BOOK I: THE RED MEADOWS
ONE
HEART OF ICE - SOUL OF FIRE
I
She struggled to open her eyes. It wasn’t a dream she knew that. It felt as if her consciousness had been forced to produce images she could not understand. Were her eyes open now or not? She could see nothing but blackness- dark, terrifying darkness so complete that she felt it pressing down on her face like a heavy blanket. She fought down the panic that was rising inside her. She held out her hands to feel something, anything that would tell her where she was. There was nothing there.
Then came the flood of redness that blotted out the dark. She moaned in fear because she knew the visions that would follow-a rich green landscape, deceptively serene- so beautiful that she caught her breath. She felt herself flying effortlessly into the sky and she almost wept at the beauty of the earth. Her ecstasy was short-lived, though. Drops of blood began to stain the tips of the grass and gradually spread over the whole area, making it more horrible than any ugly concrete edifice.
Her ears caught a faint rhythmic clicking sound and the stamping of a thousand boots-soldiers! They appeared from nowhere, flattening the blades of grass. Soldiers that were already dead, returning to haunt the battlefield where they had been slaughtered, they faded away like ghosts. Then darkness fell and there was an eerie quietness that was chillier than the marching of the soldiers. She felt herself propelled towards a light and suddenly she was in a bare empty room. There was only a small table with a file on it. The file was closed and the words Red Meadows were barely visible to her. There was no one there, no one to stop her as she approached the table but some deep inner dread warned her not to open the file-if she did, her life would never ever be the same again.
Boston, USA
Her eyes blinked and she felt a cool breeze tickle HER skin. She was leaning dangerously over the edge of the balcony. Down below, the street looked tiny, 30 floors away…
What the …? SHIT! Sonja quickly pulled herself back. Oh no, not again! What’s wrong with me? She knew this wasn’t good. The last thing she remembered was talking with Remone on the phone. She was so pissed off with him for standing her up… again. Then she blacked out.
Remone’s been away for too long, that’s what it is. She flushed with anger and quickly brushed a tear from her eye. Alright, I know we’re not Romeo and Juliet at the moment, but can’t he at least pretend? I think I deserve a bit more love and understanding don’t I?
Sonja stepped forward and took a look at the city of Boston. There, life was carrying on as it always did. She relaxed a bit. There was nothing of interest beyond the pale glare of the late afternoon sun and the constant hum of a busy metropolis. The slim young woman in her mid-twenties with long red hair and bright green eyes was Sonja O'Shea, the daughter of Irish-American Jason O'Shea, owner of the meanest software corporation in the USA, E-Venue Industries Corp. She had always been the centre of attention amongst her father’s associates, with her fiery impatience and zest for life. But now she was troubled.
Am I beginning to lose it? No, the voice inside whispered unless you have crossed over and joined those your mother died fighting. That would be so bitchy of you!
Things were getting worse. The black outs and the weird visions were more frequent than ever. So were her sudden flashes of anger. She wondered whether a specialist might do any good. Oh well.
I’m the daughter of a Mega- Corporation Chairman. I’ve got nothing to do with the people down there on the street. Strange, I keep thinking how things might be if my father was just another E-Venue employee. He always says of course life isn’t like that. He says the “O'Shea family belongs to the small exclusive caste of society that has the privilege of never getting caught up in the ordinary pace of life”. Sonja threw up her arms in frustration. But what if I do need a little extra thrill in my life, dad? I’m like a prisoner in here, a damn nun or something! I can never go out without a bodyguard for security. Can’t ever take the initiative in my life. Bring me some adventure! I want the adrenaline to pump my body, to burn off some calories of boredom!
‘ So, Remone won’t be here this weekend. I guess something urgent has come up. Again. Yeah right! What now? Am I to be the good little girl who sits tight and waits? No way! This isn’t the first time he’s done this to me.’
Remone was her fiancé. Italian in origin, from Milan originally. The Acciagguoli family were devout business-oriented Catholics. Remone’s father owned a successful subsidiary Japanese company that sold home-cinema appliances and computers. And now Remone had come to Boston to study business management and economics in order to take over his father’s company.
Apart from studying abroad, Remone also worked as a part-time accountant for his Uncle Mattzzio in New York. Doctor Mattzzio was a lonely and eccentric man, who was incredibly rich. No wonder, since he was the President of the dominant Med-Geno Pharmaceutical Industries, which was spread all over the USA, some parts of Canada and even, more recently, Mexico. The Corporation’s HQs were in New York, and Remone had to spend most of his free time there, learning the art of balancing incomes and taxes. Beyond that, Sonja didn’t know a lot about Remone. His tight schedule meant that they hardly ever met. Perhaps she wasn’t interesting enough for him anymore and he was kind of avoiding her. That thought alone terrified her.
