Page 29

Chapter Twenty-Two

MARCH 2088

Alex

Work on the prototype was going much more slowly than Alex had anticipated, and he seemed to hit a new snag every day. Maybe it was his lack of experience in handling an entire project, including the budget and managing a team, but everything felt like an uphill struggle.

George Tyler was a busy man, forever flying off to some faraway destination in his private plane. But he still checked in to the workshop every few days and insisted on taking Alex out for a meal. Alex looked forward to the time they spent together. At least Tyler was a friendly face – nobody else at Aquacruise had made him feel welcome.

“So, how’s it going?” Tyler asked, six weeks before the project deadline. “Am I going to have the prototype for a fantastic new range of Aquacruise ducks, or has this whole thing turned into more of a lame duck?” He took a swig of his beer and grinned.

“It’ll work.” Alex sounded confident, but the prototype wasn’t even close, and he had no idea why. It should work, but it didn’t, and he was running out of time.

He’d already spent all of Tyler’s investment, as well as every single penny of his own money, and was now getting by on ingenuity and hard work alone. He didn’t dare tell Tyler that, though – friendly though he was, he knew that Tyler would pull the plug instantly .

“On time and on budget?” Tyler raised an eyebrow. “I am impressed.”

“I was going to ask you about that… the budget, I mean,” Alex said, as nonchalantly as he could manage. “I can do it – don’t get me wrong – but if there was more money, I think I could do it better.”

Tyler’s grin disappeared. “We agreed upon a price.”

“I know… but I might have under-estimated the cost of a few things, and the testing process has been more expensive than I anticipated.”

Secretly, he blamed Tyler’s workers for that. The crew assigned to help him were unfriendly and unhelpful, always choosing the costliest, slowest route, and utterly unenthusiastic about the project. In fact, he had to steel himself to go into work every morning.

Tyler sighed. “It’s impossible, Alex. People look at the fancy limos, the helicopters, and the floating cities, but they don’t see that all the projects I’m involved in cost billions. I can’t afford to invest any more in this project. Either make it work, and then we can look at getting it into production, or give up and walk away.” He got to his feet. “For what it’s worth – I believe in you.” He gave Alex an encouraging pat on the shoulder before leaving.

Alex stared after him glumly. There was no way he could make the design work without more money. He’d gambled on charming Tyler into investing more, considering how close they’d become over the past few months, but Tyler had never made any secret of the fact that he was a hard-headed businessman.

Alex worked day and night for the next two weeks, but it was no use. He was sure his designs were sound, but he couldn’t get the duck to work within the specs. He had to have more money to create a fresh prototype.

Deciding he needed some time away from the workshop, he returned to his flat, where he continued poring over the specs from the holopad Tyler had gifted him, looking for some way to pull it back from the brink of disaster. For the first time, he contemplated failure.

“Alex? Is that you?” Neil walked into the kitchen, tying up his bathrobe, looking surprised .

He’d barely seen his flatmate for the past few months – he’d spent most of his time either sleeping in the workshop or at Solange’s.

“Are you okay?” Neil asked. “I saw the light was on… You do realise it’s one a.m.?”

“I’m fine.” He stared at the spreadsheets hovering above the table in front of him. “No, I’m not – I’m fucked.” He buried his head in his hands.

“What are you talking about?” Neil studied the holograms. “Is this the project you’re working on with Tyler?”

“The project I’m screwing up, you mean.” He looked at Neil in despair. “My duck design is a failure. I can’t get it to work without more money, and Tyler won’t give me any more.”

“Well, what’s the worst that could happen?” Neil asked, rubbing his shoulders.

“I lose my designs to Tyler and have to go crawling back to my father?” He slammed his fist onto the dining room table. “Damn it, Neil, I worked bloody hard on them, and they should work. I don’t know why they don’t.”

“More money would help?” Neil’s fingers dug deep into his shoulders, massaging firmly.

