Russell Twyce

Chapter 5 of Loki’s Trojan

Games of Snakes on Ladders

After hopping a flight to Vancouver, Tariq took a train south into the States.  He took a table at a seaside window and ordered a beer.  Another man soon asked to join him, as the rest of the places were taken.

“I’ve noticed the numerous pilings along the shore.”  The programmer began small talk after some brief introductions.  “In some spots, the stubble field of them was as a crop of oversized barley stems.”

“Many buildings of one sort or another once stood on them.”  The man who said his name was Frank responded.  “They’re gone but the supports remain as a testament to the value of construction on solid foundations.”

“It doesn’t make sense though,” Tariq sipped his beer, “to outspend the budget in driving too many top quality piles.  Why would all those builders have so poorly estimated or was there some other overlooked factor?”

“When the edifice stands atop the stilts,” Frank surmised, “it protects its foundation posts from ravages of weather and perhaps the pillars only began to rot when the sheltering roofs were gone.”

“It is therefore possible to suggest that some of the warehouses once resting on the columns, collapsed sooner because of defects in the pilings.”

“Some certainly are at jaunty angles.”  Frank took a swig of beer.

That analogy probably explains why Wall Soft Systems still has market predominance in spite of a trashy offering.  The buttressed programs above have sheltered the shoddy scaffolding underneath.

The same didn’t relate to Wall’s corporate structure.  A beaver’s dam provided a better metaphor.  Tariq pictured a superstructure, pressed ever higher by buck-toothed workers haphazardly pushing sticks in underneath to jostle the precarious head rodent aloft—to squirt his defecations.

After arriving in downtown Seattle on the Amtrak, Tariq soon located one of the city’s prestigious law firms.  Dumont, Bach and Ratzler had a staff of over fifty practicing lawyers.  The programmer, low-status nobody that he was, wrangled an appointment with a junior partner.

“Good afternoon.”  Tariq Mahmud shook the woman’s decidedly cold and quite firm hand.  Lauren Smyth was a statuesque woman in her early to mid thirties.  Hazel eyes with bedroom lids gave her a sultry appearance, despite the chilly welcome.  Those eyes complemented her auburn hair that shrouded the left side of her face.  With her ‘Jessica Rabbit’ hairstyle and her mid-calf length red dress, she could’ve passed for a 1940’s pinup girl.

“What can Dumont, Bach and Ratzler do for you?”  Lauren’s icy voice didn’t jive with the warm appearance.  It was even colder than her quickly removed hand had been.

“The reverse may also be true.”  On her brusque cue, he skipped past the small talk as well.  “Your firm stands to make a lot of money from very little work.”  Tariq noted that on mention of the ‘M’ word, money, her eyes flared, especially because it was preceded by the ‘lot of’ adjective phrase.

“Do tell, Mr. Mahmud, you have my rapt interest.”  With an endearing smile, the scintillating redhead offered the man a seat on her divan.  With a sexy wiggle, she settled into a semi-facing chair.

Covert Mind Control Hypnosis

“Tariq,” she spoke his name so slowly that it seemed she was savoring the flavor of the vowels, “might I offer you,” she paused to consider what would suit his palate or the situation better, “a coffee?”

The Canadian programmer affirmatively nodded.  Was she offering just a hot beverage? Almost as a poorly dubbed movie, he felt her seductive look hadn’t been synched very well with her velvety sounding words.

“I’d also like to bring another lawyer in.  He has more expertise and frankly, I think your case merits more than one barrister.”  As she moved, her walk provocatively accentuated her female body features.  At the door, Lauren turned her head back sharply, flipping her hair over a shoulder.  “I won’t be but a moment.”

The door closed but the client continued to stare blankly at the wood-grain as if her curvatious form were still silhouetted against it.  From the courthouses to the courtyards, people are always humans and a subtle interplay between the opposite sexes invariably existed.  Tariq considered the stirring effect that nuances in her gestures had engendered in him.  She vacillated between hot and cold in the interview but Lauren certainly ended with her brazier set on sizzle.

“Does a finishing school teach a beautiful woman how to maximize the snaring effects they have?”  The Iranian-Canadian man took a breath and tried damning the sub-currents in his libido stream.  The redhead held appeal but with her fiery to frosty shifts, a tryst would risk scorching and frostbite.  “Ms. Smyth is more dangerous than the bear was.”  And perhaps a tryst with a client would be deemed as unethical for her too.

