Freedom Club (15 page)

Shinzou sneered in silence, patiently waiting as Hugo grabbed a hanging flexi and poked around his system. He wasn’t upset about the lack of follow up; it didn’t matter that much. But it was the principle of the matter.

“Ah, here it is,” Hugo sighed happily. “One email contained some embedded files that we decrypted. There’s a blurb stating that a Mr. Sumeet Rama...Ramasaraswati was hired on temporary assignment.”

Shinzou yawned. “You ran a check on him?”

“Of course,” Hugo said, looking back toward Shinzou. “But no alarms went off. He’s clean, and most likely just a distraction. I’m forwarding everything to you now, but I don’t know if he’s going to provide much.”

Perusing information about Sumeet, Shinzou noted that he had like himself graduated from Bishop Cotton. He was still fairly young, having only worked for a few years before getting his masters degree and he appeared somewhat inexperienced.

“I don’t understand,” Shinzou puzzled. “This guy currently works for Chindo Securities. Why was he called in? And his professional background appears wrong for technical data auditing.”

“Yeah, the CV’s a bit off,” Hugo miffed. “As I said, maybe it’s a lure just to throw us off. Or Ganesh is too busy and is sending some idiot to waste time. God knows! Still, I’d prefer to go after the database ourselves if we can. I’ll check up on Sumeet, but in the meantime just keep working on the DNA. Contact me as soon as you have a lead. Anything, okay?”

Hugo dropped the call abruptly. It wasn’t rude, just his curt business style, which clearly lacked tolerance for marginal discussion. Shinzou didn’t care either way. He continued his examination of Sumeet’s CV, stroking his beard thoughtfully until Henry spoke up. Monitoring the call from the side, he saw a chance to offer assistance.

“He’s at the airport, you know.”

Shinzou looked up. “What?”

“This Sumeet fellow,” Henry said blandly. “While you were speaking with Hugo, I located him at Sudha Murthy. Seems he’s about to board the Kingfisher to Tokyo.

“The Galaxy flight?”

“No,” Henry smirked. “The standard one.”

That made things easy. Why on earth was he flying by standard, Shinzou wondered? Investment bankers from Chindo Securities should be traveling on the maglev, at minimum. What was this guy up to? It didn’t make sense.

Shaking his head he said, “Standard, huh? Then we can monitor him the whole way. Even then for a bit.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Henry scoffed. “And while we’re watching the entertainment channel, would you care for anything? Some popcorn perhaps?”

Shinzou laughed. “Just monitor him, Henry, and keep recording as long as possible.”

P
assing several restaurants on the way to his departure gate, Sumeet grumbled to himself. He was still angry about having to fly to Tokyo. It was an insult, that was clear. But getting angry wasn’t going to help. He had to do something productive. At least, that’s what he told himself while stopping to examine one restaurant’s lavish window display.

What on earth? There before his eyes was a human, in the flesh, cooking and serving food. Upon closer inspection he saw the restaurant touted that human chefs, not automated systems, were responsible for preparing all delicacies being served. It was unheard of. Was it even still possible? After all, how could it be sanitary? Yes, humans did cook at home from time to time. But it was more of a hobby, not something you’d expect at restaurants, and certainly not at the airport of all places.

But as strange as it appeared, he was quite hungry. That, along with his curiosity, convinced him to sit down and order a small plate of steaming idli. There was still time before boarding his flight to Tokyo. And to his absolute surprise, the food tasted quite good. It was a shock.

Sumeet then jumped into virtual space hoping to get some work done. But he was easily distracted. First, he found himself inundated with Hiral’s messages. He wasn’t in the mood to answer any of them, and pushed them aside while checking the news. What’s this? Headlines wildly scrolled about overnight retail riots. They were top stories globally, and he noted an endemic number in ASPAU, Japan, Chindo, and the European Union. There was increasing speculation that LS was the cause, but no evidence seemed to prove things either way. Strange, he thought to himself. Maybe these latest incidents followed the same pattern Ganesh had spoken about earlier. Packing a few links into a message, he sent them off to Ganesh for comment.

