Day 302 - Perfectly Executed. - Chapter 3 (1462 Words)

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PERFECTLY EXECUTED

By Wayne Webb

CHAPTER 3

Edward was still having trouble sleeping and it showed in his work reports, if not the work itself, which was progressing nicely. The investors had advanced a tranche of the funding for the accelerated research project he was working on for them, the one that was driving his own hidden agenda.

There had been concerns about Dr Thompson’s health and it was suggested that he take a holiday, something he was supremely uninterested in actually doing. He had to make concessions though; they were worried about him burning out. He had to take time away, and they insisted that it was away from work, all work and just some time to rest.

One of the trustees that was handling the disbursements of the funds had access to a private retreat, it was in the woods just above Leigh, near enough to the coast to overlook the sea from a height, but back from the roads and the noise of other people. More importantly there was no cell phone access there and no Internet connection at the house, it was specifically for ‘getting away’ from everything.

He had argued and threatened, cajoled and pleaded but he was standing on a position where he was not really up to defending himself properly. The more he inadequately railed at his need to continue the more he proved their point and eventually he gave in and agreed to a seven day hiatus on his project.

The drive north to the lifestyle block where the ‘retreat’ was situated was over in the blink of an eye. While the driving part took just under an hour, he was unconscious for most of the trip and was asleep before the car even neared the borders of the city.  He had been provided everything he needed to get away and recharge at the expense of the investors.

He had been sent home to pack, after spending more than an hour berating and instructing the lab staff on their tasks for the week. He also sent a few private emails from his phone to the researcher and the author via an agent he used to blind them from how intimately he was involved in the investigation. He was walking away from everything for a week, but he had set wheels in motion, and he expected things to move along in his absence, and he would review on his return.

He had packed a bag and been ready to leave in less than ten minutes, but he had been instructed clearly on what he could and could not take on his trip away. Clothes and personal toiletries were pretty much it, he had the house to himself and was not even allowed to bring reading material. A selection of fictional works and movies were stocked up at the house, along with food and supplies. The Television was not connected to an aerial, and while there was a phone he was barred from calling anyone on the project, the number had been barred at a system level from reaching the office. They needn’t have worried; he had accepted his fate and was looking forward to doing nothing, finding a way to think nothing.

The cell phone in his jacket pocket beeped twice and he knew without looking that it would be the ride they had sent for him, with strict instructions he knew he would have to obey.

A glance around the room where his family had died and he knew it was time to get away from the house, and that they were right, he needed down time to think without the fetters of work. Of course he would still be working in his mind, but in a more free form and speculative way. He would have no milestones, no reports and no updates for investors to fake his way through that was freeing enough.

He was standing, he realized with a small shudder on the spot. The same spot he had been rooted to eighteen months ago, when brought into the house and told to stand still and not move from that very location. They had covered some of the things in the room, and the ghastly sensation that he could still feel the actions taken in the room were still there, overlaying the furniture like a tarpaulin made of human emotion.

He had not noted it before, but he spent most of his time in this house, either ion bed and feeling the hole in it, or in this spot, looking around the room, much like right this second.

It was time to go, the phone buzzed insistent for his departure.

A deep breath and he stepped away from that spot, wondering how he could break a habit he had for eighteen months and had only just realized he ever had it.

The car was bigger and more expensive than he thought, and despite being a well-paid and comfortable enough citizen, the overpriced but very luxurious limited edition European sedan they had sent for him was impressive. The driver was waiting by the rear door and opened it as Edward locked his house and took his steps towards his own, voluntary prison.

The man in the dark sunglasses and black suit, with chauffeurs hat was a mountain of a man, wide shouldered and granite faced. He was dark skinned, Polynesian of some descent, it was not Dr Thompson’s area of expertise, the idea of racially identifying people by their appearance. When the hand, meaty and like a bowl made of flesh, was held out he surrendered his cell phone without a second thought to resisting.

“I need to search you, sir.” The man’s voice was apologetic and vast in it’s depth as he rumbled towards Dr Thompson and patted him down, looking for another phone or a smart device of some kind. There was nothing at all; he had been savvy enough to obey the requests of his benefactors.

The driver’s hands were strong, insistent and yet slow and methodical as they searched his body and clothing.  There was a odd gentleness to the movements and also a persistent strength that betrayed the inevitability of what was happening, he was polite and courteous to be sure, but there was no resisting and no avoiding the situation.

The bag and the cell phone both vanished as he was shown into the passengers seat and he sighed as he sank into the leather comfort of the rear compartment. The car had been fitted with a divider, a smoked glass partition that cut all sound from the driver’s compartment and he could see through it, but not perfectly.

The car started up and then a voice crackled through the speakers in the back of the front compartment’s rear wall.

“Music?” the voice asked, rumbling through a soothing and deferential patter offered to clients, willing and unwilling alike.

“Sure, why the hell not, If I have to be here, have you got any…” He began but the music had started already and he was surprised to hear what he was about to ask for. Obviously there was plenty of reference material to his tastes, the lab paid for his Spotify subscription and it was Childs play to read the feed on what he liked, the artists he preferred, the genres he would think and work to. Also what he would have playing when he took naps, if they watched his work, which he knew they did, then it was easy to figure out.

They really wanted him to be at ease. He planned to oblige them.

The music piped in was light and without words, a mixture of modern jazz and some ambient electronica, nothing with any ‘doof doof’ mixed in, just enough to take the concentration away from the noise and allow it to operate in the sub conscious.

The seats were covered in soft, supple leather, cupped to provide the comfort and reclining slightly to make him feel like a mother’s proverbial arms.

He was asleep, breathing heavily and the driver lowered the volume of the music as soon as he realized, leaving it on a permanent shuffle loop, but at a level low enough maintain the relaxed atmosphere and keep his passenger asleep.

When he was awakening by the small shaking sensation, he found the man leaning in and one huge arm pushing at his own, gently waking him, in the stopped car, arrived safely.

He swore that he had only just closed his eyes for a second and he had not fallen asleep, but now he was in the middle of the countryside and looking out the door across a field cut through with a snaking driveway, tar sealed but remote and one lane wide. No other buildings within sight.