Ray Sullivan SciFi Zone: Project: Evil Chapter One

Project: Evil Chapter One – The Initial Interview part 3

'What is it?,' asked Brian, taking the paper off Daw.

'O'Feld's equivalent of the Official Secrets Act,' he said. Brian scanned the sparse text:

'I agree not to divulge anything I hear, see, read or otherwise know about O'Feld Industries, its personnel, projects, intellectual property, locations, plans or intentions to any persons I know or to any persons I don't know.' read the form. Brian shrugged, it seemed normal and pretty reasonable. He signed expansively. Daw pushed another sheet of paper across the desk.

'What's this?' asked Brian again.

'Our version of the Unofficial Secrets Act.'

'I didn't know we had an Unofficial Secrets Act,' said Brian, furrowing his brow.

'You wouldn't. It's Unofficial and Secret and therefore covered by the Act. The Act was probably created so that the Act's existence could be covered. That and MP's expenses, although it didn't work as well as expected on that one.' Brian read the equally sparse text:

'I agree not to divulge anything I don't know about O'Feld Industries to anyone I do and don't know, pretty much as per the earlier agreement.' it stated.

'Seems to pretty much cover everything,' he agreed while signing. Daw passed a third and final piece of paper. He didn't wait for Brian to ask the inevitable.

'Our version of the Official Half Truths Act,' he said.

'Half Truths?' asked Brian.

'Conspiracy theories, urban legends, the usual stuff of rumours,' explained Daw. Brian didn't even read the text, he just signed. As he passed the sheet back he asked the question that had flitted in and out of his head several times.

'Presumably the punishment for breaking your rules isn't the same as for breaking the Official Secrets Act,' he asked. Daw smiled and the room temperature dropped another couple of degrees.

'Absolutely. For one we don't have the facilities for keeping prisoners for years on end, plus we don't agree with the soft HR approach. Execution, pretty much standard response,' he said shuffling the papers back into the folder. 'You just agreed to that on the third form, which I'm obliged to mention is optional.

'Now, what do you know about O'Feld Industries?' He asked, leaning forward, drilling Brian with a steely stare.

'Nothing,' replied Brian

'Nothing?' asked Daw.

'Zilch. Saw the ad, wrote in, here I am. I know nothing about the company.'

'You didn't look us up on the web?'

'You have a website?' asked Brian, arching his eyebrows in a way he hoped looked convincing. Daw let silence permeate the room for a few seconds. Then he shook his head.

'I should have asked that before getting you to sign those papers,' he said, 'you're good, very good. Look, the rules don't apply to interviews.' Brian sat with his arms folded. Eventually Daw fished the papers out of the folder, flicked through and pulled the third sheet out. 'OK, have this back,' he said, passing the document across. Brian read through the text slowly then ripped the document into little pieces, cramming the remains into his pocket.

'You're into mega-industry, manufacturing on a grand scale. You have an annual income larger than the combined GDP of the fifty smallest countries in the world. You are a private organisation, no shareholders, no public listing. Mr O'Feld, who runs the company, is a shadowy figure who's entry in Who's Who states his ambition is to be the most powerful man on Earth,' stated Brian. Daw looked impressed.

'Where do you stand on world domination?' he asked.

'I see it more as providing a consistent leadership programme on an international scale. Sure it has some downsides but the upside is that everybody knows where they stand with a dictator,' replied Brian, shrugging. Daw mouthed 'whatever' as he took notes.

'What about the personality running for world domination? Are you bothered if it's Mr O'Feld, for example?' Brian shrugged again. He'd voted for Blair and prior to that for Thatcher. And after voting for the Liberal Democrats in the last election he could hardly claim to be concerned about tyrants now.

'I'd rather work for the piper than for the rats,' he said.

'Talking about animals, we have a strict policy about personnel not being allergic to cats,' said Daw, 'does that present any problems?' he asked.

'No,' lied Brian, feeling his nose itch again. Daw seemed pleased.

'And finally, when can you start?' asked Daw.

'Pretty much straight away,' answered Brian. Daw beamed, bringing the room temperature down to sub-zero levels.

'Excellent, I'm sure we'll be in touch very soon Mr Richards,' he said, offering his weak handshake.

As Brian shrugged his coat back on he noticed the next candidate struggling in the retro chair, his legs flying out wildly. Daw walked over to the receptionist who offered him a piece of paper which Brian noticed Daw refused. In a barely concealed stage whisper Daw spoke to the receptionist.

'Miss Lickcock,' he said, 'I won't be needing to see any more candidates.' Then, leaning in towards her he examined the hand holding the tissues and noted the snot running over her top lip.

'Have you got a cold?' he asked. She started to nod but Brian called over as he did his last button up.

'Nah, allergies, apparently,' he said as he opened the door.

Outside the drizzle had abated slightly, leaving a thin sheen on the pavement. As Brian headed into Central London he heard two sharp reports, like gunfire. He looked around to see which vehicle was backfiring, but the street was empty.

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The characters, companies and places referred to in Project: Evil are fictitious and any resemblance to people, companies, businesses or places is entirely coincidental

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