“Well, yeah. It would mean I could redo this whole section instead of trying to make what I’ve already done fit – which it doesn’t.” He pointed at the specs.

“Why don’t you go to the bank and take out a loan, or find another investor?”

“I can’t – Tyler made it central to our agreement that only he and I have a stake in the product. He doesn’t want to share. Anyway, I’ve spent all of my own money on it already. I know this duck will be a huge success if only I can work out these few issues. I’m so nearly there.”

“Then you just need a bit of money for the final few weeks – nothing more than a loan, really,” Neil told him. “Tyler doesn’t need to know about it. If you bring him a successful product and pay back the loan out of the bonus you get for making it work, then you’re fine.”

“Who is going to give me a short-term loan on that basis? ”

“How much do you need?”

“A hundred and forty million.”

“I could get it for you,” Neil said quietly.

“Don’t be stupid.” Alex shook off Neil’s fingers. “How?”

“I’m an accountant.” Neil shrugged. “Look – you only need a short-term loan. I could get that for you from Lytton AV’s reserves – as long as you return it within a few weeks, nobody will even notice.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. That’s the most underhand, ludicrous plan you could have come up with, Neil.”

“Fine.” Neil shrugged again. “But there’s enough money in the Lytton AV indentured servant account to cover it. We pay a chunk in each month out of profits, and a chunk out to pay for health insurance, food, Lytton Village upkeep, and other IS-related expenses. We have to keep it separate for compliance purposes, but the IS Agency never inspects us, so nobody pays it much attention. The money is just sitting there. You could have it, then pay it back and nobody would notice. I could cover the transaction at our end – make it look like a routine transfer.”

“That amount of money – you’d need two authorisations,” Alex said slowly.

“Well, I can authorise it – I move large sums of money around in our accounts all the time – and your father never took you off the list of people who can authorise payments, so…”

“No. Just… no.” He held up his hands. “We are not doing this. It’s stealing.”

“Your choice. I only want to help. Good night, sleep well.” Neil pressed a kiss to his head and left the room.

Alex continued to stare at the spreadsheets in despair. Finally, knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep, he drove over to Solange’s house to do some croc and have sex instead.

“Is there anything wrong?” she asked him afterwards. “You seem dark tonight… well, darker than usual.” She brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes.

“Solange, I need more money from your godfather. Could you talk to him for me?” he asked abruptly.

She sat up. “That’s it? You think you can come here whenever you like and expect me to put out? Like I’m your whore for whatever you want at any given moment of time – croc, sex, or a favour from my godfather?”

“No, sorry, fuck no.” Sitting up, he stared at her. “It’s just I’m in some deep shit here, or I wouldn’t ask.”

“If you can’t get your design to work, then just tell my godfather that.” She turned her back on him and pulled on her bathrobe.

“He’ll end the project – he’s made that clear – but under the terms of our agreement he also gets to keep my design. I’ll end up with nothing.”

“I’m sorry, but do you really think my godfather will have an ounce of respect for you if you send me to ask him for more money? Seriously?”

“No.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed. “No, you’re right. He’ll cut me loose without another penny. I admire your godfather, but I’ve always known he’s a ruthless operator.”

“You do more than admire him. You have some stupid fantasy about impressing him, about seducing him with your work.”

“I want his respect, yes,” he admitted. “What’s wrong with that? I want to succeed, to be good at something, to do something right for a fucking change.” He lashed out with his foot and sent a nearby chair hurtling across the room.

“This is because of Charles,” Solange said quietly.

“What?”

“It’s because of Charles being your dad’s favourite – the great Olympic hero, the courageous one who pulled himself back up again after your reckless stupidity got him paralysed.”

“It’s not about Charles. Not every fucking thing in this world is about him.”

