Private Enough Rope [Trent Veillion]

[Olivia Pendleton]

The steady footfalls of her feet on the treadmill kept Olivia grounded and in touch with the reality of life. Even now in the serenity of her lunch hour, when she took some time for herself, she couldn't make herself forget what she was up against. Especially not when her assistant poked her head in. The first time, she noted that the Board put a new motion on the afternoon agenda that Olivia would want to see. The second time was a call from her mother-in-law insisting that she needed to speak to Olivia about Ramsey. The last one... that was the one that got Olivia off the treadmill only 45 minutes into her run.

"Your one o'clock has called ahead that they're in the parking garage," her assistant said.

"I don't - have a - one o'clock," Olivia puffed. Damn her, what part of 'do not disturb' does she not understand? I'm going to lose track of my breathing.

"It was added this morning," said her assistant. "They used the phrase you've set up to bypass your calendar restrictions."

Olivia was lucky she had the presence of mind to keep running despite her surprise. She kept running, though with less grace, until she fumbled for the controls and shut the treadmill off, easing through a jog down to a walk before stopping dead. "Who is it?"

The assistant looked like a deer in the headlights. "He said you'd know." Olivia turned away from her on the pretense of picking up her towel, dabbing her brow. The cold fear and fury within her gun was evidence that she did know. She was hoping not to face this again, not so soon. "Ms. Pendleton?"

"Yes. I'll be along shortly. Stall him. Offer him refreshments. Tell him a meeting has run long."

Ten minutes later, freshly showered and redressed in businesswear, she entered her outer office and, without stopping her purposeful stride through to her office, she said: "I'll see you now." She held the door open and waited for her visitor to enter, then shut and locked the door, activating the sound dampening and fogging the windows. "What do you mean by dropping in without adequate notice?" Olivia demanded as she rounded her desk and flopping down a handful of folders. "That is not part of our arrangement."

 

[Trent Veillion]

Olivia Pendleton

By the time that Olivia Pendleton strode into the waiting room Trent had some tea and was sipping from it luxuriously while waiting on his host. She didn't even pause and immediately stormed into her office. This raised an eyebrow on Trent's behalf, but perhaps it was understandable. A criminal never enjoyed coming face to face with her judge, jury and executioner.

"Adequate notice?" He drawled lazily as he strode over to her desk and looked down at her. "Darling, you are lucky I was not already sitting in your office in that fancy chair of yours, riffling through your papers."

He sipped again from the tea.

"Lovely beverage by the by, thank you." Placing it down on the desk... without a plate underneath it. "Don't forget who owns you now, miss Pendleton. If you want to keep your pretty life and your pretty head, you will do well to be a bit more... pleasant in your interactions."

Trent smiled softly.

"Now, I assume you have received the dossier we have gathered for you? And the listening device?"

 

[Olivia Pendleton]

Olivia's hand lifted, and she ducked her head down, as she smoothed down her golden waves, then placing a cool hand do her bowed neck. It was all she could do to resist the urge to press on her temples. You give these people an inch and they take a mile, she knew. This one in particular seemed to delight in taking liberties, getting under her skin. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. When she looked up again, she was all serenity, all cold politeness.

"It's Mrs. Pendleton," she said, as if correcting an addition error on a student's homework. "I know you've been briefed. The same people that own me own you, too, and they aren't the type to leave their Ts uncrossed or their Is undotted." That, at least, was some comfort. Trent Veillion may have been the hand on her leash, but someone, somewhere, had a hand on his, too. That was just how these things worked.

She stood and went to a nearby bank of filing cabinets, unlocked them, then began putting the files she had finished away, retrieving others. Locked it again after she was done. She placed the files on the desk and then went to the beverage counter near the door. She skipped the tea (an effete drink, as far as Olivia was concerned) in favor of a chilled bottle of water. "I received the dossier," she affirmed. "And the listening device. I already installed the listening device in the board room. Your technicians could some education on efficiencies. I took the liberty of upgrading the device with an activity-triggered activation system. It will activate on hearing noise, transmit to the frequency your people provided, then deactivate. Requires less battery replacement that way."

Returning to her desk, the executive smoothed her skirt and sat. "I considered adding a solar charger. There's enough ambient light in the board room, but with the board meeting this afternoon I didn't want to risk having to troubleshoot it." Olivia cracked her water bottle, poured it into the waiting cut crystal glass on the coaster on her desk. "So since I have a record of doing what I'm told and never missing a reporting date, what remains to be answered is what you are doing here."

 

[Trent Veillion]

A soft tilt of his head at the correction Pendleton made to her honorific.

