A Question of Principle
Ankara
Ankara Turkey
GMT +3
Kali stared intently at the multiple colored threads of the rug at her feet and let out a heavy sigh. She hated meetings like this especially when the other party was late. With and exasperated glance her eyes fell toward Jida as she pulled the shoulder length hair from her face and tied it back. How could he remain so calm, so composed? Few things effected this man. And yet there were times when he seemed genuinely concerned with her. He tolerated, no, demanded her presence. Although he had never suggested anything outside of an occasional need for business matters and casual conversation he had made it clear that she was socially unavailable. When the events in her life had been tough, Jida had coldly hired extra help to take on the workload with little or no acknowledgement to what his actions clearly told. However, when she allowed herself to become sarcastic and tried to free up time for herself, he would drop cutting comments and make her feel guilty.
How was that? Guilty for what? There had been times when she had seen the cold mask of indifference fade, times when he allowed himself to become almost human. Once, he had invited her as his personal companion to an official gala hosted for Jerard Industries Inc., a bold act considering her position in the company. While rumors abounded he had always remained the rogue gentleman. But that night had been different from any other she had experienced. After the crowd had dispersed and the lights started to dim, he placed a key to his personal penthouse suite in her hand without a single word and left. A strange mixture of anxiety and emotion had hit her at once but in the end she followed.
Kalista had only been working at her new position for six months and had been completely unsure as to the implications. Jerard had acted warmly to her acceptance, he offered her a drink with that all too familiar smile. Kali gladly accepted and as both of them emptied one glass after another she realized his invitation had not been suggestive. He always teased but never acted. Jida asked about her past, her dreams. What she wanted from life. Somewhere in the course of the night he confided things from his past as well. Vague, odd images of a boy shunned by his father. A boy who's complicated birth had killed his mother. Magnus had sent him away, to be raised by strangers and later b y boarding schools. He had resented his only child for the untimely death of the only woman he had ever loved.
Jida never recalled any closeness, rather a distant shadow of a man who remained a mystery. By comparison, Magnus and Jida were nothing alike. Magnus had been a cold and calculating businessman of underground markets. He sold contraband to the highest bidder with little if any personal ethical consequence and organized several arms smuggling operations. Despite the fact that he had several armed bodyguards a bullet had fatefully found its mark after a double-cross gone bad. Such matters were a matter of personal vendetta, yet Jida sought no revenge, no course by which to redeem his family debt. He acted as though the marksman had done him a great favor, and left the topic of revenge alone. Only when someone had wronged him personally did he seek such cruel measures.
Although the intense hatred of his father, Jida had gladly claimed his inheritance. Selling various properties and reinvesting his heirloom fortune into legitimate enterprises he had proven himself a natural entrepreneur. Within ten years Jida had been able to convert a majority of his holdings into legitimate business. So why was he trying so hard to ruin it now? Something in him striven toward the worse. Kali knew that Jida was emotionally his own worst enemy. Only time would tell the tale of his success.
Legitimately, the world offered him anything his heart could have materially desired but such simple pleasure ranged short of his tastes. The world and its governments both freely offered him substantial enterprise, openly and secretly but something within him yearned for much more...
Jida had kept his inherited connections alive and meeting with smugglers and thieves from the Middle East hardly pleased his associate. The current relation that banned most from travel into hostile territory did not effect her employer the least bit. It almost seemed that he went out of his way to prove the world was wrong in their assessment of their short sighted expectations.
Even in the midst of all that had happened, she believed in him. Jida was far too intelligent and had enough money to find his way out of any predicament. He was untouchable. Maybe that's what really bothered her about the entire scenario he was playing with Carmen Sandiego. She was truly another level, far beyond that which she had even cared to experience. Kali knew that Jerard had taken on more than he could handle. If he stood a chance of outwitting the master thief she didn't want to think about it. The options of success bothered her, because she felt Jida really was a conscientious villain. He was so human beneath the indifference and she had convinced herself he had become too complex for any normal person to truly understand. Jida wasn't really a bad guy, he just did bad things. There was a difference, wasn't there? The question raised more serious implications.
