Only Family to Trust in Tough Times
Despite Bell's resolute shout of
, the situation wrapped up in the most anticlimactic way imaginable. It wasn't that my loyal bodyguard had slipped up.
The scavenger charging toward us had toppled over from a single gyrojet round, reduced to a mangled mosaic of chunks. He'd probably underestimated us as just some kid and a woman. Unfortunately for him, the "woman" he'd targeted was a custom-built humanoid combat robot from a megacorp.
As I recalled the events from about thirty minutes earlier, the clink of teacups and saucers being set on the kitchen table where I sat reached my ears. At the same time, a cheerful male voice pierced from beside me.
"Ahh, it's such an honor to have you here, but I'm afraid we don't have much to offer by way of hospitality."
This bald, burly man with a friendly face introduced himself as Dan. Dressed in a casual t-shirt and jeans, he placed a few biscuits on a plate before sitting across from me at the kitchen table.
"No need to apologize. In these urgent times, just meeting up with you all puts my mind at ease."
I gave a suitable reply and peered into the teacup Dan had brought. It looked like your standard instant milk tea, but as long as it wasn't some mid-level crime like microwaving a teabag in milk, I'd let it slide.
"As you've experienced firsthand, the security around here is nothing to write home about—especially on smog-choked days like today, when all hell breaks loose."
"Guess the locals staying indoors wasn't just because of the smog, then."
"Ah~ yeah, exactly. Those corpse-pickers are real nasty pieces of work."
"Pardon?"
"Aigoo, this damn mouth of mine. cough. Anyway, glad you handled it without a hitch."
They even do that? Thank God I didn't see it. In any case, the unexpected windfall from our scavenger encounter was that it helped us meet our contact—the whole reason we'd come here. These folks, always on high alert in the area due to their mission, had dispatched an investigator the moment they heard the gunshot and observed us. Luckily, this Dan guy recognized me and brought me to the safehouse.
Glancing cautiously at me and Bell standing behind me, Dan ventured carefully,
"So, uh... the heir to Chairman Wentworth?"
"Just call me William."
"Ah, yes, William. First off, we're truly sorry to hear about Chairman Elliot's passing."
"Thanks, I appreciate the thought."
"No trouble at all. That said, could we hear how you ended up finding us? HQ didn't give us any heads-up."
HQ meaning the Elson intelligence division that oversaw these folks. Since I'd bolted out in a total lost-cause panic, even intel couldn't have kept tabs.
"This isn't an official intel op. I'm currently being hunted by Anastasis Corp, so when I thought of places to seek help, this came to mind."
"You're on the run? Ah, is it about the shares you'll inherit?"
"Yeah, spot on."
Anastasis Group. A conglomerate born from biotech roots, the culprits who'd driven my father's company into war and ruin. They'd swallowed it whole without even majority voting power, and now they were annoyed at outside interference. Fine by me—let them deal with the hassle I'd brought.
"Aha... got it. Our team leader from another safehouse should arrive soon, so we can talk details then."
Frankly, Dan looked like a headache waiting to happen, barely hiding his unease. But expecting loyalty from the servants' servants was unnatural to begin with. Hell, the fact they hadn't immediately turned me over for amnesty or shoved a gun in my face was something.
I lifted the saucer with my left hand and the teacup with my right, slowly sipping the offered milk tea. The aroma was predictably underwhelming. Instead, a faint fishy tang and mustiness didn't exactly impress. Still, shutting off my olfactory and gustatory functions made it drinkable, so I enjoyed a rare tea time while waiting for this so-called team leader.
Fifteen minutes later, a group arrived at the villa. Three in total. One hooded man stayed outside on guard at the door, while the coat-wearing man and woman entered with Dan's guidance.
As they stepped inside and removed their disguise holo-masks, familiar yet welcome faces appeared.
First, Catherine Clifton, section chief of Elson Intelligence Analysis Division's Covert Ops 4. A mature woman with gray hair braided long in a single plait, from a servant family tied to our Straford earldom.
The dark-blond middle-aged man was Harold Dudley Wentworth, an Elson executive—my uncle, whom I called Uncle.
