The Lesser One: Chapter 16: Network

Network

“So,” says Dr. Rihner, through the phone I’m holding up to my ear. “The CEO of Esmex International would like to meet with you. Now.”

“But—” I say, but I am interrupted.

“Now,” says Dr. Rihner. “We have sent you a driver. He will be arriving shortly. Please be outside your hotel within five minutes. We will discuss more later.”

The phone clicks. I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. This isn’t going to be something big, is it?

I walk to the front doors of the hotel. Right when I get out a limousine pulls up to the doorway. A doorman steps out—I instantly recognize him as one of my devils. Man, they are everywhere! I step into the car and the door closes. The doorman gets into the driver’s seat and we roll along the London roads. On the left side, of course, which is a little disorienting.

We roll up to a tall building in London’s central downtown area. This building is of the “neo relic” architectural style, with lots of shining crystal glass and overhanging platforms. There is even a waterfall going down the building.

The limo pulls up to the front entrance. The devil who is driving has said nothing to me. He gets out and pulls open the door for me.

I step out. Two men in suits stand beside the door. Both nod at me and motion with their arms for me to enter.

I enter the building.

“Markus!” says a man dressed in a tan pinstripe suit. I have never seen this man before. He walks up to me and claps me on the shoulder. “Heya! I knew you would come!” He motions to the elevator. “Let’s take the express.” He looks really into his speech, and winks. “I know you’ll love it.”

We step into the express elevator. As soon as it starts rising one half of the shaft is bounded by glass. I watch the London skyline sinking beneath me.

The man in the pinstripe suit rubs his hands together. “The name’s Crayton. I’m the CEO of Esmex International. We do lots of things, but one of the things we’re real proud of is our research into conjuration.”

The elevator arrives at the building’s top floor. We step out into a glass bridge through which the entirety of London is visible. At the end of the bridge is a door. The waterfall that I saw earlier flows beneath us.

Two men in black step out of a door I didn’t see before and open the penthouse for us.

I step into a beautiful panoramic living room with high-class modern-style furniture and, if I’m not mistaken, an actual Picasso hanging on the wall. I walk up to the painting.

“Don’t touch,” says Crayton. “That’s Picasso’s Little Flower.”

“Um, how much is it worth?” I ask.

“I don’t know. Who counts these days anyways?” Crayton winks again. He sits down on the modern couch and pulls Champagne from an ice bucket. “Would you like a drink?” he asks.

“I’m sixteen,” I tell him. “There’s no way I would be able to drink that.”

“No one will know,” says Crayton.

I shake my head.

“Then sit,” says Crayton. “I have many things to talk to you about.” He rubs his hands together. “Like this Rearden Metal you happen to have.”

I sit down. “Um, yeah,” I say. “I developed it to help with the CCC.”

“Well, you did the world a big favor, buddy, because your Rearden Metal has a higher tolerance of stress and strain than any other known metal, while being about a third the weight of titanium. I don’t even know how you managed to create it out of pure copper and steel.”

“Well, it’s all about the crystalline structure—” I say.

“Yes, yes, I know, I studied mechanical engineering before I became a CEO. I just want to understand how you came up with such an alloy. It’s almost alien.” Crayton’s eyes gleam. “And, I can see it being very valuable …” He sighs. “But, alas, you can only produce so much of the material.” He stands up and walks up to the window, holding a glass of Champagne. “The good news is that I can obtain a number of copper-steel dual class conjurers. If you would be willing to train them to produce this metal, you would be very handsomely compensated.”

“I already have a lot of money,” I say.

“Yes, I know,” says Crayton. “I did my research. Somehow, a sixteen-year old kid from New York happens to have several million dollars on the stock market as well as another cool ten million sitting in Swiss bank accounts.” He turns to me, sipping from his glass. “I’m not talking about monetary compensation. I’m talking about power. Connections. The freedom to do things that one would normally not be able to do. I can grant your every wish.”

I shake my head. “I don’t even know what I would do with power.”

Crayton puts his hand on my shoulder and leads me towards a door. He opens it. It resembles batman’s Batcave, but with Ferraris. Three supercars sit on rotating podiums. A car elevator is installed in one corner, presumably to get the cars from a penthouse to the street. Expensive trophies and signed home run balls line the shelves.

“This is wealth,” says Crayton. “But this, this decadence, is just a means to an end.” He meanders past the supercars and opens a small door that is hidden amongst expensive art prints.

I step inside. The doors close, and the walls turn transparent. I feel myself rising. The city shines around us. A simple glass room, appearing to float in the sky, contains a single wooden table. Crayton sits. There are two chairs, facing each other across the surface. Crayton pats the wood.

