There was a discreet knock at the door, and a dark-haired young man entered, rolling a tea cart in front of him. “Per your request, Mr. Galanos,” he said, his Hispanic accent almost musical in tone.
“Excellent, Jamie, thank you,” Nick said, and then he turned to Sean. “I hope you don’t mind, but I sent for tea. I thought perhaps you might have missed it during your imprisonment.”
Sean nodded. “Thank you, yes, I did,” he said, grateful for Nick’s consideration. He waited while Jamie set up the tea service, then at Nick’s gesture of invitation, Sean poured the tea from a big silver pot into delicate floral china cups. He passed one to Nick and added a small amount of cream to his own before taking a sip, then giving a soft hum of pleasure. “Delicious.”
“I do enjoy a few luxuries,” Nick replied, leaning back against the leather and sipping his own tea.
Sean regarded him over the rim of his cup, then lowered it and raised a brow. “As pleasant as this is, I assume you didn’t ask me here to share a cup of tea.” He was trying to contain his curiosity about what one of the richest men in the world had to do with Mansur Al Faisal, private armies, and Bash and his abilities.
“Of course,” Nick replied. He took another sip of his tea, then put the cup back onto the tray. “You’re in a rather unique position, aren’t you?”
Sean was surprised by the question, but he considered it for a moment. “I suppose so, but I haven’t thought about it much. I didn’t even know who my grandfather was until I was in my early teens, and only then because of the wars going on in the region. My father was quite upset when his favorite uncle, Hakim, was killed in a suicide bombing. I was starting at university about then, and Father decided it was time to explain the truth about who he was and where we’d come from. To say I was surprised is putting it mildly. I’d never thought him any different from the other Middle Eastern immigrants in England, who’d left everything behind because of how dangerous the region had become. I was so young when we left, I have no memories of it.”
“So you lived your life for many years as any ordinary, upper class citizen of England,” Nick observed. “Not knowing you are really a prince.”
“But I’m not,” Sean objected. He put his teacup down. “I’m a doctor, and there isn’t any way I’d ever become king! It’s just an accident of birth. Nothing more than a technicality.”
“Far from it.” Nick shook his head. “I was very curious when Mansur told me that Bash had escaped and had taken you with him, so I had my people do a bit of research about it. You’re not simply a prince, Sean. You are theCrown Prince, the presumptive heir. By the laws of Akkadia, they cannot easily set you aside.” Sean started to protest, but Nick held up one hand. “I wish to impress the seriousness of the situation upon you. Yes, I know you are a secular Moslem and a legal citizen of England through your mother. More than that, I understand your sexual preference, were it known, would be legally punishable by death in Akkadia if you acted upon it.”
Sean frowned. “I’ve acted upon it in the past, and I have no intention ofnotacting upon it in the future,” he snapped, feeling as though Nick was making a judgment. “I make no apologies for being gay. I’m not ashamed of it, and I’d rather be true to myself than be the prince of anything.”
“I’d expect no less of someone whom Bash holds in such high regard, even upon short acquaintance,” Nick replied, and, startled, Sean shot him a quizzical look. “I’ve known Bash since he was a child, and I’m well aware he shares your preference — and that he’s attracted to you, too. But more than that, your courage and fortitude impressed him during the escape. Believe me, Sebastian is not easily impressed by anyone. That is why I wished to speak with you. To explain about Fortress, and see if you might join us.”
This was what Sean had been waiting for — even hoping for — and he leaned forward to refill his cup with the fragrant tea. Then he sat back. “I’m listening,” he said. “I have a feeling it will be an interesting story.”
“It is what it is,” Nick said. “I was born, as were you, into wealth and privilege, although Greece was in a period of turmoil, not unlike what Akkadia is facing. My father could see that the regime of King Constantine wasn’t likely to remain, and he moved most of his financial interests offshore to Cyprus and Italy. I spent much of my childhood traveling between the three countries, and I apprenticed in the Italian merchant marine, which led to even wider travels. My father had always called me a dreamer, and I suppose I was, but I was also pragmatic. You and I have a bit in common in that way.”
Sean smiled slightly. “Perhaps so. I have dreams, but I realize it will take hard work to achieve them.”
Nick nodded. “When my father died and I inherited the company, I used my knowledge of shipping and business, added to my ability to envision something even larger, to take Galanos Oil from a multi-million-dollar petroleum company to a shipping empire worth billions. As it had never been a publicly held corporation, I was the sole owner and the one who issued all the orders. It is a sobering responsibility, you know, to have so much money and power. To know I could buy and sell people if I wished or undermine nations… I am not ashamed to admit it was overwhelming the first time I realized I could harm the economies of many large nations and all but destroy some of the smaller ones simply by putting my ships in port and refusing to transport anything at all.”