‘He won’t call back, I know he won’t,’ she thought aloud. And after a minute or so of complete silence Sonja suddenly grabbed her coat and left the apartment, slamming the door. An alert bodyguard fell into line behind her Soon Sonja’s steps led them near the Charles River bank. Still her thoughts raced at the speed of light. The past was always there too, and it reminded her of the night when love was a joke for aliens…
II
Sonja went back now, to the evening when Remone had joined them for dinner over a fortnight ago:
‘This is really cool!’ That’s what Remone said the moment he walked in. Well, I have to admit, my dad’s house in New York is real slick for a candlelit dinner. There are tapestries all over the place, very old stuff. The food was great too, American and Italian specialties served on porcelain. Remone was impressed. But I was real frosty! I felt bad, too. I was nothing more than my dad’s merchandise being sold to his rich clients! Naturally, I didn’t want to mess it up. I do like Remone but he feels cold and distant at times, caught up in his own dreams. Am I his convenience? Sonja remembered some more now, the way her father and Remone had studied each other, the aged American corporate warrior facing the young hawk from Europe. They’d met before of course. Remone was the middleman that had brought Jason and Dr. Mattzzio together. The two men were now allies and worked very close on various projects.
‘Remone, I’ve known you for what, several months now, right? And now all of a sudden, here I am giving away my precious girl. My job as CEO is very demanding, but even so I still find time to be with her. I love Sonja more than my life, and I will do anything to make her happy and protect her from evil. Are you worthy of my daughter, young man?’ Remone drank some wine and tried to avoid Jason’s challenging words. He looked at Sonja but she said nothing. She sat very still and did her best to ignore the increasing discomfort she was feeling. The young Italian finally met the old man’s penetrating stare and held it for several moments. Jason watched them silently and nodded as if this was the answer he’d been looking for. He turned to Sonja.
‘Don’t think I haven’t studied his credentials, honey. I admit I’m impressed. His performance so far at Boston College and business engagements close to his uncle in New York are outstanding. The Med-Geno investors and clients have reasons to be grateful, which is to Remone’s benefit of course. Not to mention that he persuaded me to do business with his uncle.’
‘Mr. O'Shea, please. I’m just an office employee, a cog in the greater machine, nothing more.’
‘That you may be, yet thanks to you, Dr. Mattzzio escaped a financial scandal that would have ruined his reputation. I recall that a senior member of the Boston branch was exposed and charged with embezzlement. You saved your uncle’s career and that’s pretty amazing!’ Somewhat embarrassed, Remone raised both hands as if in disavowal. Sonja, tense and distant from them both, drank wine quietly. But something was wrong with her. She was burning from within like a furnace, with a fire she could hardly control. She drank some more but it made things worse.
‘…Thank you very much, sir. I’m proud to have a girl like Sonja by my side tonight. I love her very much, she’s my queen. And you sir, I must confess you’re my mentor in life. The name Jason O'Shea has celebrity status amongst my fellow students.’
‘Well, you must know that my company’s shares have lost much of their value’ Jason cut in. ‘I am just an old grizzly, surrounded by hungry corporate wolves who’re after my hide’ he added grumpily. But Remone didn’t lose heart. Sonja saw his dark Mediterranean face light up. She found herself both attracted and terrified by her lover’s ambition. He never stopped dreaming about everything. It was a part of him she could never hope to understand.
‘Mr. O'Shea, I just can’t believe that the bunch of misfits you call competitors could ever be a threat! You want my opinion? I think it’s only a matter of time before E-Venue Industries rises once again to be the dominant software industry in the States, Europe and Asia. Yes, there were glitches back in the depression a few years ago, but the market is out there, Mr. O'Shea. They’re always hungry for new reliable software.’ Jason didn’t challenge Remone’s utopianisms. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, lit a cigar and offered one to Remone. Sonja said nothing and sipped her wine. Her face was growing paler. A nano-second more of this techno-babble junk and she would lose it completely. She felt completely out of the picture. As she listened to the two men, their false rationality, two king-machines ruling a world of machines, Sonja understood what her dead mother had faced all her life; iron walls and no hope for salvation.
