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1990 The Prince of Genomex
“Adam, part of my job is watching where money and things go. Everyone who works here daily has been through a rigorous background check. We have more than our share of eccentrics toiling here, but we have no known substance abusers or people with unusual financial needs, such as compulsive gamblers. We don’t have people at Genomex who are motivated to steal, or worse, sell information to foreign or competitive industrial agents.”
I looked up from the huge rosewood desk Paul Breedlove had given me two years ago. Mason sounded more serious than usual. I thought perhaps I should listen.
“What’s this about, Mason? Why the prologue and the long face?” I smiled. People usually like it when I smile.
Mason didn’t sit down, as he typically did. Instead, he paced forth and back at the perimeter of the desk.
“For the last eighteen months, longer perhaps, things have been disappearing from Genomex. Naturally, I was brought into the matter. Adam, we’ve been friends for a good long while now. Saying this is difficult, even painful, but the accumulated evidence indicates you are responsible for some of these losses.”
I laughed. I laughed at the accusation not because it was absurd and not because of Mason’s exceptionally grave manner, but because I was nervous. I did not think anyone would notice the slow, patient removal of resources. Mason, despite being a merely brilliant man, somehow had managed to connect a lot of obscure dots. I had underestimated him.
“Mason, why would I steal from Genomex? I’m one of the highest-paid people on site. I live modestly. My needs are simple. You’ve seen what I drive. If you dug this deep, then you also know I invest a lot of my income and that I’m not burning cash on alcohol, drugs, or any other vice.”
“Exactly. The evidence makes no sense, but you are clearly implicated. Before going any farther with this, I was hoping you would provide me with a sane, plausible explanation.”
Mason was a smart man who could sometimes surprise me with what he did know and what he could learn to understand. He didn’t have a first-class mind like my own, but he was persistent.
“What are you saying I’ve done?”
“Dr Kelly’s analytical group had a half-dozen platinum crucibles. Five of them are gone. After the first two walked, I had motion-activated cameras installed outside of the main doors into analytical. You used a different door every time, but I have you on tape entering, taking the crucibles, and leaving. There isn’t any question of identity, Adam. I was shocked.”
Mason could be so tiresomely conventional. I liked him because he could sometimes challenge me and because he was the only other coworker besides Breedlove who ever invited me to his home. Mason even had me at his home for holidays, every Thanksgiving and Christmas. One Christmas he gave me a copy of The Double Helix signed by Watson.
How could I ever explain to a mind like his the burning necessity I felt for my own lab, independent of Genomex (and of Paul Breedlove) where I could work without anyone reviewing my results or questioning the direction of my researches? Eventually, I would bring the most useful ideas and insights to Genomex and the company would benefit from my clandestine, streamlined work.
I did not even think of what I was doing as theft. I considered what I was doing as borrowing or channeling Genomex resources for the long-term benefit of the company.
Mason’s mind would never wrap around such a concept. He was still distressed by the discovery of the Genomex mutant program three years after learning of their existence. He was disturbed by the confinement of the more dangerous and anomalous mutants to the Sublevels of the facility. Mason has always fretted too much about details.
“I honestly don’t remember any of that,” I lied.
I’m not used to people questioning what I am doing. I’m accustomed to people being in such awe of my intellect that they assume even if what I’m saying makes no immediate sense to them, that I must have a deeper, truer insight they cannot understand. I was surprised when Mason failed to accept what I said.
“Adam. I’m disappointed. Unfortunately, the platinum crucibles are the least of what I’ve unearthed. In view of the time we have been friends, it pains me to do this, but I’m charged with maintaining the security and integrity of Genomex. I cannot ignore these things.”
“What are you going to do?”
As if I did not already know. There was only one path open to him, but it wasn’t going to take him where he wanted to go.
“I’ll have to go to Paul Breedlove.”
Mason was clearly unhappy about doing this. I was touched by the depth of his feeling and friendship. I don’t believe anyone else has ever felt that strongly about being my friend. Mason did not know yet quite what Paul Breedlove was about. He knew only the tidied-up version of Paul’s life story.
“If you have the evidence, you can do nothing else.”
“I’m truly sorry to have to do this, Adam.”
Mason sincerely meant every word. No doubt he believed his revelations would precipitate Breedlove dismissing me from Genomex, my personal disgrace if not criminal prosecution, my ultimate unemployability and destruction of my career.
I knew better. I knew Paul. Paul would listen politely, commend Mason for his thorough and capable investigation, and then say I was too critical to Genomex to be prosecuted, dismissed, or even disciplined. I knew, because Paul himself had caught me diverting money and said as much to me. Paul knew the creation of mutants could not proceed without me.
It’s good to be invaluable.
“So, how is Paul doing today?” I asked Mason. He had not returned to my office and that did not bode well for our friendship, so I strolled off to Mason’s much smaller office and found him sitting at his mere walnut desk at the end of the day.
“Teflon Adam.”
He sounded bitter and disillusioned.
“We’re adults, Mason. We both know life is not fair or just.”
“But must it be crazy?” he asked. “Had I done these things, I would not get a free pass, anymore than would Laura Varady or Joe Mayakovsky or any number of others. If this becomes general knowledge, morale will go down the porcelain parkway.”
“This really upsets you.”
“Arbitrary handling of people…can destroy an organization. Productivity plunges, and enormous amounts of time are given over to whining, complaining, and tale-telling. Then things get bad.”
“Are you still thinking about leaving Genomex?”
I don’t make many mistakes, but asking this question was one of them.
“How did you know anything about that?”
“Jackie told me.”
“Really? How surprising. Why would she volunteer such confidences to you?”
“I don’t know.”
Well, I did, but Mason didn’t need to hear any more. Jackie had been telling me about how miserable Mason’s long hours made her and how she wished he’d find another job, the way he talked about three years ago, before Michelle and Deirdre were born. Of course, his long hours were driven by her constant spending.
“You’re laden with surprises. Are they any more revelations to share?”
“Between finding out that you really are the prince of Genomex, and knowing about the unholy creations secreted away in the sublevel caverns of this hell, leaving grows increasingly attractive.”
Attractive, yes, but as I knew from Jackie, not feasible financially. Mason’s paycheck was stretched paying for the new, bigger house, the van Jackie wanted, and much more besides.
“You’ll be around for my retirement party,” I smiled. With Jackie’s extravagant tastes, she’d always stay two steps ahead of whatever Mason earned. He was stuck here forever; finding a job paying as well as Genomex was next to impossible. The high pay scale kept people at the company, along with their expertise and the secrets they knew.
“Do yourself a favor, Adam: don’t let anyone find out just how much you are getting away with. You’ll make too many enemies. People don’t like it when they discover someone is getting special treatment.”
“But I am special.”
“And you don’t allow any of us to forget that. Some people consider you overrated and pampered. No small number, in fact. Not everyone here is a fan of yours.”
I had never heard him sound like this before.
“Is that a warning, or a threat, Mason?”
“Perhaps… a bit of both.”
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The Sun Never Sets on PureMX.net
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