Giving up on matters beyond his control, Sumeet finally went into his work files and made a perfunctory review of his Takahana Nanites acquisition. His files included a detailed corporate history which he began reading with interest. Like many companies, they were founded in the Nano age. Developing the first human-approved artificial phagocyte, Takahana microbivores were able to enter a human’s bloodstream and digest septicemic bacteria, thus stopping a large number of deadly pathogens.

Within months of their initial market release, microbivores were a sensation, and were hailed by everyone as a miracle cure for blood-related illnesses. Accordingly, many septic pathogens went extinct in advanced nations and Takahana took credit as a formidable player in the Nano-Pharma age.

Takahana didn’t stop, though. They went on to produce many other nano-phagocytes and related products. But after several years in the spotlight, the company eventually ran into problems as competitors entered the market. The nano genie had become commonplace and considered standard treatment. Not sexy enough, many analysts sniffed. And the stock price plunged.

They fought back by investing heavily in research and development, but doing so ultimately put too much pressure on their operating profits. The solution, as always, was to merge and become part of a bigger entity.

Sumeet stopped reading and noticed the countdown. My God, was that the time? With less than ten minutes to go, he settled payment and hastily went down the concourse. It didn’t take him long to pass through the scanner gates and the aircraft’s entry threshold. The hum of electronics and air conditioning overtook him while he was greeted by the one and only human flight attendant dressed smartly in a three-piece silky orange pinstripe suit.

“Sir... would you mind?” the attendant asked, handing him a warm towelette to disinfect his hands.

Looking down at his outstretched fingers, Sumeet realized that he'd forgotten to disinfect. He made a mental note to be more careful when traveling. One could never be too sanitary outside Bengaluru, he thought to himself.

Inside his first class cabin, he fell on the foam couch-bed and checked his messages again briefly. Hiral’s sat waiting for him, and with no other excuse he blandly reached over and began to open them. But again he was interrupted as a live call arrived from his com-plex broker, Shasta. How nice. Sumeet picked up instantly, allowing Shasta’s form to appear floating in the cabin space between him and the forward wall. She was sitting at her desk, dressed like any typical real estate broker in a charcoal gray suit.

“What’s the status?” Sumeet asked with anticipation.

“Is now a good time to talk? I need a few minutes,” she asked.

“I’m on my way to Tokyo,” Sumeet said yawning. “Plenty of time to chat.”

“Wonderful, because we’re almost all ready,” Shasta said in a chirping tone. “Owners in your bundle are ready to sign, and your tenant pre-sales are just under ninety percent. We just need to officially cross the line, then we close and begin selling off the traunches.”

Sumeet was clearly pleased to hear all this. “And my traunch? I’m selling A-rated, I hope?”

Shasta threw her pen on the desk and rubbed her eyes. “We do this every time. Yes, Sumeet! You’re going out A-rated.

“Just making sure,” he said softly. “It’s not an ego thing.”

“Of course not,” Shasta said, with mild sarcasm.

“And when will I be hearing from you again?”

Shasta picked up a flexi pad and touted. “Once we cross the ninety percent mark I’ll call. All you need to do then is come into the office and give me your digital signature. That’s it! You’ll then be the proud owner of the Bengaluru Meadow Palms Supreme Block three-oh-three com-plex.”

Sumeet was unimpressed. Something didn’t feel right, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Squirming in the foam couch, he looked around for some way to order room service before takeoff.

“Of course,” he said, poking at the menu, “I will be in debt for quite some time.”

“So what?” exclaimed Shasta. “You’ll also own all the sub-leases in the com-plex. That’s solid income to offset all the financing. And need I remind you that your penthouse is virtually paid for.”

