Absolutely intolerable!”
Johnson stared at Kemp, astonished. Did he mean that? Would he just get up and go? And what if he did? What if all the others followed him? Then therell be no quorum, a voice in his head answered him— and thus no board meeting, and no changes. And what will young Michael do then? He took a breath, about to speak to Kemp, to be his most persuasive, but at that moment the doors at the far end of the room swung back snd Michael swept in, his prosthetic clicking on the marble floor. “Forgive me, gentlemen,” he said, coming around the table, 3n apologetic smile lighting his young, handsome features. “Something very important just came up. Something I had to deal with at once.” Dismissing Johnson he took his seat 3t the head of the table..
“Well,” he said, looking about him. “Let’s get down to business 3t once. You’ve seen my proposals for the reorganizstion of the Company’s management structure and, I hope, have had time now to consider them. Put simply the problem is this: the Compsny is top-heavy with management. There are far too many people on the payroll who are drawing a salary for doing nothing.”
“With respect, Shih Lever, I disagree.”
The voice came from Michael’s right, from a long-faced man named Leckie. He leaned forward, his deep voice resonant with the accent of the Old South. “I’ve had my people look into this and they find little evidence of overstaffing in the management levels. Indeed, were we to trim back, as you suggest in your document, well, my findings show a likely drop in efficiency of anything between ten and fifteen percent.” Michael stared at him, then sat back, lacing his fingers together in a manner reminiscent of his father. “Forgive me, Andrew, but your findings . . . surprise me. Since my father’s death I’ve commissioned a number of reports on this Company’s financial strengths and weaknesses, with the aim of making ImmVac not merely a stronger Company but also a more equitable one. Now, there are three things which these reports agree upon: one, that our borrowings are much too high; two, that our pricing strategy was close to scandalous; and three, that there are simply too many managers. As you know, I’ve already taken steps to deal with the second of these by reducing the wholesale price of our goods and services, but if ImmVac is to maintain its position as City North America’s leading Company then we’re going to have to deal with the other problems—problems which are, I feel, indissolubly linked.”
“So you say,” Kemp said, taking his chance to interrupt, “but I, too, have had my people look at things, and they have come up with a completely different set of findings. You identify three problems. However. . . there is a fourth area of concern, and that’s the question of the Institute and the Immortality Project.”
Michael looked down. “As I’ve said before, that is a matter I shall deal with personally. As soon as new sponsors are found—“ “Forgive me, Michael,” Kemp said, insistent now, “but surely the problem is very much within our remit. After all, the eight billion yuan loan to the Cutler Institute is secured on the assets of (his Company, which makes it very much a matter for this board. Besides, if my information is correct, no new sponsors have been forthcoming—nor are there likely to be any while you continue to run the business down.” Michael glared at the old man. “That’s my decision, and while I hold eighty percent of the shares in this Company, I’ll not have the matter discussed in this boardroom, understand me?” There was a moment’s silence; then, with a faint bob of his head, Kemp stood. “If that’s how you feel, Michael, you can have my resignation straightaway.”
“Johannes. . .” Michael took a long, exasperated breath. “Look, please try to understand. The Institute ... it was an aberration of my fathers. A dream that went wrong. It should never have been tied in to the fortunes of this great Company, nor shall it be in future.” Kemp laughed sourly. “You know, Michael, I opposed your father when he took the Institute on. I warned him against committing so much of this Company to something so ... high risk. But now . . . well, I’m astonished that you can’t see it, boy. Eight billion yuan. Where will we find that? And find it we must if you’re to pursue this idiot idea you have of ridding us of the damned thing. No. Think clearly, Michael. You’ve no option. Cut and trim all you like, but while the Institute’s on our back, and while you’re determined to run it down, then you can say farewell to any schemes you have for revivifying ImmVac’s fortunes.” “So what do you suggest?”
Kemp hesitated a moment, then sat again. He took a printout from the case at his side and slid it across the table to Michael. “There,” he said. “That’s what I suggest. We reorganize, sure, but not the parent Company. The Institute, that’s where we concentrate our efforts. We introduce new money, new thinking. We make it work. And from the profits we pay off the loan.”
Michael stared at the document in his hands, shaking his head. “No,” he said softly. “We can’t do this. It’s against all I’ve stood for.” Kemp’s voice was firm, authoritative. “We either do this or we go under.” “No,” Michael said again, his voice pained. But he was thinking, What if Kemp’s right? How would he explain that to Mary? How would he make her understand?
“Well?” she asked, looking up from the sofa as he came into the big, open-plan living room. “How did it go? Did they approve the changes?” He nodded, not wanting to tell her about the rest of the deal just yet.
“You want a drink?” he asked, going across to the cabinet.
She laughed. “Was it that bad?”
He looked back at her and smiled. “You know how it is. Leckie had brought his own figures along and Old Man Kemp was being a total pain in the ass. But what’s new? It’s probably the only fun they get out of life!” Her eyes were suddenly serious. “You want to watch those two. Leckie’s not as dumb as he seems, and Kemp ...”
He poured himself a whiskey, then turned, raising an eyebrow. “What about Kemp?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. Just a feeling.” He came across and sat beside her. There was a stack of books on the low table next to her, one in her lap.
“What’s that you’re reading?”
She picked it up and showed him. “It was in one of the crates. Look, there’s more of them.”
Michael stared, fascinated. Black men. More black men, but this time in American army uniforms, standing there posing for the camera, leaning on their long rifles.
He frowned, disturbed by the ancient image. If they’d been GenSyn there’d have been something standardized about them: a certain uniformity about the faces, a conformity of size and shape. Not only that, but they’d have been bigger, better muscled, than they were. Besides, why go to the trouble to make such a range of men and then use them as simple foot-soldiers? Unless . . .
“Hei”, he said. “Perhaps they were an early model of the Hei.” She shook her head. “There was a war,” she said quietly. “A great war between the North and South. Look—look at all the photographs.” He turned the pages, then caught his breath, horrified by the scenes of carnage.
“A war,” she said again. “It says here that it lasted the best part of five years and that over six hundred thousand men died, and we know nothing about it. I checked. There’s nothing in the official records. Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
She shook her head. “What’s been going on, Michael? Why don’t we know about this?”