A gentle sea breeze brought the smell of salt and sand to the large penthouse patio that rested a good thirty-three stories above the streets below. This high up, it was only the loudest sirens and news or medical helicopter that would be heard. At the moment, the silence of the patio was filled by smooth, noir style jazz – the only company for the patio's only occupant. An older man sitting in one of the Adirondack deck chairs near the brass railings to encircle the area.
Cut and styled into a side part fade, his once-golden hair was dusted with silver. His eyes were an almost unnatural shade of gray, and there was a sharpness behind them that showed he was still decades away from senility. Currently, those eyes were focused on the old book in his hands. On the table beside him, a glass of whiskey on the rocks rested next to the remains of what had once been a beautiful charcuterie board for one. It was a peaceful day, the kind that came all too rarely even for someone who sat as high on the corporate ladder as he did.
Too bad the peace was broken by the internal ringing from a holo-call. A muscle in the man's eye twitched in annoyance as he smoothed the page he was reading and marked it before closing the book. Carefully laying it on the table, he allowed the call to connect.
["ASF Director Linder?"] The voice to come over the line was professional, with just the faintest touch of corporate curiosity.
["Speaking."] Director Linder took a small sip of his whiskey.
["ACI-NCH Arthur Jenkins. You requested that I call?"] There was an odd upturn in Jenkins' voice with the question, and Director Linder's mouth twitched involuntarily.
["I understand that my son was assigned to you some time ago."] He held the glass close. ["Is that correct?"]
["Yes?"]
["Good."] The man swirled the contents of the glass around. ["You will send me all files you have on him. Immediately."]
["What?"] The surprise in Jenkins voice was unwelcome, but not unexpected.
["Was I not clear?"] The Director tightened his grip on the glass. ["You will send me all the files your department has on Vincent Linder, at once."]
["Is he being transferred to Tokyo?"]
["I did not have you call to ask questions. I had you call to give an order."] Director Linder's expression changed into an unseen scowl.
["You could have made an inquiry-"]
["Inquiries leave traces. Records. Telling you directly leaves no trace."] The vice-grip he had on the glass loosened just slightly. ["If I have to tell you a third time, you will be replaced with someone who can obey an order from their superiors."]
["I... Understood sir."] Jenkins almost sounded sorry as he resigned himself to the order and disconnected the call. There was no doubt in Director Linder's mind that Jenkins was probably ordering everyone not currently on another assignment to assist him in compiling the requested data. An emotionless smile moved across the Director's face at the thought. Jenkins position of power was on par with being the kid the teacher picked to 'watch the class' in their absence. The one who could tell other students what to do, and report them for not listening to him.
Too bad for him that he was just given an order from the principal.
Letting out a tiny groan, Director Linder swung his legs around and took a moment to crack his neck. His eyes fell on the near full glass of whiskey still in his hand. The amber liquid looked warm and inviting, reflecting the skyline in sepia tone. Looking down into the glass, the Director noticed something floating on the surface. The color of the whiskey and the thinness of the offending object made it hard to discern its true color. A sarcastic oh of disappointment left the man's mouth, and without a second thought. He sent the glass and its contents flying over the railing and onto whatever might currently be walking about below.
"A shame, eighty years old and ruined by a hair."
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Following the call from Jenkins, Director Linder had retired from the patio in favor of going to his office. Compared to the air outside, the scent of musty paper and faint hints of fine tobacco might have seemed suffocating to some. But for him, the room was a sanctuary of sorts. Certificates and awards dotted the walls, along with the occasional photograph of the Director with some executive or another mogul like himself.
Currently, he was looking over the files that had been sent his way. The Director already knew a lot of the information Jenkins had forwarded to him, but every now and then there would be a nugget among the rocks and pebbles as he panned over the data. He gently scratched at a spot on his scalp as he finished reviewing the latest piece of information. Vincent had done more than a few things over the years that irked him, but this?
"It can't be helped..." Director Linder spoke the words to the air as he made a holo-call to a number he knew by heart.
["Hello Sir. Do you require our services again?"] The voice bore the tone of forced customer service politeness.
["It seems my son has been busy in my absence."]
["A shame. Does someone need to correct him?"]
["No. Not just yet."] He gently drummed his fingers on the desk. ["It seems a mistake may have led to opportunity."]
["Oh?"] A hum of interest came from the person on the other end.
["I need a team set up. A full platoon."] Director Linder could hear the faint clicking of a keyboard.
["Capture, Kill or Sabotage?"]
["Capture. Non-lethal only."] He involuntarily grimaced.
["You know that will cost extra."] The voice's tone didn't change, but the Director had a feeling they were smiling knowingly.
["Yet you insist on telling me."]
["Yet I must inform you none-the-less. Will there be any additional services required?"] The voice inquired, patiently waiting his response.
["Long term observation. I want all the information you can provide on the three targets I send you. The capture will be a long-term goal."]
More faint clicking came over the line. ["Will this be for monthly or yearly?"]
["I can be patient. Two years to start, extensions reserved, I want your team kept motivated."] It was a classic move, play nice.
["The names of the targets?"]
["Vincent Linder, Gloria Martinez, David Martinez."]
["Location?"]
["Night City."]
An almost laugh came from the voice. ["There is a Hazard Fee for operations in the area of Night City-"]
["Double the hazard pay. I want this done, right and well."] The dusted-haired man took barely a minute to think of his offer. ["Include a bonus fee for each of the team when the contract is closed."]