"Oh? Did you get yourself a new husband while I wasn't looking? Or did our favorite white collar criminal get resurrected after his apparent suicide, darling?" Trent said with a gentle smile as if he wasn't stabbing the woman in the feelings several times in a row. The SIA field officer could be a charming fellow when he wanted to be.

Clearly today was not one of those days.

"Miss Pendleton," He went on without skipping a beat or concern. "They own you, they own me, they own everyone around us. Here's the key difference however... I can file for vacation time to Annaj today and by next week I will be sipping margaritas and more on the beach. You on the other hand... well, you are unproven and frankly we are not sure how loyal you will prove to be."

He flopped down into one of the chairs opposite of her, one leg crossing the other lazily.

"So your leash is comparatively short compared to mine. And the only way for it to extend... is with the reports I file. You'd do well to remember that... if I am unhappy, well, you might as well follow your ex-husband's moves."

Without a second thought he got out his service handgun and offered it to her, handle first.

"Yes? No? Good, let's stop karking around now that we have adequately measured tools." Pleasantly delivered as if he hadn't trundled into her office as if he owned it and her on top of it. In a way... he did after all. "Good job on the execution of your current duties. As for what I am doing here... I am here to receive formal welcome. We will be adjoined to the hip for the next few months, I am being measured a new cover identity- the details of which are still in flux, but I do believe I will be in charge of your personal physical health and safety."

He stretched as he sipped from his pleasant tea and finished the cup.

"As your chief security you will follow my every command as it pertains to your safety... and believe me, Miss Pendleton... your safety will be threatened from every direction as we dive deeper and deeper into this lil' ol' mess the Alliance wants us to sort out together."

Olivia Pendleton

 

[Olivia Pendleton]

Olivia watched Trent approach and take a seat in one of her guest chairs, her teeth clenching painfully. Her eyebrow twitched upward, her fingers tightening around her glass as he set about to offend her in every possible way, including but not limited to inviting her to commit suicide, the same that her late husband had, in this very room. She didn't let on, she didn't even flush with the fury of it all. Quite the opposite: she blanched, the color going out of her face.

Absolute bastard, the executive thought grimly.

She made no response, her eyes merely following his weapon as he put it back away. Arguing would be an exercise in futility. She was certain that filing a report about the man's methods would also be an exercise in futility, but she wanted a paper trail of that. If she was going to be held over a barrel by the criminal empire colloquially known as the SIA, she wanted someone to be able to expose them if it cost her her life.

Her eyes gave him a once-over after he finished his explanation. "It is useless, I gather, to protest," Olivia said dryly. "So I won't bother. But if you expect to fit into this world, you're going to need a suit." She paused and pulled the pencil from behind her ear, jotting a note on a nearby paper notepad. A moment later, her eyes took him in once more. "And a shave."

Trent Veillion

 

[Trent Veillion]

She took it like a champ and it made Trent proud.

Almost as good as his regulars. Women like Diana Fox were familiar with the need to be flexible at times, but creatures like Olivia Pendleton were a different sort altogether. Cold, calculating, she was more reptile than woman and it would make it a challenge to push her into the state-of-mind she'd need for this operation.

Thankfully Veillion was patient.

"Oh, darling, don't you worry." Trent murmured pleasantly as he lit up a cigarette and crossed one leg over the other. "I wear suits aplenty... when the occasion requires it, which this one does."

The remark on a shave made his eyebrows raise a fraction but then he snorted.

"Sure, why not? Anything else on your wish list for a perfect chief of security?"

 

[Olivia Pendleton]

Her eyebrows lifted as he lit up a cigarette without so much of a mind if I smoke? "Mr. Veillion, do you see a single ashtray anywhere in this office? No, you do not. Have you seen a single ashtray anywhere in this building? No, you have not. Put it out before you start the fire suppression system. Switch to a vapor electronic cigarette. One of my subsidiaries sells a very user-friendly one." She made another note on her notepad.

"If you want this charade to be effective (and I assume that, despite your cavalier attitude, you do) you will need to look and act the part. Which means a level of outward deference that, candidly, I do not think you are capable of," Olivia said, her brown eyes frosty as she took in the operative across from her. "You would be expected to take direction and behave appropriately, because despite the predicament I find myself in with your employers I am not, in fact, a criminal but instead I am the head of this multibillion credit operation."

She continued, apparently without breathing. It was quite impressive when you thought about it. "If I am to remain the head of this multibillion credit operation long enough to accomplish our objectives, I will need to maintain my credibility with the board long enough to suss out which of them are attempting to undermine me and which were involved in my late husband's botched alloy misadventure so I can deliver them to your people for punishment."