The programmer settled back into the settee to await the lawyer and soon, two of them arrived.  The man entered first, after having allowed the woman somewhat his junior to open the door for him.  Jonathon Dumont, according to the introduction, extended a hand that was lean to the verge of skeletal.  If my grip is too firm, I could crush his phalanges.  The two men performed the conventional business shake.  It feels like my hand is full of chalk sticks. The name is Dumont but he’s too young to be one of the founding partners in the well-established firm. Tariq concluded he must be of a second or even third generation down the line.

“I was told of your singularly unique situation.”  Jonathon’s voice was as a car salesman’s and his smile was overly gregarious.

“That description,” the programmer found Dumont’s use of a redundant qualifier on a superlative, as grating as hard chalk on a blackboard: so he mockingly shot another one back, “was minimally brief.”  If something is unique, then there is only a single and a brief is already minimal.

“Any brief against Wall Soft,” the male lawyer missed the slur and he chucked at his self-assumed clever retort, “will not be minimalist.”

“Bob’s corporation is an entity unto itself.”  Lauren interjected a trite phrase and her unnecessary verbiage demonstrated that she caught the barb that had bent on Dumont’s thickness.

“One point conceded.”  Tariq flashed the sharp lady lawyer a grin and then returned his eyes to the slightly bemused looking Jonathon.  He hasn’t figured out what the ‘point’ was for.  Dumont’s elevated position in the firm was obviously based on his family’s prestige, with a dash of seniority.

The new client’s mind went further to imagine a younger version of the skinny barrister taking an easy sponsored ride through law school and even purchasing exam answers.  In the present, the Dumont scion was less than impressive too.  His frail hand suggested that despite his trim appearance, Jonathon seldom lifted anything heavier than a pen.

“Frankly, a label like this proclaiming ownership is abundantly clear.”  After initial pleasantries, Jonathon waved at the monitor where the banner remained.  “It’s so irrefutable that you don’t need much legal work.”

“Tariq Mahmud has already impressed me to the firm knowledge that he isn’t to underestimated.”  Lauren Smyth reacted swiftly to loop a safety knot on the lucrative case Jonathon was on the cusp of throwing overboard.  She casually touched the male lawyer on the upper arm, then her fingernail traced lightly down his to his inner elbow. “Tariq is certain he wants our representation and he should have the very best that we can offer.”

Is body contact like that normal in an employment relationship or is there more? Instead of wondering why Jonathon was trying to blow off the case, the prospective client mused over a possible intimacy between the lawyers: might it be attributable to ladder climbing.  But, why would she display it here?  Or did she just use female wiles to convince Jonathon’s compliance while also evoking a competition between the males?

Once more, the programmer was reminded of the interesting woman’s hot and cold oscillations.  Jonathon was late thirty-something: his thinning black hair was frosted with splatters of grey.  It seems as burning charcoal briquettes with ash edges: did Lauren’s match set his coif alight?

“I’m willing to clear my personal schedule and devote myself utterly to you.”  Lauren targeted a warm boudoir gaze at the Iranian-Canadian man.  “Jonathon will ensure that additional expertise is available as required.”

“Uh.”  The male lawyer felt slightly left out of the conversation.  In one moment he had been unsure of how much work the firm could bill and in the next, a subordinate staffer was committing further resources.  “I don’t think this can be billed as fee-simple?”

“I’m willing to part with a percentage of my due royalties as my life insurance policy.”  Were he interviewing with Jonathon Dumont alone, Tariq surmised that he would’ve already walked out to continue his search.  But with Lauren Smyth as the spear’s tip, this portion of his plan could be productive and possibly even pleasurable.   “If I were to take this to Wall Soft Systems without some backup I suspect I would find myself chewing on bits of lead gum.”

“That’s a bit drastic to assume.”  Jonathon said.  “Business in America isn’t done with firearms anymore, even though our second constitutional amendment does allow it.  However, Dumont, Bach and Ratzler are happy to oblige in being your second for this duel.”

“I’m paying you be my primary gunfighters: not the alternate.”