Ch 936 - Video Game Theory

Debbie sat at the bar, staring at the nameless old man. He had sat right next to her and presented her with a card that didn't have his name on it. She turned it over in her hands, seeing only the address and phone number. She looked up at him.

"Do we have a deal?" he repeated, more urgently.

"Well," Debbie said meekly. "Thank you so much for the offer, Mister…" She trailed off, hoping he would fill in the blank and tell her his name.

"You don't have to accept right away," he assured her, standing up. He adjusted his jacket as he prepared to leave. "I understand you've had a rough few weeks. Take your time, think it over. However, the sooner you decide, the better."

With a wave, the mysterious old man made his way through the crowded bar and disappeared. Debbie sat at the bar, staring at the card. A low whistle sounded behind her. She turned to see a curly-haired bartender, arms folded on the bar top, watching the old man walk away. He turned his attention to her.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Sorry for eavesdropping," he said, standing. "But that was an easy conversation to get drawn into. You going to take the job?"

Debbie's eyes went straight to the bartender's badge.

"Look, Thomas," she said, reading the badge. "I appreciate your concern, but I'm in a really delicate place. I don't know if I can afford to start a new job immediately after a breakup."

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "I'd say that's the perfect time," he said, a glint in his eyes. "Fresh start, clean slate, and all that."

Debbie considered it. "Okay, good point, but I still have no idea who that guy is!" She held up the card. "Just an address and a phone number."

Thomas took the card and flipped it over. His eyes went wide.

"Whoa!" he said, looking up at her. "Did you see the name of the company?"

"Enrichment," she said, shrugging. "I've heard of them. Mostly real estate and investment. I'm familiar with their work."

Debbie knew a little more than she was letting on. Enrichment was a pretty modern company, as far as the investing industry was concerned, only operating for about thirty years. Founded by some wealthy up-and-comer of his day… who just happened to walk into this bar and offer Debbie a job on the spot.

"It's too good to be true," Debbie said, shrugging her shoulders. "People don't just walk into bars and offer strangers jobs. It's not the seventies anymore. Times have changed."

Thomas blinked slowly at her, then turned his eyes to the card.

"That may be," Thomas said, turning the card over in his fingers, "but can you imagine having a company like that on your resume?" He gave her a long, hard look. "Even if you're there for a month, that's all you need. A company that big recruiters are going to be flocking all over you think you'll be able to spill all kinds of dirt. They'll hire just so for the stories you can tell around the water cooler."

Debbie gritted her teeth and nodded along, wondering how much longer Thomas planned to go on about this.

"Thank you, Thomas," she said, cutting him off. "But, to be frank, I'd rather be hired on the basis of my skills and experience rather than the stories I can tell around the watercooler. Or any kind of dirt they want to hear."

Thomas grimaced, realizing he had gone a little too far.

"You're right," he said. "Sorry, I got a little excited. I've been pushing out my resume to places like this," he held up the card, displaying the company name, "for a while now. I haven't gotten very far as you can see." He swept his arms wide, gesturing to the bar.

"Oh," Debbie said, cringing. "Sorry, I didn't mean to imply anything. I just… like I said, I need a clean slate. And I don't know if jumping straight into a new job is the best way to do that."

Thomas handed her the card and looked her in the eye. "You have to take it," he said. "If not for the clean slate, for the money. One up your deadbeat ex by showing him what you're worth."

Debbie didn't have the heart to tell Thomas that her ex-boyfriend was the richest man in Baltimore.

Although, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she did deserve a change. Sure, it was the same job, but for a different company, and if that old man was offering triple pay…

"Thomas," she said, holding up the card. "Pour me another drink. I just landed the gig of a lifetime!"

*******

It was around midnight when Lincoln finally decided to call it a night. His office was beginning to look more and more like the board room in the bunker.

Today was good, he thought. Even if the Clifton girl doesn't take me up on my offer, I'm in her head. I can always "accidentally" bump into her again, sweet talk her a little bit more, and eventually she will come around. It's only a matter of time.

Lincoln dropped his briefcase on the floor and stretched his arms up over his head. Then, he doubled over in a fit of chest-wracking coughs. It went on for a solid few minutes. He reached for his handkerchief but came up empty-handed. He must have dropped it somewhere.

He stood up straight and looked around, seeing a heavy layer of dust settled over everything.