She sighed. “Your problem is that you’ve screwed up, but you still want your happy ending with some kind of father figure, whoever it is. George Tyler will do, if your own dad isn’t interested. You just want someone to pat you on the head and see some good in you. You should grow up, Alex, and stop looking for praise from older men.”

“Thanks, Solange, you’ve been a real help.” He began pulling on his clothes furiously .

“What are you going to do?” Solange tugged the sheet up to almost cover her face and peeped over it, as if she was scared of him.

“Like you said, I’m a bad boy – thanks for reminding me, sweetheart. I should never forget that – nobody else ever fucking will.” He grabbed his jacket and left, slamming the door behind him.

He went for a drive, as he always did when he wanted some time alone to think. He had another month to make the design work; he was sure he could do it if he could lay his hands on enough money.

His mind went back to Neil’s offer. Maybe it wasn’t exactly stealing… it was a loan, and one he could pay back in a few weeks once Tyler gave the green light to the project. What other choice did he have?

He returned to the flat to find Neil in the kitchen, eating breakfast.

“Let’s do it,” Alex said abruptly. “Let’s take the money.”

“Are you sure?”

“We’ll put it back. It’s not really stealing.”

“No, of course not.” Neil stood up and walked over to him. “See, I’m always here for you, Alex.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“It can be the way it was before.” Neil kissed him softly on the lips. Alex stood there, frozen. “You need me, you see,” Neil said. “You always have, and you always will.”

Alex worked day and night on the new duck design for the final few weeks. He spent every single penny of the money Neil had “borrowed” for him, desperately willing the project to work, but still it felt like every stride forward was met by an equally big stride back.

He had made so many small alterations to the design that he could barely remember which iteration he was working on. Nothing fit together, and everything new that succeeded caused something else to go wrong. It was like water slipping through his fingers.

In the past, when he’d set his mind to something it had always come good. He couldn’t understand why this was failing.

As the date for completion drew near, he stopped sleeping and eating altogether and toiled relentlessly on one new prototype after another. He’d gambled everything on this – it couldn’t fail.

When he’d accepted the stolen money, it was because he was sure he could get the duck design to work. He knew he didn’t have this wrong – it should work… and yet it didn’t.

As dawn broke on the final day, he knew he was defeated. He sat, wiping his hands on a rag, staring listlessly at his gleaming new duck for a new generation. It looked beautiful, but it was fatally flawed. It would never skim majestically over the surface of the water. Instead, this beautiful, useless machine would sink the second it set out to cross a lost zone.

His dream was over, and soon he’d have to face the most terrible music. He wasn’t sure what to do next – he hadn’t planned for this eventuality, because he’d been so sure his design would succeed.

He decided he had no choice now but to throw himself on Tyler’s mercy. Tyler might be a hard-headed businessman, but they’d bonded. Maybe, if he offered to work for him for free for the next couple of years, he’d give him enough money upfront to pay into the Lytton AV IS account and save his arse.

His stomach churning, he sat beside the glistening frame of his great failure, waiting for the axe to fall.

He heard Tyler’s duck pull up outside, and he stood up, steeling himself for the look of disapproval, disappointment, and anger he would inevitably see on the older man’s face.

He could have cut and run – fled abroad to live in Lastkahn Ghetto, or some other place where the world’s lost souls washed up, out of reach of justice and his own shame, but that had never been his style. He had many faults, but he wasn’t a coward. He’d own up to his crime and take whatever punishment he was due.

He heard a duck door slamming and the sound of footsteps as Tyler walked into the workshop, flanked by a couple of his IS heavies.

“Hey, Alex.” Tyler was dressed in a smart black suit with a black shirt and red tie – he’d clearly made an effort for the big occasion. There was a bright, expectant smile on his face, and he was carrying a big bottle of champagne.

Alex’s holopad buzzed, making him jump. He was going to ignore it, but Tyler gestured that he should answer it, so he did, his fingers shaking.

“Alex – this is Neil,” a panicked voice said. “The IS Agency compliance department is here. They’ve been asking about the shortfall… they want to know what’s happened to the money.”

