Sir Thomas sat back from the table with both of his hands resting on its edge and regarded me with an appraising eye. He brought his drink up and took a sip. He didn’t say anything, just looked at me with a slight smile twitching around the corner of his mouth. But his eyes, while not cold, were not warm neither, and I felt compelled to add to my previous statement.
“Uncle, I do appreciate the support you gave me to achieve that contribution, and I believe that I contributed well in the four years I was there. I’m thirty-four. This feels like a good time to take stock and plan what I should do next. I’d like to start my next contribution when I’m ready, maybe after my thirty-fifth birthday. Give myself a good seven months of contemplation time.”
Sir Thomas responded with a series of curt nods at each of my assertions. I wasn’t sure if this meant that he had merely heard, understood or agreed with what I was saying but chose the last as the most preferable outcome. I took another long draught of my beer, inviting my uncle to fill the void between us with words. He’d already won the ‘who would speak first’ competition and I didn’t want a second round.
It seemed however that my uncle was in a good mood, and after another sip of his malt, he said, “Actually I think your resignation is a good thing, and your decision of taking time to plan your next move, a sound one. I have had very similar thoughts, but in a different context of course. I am seventy-five, well past the age that one usually continues to contribute, but as I pass the fitness, health and mental tests for my position each year UNPOL has seen fit to allow me to retain a post of some significance and influence. But the time has come to pass that mantle to other hands. Unlike you, I have a concrete idea of what I will do next. However I will take some self-time before I start to fully plan what that will be.”
“What is it that you will be doing, Uncle?” My talks with Sir Thomas had always been formal. As long as I could remember, he had never encouraged familiarity. I was surprised that he was talking to me in this confidante way, and felt a little unease at the conversation.
Sir Thomas formed a steeple with his hands and spoke without expression. “In the last few years of my tenure at UNPOL, I have seen many changes in society. Some good and some, in my opinion, bad. You attain a certain perspective on what the world really needs when you reach my age. The question of life becomes less important than the question of death and what your legacy will be. Some are content to wind down, to hand over the reins and enter the receiving part of their contribution. Others of us feel that our experience and knowledge should be further contributed. In short, I have decided to devote my entire time to running the Oliver Foundation, hands on, providing guidance and direction for the orphans it sponsors.”
“I see. Well congratulations, Uncle. When will you officially resign your post at UNPOL?”
“Not until I’ve caught the terrorists that blasted Paris and New Manhattan.” As he said this he stabbed the air with his knife. I steered the conversation back to calmer waters.
“So, will you be returning to the England Geographic?” I asked: the headquarters of the Oliver Foundation had long been established in London.
“Good God, no. Miserable place, terrible weather and not a palm tree in sight. No, I’ll be moving the foundation’s headquarters to New Singapore. Already got a nice complex picked out in the SingCom Building.”
“Congratulations,” I said, raising my Schooner and smiling.
Sir Thomas raised his single malt again. Smacking his lips at the taste, he said, “I plan to announce my resignation on the global feeds next Tuesday and that I’ll stay on until I’ve caught these terrorists. When I hand over the bridge it will be when the ship is in smooth waters and safe seas.”
“Tuesday evening is New Year’s eve,” I said, and turned to see Charles wheeling a silver trolley to our table.
An efficient disbursement of cutlery and food later, Sir Thomas, face tilted down, dipping a chunk of crusted bread into his lobster bisque, said in a much less formal tone, “Yes, New Year’s eve. My resignation is my New Year’s gift to the children of the foundation.”
My mind flashed an image of Sir Thomas making his resignation speech, under a spotlight, a redundant mic in front of him to tell the masses he was making a speech. A somber tone, humble, thanks for the years of civic duty, and then he would switch to ‘good ole Uncle Tom’.
Sir Thomas leveled a spoon of bisque into his mouth, swallowed, and said casually, “After the announcement I’ll be having a small gathering of close friends and associates over to the Penthouse. I’d like it if you were there.”
I sawed through a piece of stuffed aubergine and pesto sauce. It really was very tasty so my concentration on cutting gave me a few seconds to formulate my reply.
“I’m sorry, Uncle. I’ve made plans for New Year and I can’t change them.” I popped the piece of aubergine into my mouth so that I’d have time to think up a reply to whatever my uncle’s response was going to be.
Sir Thomas didn’t say anything. Sitting straight-backed in the comfortable chair, lifting the spoon to his mouth with almost mechanical precision, he ate his bisque without expression. He waited out my aubergine chewing.
I looked Sir Thomas directly in the eyes and placed my hands on the side of my plate, my knife and fork at the salute angle. “Uncle, I understand that this is a big occasion for you, but I’ve met a woman and it will be our first New Year’s eve. I had planned on making it a special one for her.”
Sir Thomas set his spoon down into the now empty bowl and reached for the single malt with the same left hand. This method of eating always left his stabbing hand free to reach for the carbon fiber stiletto sheathed under his left armpit.
“By woman I assume you mean Mariko?”
I was somewhat, but not really surprised, that he knew of my relationship with Mariko. My uncle had often let me know in subtle ways that he kept tabs on what I was doing. Of course this time he was hardly being subtle about it. Well two can play at that game I thought.
“Yes, Mariko. Does UNPOL have a problem with that?”
He deflected my barb at his prying with a tight grin, saying, “No, of course not, Jonah. Happy to see that you have found someone that you’re happy with. Fine girl, our Mariko.”
I felt a hot flush of anger, as he said, ‘our girl’, but held it down and didn’t say anything. I didn’t trust my voice not to betray my feelings. Sir Thomas continued.
“Look never mind. Perhaps the two of you could visit me after the New Year and I can have a good look at this young lady who has so charmed you, eh?”
“Yes, Uncle, that would be nice. Only it might be some time. You see I’m moving out of New Singapore. I’m staying in the region though as I’m going to have to find some way to contribute, and New Singapore is the financial center of the region. But I am moving out to Sisik — I want to get out of the metropolis and I’ve found a new Env in Sisik. Do you know it?”
Sir Thomas nodded, and then glanced up at Charles who was removing his soup bowl and substituting a plate of chicken smothered in a creamy mushroom sauce. “Yes. In the Malaysian Geographic about three hundred kiloms from here.”
“Yes, that’s right.” I smiled — my uncle’s photographic memory never ceased to amaze me. It wasn’t a well-known fact and Sir Thomas did not broadcast his ability. But he could remember everything he’d read whether digital or not. “Well, I’ve found an Env out there that I can afford…”
“Hmph,” Sir Thomas cut me off. “You can afford the best Topside Env in New Singapore with your inheritance.”
“Yes, I know, but I prefer not to use that cred as you know.”
I had never touched the cred left to me by my parents, held at first in trust to Sir Thomas as the executor of the will and then later passing to me when I had demonstrated the ability to understand its value. Although that had happened when I was a fourteen, I had never touched a single unit. The trust had stayed invested in the original Ents and as they had prospered so had the trust. It was by any accounts a large amount of cred — I could have bought all of Sisik had I wanted — but I preferred to think of myself as independent, and part of that was using what I had earned and saved. The trust was something I would have to do something about one day, but in the meantime I chose not to use it.