‘Your optimism is kicked into high gear, young man. You remind me of myself when I was your age. Lots of adrenaline and no sense. Then again, things worked out quite well. Perhaps they will do so for you.’ Jason rose from his seat. His face was stern but Sonja knew contentment when she saw it.
‘A toast to the memory of this night.’ He lifted his crystal glass and we followed suit. ‘Here is to a life of joys. May you two prosper together and may God Almighty bless this union with plenty of descendants and… dollars!’
III
Sonja was sick of her pre-arranged, custom-made life, the sterile solitude behind a bullet proof glass. She was angry at the whole world. Everybody thought that being the daughter of a multi-millionaire was a gift from heaven! But nobody ever thought just how difficult it really was to be in the spotlight all the time. Technology and the media benefited her father but scared the hell out of her. In many ways, Sonja was like her mother.
Miranda O'Shea had been a study of contradictions. Beautiful, fiery and dynamic, Miranda had never taken her place as the honourable wife of a successful corporate leader. She never wore expensive clothes or jewellery. She donated money wherever she could and openly condemned the rise of the corporate age in America and elsewhere. She avoided cameras and was a bit of a dark horse to her fellow-elite cast. But Miranda had secrets from her family. She was an activist, leading member of an anti-globalization movement. She covered her face with black hoods and took part in protests and even violent clashes with the police. When Miranda married Jason she hoped to reform him but all she gained was her own death. Sonja and her father had found the injured woman at a clinic. She was in a coma, head split open by riot police. After she had died, Jason had hidden the truth from the media. Cancer, not injury had killed Miranda.
The traditional O'Shea discipline had never been a shining beacon in Sonja’s mind though business and money had been part of her family’s bloodline ever since the first O'Shea set foot on American soil about a hundred years ago. Not once had that tradition been broken. And yet Sonja was disgusted by it. She couldn’t help it. Harvard was what she wanted, but not economics or business administration. She saw herself as a humanitarian, not a greedy capitalist. She hated the thought of using others to build up a massive fortune. And so, Linguistics. Her father had grumbled a lot at first, and then grumbled some more. Nope, Sonja’s mind was made up. Learning about other cultures suited her fine. But that still didn’t bring complete freedom. There were times when Sonja burned with the desire for anarchy in her life and to simply let go of everything. Her father was a problem. He kept a close watch on her and that was frustrating enough. She felt she couldn’t breathe and in the prison as she liked to call her costly apartment, she would sometimes cry.
And so her life dragged on but Sonja never lost track of the everyday world. True, she already knew of humanity’s latest craze for self-destruction. Word was out on all the major news networks that a super intelligent malignant computer virus had struck a university somewhere in England. Such news never said much but this hack had grown into a serious terrorist threat. The Black Talon, as the bug was known, had jacked into the computer matrix that monitored the delicate stability and temperature of hazardous chemical compounds. The experiment, set up by an association of chemistry departments from all over the country was no laughing matter. It had cost too much. Besides, the worst of it was that the underground facility was a potential powder cake.
Sonja wondered who had the guts to engineer such an agent of destruction. One single mistake and the Talon would trigger a chemical bomb, able to bury hundreds of students and turn most of central campus into an asteroid crater. The Talon also monitored the local CCTV network. No students or staff were being allowed to leave the area unless instructed to do so. Freeze or else… Sonja shivered.
‘…and the whole thing is just so freaky! I mean I do feel for those hostages but shit like that never happens here in Boston. So, we – all – bored here!’ That was Nancy Pollanski, Sonja’s fellow Linguist at Harvard. She was incredibly beautiful with long chestnut hair and blue eyes. She was also rich and spoiled to death by her daddy, Andrei Pollanski, owner of E-Trust Systems Inc. He was Jason’s archenemy and for many years, the two corporations had bashed each other’s heads in a war with no end. But that didn’t stop the two girls from hanging out together. It was already Wednesday evening when the two of them met at Ritchie’s Café, the Harvard students’ popular hangout.
‘Don’t be mean, girl,’ said Sonja. ‘So many people are at this moment praying to be allowed to live! You don’t know what that’s like.’ Nancy shrugged and laughed. She sipped some coffee but her movements with the cup were a bit jerky. Sonja frowned.
Oh my god, even now she’s drunk. Damn it, that girl is never sober. I hope I don’t end up like her! Nancy put the cup back on the table and her hands trembled. She gave Sonja a ‘please-don’t-start-now’ kinda look and leaned back on her seat. She studied Sonja’s troubled face for a moment longer, then drawled out the words.