He sat across the room, silent and patient. He thought to himself. So completely confused by her surroundings and trying hard not to show it. Yet if anything he had learned in the course of dealing with Iraqis was that they really didn't have a set sense of time. You could usually set for something specific, but it was more for estimation rather than an accurate gauge.
It was somewhat amusing in his mind. Here he was meeting with lowly thieves who destroyed and pillaged the very heritage of their own people, yet they gladly accepted a pittance in return. Perhaps the circumstances and the failing economy had forced them into such a narrow decision to profit minutely from theft, but beneath all the reasons he didn't care. If he didn't buy the pieces of ravished limestone, then there would be little chance that they would be properly reconstructed. Instead, there was a higher chance that the pieces would circulate the black market, bought by willing prospectors who would never be able to realize the full damage done to the ancient artifacts. By dealing in large numbers did he have a chance to preserve the pieces of Nineveh which had withstood the turmoil of time. Only now, did they stand a chance of being wiped from existence, lost due to the negligence of the economically repressed. The information he was about to pay for was overly priced, but it would lead him to one of the greatest thefts in history.
If he could get the other party he needed to be a willing participant.
His mind clouded momentarily with giddy thoughts, like a child lost amid a candystore with an endless pocket of change and no parent to pull them away. If she accepted his next invitation, he was certain of her interest in his cause. She would be foolish not to accept, it would prove one of the greatest challenges of her career as well.
Where they not of the same mind? Constantly seeking and craving the intellectual challenge behind the legality of thier crimes? The complex dance with those that chased them, those that sought to kill the deep seated need for the precious rush of adrenalin that only the amorphous game of cat and mouse served in the world of ultimate larceny? Searching for the ultimate limit, the next best thrill? With such a combination of intelligence and cunning they would be unstoppable!
Then another prospect settled within his mind. What if she refused? No, that was unthinkable. Surely, she could never refuse him on these terms. Not after he had rescued her from the Paris authorities and seen to her well being. Wasn't there a form of trust between them now? Had he not proven that deep inside, they were one and the same?
Kali made a rather uncomfortable shuffle and cleared her throat, signaling that his "collegues" had arrived.
The one last puzzle piece was about to be set in place, and the ultimate game was about to begin.
Ankara
Ankara Turkey
GMT +3
Kali stared intently at the multiple colored threads of the rug at her feet and let out a heavy sigh. She hated meetings like this especially when the other party was late. With and exasperated glance her eyes fell toward Jida as she pulled the shoulder length hair from her face and tied it back. How could he remain so calm, so composed? Few things effected this man. And yet there were times when he seemed genuinely concerned with her. He tolerated, no, demanded her presence. Although he had never suggested anything outside of an occasional need for business matters and casual conversation he had made it clear that she was socially unavailable. When the events in her life had been tough, Jida had coldly hired extra help to take on the workload with little or no acknowledgement to what his actions clearly told. However, when she allowed herself to become sarcastic and tried to free up time for herself, he would drop cutting comments and make her feel guilty.
How was that? Guilty for what? There had been times when she had seen the cold mask of indifference fade, times when he allowed himself to become almost human. Once, he had invited her as his personal companion to an official gala hosted for Jerard Industries Inc., a bold act considering her position in the company. While rumors abounded he had always remained the rogue gentleman. But that night had been different from any other she had experienced. After the crowd had dispersed and the lights started to dim, he placed a key to his personal penthouse suite in her hand without a single word and left. A strange mixture of anxiety and emotion had hit her at once but in the end she followed.
Kalista had only been working at her new position for six months and had been completely unsure as to the implications. Jerard had acted warmly to her acceptance, he offered her a drink with that all too familiar smile. Kali gladly accepted and as both of them emptied one glass after another she realized his invitation had not been suggestive. He always teased but never acted. Jida asked about her past, her dreams. What she wanted from life. Somewhere in the course of the night he confided things from his past as well. Vague, odd images of a boy shunned by his father. A boy who's complicated birth had killed his mother. Magnus had sent him away, to be raised by strangers and later b y boarding schools. He had resented his only child for the untimely death of the only woman he had ever loved.
