Charlotte Boyett-Compo- WIND VERSE- Hunger's Harmattan by Unknown (best management books of all time TXT) 📗

He took his job seriously andto have anyone question the way he did it was to incur Strom’s wrath.

“You can tell that ass-wipe that if I’dheard something from Iphito, I would have already informed him!” the generalyelled at the calm face of his secretary on the vid-com. He flicked off thereceiver then flicked it back on just as quickly. “And tell him to stop callingthis office every time the wind shifts direction. I am sick of it!” Once morehe turned off the vid-com.

Drumming his fingers angrily on the desk,Strom reached over and turned the vid-com back on. “Get me…”

“The arch-counselor is on the line, Sir,”Miriam said, and her face changed to that of a diminutive one that was creasedwith humor.

“Is that bad little vice-counselor annoyingyou, Max?” Arch-Counselor Euphrates inquired. He was what was politely termed alittle person but there was nothing small about the man’s broad grin or histwinkling green eyes. His stubby little fingers were steepled together andloaded down with a fortune in jeweled rings on each one.

“If he doesn’t get the fuck off my back,I’m going to flush him down the loo with yesterday’s turds!”

The arch-counselor winced then laughed.“Please tell me you flush your loo more often than that, Max.”

“It isn’t funny, Sebastian!” the generalsnapped.

“No and very unsanitary, I should think,”the arch-counselor agreed. “Not to mention malodorous.”

Strom growled as he flopped back in hischair. “I hate that little prick anyway.”

“You and eighty percent of the Conclave,”the arch-counselor stated with a heartfelt sigh.

Narrowing his eyes, the general ground histeeth. “I could get rid of him for you.”

“Let me think about that for a while,” thearch-counselor said. “So is there any news about Lieutenant Harmattan then?”

“We know he’s there but until the shipreturns to Theristes, we won’t know if he’ll come home with our Guardian.”

“I knew his father of course,” thearch-counselor said. “Good man, although a bit too stern for my tastes. I heardhe was very rough on his eldest.”

“I’ve heard that too,” Strom said. “If Iwere Ailyn Harmattan, I wouldn’t want to return to Riezell. What is there forhim here?”

“An inheritance worth more than that of theSupreme Legare’s.”

“I’m sure he knows that and doesn’t give aDiabolusian rat’s ass about it,” the general commented. “Money is worthless onTheristes.”

“Umm,” the arch-counselor drawled, strokinghis small little chin. “Perhaps we could get him to donate the monies to theConclave treasury.”

“That would surely kill the old bat Jostshackled himself to,” Strom said with a snort.

“Milady Jost wants a fledgling, Max, notthe money, although if money could buy her a revenant worm on the black market,she’d have been shopping there long before now.”

“I imagine the day will come when someenterprising bastard convinces a Reaper to let him harvest a few hellions tobreed. A fortune could be made and lives endangered,” the general said, and hisface showed his unease with such a notion.

“The Conclave has already thought of thatand we’re pushing through legislation to make it illegal before someone doesindeed try it. We’ll be assigning the death penalty to such a crime so perhapsthat will deter the less enthusiastic mobsters.”

“Hopefully the general public hasn’t heardabout what was done on R-9 but the news is bound to leak out eventually. It’sbest to be prepared.”

“And we will be,” the arch-counselorassured him. “So other than to complain about Jost being a pain in your ass,was there another reason you wished to annoy me?”

General Strom smiled. The two men had beenvery good friends for a long time and Strom knew he directly owed his presentpromotion to head of Command Central to the arch-counselor. “Can’t I just callto rattle your cage now and then, Bas?”

“You assume I have nothing better to dowith my time than sit here and wait for you to interrupt me,” the little mangrumbled. “I—unlike you—have a life, you know.”

“And how is the lady arch-counselor?”

Sebastian Euphrates rolled his eyes.“Speaking of pains in the ass! Pregnancy has not made Trini glow. It has madeher puke and given her copious heartburn. It has not made her maternal. It hasmade her a veritable harpy! Her constant demands keep me scuttling back andforth between the bed and the duplicator with such odd things as kumquats andglazed fried cakes and Serenian potted meat.” The arch-counselor grimaced.“Potted meat, Maximillian. Potted meat!”

“It’s not so bad on bread with a littleGearmánach mustard,” the general told him.

“She sticks her finger in it and laps it upas though it is honey!”

“Poor Sebastian. It will all be worth itwhen the little one arrives. You’ll see.”

The arch-counselor heaved a sigh biggerthan himself. “I suppose.” He shrugged. “Best let Jost live awhile longer,Max.”

“Aw come on, Bas! Can’t I at least cripplehim? Carve off a leg? An arm? Take out an eye?”

“No, leave him be. We’ll just have to workaround him for the time being. Let me know when you hear back from ourAmazeen.”

That said, the vid-com screen went black.

In a much better frame of mind now thathe’d swapped silliness with his friend, Strom propped his feet on his desk andthreaded his fingers together at his waist. He stared up at the ceiling for amoment then closed his eyes to take a little nap.

It was good to be the man in charge.

* * * * *

Vice-Counselor Laverne Jost was not a happyman. Twice in one morning he’d been spoken to as though he were no one ofconsequence and twice more he had been simply ignored. Such insults were not tobe tolerated.

“I wish to hire one of your people,” thevice-counselor snapped as soon as his vid-com revealed a black-hooded figuresitting at a desk behind which was a stark white wall.

“Fifty thousand gold cúirs up front.The price is non-negotiable,” the figure said, its voice electronically alteredto hide the speaker’s identity.

“What will that buy me?”

“A single unit disposal.”

“Guaranteed?”

“Unless—as it was in your case—a RiezellGuardian gets in the way,” the figure stated. “Then, we can not guaranteesuccess.”

Jost thought about the Storian assassin whohad been sent after him and the way the man had died at the hands of thePrimary Riezell Guardian Chastain Neff.

“I knew about the attempt,” thevice-counselor said. “This person won’t.”

“Whatever you say,” the figure