["How much sir?"]
["five hundred thousand, for each member."]
["Understood sir."] The voice almost seemed excited. ["I'll see to it personally that our best and brightest are selected."]
["How soon will I see reports?"]
["With these options selected? Within a month. Sooner can be done if corners are-"]
["No. I want everything. Known accomplices to a lover's parent's blood-type."] Sure, some of the data would be utterly worthless in this case, but the Director wasn't about to leave anything up to chance.
["Understood sir. Would you prefer direct contact or indirect?"]
["Indirect. Disposable proxy method."]
More faint clicking sounded before the voice spoke again. ["Will there be anything else sir?"]
["That is all."]
["Thank you for choosing us to help you, and we look forward to our future endeavors together."]
The line disconnected then, and Director Linder could only shake his head. He caught sight of his reflection in the computer monitor. His own face looking back at him with an air of vexation around it.
"A sad sign of how far we've fallen as a species when even black market dealings have trained sales reps."
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With all the calls he was making, and files he was receiving, Director Linder realized there was still one person he had yet to contact. This particular call would require a different tactic than his others, and instead of using his holo, opted to go 'old fashion' and gave his digital secretary a single command.
"Call Eleanor Linder." There was no warmth in his tone, something that was mirrored as the robotic voice confirmed his request and set the phone on his desk ringing. It rang for just slightly longer than what would be a polite wait time before being picked up.
["Robert."] A woman's voice met his ears, old and worn but not fully broken.
["Eleanor."]
["What do you want?"] She didn't quite snap at him, but the words were a little more terse than they should have been.
["Must you be so rash?"]
["You've kept me locked away on the other side of the world for a year. I can hear the echo of a speakerphone over the line, so I know this isn't your newest holo-line."] He could almost see her, one hand toying with the end of her dark hair.
["You made it clear you wanted something else. I was respecting that wish."] He let an air of mockery leak into his voice.
["For the thousandth time, It was just a fling-"] Eleanor's voice broke just slightly as he cut her off.
["I don't keep up with modern slang."] Robert shook his head, dismissively. ["I find it odd that the masses would use 'fling' to mean 'being caught swallowing another man's cock in our bed', seems simpler to say you were a cheating whore."]
["He's dead Robert."] Her tone was morosely exasperated. ["You made me watch, and he's dead. How long are you going to keep me in this golden prison?"]
The Director looked at his watch, not caring that he couldn't be seen. ["Until I feel I can trust you again, I suppose."]
["...What do you want?"] Eleanor almost sounded resigned, something Robert could appreciate.
["Have you talked to our son recently?"]
["No."] It was a blunt and to the point answer.
["Really?"]
["I don't go anywhere. I don't talk to anyone. You know that as well as I do."] A faint swooshing sound met his ears. ["It's why you have these fucking drones all over the house, isn't it."]
["They may be able to watch your movements, but holo-calls are still a possibility."]
["No Robert. He hasn't called me, and I haven't called him."] There was another crack in her voice at the admittance, and Robert was willing to believe her.
["Then I suppose you would be glad to learn that you're now a grandmother."]
["I...what?"]
["Our son has a son of his own."]
["Oh. Oh god..."] He heard the gasp to escape her, and knew he almost had her in his hands again.
["Would you like to meet him?"]
["No. Don't do this Robert. Vincent was enough. Too much even. Just leave them be."] Eleanor might not have been the best mother, but clearly her instincts were not dead and buried yet.
["You say that like I intend to kill them."]
["Death would be better."] She wasn't wrong.
["They're in Night City."] It was one part taunt, one part threat, and one part statement of intent.
["...You're coming back."]
["I have been away from our residence for some time. It might be good to return home."] A mockery of joy seeped into his words, like an oil spill over the ocean. ["To spend time with my wife, child, and grandchild."]
["Robert, please, if you ever loved me or Vincent... Don't. Just leave us alone. Let us go."] The hiccuping gasp to come after her words told Robert that Eleanor was officially struggling to keep from breaking.
["You know I won't do that. I would like to meet my grandchild, is that too much to ask for?"]
["Yes."]
["A shame, I thought it would be best to have you tag along. A nice little reunion."] Robert stressed the last word, bringing a hum of confusion from his wife.
["Reunion?"]
["I didn't tell you?"]
["Tell me what?"]
["Who the mother is."]
["I...No."]
["It seems Ms. Martinez was more of a survivor than I thought. I'll be sure to congratulate her properly."]
["Don't. Just don't."] The dam broke, and one or two whimpering sobs mixed with her words. ["You already tried to kill her. Just leave her alone, don't hurt her anymore!"]
["You say that like I plan to. She survived my attempt, and even managed to hide for nearly twenty years."] And it was true, the red-headed harlot had managed to evade him. That fact, if nothing else about that piece of scarlet trash had impressed him. ["If anything she's earned her place in our family. Our son will be thrilled that we finally approve."]
Eleanor hiccuped, regaining some composure. ["...You're planning on trying again."]
["Vincent was a failure. His son shows potential. What kind of family man would I be if I let this chance go to waste?"] The unnatural happiness returned to his voice, and by the huff to come over the line, he knew Eleanor sensed it.
["A better man than you've ever been."] For a brief moment, some of his wife's old fire had returned.
["See you soon Eleanor."]