His stomach performed a sickening lurch. “What did you tell them?” he croaked.

“I said you authorised it – they knew that anyway, because your code was used as well as mine. They want to talk to you. The Finance Director has been called in, and your father, and they’ve been questioning them. They’ve also brought in the Financial Crimes Investigation Agency and the police. I’ve been asked to contact you and tell you not to go anywhere. They’re coming over to talk to you right now.”

Alex dropped the holopad in shock. Tyler picked it up.

“Bad news?” he asked.

Alex turned around in turmoil, his mind racing, wondering where to start. This should have been his moment of glory, when his vision and skill were vindicated, but instead it was the moment of his deepest shame. He heard the sound of a duck pulling up outside.

“Who’s that? Did you invite someone else to the party?” Tyler asked, still smiling.

He shook his head. “I think…” He swallowed hard, and then squared his shoulders and looked Tyler straight in the eye. “I think it might be the police.”

The next few days passed in a haze. There were faces – dozens of them – the FCIA, Tyler, too many lawyers to count, his father – all trying to get to the bottom of what had happened. He was arrested and taken into custody by the FCIA, who held the government’s financial crimes contract. His bail was set at ￡30 million. He didn’t have the money to pay it, and his father refused, so he remained in custody.

His cell was a tiny grey space with a basic toilet and washbasin next to an austere bunk. He was used to cramped conditions and poor food from boarding school, and anyway, he was too upset to care.

The jail he’d made for himself inside his own head was far worse than any prison cell. He went over and over the events of the past few months, unable to switch off, berating himself over and over again for his dishonesty, stupidity, and false pride. He couldn’t eat or sleep – he was trapped in a nightmare.

His father came to visit. Noah seemed to have aged ten years overnight – there was a layer of stubble on his usually clean-shaven jaw, and his expression was haunted. “I don’t understand, Alex,” he said, shaking his head over and over again. “Can you explain it to me?”

“No.” Alex looked down at his own hands. “I can’t.”

“It’s a hundred and forty million pounds, Alex.” His father gazed at him helplessly.

“I know.” He closed his eyes to hold back the tears.

Leaning forward, Noah spoke to him in an undertone. “If I say you were acting legitimately, on my authority, then Lytton AV will have to bear the loss. There will also be a massive fine from the IS Agency compliance department. We’re already up to our ears in loans from the bank, so I’d have to sell the business to pay off the debt and the fine.”

“No.” He jerked his head up. “No, you can’t do that.”

“If I don’t… if I say it was unauthorised, that it was theft” – Noah stumbled over the word as if he could hardly bear to say it – “then you’ll be found guilty. You’ll be sold into indentured servitude, and any assets you have will be sold, too, to compensate us for the loss we suffered as a result of your actions.”

“I don’t have any money. I poured everything I had into the duck design.”

“I know. The only asset you have left is yourself,” his father replied wretchedly. Alex’s heart skipped a beat. “Do you understand what that means? In order to pay back your debt, the courts will order servitude on a lifetime contract. You’ll lose your freedom, almost certainly forever.”

He started shaking. “Then so be it,” he whispered. “I won’t ask you to lie for me, or give up your company for me.”

“What was Neil Grant’s role in all this?” Noah asked sharply. “He helped transfer the money – was this his fault?”

“No,” Alex said firmly, looking up. “No, it wasn’t. It was all mine.”

“And the money’s gone? All of it?”

“Yes, all of it. Wasted. I’m sorry.”

His father ran a weary hand across his eyes. “I don’t know what to do. Either way, you’ve ruined us, Alex. You’ve ruined our entire family. First your mother and brother, and now me.”

“Do the right thing,” Alex told him. “I deserve whatever is coming to me.”

Unable to look up again or speak, he sat there, gazing at his hands, trembling. He was relieved when his father finally left.