Erik Otto - Detonation

Which meant, there is nothing unethical according to Bhavin , and there was definitely something illegal involved. Whatever he was going to be doing depended heavily on Bhavin’s moral mathematics.

Axel had a detailed profile on Bhavin. He was self-made—an Indian national raised in both India and Sri Lanka who subsequently immigrated to the United States to build his business empire from a letter-writing software startup. He consistently gave to charity and was known for once voluntarily removing an implantable monitoring device from the market because of a safety issue they found in patients, at great cost to Nadar Corporation.

The only thing remotely controversial in Bhavin’s past occurred in his adolescence. During a civil war in Sri Lanka, he’d been a combatant, and the rumor was he had adeptly led an enemy regiment to an old minefield. It resulted in thousands of dead Sri Lankans on the other side, but it also saved his own platoon. It was something Bhavin vehemently denied, but to Axel, if it were true, Bhavin lost no points. Atrocities happen in war, and it was the enemy combatants who were slain, not unarmed civilians.

Of course, a public persona can be fabricated, so Axel couldn’t be sure that what was out there was all true, or comprehensive. This would be a lot easier to assess if Bhavin were more forthcoming about the threat itself.

Knowing he might not get an answer, Axel decided to test the waters. “What are the threats we are talking about here?”

Bhavin made a sour face. “Before we get to that, I need to have a commitment from you that you will reveal nothing. This goes beyond your corporate sign-on docs. The consequences are much greater. You will have information that will be troubling and will put you at risk personally. I need to know, here and now, that you’re comfortable with this. You’re not committing to the job, but you’re committing to exposure, which is its own kettle of fish.”

Bhavin took out a document from the desk and pushed it over to him. “Take your time,” he said. Then he stood up to look at the cityscape display again.

Axel scanned the document. There was no heavy legalese. It was typical nondisclosure and disavowal language for the most part, but there were some colorful phrases about the use of aliases and foreign extraditions. All in all, he didn’t see anything that didn’t fit with what Bhavin had described.

Bhavin said, “Kandalama three.” and the wall image changed to a view looking down a verdant hillside onto a broad agricultural plain, with a small Buddhist temple visible on the right-hand side. Bhavin’s countenance was contemplative and distant as he digested the new vista.

It was hard to penetrate through the vagaries of the discussion without knowing the threat itself, but the process he was going through seemed proper enough. In turn, a proper process gave some credence to the project itself.

As for Bhavin, he seemed sincere enough. He didn’t seem like the sort of vain entrepreneur that would throw away two-hundred million dollars on a flight of fancy, at least based on what he knew now.

Of course all this could be a mirage. Bhavin could be putting on a show, obscuring some sinister machination behind the heartfelt presentation and carefully crafted briefing docs.

Axel did have Ryan, his most trusted friend, as vouchsafe for this opportunity. And if you can’t trust someone who has saved your life, who can you trust?

Perhaps even more importantly, if he didn’t commit, he would forever wonder about the opportunity. In lieu of the worry about selling out to a big corporation, a new demon would be there, lurking in his mind, an itch he could never scratch. Every time his wife snuck him kisses, it would diminish them unfairly. Every time he saw his son Zach playing lacrosse, he would wonder if it would be the last game—if some apocalypse was about to descend, an apocalypse he could have averted.

Axel signed the document and pushed it over to Bhavin’s side of the table.

“Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Nadar. If you could kindly read me in.”

Bhavin turned from the screen, a tired smile on his face, and sat down with him.

Owen was up well before light. He packed and tuned up his bike before anyone else was awake. Despite his lack of sleep, he felt limber of mind. The same couldn’t be said for his legs, which were stiff and painful from the strenuous ride on the day before.

His bike tuning was all for naught, however, as the two squads left the campsite on foot, seeking out seldom-used paths through the forest to minimize the chances of being spotted.

Owen only had a brief glimpse of the Shenandoah Valley before the path plunged into dense mountain foliage. It was just a shard of light through the trees, not really enough to capture the undulating hills with all the autumn colors. Seeing the valley from the ridge was one of the main reasons he’d been excited about the expedition. It was a nice view, to be sure, but he would gladly have traded it for a ride back to Seeville that morning.

Owen was pulling up the rear with Jakson, who had a crossbow in his hands at all times. As they walked he was attentive to the sights and sounds in the forest. Owen also noticed that an old rifle was slung across his back.

“Why not carry the rifle?” Owen asked quietly. “Isn’t it a better weapon than the crossbow?”

“Yes, cousin, but have you ever used one?”

“Just once, before trade school.”

“So you know how loud they are. We only use the rifle if we’re in a heap of trouble. Otherwise we give away our position. Also, we only have so many working rifles and bullets. Arrows we can always make more of.”

“I see,” Owen responded.

After a moment of silence, Owen said, “You know, the tinkering, it’s just for fun. I figured out how to make some circuits and got carried away is all.”

Jakson said, “I’m an Adherent, Owen, but not a zealot. I know there are things we can learn from Old World tech. I see it when I’m out foraging all the time.”

“Oh yeah, like what?”

“How they build houses and roads mostly. Loads of thought put into that. There are lots of things the retchers didn’t get that are still useful to forage, or that we can copy in Seeville.”

“Good. I just wanted you to know I’m not trying to cause any trouble.”

Jakson glared at him reprovingly. “At the same time, I would have thought you would stay away, after what happened to your dad and all.”

Owen’s face flushed. The image of his dad’s face, half melted away, asserted itself in his mind.

Jakson seemed to sense the impact of his words. “Sorry, Owen. I shouldn’t have said that. I just want you to be careful.”

As they walked, Owen’s embarrassment morphed into anger. He was careful with his tinkering, and everything else as well. He was more careful than anyone else in welding class. He was more careful on his bike than most mules or even wrenches. In fact, it seemed like everyone else floated through life while he was always on edge.

“Also be careful of this Quebecker woman,” Jakson added. “I’ve heard the railroad folks talk about her. She’s always poking her head where it doesn’t belong. The woman is a witch, I tell you. She’s got a square for a rear triangle.”

As they crested a knoll Owen could see Preston and Cecile ahead of them, occasionally sharing a whisper. Cecile did look out of place with her black clothes and streak of blue hair. Owen made a mental note to heed Jakson’s warning.

Of all the members of their squad, it was Preston he wanted to speak with most, in particular to ask him how they knew about their tinkering. But Preston had been too close to Cecile.