Jida never recalled any closeness, rather a distant shadow of a man who remained a mystery. By comparison, Magnus and Jida were nothing alike. Magnus had been a cold and calculating businessman of underground markets. He sold contraband to the highest bidder with little if any personal ethical consequence and organized several arms smuggling operations. Despite the fact that he had several armed bodyguards a bullet had fatefully found its mark after a double-cross gone bad. Such matters were a matter of personal vendetta, yet Jida sought no revenge, no course by which to redeem his family debt. He acted as though the marksman had done him a great favor, and left the topic of revenge alone. Only when someone had wronged him personally did he seek such cruel measures.
Although the intense hatred of his father, Jida had gladly claimed his inheritance. Selling various properties and reinvesting his heirloom fortune into legitimate enterprises he had proven himself a natural entrepreneur. Within ten years Jida had been able to convert a majority of his holdings into legitimate business. So why was he trying so hard to ruin it now? Something in him striven toward the worse. Kali knew that Jida was emotionally his own worst enemy. Only time would tell the tale of his success.
Legitimately, the world offered him anything his heart could have materially desired but such simple pleasure ranged short of his tastes. The world and its governments both freely offered him substantial enterprise, openly and secretly but something within him yearned for much more...
Jida had kept his inherited connections alive and meeting with smugglers and thieves from the Middle East hardly pleased his associate. The current relation that banned most from travel into hostile territory did not effect her employer the least bit. It almost seemed that he went out of his way to prove the world was wrong in their assessment of their short sighted expectations.
Even in the midst of all that had happened, she believed in him. Jida was far too intelligent and had enough money to find his way out of any predicament. He was untouchable. Maybe that's what really bothered her about the entire scenario he was playing with Carmen Sandiego. She was truly another level, far beyond that which she had even cared to experience. Kali knew that Jerard had taken on more than he could handle. If he stood a chance of outwitting the master thief she didn't want to think about it. The options of success bothered her, because she felt Jida really was a conscientious villain. He was so human beneath the indifference and she had convinced herself he had become too complex for any normal person to truly understand. Jida wasn't really a bad guy, he just did bad things. There was a difference, wasn't there? The question raised more serious implications.
He sat across the room, silent and patient. He thought to himself. So completely confused by her surroundings and trying hard not to show it. Yet if anything he had learned in the course of dealing with Iraqis was that they really didn't have a set sense of time. You could usually set for something specific, but it was more for estimation rather than an accurate gauge.
It was somewhat amusing in his mind. Here he was meeting with lowly thieves who destroyed and pillaged the very heritage of their own people, yet they gladly accepted a pittance in return. Perhaps the circumstances and the failing economy had forced them into such a narrow decision to profit minutely from theft, but beneath all the reasons he didn't care. If he didn't buy the pieces of ravished limestone, then there would be little chance that they would be properly reconstructed. Instead, there was a higher chance that the pieces would circulate the black market, bought by willing prospectors who would never be able to realize the full damage done to the ancient artifacts. By dealing in large numbers did he have a chance to preserve the pieces of Nineveh which had withstood the turmoil of time. Only now, did they stand a chance of being wiped from existence, lost due to the negligence of the economically repressed. The information he was about to pay for was overly priced, but it would lead him to one of the greatest thefts in history.
If he could get the other party he needed to be a willing participant.
His mind clouded momentarily with giddy thoughts, like a child lost amid a candystore with an endless pocket of change and no parent to pull them away. If she accepted his next invitation, he was certain of her interest in his cause. She would be foolish not to accept, it would prove one of the greatest challenges of her career as well.
Where they not of the same mind? Constantly seeking and craving the intellectual challenge behind the legality of thier crimes? The complex dance with those that chased them, those that sought to kill the deep seated need for the precious rush of adrenalin that only the amorphous game of cat and mouse served in the world of ultimate larceny? Searching for the ultimate limit, the next best thrill? With such a combination of intelligence and cunning they would be unstoppable!
Then another prospect settled within his mind. What if she refused? No, that was unthinkable. Surely, she could never refuse him on these terms. Not after he had rescued her from the Paris authorities and seen to her well being. Wasn't there a form of trust between them now? Had he not proven that deep inside, they were one and the same?
Kali made a rather uncomfortable shuffle and cleared her throat, signaling that his "collegues" had arrived.
The one last puzzle piece was about to be set in place, and the ultimate game was about to begin.
