Blake Schwendiman's Blog and Blook

Chapter 14

Wednesday, 09 March 2022 – 5:45 p.m. MST

Quinn sat in his favorite leather chair in his collection room as he waited for Valerie and Ramesh to return. Laura always told him that the chair was worn out and looked terrible. She said that it had to go. Quinn argued that it was a classic, a point that he always punctuated with a smile. It was a comfortable chair – old, faded and torn in places, but comfortable.

He spent as much of his free time as possible in his collection room. He had always been an avid fan of Star Wars and he had amassed a huge collection of action figures, accessories and other memorabilia related to the movies. When he had time, he would meticulously re-create sequences from the movies into large dioramas. He was currently working on a reconstruction of the stadium scene surrounding the pod races. It was the most aggressive project he had undertaken since an accurate recreation would require hundreds of extra figures to populate the stadium, but it kept his mind busy and he loved the distraction.

As he sat in his chair carefully painting details onto one of the model pods, Ramesh and Valerie knocked and then entered. Quinn stood quickly. He still occasionally felt a tinge of embarrassment when someone new was introduced to his hobby.

“Working hard?” Valerie chided.

Quinn smiled and simply left the room. He could see the look of astonishment in Ramesh, but decided to leave it. He flicked off the light in the room and pulled the door shut.

They returned to the conference room and Quinn sat at the table. Directly in front of them, the wall was divided into several viewscreens. One showed an early-morning interview with Sireesha Naidu. Three other segments of the display showed news stories about the recent deaths of children who had died under inexplicable circumstances. The three children apparently had nothing in common with each other, but had died at nearly the exact same time on the same day.

“Ramesh told me some interesting things about you during our tour,” Valerie said as she winked at Ramesh.

“I’m sure he did,” responded Quinn. “But, I’ll make sure that he gets a little dirt about you, to even the score.” He then motioned to Ramesh to have a seat.

“You know I’m squeaky clean, Quinn,” Valerie said as she crossed the room toward the door. She cast a sidelong glance at him as she passed and smiled. “If you don’t need me this evening, I’m just going to finish a few things and go home.”

“Thanks for all your help today, Val,” Quinn answered. He was always sincere about how much he relied on Valerie. “If you don’t mind, have something sent up here for dinner on your way out. We’re going to be here for a while, I think.”

“Sure thing.” Valerie gathered some folders and a few notes then left. “Good night, you two. Don’t work too hard,” she called back as she left the room.

There was a brief period of silence as the two men settled into the office after Valerie left. Ramesh knew that he should be feeling tired from such a full day, but his time with Valerie had actually left him more energized. He took a seat next to Quinn. He glanced up to the viewscreens opposite him and saw Sireesha in front of her main office building. He said something in Hindi under his breath.

“As you said. She is still alive?” Ramesh asked.

“Yes. She’s claiming that there is still an investigation into the explosion. But as far as I can tell, she’s using this as an opportunity to push her business agenda.” Quinn didn’t look at Ramesh as he spoke. He stared at the screens.

“What is her agenda?” Ramesh asked.

“In a nutshell, she’s trying to destroy my companies. But it’s a lot more complicated than that.” Quinn continued starting at the screens. “Since she and the others left here, her presence in India and in all of Asia has grown to a point of near dominance. Her companies are almost a mirror of mine. She has genomics, biotechnologies, computer, networking and telecommunications companies just as I do. And in Asia, she dominates the market. Now, she’s taking on the world.”

“Free enterprise. Capitalism. It’s inevitable that your companies will be subject to the same economic laws as all others before yours,” Ramesh stated bluntly.

“Yes. And if you want to know the truth, my time in this realm has really come and gone. I’m getting old and I’m starting to see that there may be a little more to life than this. But Sireesha has recently begun using stronger tactics. I’m not sure where she’s going, but she’s no longer playing by the rules,” Quinn replied.

The displays all froze. Each display paused as Quinn finished his thought.

“How do you mean?” Ramesh asked, noting a seriousness in Quinn that was uncharacteristic. While Ramesh knew Quinn to be driven and strong, he was never fully serious about himself or his life. In fact, most of the people closest to Quinn always wondered how he managed to create such a powerful global company when he could barely seem to prioritize his personal life.

