Blue Words

Prologue

"Every story must begin somewhere."

Droplets trickled down the outside of the glass. Summer had arrived, the ice didn't last long enough to savour anymore. It had all but disappeared, eroded away into tiny seeds of chill soon to be no more. The taste of the scotch too had diminished, diluted by the ice's demise. Footsteps echoed through the dark. "Was he agreeable to the meeting?" he asked. His hand quivered and quickly began swirling the remnants of his drink; as if to hide it. His eyes never rose. His voice was calm, deep and firm.

"No Mr. Drake," replied a considerably sweeter voice. "He refuses to meet with any of our representatives, let alone you. He feels that anyone who sits down with you miraculously signs over the deal of a lifetime. 'Far too many deals and lifetimes to be above board' to use his words Sir," replied his young assistant as she stepped into the room.

Alicia Carter had bouncing curls of amber-blonde hair tumbling down to frame a fresh, innocent face. Her white dress left little to the imagination, clinging to her body and flowing shadows along her seductive size fourteen curves, oozing womanly charm. It was her eyes though, which truly stood mens' minds and bodies to attention. Large, deep portals of haunting grey which hypnotised and sparkled more and more the longer one gazed into them.

She was exactly Mr. Drakes' type, mind numbingly beautiful and round in all the right places. It was only an image though, a facade. Nothing more than a stereotype she had devised as a very effective cover. People often dismissed her upon first meeting, focussing on her appearance and pegging her as a 'dumb blonde' or a 'mindless fashionista'; a fatal mistake. Alicia was ruthless, conniving and brutal. She knew what was required of her and wielded intellect and charm as weapons. Career progression was her goal and failure was never an option. In the early days of her employment Mr. Drake had tried to seduce her, an offer she had flatly refused. "That's not the part of you I am paid to impress," she scolded, "Though impressed it would be if it ever got the chance."

"He's intuitive," mumbled Mr. Drake into his glass, still swirling to mask the shakes. "Shame. I want that contract signed. If the rhodium deposit is even half the size the geologists predict, it may as well be a never ending bucket of money."

"Its price per tonne has been dropping sir," reminded Alicia.

"It can still drop by half again and be worth more than anything else we pull out of the ground. Don't forget, I have the only other major rhodium lease. The customers are simply holding off, waiting for Grovern Industrial to start digging. What do you think will happen to the price once I own his lease as well?"

Drake appeared an ageless man; someone time had never seemed to catch up to. His hair was thick and black, his skin smooth, his build broad and muscular. However, his hands were mapped with fine criss-crossing scars and his eyes....his eyes spoke of countless years lived and of heavy burden. His strong hands still seemed to shake too with every drink, as if the glass were too heavy.

He gave Alicia a look, a slight raise of the eyebrows over prompting eyes, a silent command. "Would you like a vessel brought in sir?" asked a nearby shadow. A slim man oozed from a shadowed corner of the room. Alicia gave a jolt at the sudden emergence, but quickly stifled it to no more than a fuss of her hair. She burned a glare at the newcomer. A white dagger adorned the chest of his black security uniform, a pistol and blade hid together in the small of his back.

"Who do we have around at this time of night?" asked Mr. Drake.

"There's a janitor, a new guy. Douglas," breathed the shadow, his words whispers on the wind.

"What do we know about him?"

"He was chosen for the position with this in mind. He's part of the re-integration program from the Arthur Gorrie Correctional Centre."