Here, Oliva paused to take a slight breath, but she held her hand up to stave off any interjection from Trent at this stage, before barreling on in her trademark brusque style "To that end: you should not refer to me as anything but Mrs. Pendleton in this building (or anywhere else, if I had my way, but I think we should stick with what is achievable), to include but not limited to darling or whatever subtly misogynist nicknames you can put your mind to in your futile attempts to unsettle me." She favored him with a narrowed gaze. "Incidentally, I found my husband slumped in this very position in this very room, with blood and brains all over that window." Olivia indicated over her left shoulder. "Calling me asinine names like a schoolboy will not even begin to touch the sides of what unsettles me, so allow me to suggest that you focus your energies into more fruitful endeavors, hm?"

After a moment's consideration, during which Olivia once again considered the implications that her left-handed husband had apparently shot himself with a ballistics weapon in his right hand, she tilted her head and looked back to him. She looked neither angry nor happy, neither annoyed nor pleased despite what could be charitably described as her diatribe. When she spoke again, her tone was just as businesslike, just as pleasant. "I suppose I must also get you on the payroll and get you set up with access and an email account and a company vehicle. And then there is the matter of dismissing my current security man. That should not be difficult; he should have screened you for that pistol. If you meant harm (that is, bodily harm) I could well be dead by now and then where would we be?"

She touched a key on her communicator panel. "Patrice, please inform Personnel that Jakim Boroth is terminated, effective immediately and for cause. The standard severance package will suffice." That was tidier than saying the company would hold a generous payment ransom in exchange for an ironclad non-disclosure agreement. "Tell them I will process paperwork for his replacement before the end of the day. That is all." She disconnected the line and looked back to Trent Veillion . "You will provide your cover paperwork when it comes through?"

 

[Trent Veillion]

Trent was a bit surprised at the attitude she was displaying. Hardly the behavior of a woman who was defeated, but that only underlined the strength of character Pendleton possessed.

Her husband had been a lucky man.

Until he shot himself in the face, of course. Or what was more likely someone shot him in the face and made it seem like he had done it himself.

Not someone particularly skilled, because how much background research did you need to know the dominant hand of your victim?

Sloppy.

Or perhaps uncaring, it might have been a message.

Trent didn't care about it. His death was convenient in a way, because it meant not having to deal with him. "Oh, already trying to push me to buy your company goods before I even start working for it? My word."

And then he used the chair arm to put his cigarette out.

A smile accompanied the action with his eyes warmly on hers.

"There, better? No fire alarm." He got a bit of nicotine in him anyway, so it was not a total loss. He let the rest of her words wash over him as he listened.

Finally Trent shrugged.

"You will find me particularly adapt at changing my behavior when necessary, darling. When other people are around I will be perfectly obedient and organized for your needs."

He made a note himself in his little data pad as an echo of her note taking.

"I would not advise you to take advantage of it however. It might be tempting to bully me around as retribution for my usual behavior but then I will have little reason to curb it when we are alone."

With that warning delivered he pressed send.

And a notification popped up on her screen.

"There, my resume. The rest of my identification papers will be send by end of day. See? We make such a good team already, smooth and swift."

 

[Olivia Pendleton]

Olivia's head turned to one side, at the holodisplay where an email notification popped up. Her golden girls swayed softly around her neck, and again when she turned her head back to him. "You do not know me well, Mr. Veillion. It is natural for you to view me as a recalcitrant criminal to be brought under heel or else a thrill seeker looking to get into a game of one-upmanship with you with the same result. I correct you for calling me Ms. because I am a widow, you invite me to commit suicide. I ask you not to smoke, you put a hole in my exceptionally expensive armchair. Tit for tat. I am supposed to... what, exactly? It is a chair, Mr. Veillion," Olivia concluded with the patient air of explaining the obvious. She could fill this building with those exceptionally expensive shares and not put a dent in the budget.

Her attention went to the email and its attachments, and she reviewed them carefully. On further consideration, she noted as she performed this menial task, his behavior was not unlike some types of pack animals. He sought to assert dominance which was, she thought, painfully shortsighted. Dominance over what? The Galactic Alliance Department of Justice was leaning on her heavily, exploiting her legal if not moral complicity in Pendleton's shoddy alloy; it already had dominance and he, as a proxy, already wielded its influence, so why these ridiculous displays? The Department of Justice was large and lumbering and powerful, to be sure, and it could revoke her company registration or nationalize its industries in short order. It did not need more industries, besides which Pendleton was large but not on the level as, say, the Trade Federation or the Republic Engineering Corporation.

