“No. Why would she call you?”
“It was to the house array, not me personally. She said she wanted to be sure you were in this evening.”
“I’ve never heard of her.”
“Probably an agency headhunter,” Liz said.
“I’m not registered with any agencies.”
“Could be the insurance company,” Antonio suggested. “They’re paying out for the invasion.”
Mark drank some more beer. “Not with my luck,” he muttered.
Liz shot him a look as she got to her feet. “I’m going to get the children ready,” she said and pulled on a robe.
Antonio waited until she’d gone up to the pool and started calling the children. “You two okay?”
“I guess so,” Mark said limply. “We’re just finding our feet, that’s all. Honestly, Antonio, we had the most perfect life on Elan. Now there’s nothing left to go back to.”
“It’s tough, man. But you can beat it. I see that in Kyle. You Vernon guys don’t give in. You’re a scary family.”
Mark raised his bottle, and even managed a feeble grin. “Cheers. But you’re wrong. First hint of a job on a planet far from here, I’m taking Liz and the kids.”
“You sure about that?”
“Sure I’m sure.”
“Well, I think that would be a big mistake.”
“How come?”
“Look, the Big15 are where they’re going to build all the ships and weapons hardware. Right? Yeah sure, other planets will get subcontracts, and High Angel does some assembly work, that’s politics. But here: this is the heart of the fight back, man. That means they won’t let Augusta fall. Earth will be overrun before we are. We’re gonna have the best protection it’s possible to have. Think about it. Wessex was the only planet to see off the Primes last time. Sheldon and Hutchinson made damn sure the invasion failed there. You want my advice, stay here. I don’t care what all the news show analysts are saying, this is the safest place in the Commonwealth.”
Mark wanted to laugh the idea off, but he couldn’t fault Antonio’s logic.
A long black Chevrolet limousine drew up outside the gates at two minutes before seven. Liz had just managed to coax the kids upstairs after tea, and Antonio was getting sober and dressed for his hospital shift. Kyle still wasn’t back; he usually worked in the StVincent Loan & Trust office until after seven. Mark didn’t understand how he kept the relationship with Antonio going; they only ever saw each other for a couple of hours a day. Perhaps that was why it had lasted so long. He and Liz barely saw each other for longer, but that didn’t seem to be helping much.
Giselle Swinsol wasn’t quite what Mark had been expecting. The limo should have clued him in: no agency manager would have a car like that. She was a tall brunette with the ambition of a second-lifer gunning for an executive slot, and the arrogance of a direct lineage Dynasty member. Her smart gray and oxford-blue suit cost more than Mark’s monthly salary, complemented by makeup superior to that of most unisphere news anchors. High heels clicked loudly on the hall floor.
She hadn’t waited to be invited in; she simply marched past Mark when he opened the door, and headed for the living room.
“Excuse me, but I didn’t know we were due to have a meeting,” he said. He wanted it to be sarcastic, but it came out woefully lame, not helped by the way he was scampering along behind, trying to catch up.
Her answering smile reminded him of a shark preparing to feed. A shark with cherry-glossed lips. “I don’t normally inform people in advance that they’ve been selected.”
“Selected?”
She sat down in one of the couches, leaving him standing in the middle of the lounge. “Do you like your job, Mr. Vernon?”
“Look! Who the hell are you?”
“I work for the Sheldon Dynasty. What does it bring in? A couple of grand a month?”
Thoroughly irritated, he snapped, “More than that, actually.”
“No it doesn’t, Mark, I’ve seen your contract.”
“That’s confidential.”
She laughed. “At your current level of earning, and extrapolating a mild level of promotion, it’ll take you about eighty years to pay off the loan for your house and franchise garage on Elan. That doesn’t take in factors like paying for the kids’ college fees, and your own R and R pension.”
“We’ll get compensation, eventually.”
“Granted, if the Commonwealth still exists in ten years’ time, they might pass a bill letting you off the interest payments. Anything else: stop fooling yourself.”
“Prism Dynamics is just temporary. I’ll get a better job than that.”
“That’s exactly what I want to hear, Mark. I’ve come to tell you I’ve got that better job all lined up for you.”
“And what would that be?” Liz asked. She was standing in the lounge doorway, wearing a T-shirt and cutoff jeans. But there was a fixed look on her face that Mark was familiar with. When Liz made up her mind not to like someone, they were frozen out of this life and the next.
“It’s confidential, I’m afraid,” Giselle Swinsol said. “Once you sign up, then you will be told.”
“Ridiculous,” Liz said. She sat down on a long leather couch opposite the woman, and tugged gently at Mark’s arm. He sank down beside her. The three beers he’d drunk in quick succession out on the terrace were starting to buzz in his head. His e-butler told him a file had arrived, sender Giselle Swinsol. When he opened it, an employment contract slipped down his virtual vision. The salary made him blink in surprise.
“It is far from being ridiculous,” Giselle Swinsol said. “We take our security very seriously indeed. You have already proved your discretion.”
“Ozzie’s asteroid?” Mark asked. “No big deal.”
“Even in today’s climate, the news shows would be very interested indeed in Mr. Isaac’s home.”
“I don’t get this,” Mark said. “I’m not some superphysicist. I repair machinery. What’s so important about that? Millions of us do it.”
“You’re actually very, very good at maintaining electromechanical systems, Mark. We checked. Thoroughly. The project you’ll be working on requires a great deal of robotic assembly. Although there are other factors which brought your name to our attention.”
“Such as?” Liz asked.
“Apart from respecting confidentiality, you have acute financial problems which we can remedy. If you agree to take this job, we will pay off every debt you accrued on Elan. Mrs. Vernon, you have the kind of biotechnology skills which we can utilize. It’s not as if we’ll expect you to act the dutiful housewife for the duration of the project. I’m sure that will make a pleasant change for you.”
Liz sat perfectly still. “Thank you.”
The contract was still flowing down Mark’s virtual vision. “If I say yes, where will we be based?”
“Cressat.”
“The Sheldon world? I didn’t think anyone else was allowed there,” Liz said.
“We are making exceptions for this project. However, we don’t have to in your case. Mark’s a Sheldon, that qualifies his whole family for residency.”
Mark tried not to flinch when Liz turned to stare at him. He’d never considered his heritage worth talking about; if anything it was mildly embarrassing. “Hardly direct lineage,” he muttered defensively.
“Your mother is only seven generations removed from Nigel. That’s good enough.”
“Wait,” Liz said. “This isn’t a navy project?”
Giselle Swinsol gave her a blank smile. “Mark?”
“What? You want an answer now?” he asked.
“Certainly.”
“But you’ve told me nothing.”
“You will be working in a job that will provide an excellent lifestyle for your family, far greater than the one you enjoyed on Elan. You will be rid of all your debts. And we absolutely guarantee your safety. The only downside will be restricted communications with your friends and immediate family. This project must remain secret.”