that trait, the croc’s smile would appear on his face.

It was during his first interview with Rant that he had seen that smile. Only minutes into that initial interview, Chadwick had given away his lust for money and the power it could buy. Mr. Rant questioned why a man would leave his homeland to settle here. In a moment with his guard down, Lange had mentioned Jackie, and the need to be able to impress her mother. In an instant, Rant had exactly all he needed to mold Chadwick into a tool for the advancement of KML.

As Mr. Rant now moved from the shadows to the conference table, that smile slowly appeared. He sat down in the chair at the head of the table, and motioned for Chadwick to join him, all without saying a word, not even a greeting.

The first words out of Rant’s mouth were, “So, the Nordstrom account is active?”

That was fast, thought Chadwick. Andy barely left the office twelve hours ago and Rant is already aware of account movement. Nothing gets past him. The transactions were so minor compared to the rest of the day’s activities, how did he know?

“Yes, the son came to the office today and….”

Rant cut Chadwick off mid-sentence.”You took good care of him. Do we know about the rest of the family?”

Chadwick explained what he knew. Mr. Rant didn’t reply immediately, but rested his elbows on the table, intertwined his fingers together, with his index fingers forming a steeple like shape. He tapped his lips with those two fingers.

“Good…. very good indeed. See that the son has all of his needs met. He could be the heir. You could mentor him, train him…. . teach him…not to the level of his mother…. his mother knew too much. If she’s gone, he won’t know enough to ask the more difficult questions…. . We could have a free hand with that account.”

While Jackie had trusted Chadwick, he knew she kept a keen oversight of her family’s account. She’d interrogate Chadwick at times over some of the most obscure details. KML could not manipulate her holdings to do their bidding, as much as they would have liked. Andy would never understand, at least for years, what his mother would have perceived very quickly.

“The war may have yielded us our biggest bonus yet, Lange.” Rant drooled, the smile broadening across his face.

Chadwick felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He suddenly feared for Andy. The joy he felt earlier in knowing he could make a difference in Jackie’s son’s life, evaporated in the presence of this evil man’s smile. The deadness he experienced in the depth of his very being, overcame whatever pleasure he thought he would have in working with Andy.

Rant and Lange talked for almost an hour, as Rant spelled out his plans to use Jackie’s holdings to further KML’s illegal activities. Manipulating such immense wealth could mask an untold number of ventures, all which would fill the KML coffers to overflowing. Rant was as close as Chadwick had ever seen him to being joyful.

Finally, Rant stood to leave, and Chadwick followed suit. The elder man turned towards the exit, and left without a single pleasantry or even a word for that matter. It was his normal pattern. As Mr. Rant reached the deeper shadows of the office, Chadwick was certain he saw something. It was the form of at least one other man following him. Lange almost called out, but he had seen this sight before. He could never tell if it was just Rant’s own shadows, the effects of a long day, or something real. But, it couldn’t be something real, could it? All Chadwick knew was that whatever it was it gave him chills.

Once Mr. Rant had left, Chadwick was alone with his remorse. He seated himself at the conference table and sat there for a long time, his head spinning, mentally trying scenario after scenario looking for a way to free Andy from the web Rant was weaving.

He rose from where he was seated, and returned to the window. Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, and rounding his shoulders, he let out a deep sigh. For the briefest of moments, he considered picking something up and throwing it, but let out a string of expletives instead.

It was on occasions like this that Chadwick had uncomfortable reminders of the faith he had abandoned for what seemed like eons ago. There were only faint echoes of those days bouncing around in his mind. His faith had withstood the academic rigors of Harvard, but coming to this country had been a spiritual wasteland to drain his faith away.

The Sirens’ Call of wealth, tied to a requirement to embrace secular thought in all aspects of life proved to be too much. He had immersed himself in a culture which prized prosperity and success above all else. Lange had slowly let his need to impress Jackie’s mother and prove himself worthy of KML’s trust subvert all he had once held dear.