The Valhalla Covenant
Chapter Fifteen — Corporate Mayhem

The secretary nodded at the man waiting in one of the plain chairs opposite her desk. She noted the discreet green light on her desk had flashed briefly. It was the signal to send him in to Mr Vinson’s office.

Raul Vinson was the manager of the New York division of Reliant Pharmaceuticals. He didn’t often have to deal with workmen, but his secretary knew better than to question why her boss would want to see him.

Janice had a considerable degree of proprietorial pride in her boss. He was a man of great standing: one of the people responsible for keeping this major corporation running smoothly — for keeping her and thousands of others like her in a well-paying job, and for keeping up the provision of high quality drugs to a more than ever needy public.

Galman Xoldin was a tall, snub-nosed man who wore a cheap suit. It was pressed and clean but fitted badly, as if he had suddenly thought better of turning up to a meeting with his boss in normal working clothes and had dropped into a charity shop on the way to make good the deficit.

As he rose from the chair, he held Janice in his stony gaze. Surprisingly, he let himself into the office at the secretary’s bidding with the quiet confidence of someone who knows that they’ve performed well, got a difficult job done and was here to receive the approbation of the man at the top.

The office within was not exactly plush, but spacious and well appointed. Vinson looked up at him from beneath his eyebrows without raising his head. This underling was efficient at what he did, but coarse, and Vinson wondered why he felt vaguely threatened by the man. It reassured him to see that Xoldin was nothing to behold, but only partially. He pushed the thought aside before half rising slowly to shake his hand from across the broad desk.

“We’re pleased with the outcome, Xoldin. It was a difficult job and an essential element to our progress as a company. Don’t get any ideas, though. We’re a big organization and we don’t like people getting above themselves,” he stated with calm certainty.

“No, sir,” Xoldin replied without hesitation.

“Do your job, keep your mouth shut, and you’ll get your rewards. You’re on a casual contract, aren’t you?”

“Ten years.”

“We’ll put you on permanent — health plan, holidays, super, company car, the lot. There might even be an opening for you at the company recreation club. It’s restricted to middle-level executives up, and not all of them at that. It’s a special privilege.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Xoldin, his dark eyes briefly lighting with an interest that was immediately subdued.

“Family?”

“No.” There was the hint of a cruel twisting of the mouth on his unremarkable face. This was the sort of man senior management liked. He had been very useful so far, procuring not only a steady current supply of human subjects for them to test their new drugs on but also the surety of a supply into the indefinite future. It was well done in such difficult times. All the same, Vinson guessed what his weakness would be, and it was essential to ensure his ongoing loyalty.

“You like the girls?”

“No time for them, sir,” he replied stiffly. “The company’s my life. Has been from the first day.”

“Commendable, very commendable. All the more reason why the company should start providing for your needs.”

Vinson met the curiosity in Xoldin’s eyes with the smallest hint of a smile.

“Do you know where the club is?”

Xoldin nodded.

“But you’ve never been?”

“As you said sir, middle-executives up. No.”

“Meet me there at seven tonight.” And with that, Xoldin could tell the meeting was over.

He made to walk past the secretary’s desk on the way out, but she pulled him up.

“Your new company card. All privileges, line of credit and entry to the rec club,” she said, holding it out for him to take. “Lucky man.”

He took it and returned her smile, though his eyes remained cold.

“Everything’s taken care of. Welcome to the company proper. And by the way, the boss likes his executives to dress to a standard. A tall, well-built man like you needs to be fitted. Try Worthington’s. They should be able to set you up well enough. Just tell them who you’re working for, what your position is, and leave the rest to them.”

“Thanks.”

On the way home, he took the girl’s advice, and at the same time took the trouble to spend up on some new casual clothes. It would not do to create a bad impression at this club. He knew first impressions counted for everything in a place like that.