‘Why don’t you break up with him, girl?’
‘Say that again?’ Sonja asked as if stunned.
‘You heard me.’ Then more softly. ‘Come on Sonja, I’ve known you for like, two years. I’m not sober now but you don’t look happy to me girl. You’ve been like this for a month. What’s with the black mood?’ Sonja tried to force a smile.
‘You watch too many DVDs, that’s what your problem is. I’m fine, just a bit tired…’
‘Bullshit! You sound just like a guy who’s too chicken to go to bed with me. Say it. You’re not happy with him. What’s the deal with the guy anyway?’ Sonja shook her head. For an alcoholic, Nancy had a nack for spotting troubled relationships. No wonder, she kept changing boyfriends like shoes. But how could she explain it to her? That Sonja was honouring her dead mother’s mission in life? Or perhaps that Remone was a carbon copy of her father at a younger age. History repeated itself and as Sonja saw it, she was sacrificing her life and happiness for a greater cause. How could Sonja even begin to talk about the link she shared with Miranda beyond the grave? Nope, better to lie.
‘You’re so full of crap!’ she retorted jokingly. ‘I bet you want Remone for yourself.’ Nancy took the cup again and rolled her eyes up. Whatever…
‘Listen to me Sonja! Sometimes it’s better to be a cold fish. Works fine with me. After a while you feel nothing. Simple as that. Kinda hides the corruption lying under the fine skin of a man if you know what I’m saying!’
IV
‘Hello? Sonja?’ Remone’s voice echoed out cautiously on the phone. ‘Honey, is it you?’
This time, Sonja couldn’t stay silent.
‘Explain! I’ll give you a couple of minutes. Then I’m hanging up.’
The voice sighed in response.
‘Look, I’m so sorry I didn’t call you earlier but we’ve been real busy here, sweetie. There wasn’t time.’
Sonja laughed bitterly.
‘And why didn’t you send a message, have somebody contact me, anything at all! You dumped me just like that, ‘cause you were busy!’ Remone tried to cut in.
‘Sonja, please…’
‘No, it’s all right, it’s fine! I’ll survive. I’ve been doing that for the last couple of weeks anyway! See you around, love of my life!’ She jabbed the end call button and threw her cell phone down on the bed where she was sitting cross-legged in her apartment. Outside, the late night stars burned brightly like the eyes of an intruding giant. Sonja felt a consuming loneliness and the bile inside her rose. But there was something else she was feeling- a fire of a different sort that flared up whenever she was angry or sad. It was a primitive feeling of pure rage, one she could not explain. What would happen if she simply let go? A sexy pop melody suddenly caught her attention. Remone. That was his call tune. She let it ring for a few seconds then picked it up. She said nothing.
‘Sonja, I’m such a jerk. I feel real bad. I love you. I couldn’t hurt you even if I wanted to. Will you forgive me?’ Still silence from Sonja. He continued.
‘There’s something I need to tell you. But before that, you’ve got to calm down. It won’t do us any good if you keep getting massively pissed. We’re engaged, remember?’ Sonja tried to scream at him but it was impossible. Her eyes burned and her mouth was dry like an empty well.
You’re so lucky to be in New York, she thought murderously. But she did hear him speak. He was coming to Boston in a few days to see her. They would spend some time together. Her throat cleared up. She had an answer ready for him.
‘You’d better put your money where your mouth is, mister or by God I’ll tell your parents and call the whole thing off.’ Remone gasped in response. She didn’t stop. ‘It’s time you grew up and faced your responsibilities. You have to decide what’s best for you honey, me or your work!’
‘Sonja, this is not the time for big talk. I’ve made a mistake, I know, but we’ve been doing very important work here. It’s something big and your father’s in it too. I promise it’ll be over very soon. Then I’m coming over. I’ll be off for a week or more, my uncle said so.’ The words rushed out quickly. He was terribly nervous.
‘What’s so important you couldn’t call me? You’ve got my father tied up in this too? What’s going on there anyway?’ Remone tried to ease things up.
‘Princess, I love you but never ask me these things. You know I’m not supposed to tell.’ Sonja closed her eyes and nodded wearily.
‘Well keep your secrets and we’ll talk again soon. I’m going to bed.’
‘Sonja…’ She hung up.
The darkness enveloped her as she lay down. But even now Sonja failed to find peace and fear for the future remained. Perhaps Nancy was right. Indifference might help a little but how could your heart be like ice when your soul was a lake of fire?
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