“Come, sit,” he says.

I sit, pulling my chair up. “Is this what you wanted to show me?” I ask.

Crayton shakes his head. “This room is just to build ambience. This is where I take my most valuable clients and those most beautiful of women.”

“Oh, women,” I say. I feel a little strange about that.

Crayton nods with a little bit of a knowing grin. “Yes, but you probably aren’t ready to think about that. I’ve met presidents, prime ministers, and royalty here.” He waves his hand, pointing to the skyline around us. “And you, a little sixteen-year-old boy from the States, are one of the most special.” Crayton winks. “And I don’t tell that to everyone.”

“Okay,” I say, finally deciding to do something. “What do you want me to do?”

“Obviously money won’t motivate you,” says Crayton. “But I know you have some sort of network that is working for you. I haven’t been able to pin any of your agents down, and because of this I know that they are all experts among experts.” His eyes become a bit dangerous. “Who did you hire? The KGB? The M15? The CIA? Well, not that one. No good spies work for the CIA.” He sighs, turning a bit to watch the city beneath and around him. “Whatever your connections, I know from your minions that you are an especially powerful person.” He pauses.

Then he slams his fist against the table. “But why? You came with me like a rabbit after a carrot.” He turns to me, his eyes blazing. “You have no sense of danger. You do not know who you have caught the eyes of. Dangerous people are after you, your power, and your ability. The only reason why you are not working as a slave to some mafia don is because of this infernal … Network that you have working for you.”

“Wait,” I say. “Did you say mafia?”

Crayton appears irritated. “Yes! Of course! Your powers are no real secret! The mafia, the triad, the yakuza, the ruskies—they’re all after you! Well, the governments are too, but they don’t pose any real threat.” Crayton sighs, reaching for a Champagne bottle placed on a clear glass stand next to the table. He pours himself a glass. “I want to be the first to capture … No, obtain? … No, work with you to create a better world for everyone.” He sighs. “I’m bored. I haven’t had fun in ages. I want to do something spectacular, even if that means gaining the ire of the underworld.”

Crayton turns to me. “Do you know what I’m talking about?”

I think I do. But I don’t know how to put it into words. “I’m not the person you think I am,” I say. “I have no idea what’s going on with my … Network. If you can call it that.”

“Oh, yes, you can call it that,” says Crayton. He sighs. “I thought as much. You don’t seem the kind of person to have enough guile to pull off some of the stunts your network is pulling off.”

Whoa. I hadn’t expected Jirgrar and his devils to be this effective. I want to ask what has happened, but I know it will only make me look weaker and stupider to this man. I’ll ask Jirgrar for a full rundown of what he’s doing when I get the chance. Maybe I should have been paying more attention.

“Okay,” I say. “I’d like to make a deal with you.”

“Name the terms,” says Crayton. “You know that old ‘half the kingdom’ bit? I’m thinking on that scale right now.”

I mentally reevaluate the value of what I have been given. I then sigh. “This is going to get complicated, right?”

I get a text.

“I’m sorry,” I say. I know who it is before I look.

It’s Jirgrar.

Jirgrar: Don’t make any decisions. Let our lawyer handle it.

Me: Thanks. When is he going to be here?

Jirgrar: Stall for two minutes.

I look away from my phone. “Sorry, that was my parents.”

Crayton looks offended. “Obviously it wasn’t,” he says. He seems to think for a minute. “Why did you think I would believe that?”

Well, this tangent is as good as any.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I’m just a stupid sixteen-year-old without any experience in the real world.”

“You’re stalling, aren’t you?”

“Well, what if I am?”

Crayton sighs, rubbing his temples. A beep sounds on his pager. He picks it up.

“Hello?” he says. “Yes, yes.” He frowns. “Let her in then. No, don’t keep her out. This was going to happen anyways. The kid is smarter than we gave him credit for. Barely.” Crayton looks up at me.

Looks I didn’t have to stall for long after all. Jirgrar sure works fast.

Crayton is still talking into his phone pager. “I’m still having a hard time reading him. Be ready for anything.” Crayton then hangs up. He steeples his fingers.

“We’ll wait for your lawyer to arrive. Mine will too. Then we can discuss this on the record.” He pauses. “Let’s be clear. I want your recipe, and I know you are capable of producing more. More of the same caliber. This is what I really want. I want a monopoly.” His eyes are looking sharper every second. He taps his fingers on the table. “And though I don’t have the power to take it from you—because of your damned good intelligence network—I can at the very least offer you the sweetest deal you will ever see.” He pauses. “You see, I can make you famous.” He grins. “I can make you powerful.” He looks at me with an expectant expression and then turns to face the door to the glass observatory room.