Vinson was in the Blue Velvet Club foyer when Xoldin arrived, talking casually to the girls at the desk. He took the trouble to introduce Xoldin, and built him up a little. Xoldin was glad he had gone the extra distance with the threads. Once inside, the lighting was the first major impression he had of the place. There were zones: some brilliantly lit, some almost totally dark, and others boasting a soft and relaxing ambience.

It was like a self-contained world in there though nowhere near as busy, and he knew it wouldn’t change much as the evening progressed. This was an exclusive place, tastefully designed to comfortably accommodate a certain number of people. All the same, it was reasonably well-populated, buoyant, and radiated barely restrained glamour. Girls were everywhere — young, pretty, vivacious, alluring and scantily clothed.

Within glass partitioned rooms, various styles of music played, and girls danced. For the members, there was plenty to eat and drink along with more interesting substances, as Xoldin was soon to replace out. After all, everything was bought and paid for by a conglomerate that boasted having one of the major pharmaceutical companies in its portfolio.

Discreet alcoves provided for uninterrupted conversation, and adjoining rooms hosted card and other gambling games. The place even boasted a cinema and a library. Situated on the lower levels were gymnasiums, pools, saunas, spas, showers, ball courts of various varieties, and a cyber games room. The place catered for everything and everyone, as long as they were senior executives in the conglomerate.

A couple of girls approached Xoldin and Vinson, as they entered, and took them by their arms — a blond and a brunette both dressed in suitably short satin dresses sufficiently transparent to stir the imagination without being vulgar. From the moment they greeted them, the girls did everything — arranged drinks, dinner and ‘dessert’, lavished them with just the right amount of physical contact and were careful to work at gauging what to say or do.

Helena and Jay knew their job and by the time all the after-dinner treats had been indulged in, Galman Xoldin thought life had never been better. The prospect of this sort of an after-hours lifestyle together with the fringe benefits he had this afternoon been promised for the rest of his life, gave him intense satisfaction and in his present mood, he did not mind telling his boss so.

“You think it’s good, my boy, but it gets better. C’mon gals, let’s show young Galman the back room selection.”

The girls nodded, glanced meaningfully at each other, then got up and led the way down several flights of stairs into what must have been a secret floor well below ground level before entering a long corridor. Towards the end, they opened a plain white door of unremarkable dimensions that looked as if it could be no more than the entrance to a small storage room.

Xoldin did not notice the pinhole camera above the door. Without specific recognition, they would never have been able to enter, but as it was, the door opened without fuss as Jay turned the knob. Surprising luxury met them inside — a miniature version of the luxurious upstairs lounges, completely at odds with the plain character of the entrance.

A smiling attendant welcomed them from behind a desk.

“Hello, sir, it’s good to see you again. I see you’ve brought a friend; I’m sure he’ll enjoy himself,” she said with what could only be described as a plastic smile.

“Thanks, Honey, we’ll just walk on through then. You girls might as well wait here,” Vinson said to Jay and Helena.

After passing through another security door, they entered a passage, reminiscent of what might be found in an up-market hotel: soft carpet, flesh-coloured walls, ambient lighting and that indefinable smell of luxury.

Despite the alcohol and other substances he had imbibed, it seemed obvious to Xoldin what lay ahead, but when Vinson opened one of the doors and they entered, he was stunned — although he was careful not to show it. The girl lying spreadeagled on the king size bed was young. It seemed safe to say, even through his heated and somewhat clouded vision, that she was no more than sixteen. Her breasts were small and peachy firm; her thighs slim and taught, her skin smooth.

“You’ve had a bit of a look. Check out some of the rest, and see which one you like,” Vinson said with easy congeniality.

They went from room to room, and after the seventh Xoldin let out a low whistle.

“They’re all gorgeous, and they’re so young,” he said to Vinson, who noted with Machiavellian satisfaction the approval in his manner.

He had the man.

“You like them? I’ll show you the manager’s reserve. I’m in such a good mood tonight I think I’ll let you try it.”