Seeing kin in these tough times stirred emotions...!
Harold's blue eyes lit up as he greeted me warmly.
"Willie! You're safe!"
"Uncle Harold! What the hell happened?!"
"What happened? I bolted just like you, kid. Your father's business... it's a tragedy. You holding up?"
"Right now, we've gotta focus on surviving. Oh, Catherine—great to see you too."
"Yes, William. It's been too long—I'm thrilled."
With Catherine's smile wrapping up the greetings, Dan spritzed them with a smog-masking diffuser before taking their coats to what seemed like a closet room.
We headed back to the kitchen table, and the new arrivals exchanged greetings with Bell, who was preparing drinks in Dan's place.
"You must be working hard looking after the young master. This rascal hasn't given you too much trouble, has he?"
"Not at all, Executive Director Harold. I'm merely fulfilling my duty."
"Hey, I treat Bell great, you know."
"Shall I list here all the things you did when she was still running household OS?"
Dragging up ancient history like a coward...! But even amid Harold's praise, Bell seemed to hide discomfort behind her blank expression, giving only a perfunctory reply. Catherine's gaze on Bell was similarly uneasy, almost inscrutable.
The awkward vibe didn't last. Catherine, in her white knit sweater and dark jeans, spoke kindly.
"First off, I'm the team leader managing Acton's contact network. More precisely, think of me as the handler for Elson's various unofficial groups scattered across London for intel ops."
"Unofficial groups—what exactly do they do?"
"Normally, just basic networking. In emergencies, they recruit external talent for terror acts as warnings to hostile forces."
So, tails to cut off in a pinch—another layer of disposable assets. Of course, not Catherine herself as HQ staff, but the orgs she managed. Anyway, at this point, I wasn't looking for a suicide terror squad to die with me—just the network would do.
"But Willie, how'd you even know to come here? Doesn't seem like the chairman sent you."
"Ah, well, I peeked at some classified docs back at the mansion. Thought I'd use this network to contact our affiliates and figure a way out of London."
"Affiliates—which one?"
"Vector Nanopore."
"Knew our Willie would sniff out his own escape route!"
"Definitely—they've always been rivals to Anastasis, so they might listen."
Harold nodded, arms crossed, and Catherine agreed. Rivals? More like they'd been limping along on Elson investments. Plus, deep ties to Father meant heavy involvement in my artificial body and Heart development. Still arms-crossed and mulling, Harold spoke up.
"Then we've got two blind spots. First, Anastasis might try swallowing us and Vector both—"
"They won't risk antitrust suits flying in from across the Atlantic."
Uncle Sam's boys tear megacorps apart at the slightest roar. Pharma monopolists getting bullied? Wall Street insurers would foam at the mouth lobbying.
"Ah, true. Second issue: do we have bait or compensation to tempt them?"
"Can't exactly beg with empty hands."
"Exactly. Willie, you brought that, right?"
"Pardon?"
Harold uncrossed his arms, slapped his knee, and broke into a beaming smile.
"Don't play dumb! The physical stock certificate from your family vault proving 56% voting rights in Elson Management!"
"Ah..."
"No need to hide it. We need proof we're still Elson's majority shareholders to negotiate anything."
I hadn't meant to hide it. What I'd grabbed from the vault was indeed Elson's physical certs and Bank of England guarantees. Family ties aside, no reason not to show these boat-mates-to-be.
...It should have been fine.
What was this queasy sensation creeping from deep in my gut?
"No time to dawdle! You're still young—let me handle the negotiations."
"William? With HQ fallen to Anastasis, we need a card to steady the ranks. You have to show proof."
Harold and Catherine fixed their blue and pale-green eyes on me, pressing with raised voices. The urgency was real, and cooperating fully with these two who'd actually get things done was logical.
But why did they sound like con artists pressuring a mark?
Using the network was my goal in coming here. Leveraging Elson's certs for negotiations was my plan from the start. Longtime family offering help—useful allies.
So why couldn't I shake this inner distrust?
External pressure made my palms feel slick with cold sweat. Accumulated fatigue crashed over me, gnawing at my mind. My head, swirling in thoughts upon thoughts, went blank—