Her fingers paused on the keyboard and she looked over at Trent, though she could not have said why, since she was not thinking about the troublesome operative in that moment. No, she was thinking of the Trade Federation and the Republic Engineering Corporation. The Department of Justice could easily mandate the sale (and likely at cost, though if such an event took place, Olivia would be in prison and so the share prices would not matter) of Pendleton to another corporation. They could do all manner of things, and yet they chose to send Trent Veillion to make her life miserable instead.

Her eyes cut back to the screen and she resumed typing. Trent Veillion, yes. His behavior was like that of an alpha pack animal. That would suggest he viewed her as a threat. That was only somewhat gratifying because it was nonsensical. This was not a pack, and she was not the same species, let alone competing to be the alpha. She finished the paperwork and set it aside to process when the identification papers came through. "I understand what you are trying to convey, Mr. Veillion," she said coldly, swiveling the chair to face him directly once more. It would only inflame the situation to call him out for his obvious threat. "You need not worry that I will publicly humiliate you. After all, the mark of an efficient security man is not noticing him, and I am quite certain that you will be nothing if not efficient."

After all, beyond pleasantries, she barely spoke to Boroth. She did not anticipate this being much different except for, perhaps, forgoing the pleasantries.

Trent Veillion

 

[Trent Veillion]

"Oh, I don't know what you are supposed to do, darling. That's where the fun is at. Seeing what you come up with."

Trent drawled back as he wondered where he could get a vape at this time a day. If he was going to be spending a lot of time around this place, he'd need a replacement sooner rather than latter. Because Trent was a walking, talking stereotype. One that thrived on nicotine, black coffee, alcohol and harassment to keep going.

Probably he should have been fired a long time ago. In a reasonable period of time he might have been. But sadly the Galaxy was in a constant state of turmoil and he was damn good at bringing results.

Any indiscretions, as long as they didn't go too far, were swept under the rug.

"Mm, we shall see, shan't we? But I shall endeavor to do my best not to attract the wrong kind of attention." Then he tapped on his datapad and she received a few more notifications.

"These are the dossiers of the men and women who will replace the current corporate security structure of the company. They are all properly vetted by the SIA and loyal to the cause. That is to say... if we need things to be accomplished that might be extra-legal, they will not blush or ask secondary questions."

It also had the consequence of completely surrounding Pendleton with his people.

But as she so rightfully stated in her mind... she was already at the SIA's mercy and through it... him.

Olivia Pendleton

 

[Olivia Pendleton]

Olivia turned her chair back to the face the holoscreen and scrolled through the data that Trent was sending. None of it seemed particularly damaging or otherwise concerning, but Olivia did not pretend to be a security expert. "Fine," she said flatly. "Do it quietly. Nothing that will spook the board or the shareholders." She paused a moment. "I cannot stress enough, Mr. Veillion, how delicate the situation with the board is. Some of them will be looking for any reason, any reason at all, to try to get me out of this chair."

The executive took a drink of her water and then pushed back from the desk and stood up. She felt a knot of tension in the pit of her stomach. She really hated the political games that were involved with the board of directors, and this business with the GA and their investigators and the Justice Department and the media was just making things even worse.

At least Veillion was slightly more pleasant to look at than the average Galactic Alliance functionary. And because the galaxy apparently believed in equilibrium, he was about twice as irritating.

"What precisely are you expecting to happen that things would need to be extra-legal?" asked Olivia dubiously, her eyebrows quirking up. "Would it not be legal if it is your people insisting on it?"

Trent Veillion

 

[Trent Veillion]

A snort followed her last claim.

"Don't be naive, darling, we are the Galactic Alliance. Not the Imperials or the Sith." He murmured softly as he leaned back in his chair and relaxed after having send those dossiers.

"That means the SIA's hands are tied in ways our rivals don't have to worry about." But Trent delivered this with the casual air of someone who could give less of a chit. "Which means... we operate in the grey areas. Where the SIA will not acknowledge or affirm their connection to us. If we fail, they will wash their hands off of us and say it was a rogue operative gone wrong."

"If we succeed? Any blemishes will be swept under the carpet. Which means we can do anything we need to do to succeed... except being caught, because if the latter happens everyone goes into arse-covering mode."

He looked at her dryly.

"And nobody is gonna cover our arses when that happens."