I should hire a cleaner, he thought, looking around the bunker. Just someone to sweep, dust, and maybe take out the garbage.

The bunker was rapidly becoming a mess. He had been blind to it until now. Stacks of papers were piled high, leaving a trail all the way to the board room. His kitchen was smaller than the one he had in his mansion. He had also made the difficult decision to leave his serving staff. He had told them he was going on an extended vacation, "Somewhere remote."

In hindsight, that had probably not been a good idea.

For weeks, it had just been him, although he was expecting some company soon. Sighing dejectedly, he neatened up the stacks of paper so that the place at least looked presentable.

[SFX: incoming text message]

Lincoln paused in his cleaning to check his watch. The display listed out a number, with a possible contact suggestion: Debbie Clifton.

Lincoln opened the message and scanned it. His lips curved upward into a slow grin as he read it in full.

"Hey, mysterious guy from the bar who offered me a job. This is Debbie. Debbie Clifton. After some consideration and talking it over with a couple of people, I've decided to go ahead and accept your offer. If you've seen my LinkedIn or other professional networks, I'm sure you've seen what I'm capable of! Thank you so much, you have no idea what you've done for me. I can't wait to start working with you! All the best, Debbie Clifton."

A second message came through.

"P.S. I'm sorry, but what was your name again? Your card just lists a number to contact you on, and the name of your company, Enrichment. I'd look it up online, but I would rather not invade a person's privacy like that. Debbie."

Lincoln responded: "Ah, hello Debbie! So good to hear from you, much sooner than I had expected. Of course, I'll forward your details to my human resources department right away. Keep an eye out for your contract, they're quite quick! Oh, and thank you for asking my name. I do prefer the personal touch. My name is Lincoln. Lincoln Ambrose."

As Lincoln pressed "send", he had a vague feeling that the Clifton girl might suddenly rescind her acceptance of the job offer. After all, he was the grandfather of her ex-boyfriend. It came as no surprise when a few minutes later, Debbie messaged him back. He was in the middle of dusting a set of cabinets when the incoming text message tone played. He resented using his watch to type, so he pulled his phone out of his bag.

"Well, it was nice to meet you. Do you mind if I ask: Ambrose? As in the Ambrose family?"

"Yes," Lincoln texted back. "I'm sure you're familiar with my grandson, Alex."

There was a tense pause as three dots appeared, then disappeared, then reappeared as Debbie responded. Finally, she messaged him:

"I'm sorry," she said. "Not that I'm uncomfortable, but I don't know how I feel about working with my ex's grandfather."

Damn it, Lincoln thought. Time to do some damage control.

"I completely understand," Lincoln wrote. "You do not need to feel obligated to accept my offer. You are a talented woman, and I do not hold your relationship with Alex against you in the slightest. I am simply looking for a person with your particular talents to assist me with running Enrichment. Nothing more, nothing less."

Lincoln resumed straightening up the bunker. About a half an hour later, Debbie sent one last message:

"I see," her message read. "I appreciate your honesty. On further reflection, I think I am quite comfortable working for you. As long as my previous relationship with your grandson won't interfere with our professional relationship."

"Glad to hear it!" Lincoln responded. "As before: keep an eye out for my HR department. We're eager to get you on board!"

That was a close one, Lincoln thought, putting his phone away.

He checked his watch. His guest, or guests, would be arriving within the hour.

At last that Clifton girl had finally come to her senses and taken the job. One of the late-night receptionists had come up to him earlier and informed him that she had called.

One part of the plan falls into place, he thought. He packed up his briefcase and was about to leave when his door swung open. The hallway lights had gone out, and there stood a figure in the darkness. The last time Lincoln had met his young friend in the bunker was only a few nights ago, when he had delivered Debbie Clifton.

Lincoln headed directly towards it, keeping his stride long and graceful.

"Ah, Naysmith," Lincoln called. "Good to see you again. I trust you're well?"

Riley stepped out of the shadowy hallway and into Lincoln's office, grinning wickedly.

"As good as ever," he said. "Mourning the loss of my tower, but I can build a new one."

"Still determined," said Lincoln. He set down his briefcase. "Well, come on then. We have some planning to do."

Lincoln closed the door, and in the late night hours, they plotted Alex Ambrose's demise.