That was a surprise, and Sean looked at Nick, astonished. “Really?”
“People have no idea how much the economy of the world relies on the transportation of goods,” Nick said. “Nor how much of the economy of many nations depends on the things they grow or make getting to the markets where they are purchased. More and more those markets are not only in a different country, but on a different continent. I didn’t realize it myself, not consciously, until I had bought up so many of the smaller companies in a variety of countries, and my head accountant pointed out that just over fifty percent of the world’s goods transported by sea travel at least part of the distance on one of my ships. At that point, oil was less than twenty percent of what my ships were moving, and it’s even less now.”
Sean could only stare. “How is that possible? Wouldn’t someone have noticed and protested?” The thought of so much power resting in the hands of a single person was somewhat alarming.
“I don’t think there is anyone keeping track at that broad a level,” Nick replied. “After all, not all the ships bear the Galanos name, and we are talking thousands of ships throughout the world. When I bought the companies, I left them pretty much intact, and while the subsidiaries in various countries are all owned by me, they are still operated locally.” He shook his head. “I don’t own the goods, you understand. I don’t have much of any capital tied up in manufacturing or in growing anything. I simply move it, and I think that is how the scale of expansion escaped notice, even by me. I do own a few passenger vessels, but for the most part, people ignore the transportation of goods, content for them to appear when desired. Then one day, not long after I knew how much depended on me, I looked outside, watching a storm roll in from across the ocean. The storm originated hundreds of miles away, blowing unnoticed across vast expanses of water, touching a few islands, perhaps, but keeping its power until it landed and spent its fury against a shore far from its birth. That’s when I knew what I had to do. That day, twenty years ago, was when I realized that every person in the world is a storm waiting to happen. You cannot stop a storm, Sean, because you cannot see the moment it comes into being, and you cannot accurately predict or control the forces which spawn it. But what you can do — what I do — is to protect the people in its path.”
Nick rose to his feet and gestured in invitation. “Come, Sean. I will show you my Fortress.”
11
Sean wasn’t quite certain what he’d expected Nick to show him. Perhaps ranks of troops training or maybe a storehouse of weapons that could wipe out a city. But he’d never imagined the cool, dimly lit room Nick led him through, nor the row upon row of softly humming computer banks within. All of this was only a short distance below Nick’s richly appointed office, reached by an elevator so well hidden in a paneled hallway wall that Sean would have walked right past it if Nick hadn’t stopped him.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Sean murmured, looking down the rows as they passed. He counted thirty of them, but it was impossible to tell how far back the rows went, lost in the dimness. “It’s like something from a science fiction movie.”
“Not quite.” Nick smiled slightly. “There was a line from a Greek playwright, the only surviving line of his life’s masterwork. ‘Fighting men are the city’s fortress.’ I remembered those words from the moment I heard them, and they guided me in what I wished to do.” He gestured at the computers. “These are the eyes and ears of Fortress, the information from which we make decisions.”
They reached the end of the computer room, and Nick entered a code on a pad next to an imposing steel door. A light flashed green, and Nick opened it, gesturing for Sean to precede him.
Within was a command center; that was the only term Sean could think of which fit. It reminded him of a tour he’d taken of NASA in Houston, Texas years before, when he’d seen the Mission Control room where all the space agency’s launches were monitored. Only this was larger, and the equipment was, to Sean’s inexperienced eye, state-of-the-art. There were at least fifty people in the room, arrayed among long semi-circles of workstations, each of them with several monitors and keyboards. The far wall consisted of multiple large flat-screens displaying television stations, weather reports, stock quotes, and a variety of other graphics, many of which he couldn’t interpret.
“This is the brain of the organization. The people in this room are among the finest analysts in the world, with specialties ranging from finance to law to military operations, among many others.” There was a distinct note of pride in Nick’s voice. “It is their job to identify incidents where we can make a difference, situations where we can potentially eliminate problems before they happen.”
“But you have more, don’t you?” Sean said. He was starting to understand why Bash had been so secretive about all this. “You have sources, too. Like Mansur. Sources feeding you information directly.”
“We do.” Nick nodded, and Sean thought the look Nick gave him held respect. “Some people work for me and are in problematic areas, observing and providing reports. Others are people we have assisted in the past, who were made privy to certain details about Fortress, and they call upon us when situations arise where we can help. Mansur is one such person, but he is far from the only one. Sometimes help involves financing, building a hospital or a school, providing clean water, perhaps arranging for monitoring of an election. Sometimes… not.”