At the end of the corridor there was another blank door leading to a lift, which they rode down for three stories. They emerged into a corridor similar in style and length to the one above. This time a woman let them into the rooms. They were more closely managed for a reason. The girl within was no more than thirteen.

Xoldin’s pulse raced as he experienced a strange array of emotions. What was going on? Was this some sort of test? And who was this girl? She had to be a prisoner, a sex slave, and evidently the company’s senior hierarchy held much store in indulging themselves in whichever way they were inclined.

These people had to be sure they were entirely unassailable. Admittedly it was a huge and influential conglomerate. It struck him suddenly that if he was silly enough to voice any sort of objection he’d not only be out in minutes but very likely end up as mince meat for the hounds within the hour.

“Beautiful,” he said slowly, “and there are more like this one?”

“Let’s have a look.”

They visited ten rooms in all. The oldest girl was fourteen and the youngest twelve.

“Where do you get them?” Xoldin asked, trying hard to project simple admiration in his voice, although this tested even his limits. “I mean, I know I get you a lot of people for your testing program, but this is a different matter. When a young girl goes missing right off the street, the fuzz generally keeps looking.”

“You’d be surprised. We had more trouble replaceing older subjects before you came on the scene. Some of these girls are clones and some were sold to us. The best ones came from good homes, and they were probably taken from street corners far from here.

“We believe our executives should have absolutely everything they want. Loyalty and hard work from our best employees should be rewarded with the things they want but can’t, or don’t dare, ever have.”

What Vinson did not say is that this was an insurance scheme plain and simple. This was the insidious means by which the company ensured the enduring loyalty of certain key employees.

Xoldin was not stupid, even if he was trapped. Exactly what this was all about did not elude him despite his intoxicated state, and he had mentally filled in the unstated ramifications concerning his own position well before Vinson had finished speaking.

“Well, you just make your choice and enjoy yourself, lad.”

Xoldin was thirty-five, but he supposed that in comparison to Vinson, who was fifty, he was not much more than a lad. The game was up and he had little choice in the matter. Making the most of it was the best option since he knew it’d be difficult to fake it, especially in such a way as he could prove his innocence later.

All this would be captured on film and if they could tell he was faking it, they would have him killed. On the other hand, if they could not tell he was faking it, neither could any detectives who might later use the data as evidence against him.

“You can play, within reason; but remember, they’re a valuable commodity so try not to damage the merchandise,” Vinson said as he left.

Xoldin chose the second girl from the reserve section. In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought. He was reminded then of how his half brother in Australia had a taste for this sort of thing and wondered if he’d been introduced in the same way.

***

Raul Vinson was impressed. His own office was well appointed, but it had to be said that it was understated compared to this place. The room positively reeked of power and wealth. The Senator was evidently not a man to be toyed with, and he wanted people to know it. It was apparent that, in his own eyes, Jake Linetti was the man, and no one challenged him.

Such boundless confidence came from a grim knowledge that almost no one else was privy to. As he saw it, there would have been little point in anyone else knowing the stark and appalling reality of the situation since there was simply nothing they could do.

Vinson had proved himself a valuable link in the chain of command. He knew who to employ and how to keep tabs on them. Linetti knew of the club and how it was employed. Similar strategies were used in other areas of the empire. In a world dominated by money, cash cows were the bricks that made up the house of the modern plutocracy of fiscal power, but blackmail was the cement that held it together.

Corporations were kingdoms and conglomerates were empires. The larger and more diverse the portfolio since the fading of oil, the more powerful the empire would be amongst its global peers. Linetti represented a conglomeration of interests that was second to none in terms of wealth and power.

Many thought he was the supreme head of that conglomerate, but those who knew a little more doubted it. Every so often the principals, from whom he took orders, changed, and only Linetti knew that although their faces were different, there was an uncanny uniformity in their character.

“Vinson,” he began, “not too many know exactly how large this organization is. We keep it that way quite deliberately. Power is important to us, and to humanity as a whole. Division causes conflict and destruction. We’re striving to break free from that cycle and put ourselves on top. The whole world will benefit when we succeed, but to do that we need to crush all resistance, eliminate opposition, and put ourselves completely in control.”

