choosing message, typed:
Investigation now focused on known threats to TBO.
She waited, lying naked fully stretched out, looking at what she’d entered, the Devstick in both hands, and then she thumbed encrypt and submit. She paused, brushed a hand through her hair, and selecting another contact, typed, I miss you, pressed encrypt and send.
Chapter 19
Coughington and Scuttle Corp HQ, 4th floor, C amp;S Building, Clarke Street, New Singapore
Friday 20 December 2109, 5:30pm +8 UTC
I walked into the Scuttles outer office area at 5:30pm and said, “Dora, is Bill in?” I knew he was, I could see his profile indicating contribution in my Devstick, but it was a matter of form that we allowed the assistants to interpret our mood for seeing or not seeing visitors.
“Hi, Jonah. Yes he is. Would you like some tea? He’s drinking a coffee and catching up on the feeds just now,” she said and reaching under her Clearfilm desk pressed a button that opened the door to Bill’s space.
“Er, no thanks. This shouldn’t take too long,” I said as I walked past her into Bill’s contribution space. The view out of the double windows of the converted Chinese shop house showed Clarke Quay with the Singapore river in the background, curving down to Bonham Place. Bill sat at the far end of the room on an easy chair. The room was white but the furniture was black. It reminded me a little of the White Room. The heels of my shoes sounded loud on the painted white wooden floorboards as I walked the floor between us.
Bill’s face registered a slight puzzled frown, quickly replaced by a smile, as he saw my casual attire. It wasn’t what I normally wore to my contribution.
“Jonah, good to see you back — hope that business with UNPOL got resolved all right?” Bill said.
Bill Scuttle was the Senior Partner of Coughington and Scuttle, and a friend of Sir Thomas. It was my uncle who suggested that I contact Bill for a contribution when I first arrived in New Singapore back in July of 2105. At sixty-five years old, Bill still ran the New Singapore marathon every year and was always a serious contender in his age group. His shock of white hair off-set his ruddy, tanned face, showing off his preference for an outdoors lifestyle.
“Yes, thanks. It sort of resolved itself. Anyway, it’s out of my scope of responsibility now,” I said and stepped forward to sit down in the chair about two meters opposite to his. It was comfortable and deep, the arms were broad enough that you didn’t have to worry about your elbow slipping off the edge while you talked.
“Bill, I’m going to resign my contribution here at Coughington and Scuttle. I wanted to tell you before anyone else.”
Bill leant forward in his seat and put his elbows on his knees, steepling his hands in front of him. It was a posture I’d seen many times before. A delaying action while he gathered his thoughts — and usually those thoughts were very sharp.
“If this is about your share of the settlement of the Schilling vs. Bauer case, you know that I would happily talk to the Board on your behalf.”
I smiled and shook my head.
“No, it isn’t about that. My share was more than generous, thank you very much. I’m just not happy doing this anymore and I need a change.”
“Well this is very sudden. When were you planning on leaving us?”
“Today. Now,” I said, and looked him in the eye. He had sat in enough conferences with me to know that look. I had perfected it and trained its reputation for years. It was my ‘this is my final offer’ look and I knew he got it when he smiled.
Bill stood up in front of me and I rose immediately. He said, “It’s been a pleasure contributing with you Jonah. I wish you every success and I am sure that whatever form of contribution you try your hand at next, you will be successful. I will miss having you here. Your insight and attitude have always been a source of inspiration for us all. Please keep in touch and tell us how you are now and then.”
I gave Bill a deep wai, pressing my hands together, raising the fingertips to my lips, bowing my head and bending from the waist. Bill returned my wai and smiled. I said, “Can I leave the announcement of my departure to you?”
“Of course you can. Don’t you worry about that — you go off and find happiness, Jonah,” he said, clapping me on the back with his hand.
I turned and walked out of his space with tears in my eyes, and strode swiftly past Dora and her enquiring glance so that she couldn’t see them.
I felt really grateful to Bill for not making a fuss about my leaving. His parting words were kind and I also felt a great sense of relief, like a huge weight had lifted from my shoulders. I clacked my way down the wooden stairs, too impatient to wait for the old style elevator that ran up and down the four stories of the shop house, and burst out of the building on to North Boat Quay.
Mariko was sitting where I had left her fifteen mins ago, drinking a beer at a white cast-iron table on the Quay. I walked swiftly over to her. She looked great. She must have changed at the UNPOL Complex before leaving, as the white cotton summer dress she had on was definitely not standard UNPOL issue.
She looked at me with those huge green eyes of hers and said, “How did it go?”
“Great. He took it like the true gentleman that he is and said some really nice things to me,” I said, smiling at her, looking to see how much beer she had left in the bottle. She saw my look and picking up the bottle drained it with one long swallow.
She stood, and taking my hand said, “Let’s go.”
We walked up North Boat Quay, through the gathering early evening drinks crowd settling themselves into bars around the quay. The evening sun reflected gold off the mirrored windows of the towers across the canal.
“Any regrets?” Mariko asked, smiling.
“No, none,” I said, smiling in return. In the evening light her color looked stunning, a deep gold sheen to her skin; her long black hair flowing out behind her as she strode up the hill. Since returning from the Moon, we had spent all of our time together except for when she had to go to her contribution at UNPOL. That had surprised me, especially when she’d told me of contributing in the Special Operations Executive, the elite operational arm of UNPOL. I pushed a bit harder to keep pace with her.
“In a hurry?” I asked. She laughed. We had established a slight banter in the week we had been together and this was a frequent question of mine. She slowed down, turning around, walking backwards.
“Well the sooner we get there the better,” and reached out with a hand for mine, her face scrunched up as she mimicked a show of pulling me along. A guy passing smiled at me. I sensed envy in his eyes and smiled back at him, trying to avoid feeling smug.
We reached the Lev port and joined the queue standing close, our chests touching. She looked up at me her hands around my waist. She bumped her waist against mine and gave me a cheeky grin that caused the dimples in her cheeks to show. I smiled down into her eyes and raised my eyebrows twice and grinned as if to say ‘yeah sure, let’s do it’, calling her teasing bluff. She pulled back immediately and gave me a mock glare, with a swift glance around to see if anyone in the queue had seen the exchange.
The queue in front of us cleared and we were able to get into the Lev port door set into the wall of Citiplex, the Ent headquarters for Citibank. The harsh bright aluminum interior of the Lev contrasted with the soft evening light outside. Orange plastic molded seats ran down each side of the Lev with the hand bar and red straps running the length of the Lev down its middle for the standing passengers. We held onto the same red strap, my hand enfolding hers. The door beeped three times and sealed shut with a loud hiss and then the Lev smoothly accelerated, giving us a good excuse to sway together. Again she ground her waist into mine and this time to more effect as I widened my eyes to let her know what had happened. The grin wrinkled around her eyes in full knowledge of what she had achieved and with an impish look she swayed away and looked down. I smiled and using my free arm pulled her into me again breathing deep the smell of her hair.
