I do not own anything from Charlie and the Chocolate factory. All rights and likenesses belong to Roald Dahl, Johnny Depp and Tim Burton. No profit is being garnered from this work. Okay folks, looking at what's coming up - I need feedback to decide Victor's fate. I'm letting you the readers guide me on what happens to the man. Drop me a note casting your vote in the "Reviews" and vote for what you'd like to do to the SOB! – Stealth Phoenix
Chapter 60
Beige, vomit green and migraine-inducing yellow were the predominant impressions of the hotel conference room to Victor's aching head. The cheap interior design by some high-minded decorator was probably intended to be cutting edge and modern, but just came across as tacky and coma-inducing.
There was a group of about five people gathered around the conference table. At the head sat Arthur Slugworth, founder and president of Slugworth candies. Raoul sat to his right with a bored expression on his face and various flunkies from Accounting, Research and Development, and Marketing in near identical suits waited with expectant faces.
Victor took a deep breath and relaxed. He bullshitted experts before – and thanks to taking extensive notes while watching Veronica, he had a solid foundation upon which to build his story. He shifted uncomfortably, his tender skin still irritated and inflamed no matter how much powder he'd used.
"Mr. Brahm – we've taken quite a risk with you. I think it's time you repaid us for our generosity," rumbled Slugworth. The man was 70 if he was a day, confident in his power and position.
"Sir. Alright, I know that you have a tradition of stiff competition with Wonka in producing new products, either undercutting or going to production quicker than he has with similar products," Victor started, flipping open his notes and keeping his eyes steady on Slugworth.
The old man flushed angrily at the implication that he was nothing but a Wonka knock-off and he had to talk quickly to cut off the bluster, "I'm giving you the chance to produce a product that isn't even on his radar screen. Something essential to everyday life and so overlooked in its common usage that you'll hit yourself for not seeing it earlier."
Slugworth held his tongue for the moment, but his eyes still glimmered piggishly with resentment, waiting to hear the pitch before ripping Victor apart.
Victor pulled out of his folder pictures of various flatwear – plates, cups and other serving bowls.
The people around the table glanced at the pictures without interest.
Raoul grabbed a picture and sneered at Victor, "What's the big deal? We make candy, not pottery."
Victor sneered back, fed up by the man's attitude, "Glad to hear it. Because that so-called pottery in the picture isn't glass – it's candy."
A patent lie – nothing like the pictures had been produced, but the theory was sound.
Still, it snagged the imagination of the people around the table and they began to murmur to each other and take a closer look at the pictures. Only Slugworth kept his eyes on Victor, staring at him with a predatory gleam in his dark eyes.
"You get the tree-huggers because the plates are edible and don't go into a landfill, you get families since it's disposable platewear – taking the place of paper plates and the added benefit of getting dinner and dessert in one go – and you get the metro-set because you can change your dinnerware as often as you change your underwear," Victor said to Slugworth in triumph.
The sour-looking lady from Research and Development asked, "How do you keep whatever is on the plate from leaking into the candy and marring the flavor or making the whole thing into a soggy mess?"
"Non-pervasive food binders," Victor said, glancing at the notes from Veronica's work. "It's a non-digestible all-natural food varnish that harmlessly passes through the digestive system. If you market it right, you could pass it off as adding more fiber to the diet – a nutritional additive."
"What's the cost per unit?" asked the bald man from accounting.
"Whatever your current cost is for making that candy jewelry – it's a similar process. Probably lower since all you do is press the forms rather than assemble anything," Victor said calmly, covering the fact that he had no idea what the cost would be.
Slugworth sat back and the rest of the table fell silent to look at the man expectantly. Victor knew that regardless of what the flunkies thought, this was the man he had to convince.
"How did you come up with this idea and develop the process?" Slugworth asked slowly, watching Victor like a lion watched young gazelles at play.
"Probably the same way you came up with your ideas and processes," Victor said, meeting the older man's eyes, daring him to push the topic further. It was no secret that the greatest of Slugworth's ideas were stolen right from under Wonka's nose before the factory was closed down.
Slugworth grinned like a shark, appreciating Victor's daring. The young man reminded him of himself at that age," Fair enough, let's cut the crap. What's your source?"
Victor nodded at the man deferentially, accepting the challenge to own up, "A former employee who is currently working with Wonka."
Raoul scowled and started to sputter in protest even as Slugworth's eyes lit up with malicious glee, "Sir, this might be considered intellectual property and we could face a lawsuit…"
"I've got notes here indicating the timeframe that this concept was developed, it's her own damn fault if she tries to claim it now – it's mine," Victor snarled, shooting the lawyer a vicious glare.