“Yes, sir. It makes sense,” Vinson replied briefly, and wisely.

“We have what it takes and so do you. There will be a new order of things, and you might prove useful in it. Your efforts to date have not gone unnoticed.”

Vinson was not the sort of man who left everything to his subordinates. He had a good working knowledge of the company’s activities, and so had become covertly curious about the ultimate purpose of some of them. He wondered briefly, as he watched the hard grey eyes of the Senator, if he would learn anything more today.

God knows why they called him that. He was not an elected representative and never had been.

“Your work is valuable to us Vinson, but never make the mistake of asking too many questions. We have people enough in planning,” the Senator said, paralleling Vinson’s thoughts in alarming fashion.

He had thought of asking a few pertinent questions to demonstrate his initiative, but the Senator’s comments stalled him. Still, he could not help wondering exactly what Linetti wanted from him, why he had been abruptly summoned here and why he had not been before now. Strangely, again his thoughts were answered.

“It should suffice to tell you that we’re interested in the advances you’ve been making in the area of synthetic psychoactives, and we want to see more in the area of inhibition breakdown that does not affect decisive function. That is a key thing. We cannot overstress its importance.”

“What are they for?”

Vinson shrank visibly from the hard stare he received.

“I mean, it would help an awful lot in development if we knew more about what we were doing.”

“You don’t need to. Just keep churning out new things, and we’ll test them. Speaking of which, you’ve managed to get a good man onto the job of acquiring test subjects. Important area. We can’t have enough of them.”

“No, sir.”

“Xoldin did a good job of setting it up. Has he got what it takes to keep the operation going smoothly?”

“He takes great personal pride in his baby, Senator. It bought him his place in the company: privileges, membership of the company club...”

“Yes, you have him … tied down?”

“I saw to it myself. We have everything we need.”

“Good. He’ll be useful. I’ve been through the whole thing. It takes a resourceful man to think of such a scheme, executed so efficiently.”

“Yes, he has a background in illicits so it was a good project for him. Still, it was well done. Nobody cares about the junkies so when they start going crazy in large numbers people only say it serves them right — then we can use them for experimentation with these psycho-actives at our leisure.”

Linetti was inwardly stunned at Vinson’s last observation. It was a massive breach of protocol. Vinson should not talk about or even really know how the junkies were used, however simple an extrapolation it was. All the same, he kept his eyes impassive and continued speaking.

“And from what you’ve heard there’s no residual damage from Xoldin’s cocktail?”

“Not that we can tell yet. Only limited numbers have gone through initial screening so far,” Vinson replied. “Anyway, two weeks’ recovery seems to see most of them normal enough again for the purposes indicated.”

Ah, so that was it — his people did the initial screening for later testing with the psycho-actives. Not all those druggies were suitable for the Emperor’s purposes. Still, he had the feeling Vinson had his nose in the wind a little too much.

“Yep, so I’m told; but, just as a matter of interest, you’ve no reason to believe otherwise? We need to know that the later results are not likely to be skewed.”

“It’s hard from my end, and that’s why I thought I should know more about what’s happening at these other facilities,” Vinson said carefully. “At our end we use drugs already registered for testing, but some of it isn’t what you’d exactly call gentle.

“We do have the occasional problem which could indicate an issue with the drug being tested, but some of our chemists are saying that it might be the additives Xoldin has put in the street drugs.”

“That’s what I wanted to know, but there’s no need to worry too much about it any more from your end. Just keep up the good work,” the Senator said with a smile around his cold eyes.

Vinson knew the meeting was at an end. He got to his feet and excused himself politely. Linetti was pleased. If he didn’t have to tell somebody something as obvious as ‘it’s time to go’, it meant they knew their place. Still, he seemed to be a bloody inquisitive son-of-a-bitch. The Vos were extremely touchy about people knowing about these experiments.