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First published in Great Britain in 2009 by Preface Publishing
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN: 9781409050537
Version 1.0
In memory of
William Relling, Jr.
Friend. Mentor.
Missed.
PROLOGUE
MARCH 25
THE DOORS TO THE COUNCIL ROOM HAD BEEN closed for hours. That wasn't unusual. Council meetings routinely went into the early hours of the morning. It was just that this was a special meeting with a single item on the agenda. One that was very important to James Hardwick.
Hardwick had been the one to propose the item to his boss. It was a huge power play for both of them, but also the right thing to do. All the pieces were in place, and if the answer was to move forward, so much would be achieved in the service of the overall plan of their organization, a group known as the LP.
While the council met, Hardwick waited in the hallway outside the meeting room, sitting on a wooden chair against the wall. He occupied his time by going over every detail of his proposal: playing out all the scenarios, imagining the possible outcomes for each stage, and working out solutions that would keep the overall focus of the proposal on what they needed to achieve.
At 2:14 a.m. the doors to the meeting room finally swung open.
Hardwick stood up, crossed his hands behind his back, and bowed his head slightly as the members of the council walked by silently. A few didn't seem to even notice he was there, but most at least gave him a nod, or looked him in the eye as they passed. The fourteenth member to walk by was Chairman Vine.
"Sorry we took so long, James," Chairman Vine said, his voice wavering. Hardwick had no idea how old he was, but he thought there was little chance the Chairman was under eighty-five.
"No problem, Mr. Chairman. It's always better to take as much time as needed in matters like this."
The Chairman looked like he was about to say something, then stopped himself for a moment before speaking again. "He said to give him a few minutes."
The him the Chairman was referring to would be Hardwick's boss, Mr. Kidd. He was the only council member who had yet to leave the conference room. "Thank you, sir."
The Chairman smiled, then turned and followed the others down the hall. His footsteps echoed in the marble hallway, growing fainter and fainter until the corridor fell silent again.
It was a full five minutes before Mr. Kidd called for James to come into the conference room. Without being asked, Hardwick closed the door behind him after he entered.
His boss was sitting in a chair near the end of the large oval table that dominated the room. It was made of mahogany and stained to a dark reddish-brown. Inset into the top of the table in front of each of the fifteen chairs was a computer screen. Only the one in front of Mr. Kidd was on, but Hardwick couldn't see what was on the screen.
The room had no pictures on the walls, no windows. Here was a place where distraction was not tolerated. Where focus on the issues at hand was all that mattered. The business of the council had been conducted that way for decades. In fact, it was