Slugworth chuckled and Raoul fell silent, "I like this kid – he's got brass balls. I like the fact of using her work to stick it to Wonka as well – especially if it's true that she can't claim it. There's a nice irony there that I can appreciate."
Raoul swallowed his protest, knowing that he'd lost, "Very well, sir. If Mr. Brahm would care to work with me to patent the process and the product, we'll ensure that Wonka cannot move in on the development."
Victor chimed in with a wink at Slugworth, "Actually, if you can use my notes as a basis of when the idea was developed, we could claim trademark infringement and they'd have to drop the Berry Bling and Candy Globes as well. After all, we can't have them using the process that I so clearly developed, right?"
Slugworth looked tickled at the prospect of making his most hated competitor have to drop a highly lucrative line of products due to legal conflicts. He inclined his head at Victor, sharing a smile that reached neither of their eyes,
"Hang onto that notebook Mr. Brahm, it's about to make you a whole lot of money."
--
The Los Angeles Police Department central headquarters was located in a sedate city center. The tall 14 story white building was a shining spire to law and justice in this grimy city.
Too bad it was missing a heart, Willy thought to himself as they marched up the stairs.
Veronica was apprehensive walking in with Willy on one side and Tupik-Ra on the other. The Chocolatier, clad in a crimson frock coat with matching band on his hat and goggles covering his eyes looked up at the tall building and gulped nervously. Flashbacks of the horrible visit to the Met Police back home didn't help his jitters any.
They entered the austere building and the calm atmosphere inside was a startling change from previous experiences. A young man in police blues was working the front desk, the flat gaze took in the strange group without hesitation, "May I help you?"
"Detective Maza?" asked Tupik-Ra.
"Fourth floor, take the elevator up, I'll let you through," The officer said, pointing to a bank of elevators with one door opening and disgorging a group of people into the lobby. Tupik-Ra thanked the man and they walked over to the elevators. Once inside, Willy immediately noticed that there were only two buttons present – one to close doors and the other for a fire alarm, no floor buttons.
And I thought I was paranoid, he thought to himself.
The young man waited until they were inside and sent the elevator up. Tinny muzak played over the speaker and he had to cringe at the bad rendition of "Yesterday." Torture could be a subtle thing. He was ready to admit to anything by the time they reached the fourth floor as long as he could escape the horrible music.
A Hispanic man in a tan jacket and khaki pants waited by the elevator as it opened, "Ms. Carmichael?"
Veronica nodded and he could see that she was shaking slightly and pale despite her outward poise.
"I'm Detective Maza. Would you come with me please?" he gestured for them to follow him and Willy just knew there was going to be a small room with metal chairs and a sturdy Formica table with a large one-way mirror going to be involved somehow.
Surprisingly, it was a small conference room, well lit from a large plate glass window – bright and cheery. There was a pitcher and several glasses waiting along with a woman wearing rumpled clothing – she had short sandy colored hair and had her jacket removed showing the shoulder holster and weapon hanging from her left side.
"This is my partner Detective Samuel. D.A. Sinclair is supposed to be here in a moment. His office is on the tenth floor. Please, take a seat," Maza said, with a friendly smile.
Willy pulled a seat for Veronica and took the one to her immediate right leaving the left for Tupik-Ra.
"We're glad that you are safe. It must have been a trying time for you," said Samuel sympathetically.
Veronica nodded, but said nothing – intimidated and thrown off balance once again.
The door opened and a tall man with dark curly hair and a navy blue suit entered, juggling a hot cup of coffee and several folders with an organizer, "Ms. Carmichael? I'm Jack Sinclair. Nice to finally meet you in person." He set the coffee down and shook her hand.
Willy felt a surge of jealousy as the man skimmed her from head to foot with a carefully appreciative eye. Admittedly the clothes that L.A. had found in soft green tweed set off her coloring and fit her slender body wonderfully – but there also had to be something said about not being so bloody obvious about it.
"We're sorry that you were kidnapped, and applaud your resilience and ingenuity making your escape," Maza said politely. "We'd like to get your story if possible. Do you mind if we record it?"
Veronica shook her head.
The small handheld digital recorder was turned on and the interrogation began.
Willy held her hand through most of it, and ignored the questioning glances shot by the Detectives during the recitation. They made her repeat the story three times before digging in with the questions.
"Why didn't you immediately call the police once you escaped?" asked Maza.
"It didn't occur to me. I just called the first number that popped into my head," she said carefully.
"And that was Mr. Wonka's cell number."
"Yes."
"Why call Mr. Wonka? At that point, for all you knew he was still in Britain, unable to come to your aid."
