The ominous doors leading to the CEO’s office whisked open as Falcon stepped through them with a black wing-tipped shoe. Kristen, Bosak’s personal assistant glanced up from her computer and smiled.

“Right on time, Mister Falcon.” She pressed a button on the intercom. “Sir? Mister Falcon is here for your ten o’clock.”

“Send him right in,” the gruff voice on the other end spoke. “Oh, and Kristen?”

“Yes, Mister Bosak?”

“Take a nice long break. Enjoy yourself. Just come back after lunch.”

“Thank you, sir!”

“Don’t mention it. Now, please send him in.” She closed the connection and stood up from her desk, smoothing her skirt across her thighs. Falcon watched it all with mock indifference, barely containing his enthusiasm for the landmark meeting waiting beyond the anteroom.

“This way, sir.” She ushered him to the door, as she bent her head towards the retinal scanner on the wall. The machine whirred and beeped, finally chiming its approval as the door clicked and hissed as the pressure lock disengaged. “Have a productive meeting, sir!” Falcon gave her a subtle smile and a wink and stepped into Xanadu.

The doors slid gently closed and locked in place. The room was filled with a recording of Tibetan monks’ guttural chanting.

Falcon looked around. Only the elite made it this far into the inner sanctum. Falcon had been here three times before. A tiny corner of Paradise in an otherwise sterile corporate world. Skylights illuminated the tropical green house portion of the vast suite as he strode down the walkway toward the back where a glass partition kept one part of the room at optimal office room temperature year round.

As he approached the partition, Bosak’s bodyguard stepped imposingly into the crystal doorframe. A Japanese in his mid-forties, wearing a finely tailored dark suit. Falcon wasn’t sure if it was grey, brown, black or navy, as it seemed to adapt to the lighting. Twin blades snaked down from his cuffs and he stood at attention. Falcon gulped. Most people had never seen him before, as his job was to keep to the shadows and eliminate potential threats before Bosak became aware of them.

“It’s OK, Yamato-san. He has an appointment. I’ll be with you in one moment, Oliver.” Yamato bowed politely to Falcon and stepped aside. The blades disappeared up his sleeves. Falcon nodded and stepped into the office.

Bosak had his back to him, talking on the phone. The office was pristine, feng-shui in every respect. There were no congested dragons to be found anywhere. Tapestries from all countries adorned the walls, and there was an ornate church door leading to a panic room where Bosak handled his most confidential matters. An antique gold gong hung on triple-reinforced struts behind Bosak’s desk.

Falcon waited to be seated, admiring the office knowing that, if all went well, someday it (or one like it) would be his.

Bosak concluded his phone conversation and turned around, tucking the mobile into his breast pocket. He stepped toward Falcon, hand outstretched. Falcon took it and shook firmly.

“How are you, Oliver?” Bosak’s eyes studied him with a calm scrutiny. Gently, he released his grip and Falcon put on his best salesman’s face, attempting to smile warmly back. His cold eyes belied the expression, twisting his face into a predatory grin.

“I am absolutely fabulous, sir. We’re excited by what’s going on with the new project.” He reached into his pocket and proffered a memory stick to the CEO. Bosak took it and placed it gently on the desk by his console. Falcon looked disappointed.

“I can see that. I just have one question for you before we proceed.” His eyes did not waver, as if they burrowed into Falcon’s very soul and called out everything that lurked within.

“What is it, sir?”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He paused to let the total weight of his words sink in before continuing. “Do you know who that was on the phone just now?”

Falcon shook his head.

“President Harris.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? I get off the phone with the incredibly irate President of the United States and all you reply with is ‘Oh’? You better explain yourself now, Oliver! Tell me why he believes a deal has already been brokered between VirCorp and the United States Government without my OK!”

Falcon’s Adam’s apple shot up and down like the weight of a carnival game. His voice faltered, emanating in a squeak. Bosak handed him a glass of water from the desk and waited patiently. Drinking slowly, Falcon coughed and sputtered, finally returning to a normal voice.

“Thanks for that. You see, I had it on good faith from General Montesque that the Armed Forces were in total agreement with our proposal, at least on an initial trial basis. Surely you got the memo, sir?”

“No. I haven’t received any damn memo. In my absence it seems the lunatics have taken over the asylum!” He slammed his fist down on the desk. “Just what have you been doing here?”

The tension hung in the air between them. Had it been suddenly cut, a rift would have been opened in space-time, sucking the whole of the universe into it. Falcon smiled as it dawned on him that the benevolent but clueless CEO would soon be eating out of his hand.

“Then you don’t know about the exciting world of possibilities that has been opened by our new initiative! Please, have a seat.” Falcon sidled over behind the desk and plugged in the memory stick. “If you’ll permit me, sir.” He started the interactive pitch.

The current expenditures from all departments appeared in a three dimensional graph on the screen. Numbers and figures rapidly scrolled across the bottom of the screen like a stock ticker racing sundown. Falcon paused the demonstration.

