Ray Sullivan SciFi Zone: Project: Evil - Another Friday Meeting part 1

‘Right, any other business?’ asked O’Feld, leaning forward, challenging the meeting.

‘We haven’t started the agenda yet,’ said Daw, sighing. Obviously the boss was in one of his moods.

‘I’ve got things to see, people to do,’ grumbled O’Feld. Brian expected public sector man to challenge the statement on pedantic grounds, but then realised O’Feld probably meant what he’d said. Daw raised his eyebrows and shuffled his sheaf of papers, dumping the first five sheets into the waste paper shredder alongside him.

‘OK, then. I’ve got an item,’ he said, watching O’Feld carefully.

‘Make it quick,’ said O’Feld, tightening his thong absently.

‘The nominations for Megalomaniac of the Year are in,’ he said. O’Feld looked up sharply; this was his favourite subject, as long as he was in the running. Daw continued, I just thought you’d like to know. We can discuss this at the next meeting. No other items,’ he added as he lowered the papers towards the shredder.

‘If they go in there, you’d better keep going with your hand, Daw,’ growled O’Feld menacingly. Daw retracted his hand slowly and positioned the sheets of paper carefully in front of him.

‘Well, if you’ve time,’ he said.

‘Am I nominated?’ asked O’Feld impatiently.

‘Of course you’re nominated. They daren’t leave any Megalomaniac out of the nominations,’ he said, resignedly.

‘OK, am I in any of the evil classes,’ asked O’Feld, a growl building up in his voice.

‘Well, you’re nominated for worst evil employer of the year again,’ said Daw, squinting at the paper, pretending to read it for the first time. O’Feld’s anger was starting to rise.

‘We’re all nominated for that, all the evil megalomaniacs in this country; me, Brass Digit, David Cameron, Doktor Negatif...’ Daw raised his hand.

‘OK, fair comment. But what about,’ he asked, pausing for effect, ‘the nominations for the most evil megalomaniac of the year?’ O’Feld’s eyes lit up.

‘Am I in it?’

‘Doktor Negatif’s not,’ answered Daw evasively.

‘And me?’

‘Hmm, yes,’ answered Daw at length.

‘So is Cameron in that group too?’ asked O’Feld, a glimmer of optimism showing as Daw perused the document again, the glimmer fading fast as Daw replied.

‘Yup, it looks like he’s in every category this year,’ Daw said, failing to suppress a wry smile. O’Feld grimaced, but then seemed to put a brave face on.

‘At least I’ve got some real competition this year, not like last year when I was up against Brass Digit,’ he said.

‘Gold Digit,’ sighed Daw, resignedly.

‘He won, didn’t he?’ asked one of the invited henchmen, as he disappeared under a hail of bullets. When the noise subdued and O’Feld had put his machine gun down, Daw continued, absently picking the weapon up, removing the magazine and clearing the breach.

‘So, the agenda? Any chance of running through it?’ he asked. O’Feld shrugged.

‘Just the one subject, then I’m out of here,’ he said, scanning the room, fixing on Brian.

‘How about an update on the South Sea project?’ he asked. Brian gulped; he’d expected to present an overview of the project, but in the normal flow of the Friday meeting he’d expected to be pushed out of the running within minutes of starting. Now he had to keep talking until either O’Feld got bored or shot him; both options weren’t mutually incompatible, he realised.

‘It’s going rather well,’ he said, watching O’Feld carefully. Brian shivered as Daw smiled and folded his arms. Even public sector man pushed his tie up his neck to ward off the distinctly cooler atmosphere in the room.

‘We’ve signed up a number of sub-contractors for the project and I’ve identified those parts of the organisation that has the skills and techniques to make the parts we need,’ he continued, aware that the only items likely to be built by O’Feld Industries were the self destruct mechanisms – to be fair, they were unsurpassed in that field.

‘Who are the sub-contractors?’ asked O’Feld, narrowing his eyes and slipping a hand across towards the machine gun on the table.

‘Well, there’s NoDangerStyle UK,’ said Brian, trying not to wince. O’Feld brightened up immediately.

‘NoDangerStyle UK? The double glazing company? They fitted the windows to my mansion – they lied about the price, quality, timescale and sent morons to fit them. I nearly bought the company, good work Brian. What are they supplying us with?’ asked O’Feld, warming the room back up.

‘Window frames and antimatter,’ stammered Brian, who had hoped O’Feld would just assume their involvement was limited to their core business. A cloud passed over O’Feld’s face and Brian nervously patted the bullet proof vest he’d taken to wearing to these meetings.

‘Window frames? Are you sure? The ones they provided me with still don’t fit and they’ve been back twice. Can’t our engineers provide them, if they’re going to be ballsed up, it may as well be in-house,’ he stated, continuing before Brian could continue. ‘Who else have you invited in?’ Brian shuffled his paperwork nervously; he only had two more external firms on his books.

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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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