"I needed to hear his voice. I was shaken and hurt and needed to hear him."
"Mr. Wonka why are you here? I understand that you were in Britain last time we checked," Sinclair asked sardonically, shooting the flamboyantly dressed Chocolatier a glance.
"I was making my own preparations to join Veronica when I got news of her abduction," Willy said primly, reading the D.A.'s dark eyes and not liking his implications.
"So you managed to make it here in under 4 hours?" Sinclair asked sarcastically, not believing him.
He doesn't know me very well does he? Willy giggled mentally.
"Two actually, there was a bit of trouble over the desert I had to shake off first," Willy said with a straight face.
He now had everyone's attention. Tupik-Ra was struggling to maintain his composure and hide his grin. He loved it when Won-Ka messed with the straights.
"Two hours…from England?" asked Samuel doubtfully.
"Yup," he said, popping the last syllable.
"How is that possible – have you managed to build a transporter?" Maza asked, raising an eyebrow. They had the man neatly trapped with no alibi to be seen.
"Technically yes…although I used the Grand Wonkavator on Mach 3 and low Earth orbit to make good time. I could have cut it under two hours if it hadn't been for NORAD picking me up on re-entry and sending F-22s out of Nellis after me. It was all just a misunderstanding really."
There was a mass blink at the strange man and Veronica had to turn away and he felt her arm shaking as she did her best to repress her laughter at their company's expressions.
"Mr. Wonka has…alternate means of transport at his disposal," Tupik-Ra said calmly. "NASA has him on their records."
Shaking his head Maza returned to their original point, "Anyway – you were her to support her. When Ms. Carmichael called you, why didn't you notify the police to pick her up? Is this a service you provide all your employees?"
Ignoring the sarcasm, Willy slowly pulled off the sunglasses, folded them and put them in an inner pocket inside his coat. He folded his hands on the table before leveling a cold glare at the detective.
"Actually it would be if any other of my employees called me after getting abducted. I didn't call you guys after getting the call from Veronica because I was a bit more concerned about the safe return of my fiancée rather than protocol at that point."
"Fiancee?" Samuel pounced on that proclamation.
Veronica nodded and held up the hand with her ring on it. Realizing that her re-bandaged hands hid the ring from view, she peeled back a few layers of gauze to show them the ring.
"Well, congratulations!" Sinclair said surprised.
Samuel and Maza seemed a little more subdued asking questions after that. Willy figured that they were professionally irritated at him for stealing their thunder when picking Veronica up after her escape, but they were apparently willing to forgive under the circumstances.
"Would you be willing to see if you could identify your captor in a line-up?" asked Maza, wrapping up the interview.
Veronica blanched, shooting a panicked stare at Willy.
"You'll be behind a one-way mirror and he won't be able to see you," the detective added seeing her fear.
"He'll be able to figure it out pretty damn quick, won't he," she said absently.
"If you wish to press forward with charges, we need a positive ID," Sinclair said firmly.
Veronica closed her eyes and squeezed her hands together. Willy draped a comforting arm across her shoulders waiting patiently for her decision.
"Alright," she said quietly.
While Samuel was on the phone down to the holding cells, Sinclair guided them to the elevators and down to the basement where they were shown a small dark room with a window facing another area.
A row of Hispanic men filed in one side of the area – seven in all. Four had bandages in various areas around their heads.
It wasn't hard to pick Luis out of the line-up. The bandages covering the right side of his face didn't hide the snake dead eyes or the look of sullen menace.
"Number two," Veronica declared decisively. There was no hesitation in her voice.
"Are you sure? Take your time and look over each," Sinclair said.
"I'm sure. Luis is number two – I'd recognize that bastard anywhere," she said harshly.
Sinclair said, "The witness has identified number two as her captor – get them out of here."
"I'll have to get back with you for a trial date, but it'll be about three to six months with the way the system is backed up before he'll go to trial," Sinclair said absently as he wrote rapidly in his notebook.
Veronica sagged at the news and he hugged her close. More waiting to prosecute those who were attacking her. What was with these people?
Willy whispered in her ear, "Patience. It'll happen, we just need to wait a little."
She nodded tiredly and he could see how things were weighing on her.
"Listen, if we're done here I think we'd like to go home," Willy said firmly.
"Alright…we'll get together again tomorrow…" the D.A. sighed, picking up his notebook and sliding the pen into his pocket.
"I mean back to England."
"But…"
Tupik-Ra stepped in, raising himself to his full height. Willy was startled to not that the Oompa Loompa lawyer was as tall as he was, "Unless you have a legal reason to hold my clients?"
