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She nodded, but didn’t say anything.
 
Good
.
 
His hand pointed at the fat black man.
 
“Let me get this straight.
 
Porn?”

The fat black man swallowed.
 
He’d already sweated through the armpits of his shirt, the dark red fabric stained black.
 
“Entertainment.
 
Synthetic Entertainment.
 
It’s not—”

“Right, right.
 
Porn.”
 
Mason nodded to the empty chair.
 
“Where is Haraway?”

The gaunt man spoke up.
 
“I was supposed to have a coffee with her this morning.
 
She never showed.”

“She heads up Atomic Energy.”

The gaunt man nodded.
 
“That’s right.
 
What—”

Mason continued over the top of the other man.
 
“I’m curious.
 
What does the head of Atomics want with the head of Military?”

His Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, the gaunt man paused for a moment.
 
“I…
 
She never said.
 
The doctor—”

“She’s not a doctor.
 
Says right here.”
 
Information on the four heads of R&D was laid out under the cool glass of the table.
 
Mason tapped the glass, Haraway’s photo under his finger.
 
Cut like a cute librarian.
 
Mason looked back at the gaunt man.
 
“Is this some sort of job description inflation?
 
Suddenly you’re a doctor, get a raise?”

“No.
 
The thing is—”

“Yeah?”

“She’s brilliant.”

“Are you fucking with me?”
 
Mason looked the other man in the eye.
 
“Right here, right now.
 
Are you trying to be…
 
Are you trying to be funny?”

“I—”

“Do I look like I’m laughing?”

“It’s…
 
What?”

“I asked if I look like I’m laughing.”
 
Mason leaned forward, his voice going soft.
 
“Look me in the eye and tell me that I’m laughing.
 
I
dare
you.”

The gaunt man tried to huddle back in his chair.
 
“I don’t understand—”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.
 
You don’t understand.
 
Shut it, fatty.”
 
Mason held up his hand as the fat black man opened his mouth to speak.
 
The man’s mouth closed with a snap.
 
“Of
course
she’s brilliant.”

The gaunt man swallowed.
 
“I’m…
 
What?”

“You said she was brilliant.”

“She’s—”

“Haraway is brilliant because this is Apsel Federate.
 
She is brilliant because she is the head of the Atomic Energy division.
 
Apsel Federate,” said Mason, “makes all it’s
money
from atomic energy.
 
You,” and he pointed a finger at the gaunt man, “better come up with something a lot better than that.”

The woman was looking at her hands, her breath shallow.
 
Mason’s optics picked out stress markers on he face.
 
About damn time they started to get worried
.
 
The gaunt man tried to speak, then coughed.
 
“Can I get some water?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.
 
Didn’t I offer you anything?”
 
Mason’s voice was still quiet.

“Uh.
 
No.”

“Then you can’t have any water!”
 
Mason’s palm slammed down on the desk, making all three of them jump.
 
“You people.
 
You live your life down here in your labs.
 
You have no idea what goes on out there.”

The woman looked up, startled.
 
She’d started to sweat, beads of perspiration on her upper lip.
 
“Out there?”

“You think this meeting’s for, what, your performance review?”
 
Mason stood up, walking away from them and looking out through the window to the city below.
 
He spoke again, his back still turned.
 
“I thought you people were supposed to be
smart
.”

The fat black man managed to speak.
 
“We — what I mean is, well.
 
Frank is right.”

Mason turned to look at him.
 
“Frank?
 
Who the fuck is Frank?”

The gaunt man looked startled.
 
“I’m…
 
My name is Francesco.”

“Good for you.
 
You people don’t seem to understand what’s going on here.”
 
Mason pulled out a pack of Treasurers, tapping one from the pack.
 
He lit it, the long tongue of flame from the lighter reflecting in his eyes.
 
Blowing out the smoke, he moved back towards the table, leaning his hands against it.
 
“Any means necessary.”

The woman gave a small gasp then, barely audible, but Mason caught it.
 
She looked at him.
 
“We’re…
 
We’re being fired?”

“Do I look like I’m from HR?”

“But you said—”

“I’m not from HR.
 
I’m not going to fire you.”
 
Mason took another drag on his cigarette, blowing the smoke out towards the three of them, then walked back towards the window before turning to face them again.
 
“Hell.
 
If you’ve had a hand in this, you’re just going to disappear.”

He saw it then, the other two getting it a step behind the woman.
 
She swallowed.
 
“You…
 
You can’t.”

“Excuse me?”

Her voice was very small.
 
“I have a family.”

“Yes.
 
And Uncle Gairovald is very, very unhappy with you.”

“I meant—”

“I know what you meant.
 
Your husband.
 
Your two kids.
 
What are their names?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Your kids.”

“Sandy and—”

“—Robert, right?”
 
Mason cut her off, watched as her lips press tight together, the blood leaving them.
 
“We keep detailed files.”

“No.”

“No?”

She started to stand.
 
“Please—”

“If you leave this room, I’ll assume you’re one of Haraway’s accomplices.
 
I’ll need to investigate your affairs.”
 
Mason took another drag on the cigarette.
 
“Very closely.”

She sat back down, and looked at her hands again.

Mason looked back at the gaunt man.
 
“Smarter than you?”