Sumeet thought about that for a little while. Even though it seemed foolproof, he still harbored doubts. Perhaps it was something unconsciously repressed deep inside his mind, but the whole idea of buying an apartment block never satisfied him as everyone said it should. Certainly nothing as blissful as the scrollers would have him believe.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You have something on your mind.”

“It’s just...”

“Oh, for God’s sake! I can’t believe you of all people are getting cold feet,” Shasta said tauntingly.

Sumeet rubbed his index finger to his temple. “No, not cold feet.”

“Oh, I see this often enough. But not from an elite like yourself. Look, the debt is meaningless for the most part. The market has been going up for years, so you’re only going to make profit.”

“But if the market turns bad,” Sumeet interjected.

“It won’t!”

“But if it does...”

“Even in that unlikely scenario, we have policies to cover loss of rental income.”

“Only up to a certain point,” he said.

“And we have owners insurance to cover you too. To be quite frank, I think you worry too much. This whole system has been well thought out. The downsides have all been considered, and we have taken every precaution to maximize your security.”

Sumeet contemplated to himself. Inside, doubt still lurked.

“You’re not going to pull out on me, are you?” Shasta asked.

“Of course not,” Sumeet responded. “I just wanted to review all the issues again. Ensure we have gone over every contingency.”

“We have!” she said with a beaming smile. “Don’t worry, everything is going to be just fine. You’re going to be married to your gorgeous wife, live in a breathtaking penthouse, and live happily ever after.”

Her image faded and Sumeet was left staring at the flexi wall, which displayed takeoff information screens. External monitors showed the HAL-B 769 on the runway about to leave, and accordingly a warning chime called for general safety restraints.

Without alternatives, Sumeet finally returned to Hiral’s messages. They were in most cases all the same. Flowery encapsulations of her dove-like cooing, brimming with terse reminders to call. Without any doubt, Hiral’s communication made Sumeet happy on one level. But at the same time, responding with equivalent intensity made him uncomfortable. He barely noticed it at times, but for some reason it all seemed obligatory. Like chores. Sumeet contemplated his feelings further before dismissing it all. Just pre-marital jitters, he told himself.

The HAL-B lumbered into the air and began its push toward supersonic speed. Sumeet found it all boring and, with the aid of pills, awoke when the HAL-B jolted on touchdown. Thankful it was over, he didn’t waste any time checking into his hotel and heading into work at their Supertower II office in Ohtemachi. There, he met up with the local project lead, Kenji Ishii.

“Hello, Sumeet-san!” Ishii said politely. “Did you have a good flight?”

Kenji appeared like any typical salary-man, mid fifties, balding, and dressed unassumingly. With thickly accented English, he bowed formally, and offered Sumeet all respect due to someone from their head office.

“Yes,” Sumeet said while bowing slightly. “It was a bit longer than I wanted, but overall just fine.”

“We are so happy you could come and be with us for this deal. I think...eh tohhh...I think...”

Mr. Ishii looked to the side and began speaking in Japanese. Sumeet received Ishii’s filtered translation message request, which he accepted. There was a slight lag, but the conversation went on in reasonable English.

“I do apologize, Sumeet,” Ishii said. “I’m not so fluent in English, and I must resort to filter. I hope you don’t mind.”

“There is no reason to apologize,” Sumeet replied. “We do this most of the time in our virtual sessions.”

Kenji gestured with his hand for him to enter the security checkpoint. “Of course, but I was hoping to use a real face-to-face as an opportunity to practice my English. Technology is a problem. It has made some things easier, but puts less pressure upon us to use our natural skills.”

“Don’t worry about your English. I am fine with or without filter.”

Kenji smiled. “Thank you, Sumeet. I am sure your stay with us this week will work out quite well. You should also know that I allocated you a sphere near our team, and we are all prepared to start working.”

Once inside their corporate offices on the three hundred and seventy third floor, Kenji introduced Sumeet to the other team members. He knew most of them already, but he shook hands with each one and bowed politely as was still the custom during actual face-to-face contact.