Olivia Pendleton

 

[Olivia Pendleton]

Olivia stood and wandered away from the desk, her brown eyes thoughtful. This was all very dangerous and difficult, and not for the first time she cursed the fact that she was involved with it. What was it her husband always used to say? If you don't like the way the table is set, then turn over the table. Perhaps it was not too late to turn over this particular table. Her eyes cut over one shoulder to Trent. That one would be watching her like a hawk, so any maneuvering she did would have to be very secretive... or else hidden in plain sight.

"You will forgive me, I hope, for not sharing your enthusiasm for the Alliance and its methods. They have, at the very least, driven my husband to take his own life and very likely worse. The moral authority of standing against Sith and Imperials can buy some good will, I grant you, but you people are so heavy handed that sometimes it makes me wonder whether the different really matters. Barbarity in service to democratic ideals is still barbarity," Olivia concluded flatly.

The executive turned and came back to her desk, though she didn't pull her seat out, instead folding her arms on the back of the tall headrest, and locked a cold, analytical gaze on Trent Veillion . "I cannot help but to observe that you did not answer my question," she said, a subtle challenge in her voice.

 

[Trent Veillion]

He gazed at her with a pointed look.

He didn't point out that her dearest husband had defrauded the Alliance for millions of credits. Nor that his fraud directly could be linked to ships being more fragile than they ought to be, which in turn could have very well meant the difference between life or death in a war zone. Trent didn't point this out verbally because he didn't have to.

The gaze was enough.

"You need a monster to put a monster down, darling." And her husband had been one of the monsters. Sure, not a Sith Lord torturing thousands, but a man of weak moral turpitude that made the world just a little bit worse by merely existing.

By taking profits over everything else.

"As for your question, I expect anything and everything, it might not be satisfying answer but it is rather simple. I would be doing a bad job if I didn't consider any scenario likely and be prepared for it. We might have to blackmail people, we might have to hurt people... and we very well may have to wipe pieces of the board, if you catch my drift."

He ran his hand through his hair as Trent observed her again.

"I do hope you will have the guts to do what needs to be done. We will have to work double time to erase your husband's sins."

Olivia Pendleton

 

[Olivia Pendleton]

At this Mrs. Pendleton gave an uncharacteristic bark of laughter. "Erase his sins?" she asked dubiously. "You people are not interested in erasing anything, because then you will have no leverage over me and by extension this company. You must think that I am exceedingly stupid, Mr. Veillion, and while I cannot and would not claim to be a genius I am at least smart enough to read basic when it is written on the wall. You will never let me go, not while there is any utility left to squeeze from my company."

Or until they were made to set them free, she added to herself.

There it was, now, she thought grimly. The truth of the matter was that she was in this. At least while the Alliance had leverage over her. She wondered for a moment whether it was better to even bother. She had money, after all, credits stashed away in numbered accounts that were not subject to the reach of the Department of Justice or their brethren in the SIA. Ramsey used to talk about retiring to one of those planets with miles of golden sandy beaches and water so clear you could see all the way to the coral below.

I often have those nightmares too, Olivia had told him. They always take some swallowing.

Now, though, it did not feel like a nightmare. Would it not be a blessed relief to remove herself from these Machiavellian games, the unending threats? She would have to prepare herself for the worst, of course. Pendleton Industries would be gone forever, to be sure, but they could not take her knowledge from her, her engineering degree or background would be hers forever. And maybe there would be a way to accomplish it without damning Pendleton to the dustheap of history. Her mind worked, wheeling like a whirling dervish, considering all the possibilities she could imagine...

She recalled that the agent had asked her a question, and Olivia turned her brown eyes to him once more.

"But... do not worry about me, Mr. Veillion," said the blonde, her tone matter of fact. "I think you will find me capable of almost anything to survive."

Whether he would take a warning from this, she did not know. But as far as Olivia was concerned, he should.

Trent Veillion

 

[Trent Veillion]

He smiled thinly at her because the poor woman had misunderstood him.

As far as Trent was concerned her former husband's reputation would be dead and buried for the rest of history. No, he meant it quite literally, to undo the mistakes he had made and make sure that all the damage would be reversed. If need be, bleed this company dry to accomplish it. That would not bode well for the shareholders however.

"That's good, darling." He finally said in response to her answer to his question. "Because we are going to get our hands very dirty. By the end of it... you might not recognize yourself anymore when you look into the mirror."

Finally Trent got up to his feet and glanced around the office.

"I will say, your former husband did know how to make himself comfortable." Bemused as he wondered briefly how much he would be able to squeeze out of her personally.

"I will come by your place this weekend. By then the paperwork should be all processed and handled. We can go over your habits and duties."

Olivia Pendleton