“We have an agreement. We’ve had it for fifty years. The people give Schultzcorp capital, and Schultzcorp gives them Tomorrow.”
The office of Benjamin Schultz took up what Lamont estimated to be a quarter of the tower’s top floor. It was designed to invoke awe. The vaulted ceiling, easily thirty feet overhead, was supported by four columns of black marble, emerging from a polished floor of the same material. The far end of the office was a glass wall that commanded a view of the Martian horizon. Set against it was a large, heavy-looking desk with a high-backed chair. There were no other furnishings of any kind in the space. The only decoration that Lamont could see was an impressively sized painted portrait that hung above the wide door through which they had been admitted. Lamont recognized the subject easily by his monocle and grey mutton chops: Abraham Schultz, founder of Schultzcorp and Benjamin’s grandfather.
The window provided the room’s only illumination. Unfiltered, the Martian sunlight poured into the room with harsh brilliance, casting long shadows of the desk and columns across the reflective surface of the floor. It had the effect, doubtless intentional, of reducing the figure of Benjamin Schultz to a silhouette. From where he stood behind the desk, little could be seen of his features. Lamont, squinting against the light, perceived that he was stocky and slightly below-average in height. His clothes were square-cut and appeared to be made of denim.
Carter’s easy confidence seemed to fall away as they entered the intimidating space, demonstrated by the fact that he stopped in the center of the large room, with a good twenty feet still between himself and the desk. Since there were no seats, he remained standing in place, his hands folded in front of him, with Lamont standing uneasily at his side. Respectfully, they waited for Benjamin to speak first.
“Francis,” He greeted the astronaut with easy familiarity. His accent was solidly American, which was to be expected if he was raised in the city his grandfather had founded. “I understand you were vacationing in Hellas.”
“Hi, Ben. That’s where I came across Mr. Townsend.” He gestured toward the newspaperman. “He was being menaced by a suspicious group of men, but that’s not why I brought him here. He’s managed to put--”
Schultz interrupted. “You came looking for Francis?”
The question was clearly directed toward Lamont, who replied: “I happened upon him by accident. My purpose for visiting Hellas was to confirm the suspicion that my phone calls to Earth were being intercepted.”
“But the reason you came to Mars was to look for him,” Schultz pressed.
“Not exactly,” Lamont clarified. “I was following a trail of evidence that began with documents relating to Carter’s second visit to Mars.”
“Documents obtained illegally from United Space’s private corporate records,” Schultz pointed out.
Francis looked at Lamont, an uneasy expression passing over his normally stoic features. Lamont wondered if he could credit the astronaut with a sense of regret that he had apparently walked his new acquaintance into a trap.
Lamont found that his initial sense of awe was being overtaken by his distaste for intimidation. Feeling the simultaneous need to calm and assert himself, he pulled the cigarette case and lighter from his pocket and placed a cigarette between his lips.
“That’s none of your business,” He said.
“By definition, it is my business.” Benjamin insisted. “I happen to know that your time in Mars has been spent publishing articles intended to undermine the public’s trust in United Space. Articles you dictated over our communication services while staying in a city that we built.”
“Not much of a choice, is there?” Lamont countered, lighting his cigarette. “You’re confusing trust with simple dependence.”
“But they trust you, don’t they?” Benjamin’s tone was patronizing.
Lamont shrugged, exhaling a puff of smoke.
There was a long and awkward moment of silence in which Schultz turned toward the glass wall, looking out at the smokestack beyond.
“That trust is something you—we—need,” Carter ventured after quietly clearing his throat. “Mr. Townsend’s investigation has uncovered much of what we plan to unveil to the public in the coming months. There are going to be...” He paused, considering his words.
Lamont finished his thought. “There are going to be questions as to whether the level of secrecy your company has maintained for the past 30 years was warranted.”
“We have an agreement,” Benjamin said. “We’ve had it for fifty years. The people give Schultzcorp capital, and Schultzcorp gives them Tomorrow. We’ve introduced new technologies before.”
“Nothing like this,” Carter insisted. “Not even Mars.”
“What are you suggesting?” Schultz asked, turning to face them again.
Lamont made his play. “Bring me in,” He said. “Tell me everything. People pay attention to what I write. If what you’ve been working on all this time is really for the benefit of mankind, then what I write about it needn’t be an exposé.”
Benjamin laughed, a humorless bark. “If your adoring public heard you right now, that trust wouldn’t be worth the ashes you’re smearing on my floor.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Lamont growled indignantly. “I ain’t offering to spin anything. I’ll make my own judgments. My offer…” And here he plucked the cigarette from between his lips and pointed at Benjamin with the two fingers in which it was cradled, “...Is to give you a chance to make your case.”
Schultz paused, disappearing into the chair behind his desk as he gave the proposal a few moments’ thought.
“Well,” He finally said, swiveling the chair back toward the window with an audible sigh. “I suppose you’re going to want to see the damned Martian.”
End of Hollow World
Next: A Portrait of Prophecy - The first installment of With What Strange Eyes?