“What?”

“I said, is she smarter than you?”

The gaunt man’s —
Frank
— eyes flicked towards the woman.
 
“I don’t—”

“Not her.
 
Haraway.”

“What?”

“You said she was smart.
 
You were trying to be funny.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Is she smarter?”
 
Mason turned away, taking another pull on the cigarette, then looked back at him.
 
His eyes flicked quickly to the fat black man, then back to the gaunt man.
 
“Answer the question.”

“Smarter than any of us.”

“What was your meeting about?”

“Our meeting?”

“You said you were going to have a coffee with her today.”
 
Mason stubbed out the Treasurer against the black of the table, flakes of ash breaking off, and pulled another one from the pack.
 
The lighter flicked again.
 
“What was the meeting about?”

“She said she wanted to talk about mutual interests.
 
Getting some of our research teams to collaborate.”

“Did she tell you she was planning to steal research from the company?”
 
The silence lay over the three people across the table from him.
 
“Do you know Apsel’s policy on theft?”

The fat black man spoke up.
 
“Mr. Floyd, surely you don’t think—”

“I don’t know what to think, except that maybe you’ve stopped giving a shit.”

“What?”

“Look at yourself.”
 
Mason waved a hand at the man’s stomach.
 
“You’ve let yourself go.
 
The last time I saw someone that fat was in a bankruptcy case.”

“My wife likes it.”

“Your wife needs therapy.
 
I wonder if Psych know about this.”
 
Mason’s fingers tapped softly against the table.
 
“Do they?”

The black man swallowed.
 
“Do they what?”

“Do Psych know about this?”

“I—”

“I didn’t think so.
 
I’ll book you in.”

“I—”
 
The fat black man looked at him, mouth opening and closing.
 
No words came out.

“You understand, of course.
 
Apsel needs to know our people are the very best.
 
Especially in the porn industry.”
 
Mason let his mouth twist in disgust.
 
“It’s no wonder she was able to steal it.
 
None of you people look outside your own cubicle.
 
I’m wondering if I should include this in my report.”

“Your report?”
 
It was the woman.
 
“What report?”

Mason flicked some ash down on the carpet.
 
He saw it was plush, expensive, Apsel’s logo highlighted in grey.
 
“You guys must know how this is going to play out.”

The fat black man leaned forward.
 
“Play out?”

“Yeah.”
 
Mason pulled on the cigarette again.
 
“When I find out who was involved—”

“It was just Haraway,” said the fat man, the words tumbling out of his mouth.

Mason raised an eyebrow.
 
“When I find out who was involved, there will be a report.
 
It’ll highlight who was involved in the theft.”
 
He paused, watching the silence grow.
 
The three of them were trying not to look at each other.
 
The knives will come out soon
.
 
“And…”

The fat black man leaned forward, his face desperate.
 
“And?”

“And…
 
Who was helpful.”
 
Mason nodded to himself.
 
“There’s usually one or two who are willing to go above their job description.
 
Work with us.”
 
A small smile tugged at his mouth.
 
“Usually there’s a bonus.”
 
He leaned back and watched them.
 
He could almost hear the wheels churning in their heads.

It was the gaunt man who spoke first.
 
“A bonus?”

Mason’s smile broadened.
 
Gotcha
.

⚔ ⚛ ⚔

Mason stood in the corridor outside the meeting room, a cigarette burning itself out in his hand.
 
He hadn’t touched it since he lit it.
 
“What do you think?”

“I think none of them is going to get a good night’s sleep for a month.”
 
Carter sounded bored.
 
“I think you’re wasting your time.
 
I think you should cut down on your smoking.”

“My smoking?”
 
Mason looked at the Treasurer in his hand, the paper burning down towards the silver foil.
 
He flicked ash onto the carpet.
 
“Why the hell would I do that?”

“You’re going to get cancer.”

“So?
 
That’s a solvable problem.”
 
Mason watched the three R&D heads arguing with each other in the room.
 
The fat black man was still sitting in his chair.
 
The gaunt man was leaning against the table, gesturing with a hand.
 
The woman stood alone by the window.
 
“It’s not a big deal.”

She sighed.
 
“Never mind.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I said don’t worry about it.
 
Smoke all you like.
 
Hell, even I’ll order you some more.
 
Treasurers, right?”

“No, I mean why do you think I’m wasting my time?”

Carter sighed again.
 
“You’re like a child.”

“Because I smoke?”

There was a moment’s silence, then she said, “Children don’t smoke.”

“Some of them do.
 
I did.
 
When I was a kid.”
 
Mason saw the Treasurer was almost burned out, pulled back the last of it before dropping the butt onto the carpet.
 
He ground it out with his shoe.
 
“There are worse things.”

“Gairovald’s going to pitch a fit.”

“Because I smoke?”

“Because you stubbed out a cigarette on the carpet.”

“That?”
 
Mason smiled to himself, still watching the three of them in the meeting room.
 
“It’s all a part of the fiction.”

“I wonder.”
 
Carter coughed.
 
“I think you’re wasting your time because none of them know anything.”

“You can’t be sure of that.”

“It seems likely.
 
Haraway didn’t turn up for work.
 
If one of them was in on it, they’d have made a pretext to leave today before your meeting.”