The door creaked as it began to open, slowly revealing a thickness of at least six feet of steel and titanium alloy. It took fifteen seconds for it to swing open enough for the man to fit through the opening and enter the safe room.
Jamison Harvie savored this ritual, marveling at the feeling of being protected from everything. Security came first, and in more than seventeen years no one had ever managed to break into his beloved Pandora’s Box, as he liked to call it. They had tried on two occasions, and both had ended in resounding failure. “Not even air can get in here if I don’t let it in,” he occasionally bragged.
He looked up at the tiny video camera that covered the entire hallway and smiled in satisfaction. In a security room three floors above him, two guards with astronomical salaries watched meticulously as Mr. Harvie put his thumb on a touch screen, recited an obscure phrase into a microphone, placed his right eye in front of a green light, and then quickly tapped in numbers on a nine-digit keypad.
Jamison went through the door with an air of determination and entered a seventy-five-square-foot rectangular room. He pressed a button and the door began to slide closed behind him. The walls were covered in small circular steel doors that opened compartments where Jamison stashed everything that was of value to him. Their contents varied from gold and diamonds to obscene quantities of money and, of course, a great number of important papers and records. He also kept weapons and three bars of telio tucked away there.
Jamison approached the wall on the right and opened one of the compartments. He put his hand in and pushed down several times on the pile of documents within it. Then he took a folder from his briefcase and put it on top of the pile.
“I wouldn’t close that compartment just yet,” said a voice from behind him.
Startled, Jamison jumped. His heart beat wildly and he let out a involuntary cry that was anything but manly. He spun around, frightened, thinking all the while to himself that it was impossible that anyone could be in there with him. His eyes quickly scanned the room, and he was relieved to see that no one was there. His imagination would end up giving him a heart attack one of these days.
“I don’t mean to frighten you, Mr. Harvie,” said the same voice. Something moved in the shadows in the corner. When he came into the light, Jamison could see the intruder. It was a man of medium height, wearing a black leather cloak that covered him from head to toe. The hood of the cloak kept his head and face hidden. “Perhaps it would be most appropriate if you were to know my name, especially if that would help you to remain calm. My name is Capa.”
He pulled the hood back, revealing a face with a pale white complexion. Much to his surprise, Jamison saw a boy who was no more than fifteen. Showing none of the blemishes typical of teenagers, the young face he was looking at had smooth skin, free of any kind of imperfection. He had thick, straight black hair and dazzling, joyful blue eyes.
“I’m hallucinating,” mumbled Jamison as he put his hands to his head. “You are not real.”
“Oh, come now,” said Capa calmingly. “It’s perfectly obvious that I am real. Let’s just say that I needed a discreet location in which we could talk—alone. I’m prone to becoming irritated if external elements interrupt me. Your Pandora’s Box seemed very convenient. I don’t think we’ll be bothered here. Don’t you agree?”
Jamison looked him over again. Seeing nothing threatening about this Capa character, he relaxed a little. Putting aside for the moment the question of how the hell he’d gotten in there, he had before him nothing more than a child, or a man with the face of a child, covered in a black hooded cape that gave him a bit of a theatrical flare.
“Who are you and how did you get into my safe room? What is it that you want?”
“The second question is considerably more interesting. Besides, after our chat, it will be obvious to you that there are things beyond your comprehension. I’ve come only to propose a very beneficial deal to you.”
“A deal,” repeated Jamison. “I don’t know if I’ll be in a position to accept it, since there are things ‘beyond my comprehension,’” he said, using Capa’s own words with a dose of irony. He was mildly annoyed by the way Capa spoke.
“I did not mean to offend you. My humble intention is quite the opposite,” said the boy with a broad smile. “It really is something exceedingly simple. I am extremely interested in buying a building recently acquired by the magnificent company you so skillfully manage.”
“I see.” Jamison was used to flattery. The chief executive officer of a company as successful as his became accustomed to the people around him feeling compelled to lavish praise on him. But something in Capa’s voice made his shameless adulation hit the mark. You couldn’t help but like this precocious young man. “And which building are we talking about?”
“All the information regarding this is efficiently recorded in the yellow folder you just placed in the container situated behind you,” answered Capa with a brilliant smile. “In excellent and enviable order, I might add.”
“How is it possible that you know what’s in that folder? You put a spy in my company!”
“Nothing could be further from the truth.” Capa put on his most innocent expression. “My sole purpose is to speed up this meeting so we use up no more time than is strictly necessary. It did not escape my notice that you are without a doubt an important businessman and I dare say there must be a large number of issues that demand your attention.”
To Jamison’s astonishment, he liked Capa. He had a cheerful way of expressing himself in spite of the fact he was excessively verbose for Jamison’s tastes. But his tone of voice and his eyes seemed to exude sincerity. He’d almost forgotten they were in his safe room and he still didn’t know how Capa had managed to get in there.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“All right. We’ll finish this up quickly,” stated Jamison in the self-assured tone of voice he reserved for business dealings in which the other party needed something from him. “The building you’ve referred to is not for sale. It’s to be used for expanding our offices, as I’m sure you already know.”
“I am inexplicably convinced that a man in your position would prefer not to regret having ruined an enormously advantageous deal by not even having heard its terms. Know that, on the other hand, if you do not find my offer to your liking, I will disappear, and will at no time in the future ever inconvenience you again.”
“All right,” consented Jamison, intrigued. “Explain your offer. But I’m warning you that I have no intention of selling.”
“Excellent, excellent.” Capa walked toward him, looking satisfied. “Allow me.” He gently led Jamison by the shoulder and placed him so he was looking toward the door. “The correct vantage point is essential. And now . . . here we go.”