Sinclair sighed, running his hand through his short dark hair, "Technically no – there isn't a reason for you to stay in L.A. As long as you are willing to return for persecution and trial phases."
"Sure – it worked out so well last time," Veronica said sarcastically – showing a glimmer of her true fire for the first time since entering the intimidating building.
"Ms. Carmichael…Veronica," Sinclair pleaded, embarrassed.
She held up a hand in forbearance, "Alright, I take it back. I will return to testify, but I would like to explore alternate options of testimony from home. For some reason I don't feel safe here anymore."
He nodded, accepting the criticism, "We will."
They parted company and were escorted back to the elevators. Sinclair rocked on his heel, hands in the pockets of his trousers, "By the way Ms. Carmichael, I've got an invitation to pass on to you. A few of Brahm's former employees wanted me to pass on to you a standing invitation to give them a call. Although the case fell through, they still want to touch base to keep track of his movements."
None of the men missed her shudder of fear and haunted look.
"Alright, I'll take the information. I guess it's better if we stand together," she said softly, staring at the floor.
The elevator arrived with a ding and the doors opened. Tupik-Ra turned to the D.A. and shook his hand firmly, "I'm sorry things haven't worked out as first anticipated, but I do look forward to working with you in the future."
The doors closed and the horrible music was playing "Memories" this time.
"That's wretched," Veronica muttered, shooting an irritated glance at the speaker set into the ceiling.
Willy found himself humming along for a moment before Veronica swatted his arm, "Ow."
Tupik-Ra seemed to be a bit nervous in the small space and shot nervous glances over at Willy, shuffling his feet and playing with the briefcase at his side during the agonizing long rise to the first floor.
"What?" the Chocolatier snapped, not able to stand the Oompa Loopa's fidgeting any longer. Veronica jumped slightly at the noise.
"Um….Forgive me Won-Ka, but I need to bring something to your attention," Tupik-Ra said, glancing around nervously as if expecting someone to jump out of the imitation woodwork at them.
"Yes?" Willy asked, gesturing for the man to continue.
"It's about the Stretching Taffey…"
"If you need another dose, don't bother before we go home. As soon as we get to the hotel, we're packing up and getting the heck out of this crazy town," Willy said, pulling out his glasses and polishing the lenses with a soft cloth.
"Actually, I've got plenty of doses left…I've only take one since getting here." Tupik-Ra admitted.
Willy's hand paused in its movements and Veronica was confused about the concerned stare that he was giving the lawyer.
"One dose….but…" Willy started and stopped. "Do you have the wrapper?" he demanded with new urgency.
Tupik-Ra pulled the small wax wrapped from his pocket and Willy snatched it, holding it up to the light to read the small print.
"You should have returned to normal more than 24 hours ago…one dose only should last 12-18 hours," he muttered, squinting at the near microscopic writing near the edge of the wrapper.
"L.A. is the only other Oompa Loompa to have taken a dose and not returned to normal, and she had discarded the wrapper..Ah HA!" he crowed pointing to one corner of the wrapper with a purple-latex clad finger, "It's passed the expiration date! Call the others quickly – no one else is to use the stretching taffy!"
"What about him?" Veronica asked, seeing the lawyer pull out his cell phone with a shaking hand.
"I might be able to reverse the effects. Part of the reason I couldn't narrow things down with L.A. was because the wrapper was gone. That was the only clue I had. Now that I have a specific date, I can double check my recipe and the calculations and might be able to counteract the taffy," He said excitedly, his violet eyes gleaming.
Tupik-Ra sighed in relief as he passed the instructions on to whoever had picked up the phone on the other end. He snapped the phone shut, returning the phone to his pocket before bowing to Willy, "You have my thanks. I was worried about getting back to normal."
"Oh, there's no guarantee about that," Willy said cheerfully, oblivious to Tupik-Ra's look of horror, "I just have a better idea of where to go from here to reverse the effects."
Veronica patted the man on the back, "Don't worry – he'll do his best."
Tupik-Ra shot a look of irritation at the humming Chocolatier as they finally arrived at the first floor.
They passed out of the lobby and back to the car where L.A. was waiting. The dark-haired woman was listening to the radio with an enraptured expression and wide grin. She looked mildly guilty as they climbed in, but didn't shut off the station.
It was some sort of news report.
"Willy Wonka sightings are up around Britain – reports have him visiting a supermarket and comparing various cans of baked beans with surprised shoppers with his apprentice Charlie Bucket. This runs contrary to other reports of Wonka sightings in California on the other side of the globe – although those reports have been largely disclaimed at the moment. What is the reclusive confectioner up to now?"
L.A. snickered at the report as she navigated her way through traffic much to the confusion from her passengers.