“As you can see,” he highlighted the pie slice indicating personnel. The cross section grew to fill the screen with even more facts and figures. “Next to research and development, our highest expense has to this day been human resources. Marketing is a close third, but when you take into account the loss ratio due to bad hires, hiring and firing are our most costly expenditures.” He turned to look at Bosak.

“But that’s a risk we take with every employee. Those who work out the best eventually more than make up for the wrong candidates.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more, sir. Nevertheless, as I sat in my office after the last round of layoffs, I had an epiphany. What if we never had to make a wrong hire again? Think of the money we could save.”

“That’s preposterous, Oliver, and you know it. Risk is inherent in every single hire. You can’t control every person’s freedom.”

“Bear with me,” Falcon grinned and resumed the pitch. The facts and figures faded into the background as individual employee records popped up one by one accompanied by their corporate headshots. A total value figure appeared in dollars next to each name.

“These are our most productive employees since they were hired. I am sure you will recognize some of our top researchers and patent lawyers.” The files of doctors Klaus and Klingel appeared side by side. Falcon tapped at the screen over their profiles. “I will get to these two in particular later. But what all of these employees have in common is that they have either generated or protected corporate assets in excess of their respective salaries. Good hires, wouldn’t you agree?”

Bosak nodded. “Yes. What’s your point?”

“Now imagine that these employees will never go away. Permanent. Disease, defection and death will have no sway over their contributions to capital. Personnel cash cows. Let me give you an example. Using the keyboard and the touch screen for navigation, he highlighted two random profiles. He then touched a double-helix icon in the upper right corner of the screen. The profiles began to replicate by factors of two until they filled the screen. The dollar values increased exponentially.

“I don’t get it, Oliver.”

“Think about it for a moment, sir. Watch.” The dollar value leveled off at the saturation point, then stopped as Falcon paused the program.

“I am not a religious person. But, God! You can’t be serious!”

Falcon nodded smugly.

“Clones?”

“Clones, sir.”

Bosak slouched back into his chair, the color draining from his face. Falcon withdrew two cigars from his breast pocket to celebrate.

“Are you alright, sir? You’re an even richer man. Light up, you’ll feel better!”

“Then this is why the President called me…” His eyes wandered out the window.

“I thought he might, but seeing as the government has yet to formalize their position on the civil status of cloned humans, I had to give it a try!” He shoved a cigar towards Bosak, who waved it away. “Listen. We clone existing personnel. No more shipping jobs overseas or outsourcing to our subsidiaries. Surely, we’ll have to provide adequate housing and clothe and feed them, but that’s a pittance compared to paying a working salary! Heaven knows we have plenty of unused real estate on this compound. We could convert it into housing.

“Then I got to thinking about your of privatizing the military. What a perfect trial run for my idea! Still, we needed to research it further. But don’t worry; I have dutifully undertaken the necessary steps for that. If General Montesque is impressed with the test batch, it will surely stack the odds in our favor with Congress and the President. We can privatize the military. One more lucrative feather in VirCorp’s cap!” Falcon bounced with excitement.

“Stop it, Oliver.” The color returned to Bosak’s face as he righted himself in the chair. “Stop it right now!”

“But, sir!” he pleaded like a child who had ‘justifiably’ run over the family dog with his bigwheel. “Think about the potential!”

“Can you even fathom the repercussions? I’ll grant you that the lack of a governmental stance is somewhat of an open window, but you are now treading some serious dangerous water! What will the public think? Slavery! An affront to God! That’s what they’ll think. What will the investors think? Did you even consider that?”

Falcon trembled with enthusiasm as he removed the data stick and placed it in the CEO’s hand. “They will think that their CEO, Henry Bosak, with a little help from his Vice President of Human Resources, unlocked the door to the future.” He smiled with reined-in confidence.

Bosak placed the data stick on the desk and sighed deeply into space. “I asked you to come up with a personnel strategy for privatizing the military, and you come up with something from science fiction! I expected a recruitment, training and discipline program. Not answering the debate on a hot moral issue by thumbing your nose at Creation. I just don’t know.”

“Hank,” Falcon ventured, almost too far. Bosak shot him a glance, but listened. “With a proper spin and endorsements by the Joint-Chiefs and the President, this will be an easy sell to the American people. Hell, you went to high school with the President. Everything you’ve done in the past for him has turned into platinum.”

Bosak sighed again, on the verge of a quiet meltdown. He rubbed his eyes and tried to refocus in the midst of the shock waves. This could not be happening, insubordination of the highest order. Finally, he got to his feet, leaning his chair for support. “Tell me how far this has gone, Oliver. Consider your words very carefully. If you leave out any detail, you will never work again in this world. I guarantee it.”

Falcon was crestfallen. He tried to control himself, but couldn’t. Anger swelled inside him. He clenched and unclenched his fists. Then the notion hit him.

Of all people in the company, he had backed the captain of the team into a corner. He had started a chain of events from which there was no turning back without full disclosure. Without a formal contract in place and total agreement of all parties, VirCorp’s stock would hit bottom. Neither man wanted that, but it was still something he could hold over the CEO’s head. For the moment, he relished the fact that he had such clout.

He smiled calmly at Bosak and spoke: “The General arrives at eight tonight to inspect the test batch.”