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14:06 Friday 13 December 2069
The Businessman was sitting on the veranda of his tropical residence on his private island, sipping a frozen banana daiquiri and admiring the flora of his luscious garden, when Andrea, one of his personal assistants came running towards him, trailed by an out-of-breath man in a white lab-coat. The Businessman’s two o’clock daiquiri was a daily ritual never to be interrupted. It was sacrilege to do so. The fact that Andrea, who knew every personal whim and preference of the Businessman had taken it upon herself to interrupt the drinking of the cocktail was testament to the importance of what she had to say.
“Sir. This is Professor Lindquist. He has something very important to tell you.”
“It must be very important if it’s worth interrupting my afternoon’s indulgence. Let’s hear what you have to say, professor.”
Andrea nodded to Professor Lindquist and he opened his mouth to speak. It hung open for a few seconds and then closed again. The professor knew of the Businessman’s existence, he knew he lived on the island. He knew he worked for him. But he had never met him before. The Businessman was used to this reaction as it wasn’t the first time that it had happened.
“Stage fright?”
The professor nodded. The Businessman tried to dilute the professor’s nervousness.
“Take a few deep breaths.”
The professor took half a dozen deep breaths. The Businessman tilted his head.
“Better?”
“Yes thank you, sir.”
“Good. Well, now you’ve found your voice, how about telling me what’s so important?”
“A breakthrough, sir.”
“A breakthrough? What kind of breakthrough?”
“Sir. We’ve discovered an apparent correlation between Recarns and their birth circumstances.”
“Really? What correlation?”
“Well. It looks like being born on the calculated due date enhances the chance of you being born a Recarn. If you were already a Recarn in previous lives, that is.”
“Enhances to what extent?”
The professor knew that it would be foolhardy to suggest 100%, so he reduced the figure to 95%, which was still an inordinately high level of probability. He grimaced as he relayed the figure to the Businessman, who was now listening intently.
“95%? That’s pretty high, professor. You sure about that?”
“I’m sure, sir.”
“Thank you, professor. Thank you very much indeed. It was even worth interrupting my daiquiri for that news. In fact, you and Andrea should both take a seat and have a d with me.”
The professor didn’t actually like banana daiquiri but it wasn’t every day you got invited to have a drink with the Businessman, so he decided to grin and bear it. A chance like this would probably never arise again.
Cocktails drunk and a return to work beckoning, the Businessman asked Andrea to convene a special meeting of his advisory panel that evening at 18:00. There was a lot to talk about and there was a strategy to be decided in the light of the professor’s news.
The meeting that evening didn’t look like how one might imagine a high powered strategy meeting might appear. A group of twelve men and women (including the Businessman), dressed in casual wear. Very casual wear actually. It was still very warm, even though the sun was setting, and those present were dressed in what they had been dressed in during the day; a mixture of beach shorts, vests, bikinis and in one instance a naked chest. Some people may have considered this attire inappropriate for a discussion of such gravity as this would be, but this was how the Businessman liked to hold his meetings. It was important that his closest advisors should feel comfortable, and it was what was in their hearts and minds that was important, not what they were wearing. First names were the order of the day; all these men and women had been hand-picked by the Businessman and the confidence that he had in their confidentiality and trustworthiness was not misplaced. They would die rather than betray the cause of One Life, and this included fierce loyalty to the Businessman. Maurice probably didn’t realise what a small and elite group he was now a member of, having been given permission to use the Businessman’s first name back in September.
Chilled coconuts were sliced open and placed on the large patio table, drinking straws standing to attention whilst awaiting the arrival of the advisors. The Businessman leaned back in his executive beach-chair as the group arrived, standing up to greet his friends and colleagues.
“Wendy, Philip. Did you have a good afternoon?”
Wendy hugged the Businessman.
“Yes thank you, Douglas. We’re looking forward to hearing your news. Andrea didn’t tell us anything – of course – but we could sense a hint of excitement in her voice when she called us.”
“Yes. It’s very good news. Possibly the very best news we could ever have hoped for. Excuse me, the others have arrived. I’d best greet them.”
Wendy and her husband Philip sat down at the table as the other nine advisors arrived, all dressed as if they were going to a beach party. All except one, that is. The Businessman’s elderly father, Richard, was old school and insisted on wearing tropical whites; a white shirt, white flannel trousers and a white panama hat. He would have liked to wear a tie but conceded that that may be asking too much of himself as a ninety-four year old man in this tropical heat. He may have been approaching his century in years but his mind was as sharp as it had ever been, and he was surprisingly spritely too. He didn’t envy these youngsters having to contend with hot sunny days. His tropical whites were thermostatically controlled and, whatever the temperature was outside, he always felt comfortable.
The Businessman outlined what the professor had told him; that the research team believed that they had discovered a way to prevent Recarns from becoming Recarns. They would still be born, they would live normal lives, but without the baggage of previous life memories.
“So our immediate problem – if it is correct to call it a problem – is what we do with this information and, of course, how we go about putting into practice whatever we decide. I believe there are two things we must do. Firstly, we have to resolve the problem of Marcus Gallagher. Now, this should, of course, be a military resolution. He’s not exactly going to accept an invitation to hand himself in. And he has to be captured alive. There’s no point in going all gung-ho and killing him where he is – all that’ll do is set his soul free to take over another body and we won’t know who he’ll be or where he’ll be, for that matter. We need to capture him and contain him.”
Richard interjected.
“But isn’t that what this Marcus fellow did with the most recent Pindar, Douglas?”
“Yes, dad. That’s exactly what Marcus did. But now that we have this information, I have a much better idea.”