Two people walk into the room. One is a strikingly beautiful woman, and the other is a balding middle-aged man with a paunch. Both are wearing suits.

The woman approaches me. “Markus,” she says. “I have been hired as your lawyer. As your lawyer, I recommend that you immediately leave with me so that we can have a discussion with the other party in an official context.”

I stand up. “Seems legitimate to me,” I say, and I turn to the woman. “You, uh …”

“Lacy. Lacy Stevens, head partner of Stevens, Mallard, and Duck.”

Seeing that no one is laughing at this, I take it to mean that the company is very prestigious. This is not a funny situation.

Lacy stands with her Redweld and nods at the other lawyer and Crayton. “Come,” she says, extending her hand to me.

My phone rings. I pick it up as I walk towards Lacy.

“Markus!” It is May. “Where did you go? Brandon says you left to get some air and haven’t come back!”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” I say. “I just went for a ride to see the Thames.”

“Did you take a cab? Do you even have that kind of money? Oh, wait, we do. Hum. Well, get back here as soon as you can.”

I hang up, bowing to Crayton. “Well, it seems like my teammates are missing me.” I walk away from the room in the sky with my lawyer next to me.

As we are in the elevator, Lacy frowns.

“You have some powerful people on your side,” she says. “It’s not often that I get called this late for a new client. I wasn’t going to accept until a member of the House of Lords asked me to do a favor.” She sighs. “Since you are obviously the child of some important people, I will say this once, and you can figure out what to do with me. I don’t like dealing with spoiled brats who don’t know anything about the world.”

I shake my head. “My parents are office workers in Manhattan,” I say. “They’re not rich of important.”

Lacy looks confused. “But you can’t have bought out someone that high up in government without some sort of pull, and you’re a sixteen-year-old adventurer from out of the country. I don’t understand.” She rubs the bags under her eyes. “I read the report. Apparently, you created some sort of new metal alloy that could upset the world market. I think you called it … Rearden Metal?” She grimaces. “I don’t really understand your taste. I mean, Ayn Rand?” She shakes her head.

“Um, Crayton offered me, like, power or something?” I say.

Lacy looks troubled. “Look. Crayton is a bona-fide industrialist. He brought himself from a college dropout to one of the richest men in England. He’s exactly the kind of guy Ayn Rand would have loved. But he’s not a good guy.” Lacy sighs. “He’s after entry into …” She pauses. “Let’s not talk about that.”

We reach the ground floor. As we step out, I notice one of my devil-agents as a guard standing beside the main entrance. I am starting to get wierded out by how pervasive they are around me. What are they getting up to without my knowledge?

Well, for the moment, they seem to be holding my best interests in mind. I decide to defer judgement until I ask Jirgrar what’s going on behind the scenes.

Lacy calls a taxi and hands me a twenty-pound note. “The hotel you’re staying at is close. I’ll pick you up tomorrow in order to start negotiations. You’re going to stay here in London longer than you probably planned. Talk to your parents to see if this is possible. I’ll contact you by phone and tell you when I arrive.”

“I, um, have honorary adventurer status. I don’t know if that will change things, but …”

“Yes, I know. I still want you to talk to your parents. You might need them if your visa preparations go south.”

“Visa?” I say.

The taxi pulls up. “Yes, visa,” says Lacy. “As well as a host of other things.” She pauses, as I am about to get into the cab. “Stay safe,” she says.

She watches as the cab pulls away.

Five minutes later we are at the hotel. I step out and give the driver the twenty. “Keep the change,” I say.

“Well thanks, lad!” says the cabbie. He pulls away.

May is standing bedside the hotel entrance. “Thank god!” she says. She approaches me. “I thought you had been kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped?” I ask.

May appears scared. “There were all these men in black, they said they were from the government—”

“The government?” I ask. I don’t see any government people around here.

“They left ten minutes ago. They told me to ask you to come to an address …” She pulls out a piece of paper. “I don’t know how spy stuff works, but I think it has something to do with your power.” She hands me the paper.

There is an address written on it, as well as a time. It will probably overlap with the negotiations I’m going to make with Esmex if I’m not careful. I slip the paper into my pocket. I am suddenly very tired.

May looks sheepish, casting her gaze around. “I think there might have also been mafia.”

I feel a distant danger approaching me. I am getting in much, much deeper than I ever thought I would.