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Chapter 44: The board meeting
Trask had never been to the upper floors before. These were off-limits except to Gully Labs employees and invited guests.
The rules were different up here. Even the laws of physics didn’t fully apply, since Trask could see that the windows on this floor were larger from the inside than they appeared on the outside.
Binkie led him into the boardroom, where Gully and several people Trask didn’t recognize were seated along the far side of a long, rectangular table, facing an audience of about a dozen people. The board members were all dressed in modern business casual. Half the audience was in modern dress as well. Those must have been the investors, Trask thought.
The modern dress should have felt out of place on Krim. But instead, Trask himself felt out of place in his medieval garb. At least he wasn’t the only one dressed for the sixteenth century. There were several landowners in the audience, including the Baron, all of whom were in medieval clothing.
The landowners also looked out of place sitting in their modern chairs, surrounded by stark white, modern walls.
One of the board members was gesturing at something on one of the walls. That’s why it was white, Trask thought — so that it be easier to project information on it. Of course, Trask couldn’t see the projection, since he was still limited by his resident user interface.
He felt an irrational resentment at not being able to see what the boardmembers and employees were looking at. It was irrational because he had no interest in getting a job in the video game industry.
The board’s only concession to the presence of in-world guests were the nameplates. The woman in the center was Catherine Nakamura-Green-Park, the board’s chair.
Gully, the owner of Gully Labs, the company behind Krim World, was at the end of the table, sitting so that he could see all the board members. Since he was facing the entrance to the room, he was also the first to notice that Trask and Binkie had walked in, and motioned at them to wait.
Catherine was thanking the landowners for having attended the meeting on such short notice. This dragged on for a while. Land fees were one of Gully Lab’s main revenue sources and the board had to be polite. Finally, she wound down. “Unfortunately, we will have to cover the import-export approval delays at the next meeting,” she concluded. “There just was not enough time to contact all the merchant and committee members involved in that process.” She raised an old-fashioned gavel and glanced at Gully. “Now, if there’s no other business…”
Gully stood up. “I’m told there’s some new information that the board needs to be made aware of in regards to the provenance of the winning bid.”
The people in the audience muttered to each other, and a man in a business suit loudly said, “This is unconscionable. The decision has already been made.” He spoke with a faint Eastern European accent.
A pale thin woman next to him, also in a dark business suit, murmured softly in assent.
“Let’s all settle down,” Catherine said. “We’ll try to make this quick. Gully? What’s going on?”
“You all know Geraldine Dickson,” Gully said, pointing at Binkie. “She’s the grid manager and the most senior employee at Gully Labs.
Next to Trask, Binkie took a deep breath. “I have some bad news about one of our employees, William Anderson Chen Spiral Lockton. I just received evidence that he may have left vital information out of his report. Overseeing employees is, of course, my responsibility, and the errors and omissions in the research he provided about Gracious Capital are, of course, my…”
Catherine cut her off. “Never mind all the groveling,” she told Binkie. “What report are you talking about?”
The man in the business suit stood up. He had black hair, slicked back from a widow’s peak, and unnaturally pale, almost wax-like skin. With his black suit, his tall, slender frame and thin, bony fingers, he looked like a vampire. Which explained his fake accent, Trask thought.
“There has been plenty of time for you to ask any questions you had about our funding sources,” he said. “I insist that the board honor its side of the agreement and…”
Catherine rapped her gavel on the table surface. “Please sit down, Mx. Antonov-Bathory-Novak. Nobody said anything about funding. Binkie? What’s going on?”
“According to the local newspaper, AviNewz…”
The vampire snorted loudly and disdainfully. Catherine raised her gavel again and glared at him until he sat down.
“According to the paper, Gracious Capital’s funding comes from Humanist front organizations,” Binkie said. “Obviously, Humanists would have no interest in helping make Krim a success, but would instead simply shut it down. Also, there’s the possibility that the funds are also illegal.”
“That’s an outright lie!” the vampire erupted. “We will sue you, and the paper, and the board for defamation.” He turned to the other landowners. “And you can say goodbye to your new continent and physics engine upgrades…”
The Baron stood up, his hand on his sword. “AviNewz is a gossip rag and its only use is as toilet paper.” He spat on the floor and Catherine winced. “And I don’t know who that man is–” he pointed at Trask “–but I have a strong suspicion that he’s up to no good, and I’m an excellent judge of character.”
Binkie took a step to the side so that everyone could see Trask and said, “This is Marshall Henderson Trask, head of security for the Krim Chamber of Commerce.”
“I’ve been investigating the recent spate of griefing attacks on the grid, as well as the arson at the newspaper and the Scriptorium.” He paused. “An art studio was also set on fire.”
“That has nothing to do with us,” said the vampire.
“Or with the board’s investment decisions,” added Catherine Nakamura-Green-Park.
The Baron pulled his sword as he stepped away from the audience seats. Binkie stepped back another step as he approached, and, before Trask could decide what to do, the cold metal edge was at his throat.
“Leave and take your slanderous lies with you,” he said. “Do you know what the new continent means? Do you remember the fifteen hundreds? Europe got tomatoes. Coffee.” The Baron lowered his voice to a growl. “Potatoes!”
Trask jumped back.
“Apologize now or I’ll take you puny excuse for a life,” the Baron said. Then he must have remembered that the threat of death wasn’t worth much on Krim. Especially now, with the board just having voted to revoke the two-week suspensions. “No, I’ll have your job.” The Baron stepped closer, and locked eyes with Trask. “You value your job, don’t you?”
Trask grasped his badge.