The boy extended his right arm out with the palm facing up, covered it with his left hand, then slid his left hand back to leave the palm of his right hand exposed again; all done as if he were a magician wanting to reveal he had nothing up his sleeves.
An extremely thin glass, approximately the size of a book, appeared out of nowhere on the palm of his hand. Its edges were straight but of irregular lengths, as if someone had intended to make an octagon but had measured incorrectly. It reflected light in an unusual way and rested in a state of impossible yet perfect balance on the tip of one of Capa’s fingers.
Jamison stared at it in fascination, wondering where it had come from. Tiny sparkles lit up and then went out again all over its flat surface, momentarily hypnotizing him. His head leaned closer and closer to the mysterious glass. He reached out his hand, putting his index finger close to it.
“Ah ah ah. Absolutely no touching,” Capa scolded pleasantly. “The correct vantage point is essential,” he repeated, smiling. “It gives me immense pleasure to see your interest in my little toy, but it’s not part of my offer. If you will allow me again,” he gently pushed Jamison back. The glass on his hand moved not even a millimeter. “Perfect. You were much too close to be able to appreciate, as it should be appreciated, what I wish to show you.”
Capa took his hand off Jamison’s chest and moved it over the glass. A blue flame rose from its borders, bathing the room in a dark light that emitted absolutely no heat. The tip of Capa’s index finger disappeared into the middle of the glass and re-emerged a second later, making waves that went out from that point to the edges, making the glass look as if it were a liquid surface, but in a vertical position. The waves disappeared beneath the flames on the borders, forming a perfectly defined image.
Jamison’s eyes opened wide, surprised to see himself in the image on the glass. He was in a large, familiar place where people were walking in all directions. The Jamison in the glass walked away from a counter with some papers in his hand and stopped next to two suitcases that he was sure he’d also seen before. The image in the glass had no sound but he easily identified his location. It was Heathrow airport. Jamison paid close attention. A sense of déjà vu overcame him. In the glass he was thinner and had more hair. He knew he was younger there.
“That’s impressive,” he stammered. “That’s before the Wave.”
“Notable deduction,” said Capa. “Pay attention, please.”
A boy of about seventeen appeared in the image, approached Jamison, and hugged him warmly. He then said something to him, took the papers from Jamison’s hand and left with the suitcases. At that point, the Jamison from the present looked away from the glass.
Tears welled up in his eyes as he recognized his son as he’d been about to take a plane to Moscow for the trip for his final year of school. He would never see or hear from him again. The next day, the Wave brought about its catastrophic effects on the entire planet, isolating every part of the world. In the years that followed, he and his wife had suffered to an extent they wouldn’t have dreamed possible, and in spite of their resources, they were never able to find out what had become of their only son.
“You are heartless,” whispered Jamison. “You take pleasure in a father’s pain?”
“I am afraid you have misunderstood,” Capa apologized. “But I take responsibility for your pain. My intention is nothing other than to help you to the best of my abilities. I beg you to look again. There is not much more to see.”
Jamison eyes were locked on the glass as he saw a new image. His son was older, looked somewhat taller, and his body was more developed. He was loading sacks on a truck inside of what looked to be an industrial warehouse. Jamison watched with a lump in this throat as his son worked. This could only mean one thing: his son was alive and Capa knew where he was.
On quick movement and the glass vanished. The light in the room went back to normal and Jamison felt like he was waking up from a dream.
“He’s alive?”
“Quite so. I dare say he is doing wonderfully. I hope it is not out of place for me to make you aware that the boy did everything he could to find his way back to you, but of course, the situation was rather complicated. A very sad story, if I may be so bold.”
“Where is he? I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“It is admirable how well you have grasped the nature of our agreement. The only thing that has escaped you is that I have already mentioned the purpose of my visit.”
“The building?” asked Jamison in astonishment. “That’s all you want?”
“Rather insignificant, isn’t it?” Capa broke into a shining smile once again. “Especially if we consider that getting back a son who was lost to you years ago is what the majority of people would venture to place in the category of miraculous. And I say, what is a simple building in comparison?”
“Absolutely nothing,” agreed Jamison. “You’ll have your building, you can be sure. But it doesn’t belong exclusively to me. I’m only an associate; I‘ll need the consent of the other three parties. Give me time, I’m begging you. I’ll get it.”
“My dear friend, I already told you that I don’t intend to take any more of your time than is necessary.” He took several stapled papers from among the folds of his cloak and handed them to Jamison. “If you would please go to the last page, you will see the signatures of your associates are already duly noted. Yours is, therefore, the only one missing to satisfactorily close this agreement. An expedient review of your memory will reveal that I clearly indicated to you this was a very simple matter.”
Jamison quickly reviewed the papers. It was a deed of sale. The company that was purchasing was Tech Underground Corporation. The name meant nothing to him. He took a pen out of his shirt pocket and signed his name next to his associates’.
“And my son?”
“Your son will arrive at your house tomorrow, no later than midday.”
“I don’t know how to thank you . . .” Jamison was choked up. “You could have asked me for anything . . .”
“There is no need to thank me. Again I urge you to mentally review our conversation. You will arrive at the part where I mentioned my intention to help you. Of course, at that moment you did not believe me, sadly confusing my preoccupation with your family with a morbid pleasure of seeing my fellow man suffer. Fortunately, all that has been cleared up and now I am afraid my presence is required elsewhere. Just a moment to express to you my deepest satisfaction at the agreement we’ve reached,” offered Capa pleasantly with a reverent bow.
Before he could answer, Jamison saw a flash of movement. He didn’t even need to look around to know that Capa had disappeared.
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