Quinn turned and looked at Ramesh for the first time in the conversation. At the same time, the display screens rearranged so that the news stories of the three children became the prominent displays, each taking one-third of the full display space. “Do you recognize any of those kids?” he asked, pointing at the displays.

Ramesh turned and looked. He thought that he had seen a picture of the older boy on television or in a newspaper at the airport earlier, but he had not remembered any details. “No, the older boy looks somewhat familiar, but I am not certain.”

“His name is Thomas O’Grady. He is the youngest son of Senator O’Grady of Kansas. He died yesterday of unknown causes at a ski resort in Idaho. He was nineteen years old. The girl is April Ison. Her family lives in northern Virginia. Her father is the director of the National Institute of Health in Bethesda. She was eleven. The other boy is Ryland Ortega. He lived with his mother in Conway, Arkansas. He was an ice hockey player. He was thirteen.” The screens faded to black. “They all died yesterday at the same time of day.”

“Of what?” questioned Ramesh.

“Unknown. I am trying to pull some strings to get one of our forensic experts and researchers access to the bodies, but at this time very little is known.” Quinn focused on Ramesh. “Sireesha had them killed.”

Ramesh felt his heart sink and a pit open inside his stomach. He had known Sireesha. It struck him as impossible that she could have committed murder. “How can you know? What evidence is there? You said yourself that the cause of death is unknown.” Ramesh stumbled to get the words out. His thoughts were racing ahead of his words.

“It is a message to me personally. A message that only four other people on this planet could have sent to me and I can rule out two of those people. The only two people that could have sent this message and who would do it are Sireesha Naidu and Daniel Van Der Merwe. And since they’re still working together, I have no doubt that it was them.” Quinn stopped to let the words sink in. He could see that Ramesh was spinning inside.

“You ... I do not understand,” Ramesh stammered. “How is this a message to you? What is the message?”

“Ramesh,” Quinn started. The gravity in Quinn’s voice was reflected in his eyes as he continued. “This is why I have called you here – to explain this and to ask for your help. But, I want to try to give you a perspective of the seriousness of what’s happening. Three kids are dead. They’re kids, Ramesh. And Sireesha had them killed to send me a message. There are going to be more deaths. People close to us. If we don’t do anything more people will die. But if you get involved, you are putting yourself at risk. I need you to understand that.”

Ramesh sat forward in his chair and rested his head in his palms. He whispered something in Hindi. He rubbed his hands together and looked up at Quinn. There was genuine concern in his eyes. “Quinn, what have you done that has brought this upon you?”

Quinn looked back. He pursed his lips and exhaled. He answered, “I’ll tell you everything. And there will be some very upsetting things. I’m finished with the deceit and the marginal ethics and the fear. But I am not going to force you to be involved in this. It has to be your choice, because once this begins, it cannot be undone. You will be involved and you will not be able to get out.”

Ramesh stood. He paced around the large conference desk, considering his response. “Quinn, I am a writer. I write for trade journals and magazines and I write columns for newspapers. I write articles on ethics and on technology. I am not a high-power businessman or an adventurer. I sit alone on my stoop and write.”

“I know. That’s part of what makes you qualified to help. I can’t explain what that means unless you’re committed.” Quinn’s heart raced inside, but he tried to maintain his calm. He feared involving Ramesh for Ramesh’s safety, but he feared not involving Ramesh even more.

“Can you give me any idea of what you would need me to do, without going into detail?” Ramesh asked.

“That’s fair. Yes, I have reason to believe that Brad is in danger. The first thing I need is for you to go to Durban and warn him,” Quinn answered.

“Brad Harris?” Ramesh asked. Brad Harris was one of the four initial founders of Q-Morrow. Brad was the financial guru of the group. Ramesh and Brad had established a deep friendship in the years that they both lived in the Phoenix area. Brad left with Sireesha and Daniel to form the businesses that eventually became the Naidu companies in India.

“Yes,” Quinn answered. “Last I heard, Brad was living in Durban and had married an Indian woman. He took himself off the grid. I haven’t been able to track him down because he has become so disconnected and reclusive. He doesn’t want to be found and I think he is in danger. I think Sireesha and Daniel will be trying to find him.” Quinn’s voice trailed off as if he were going to continue, but he did not.

“Why me? Can you tell me that?” Ramesh asked. He seemed to be more interested, but he was certainly not sold.

“Several reasons. First, you know Brad. You would recognize him – and he trusts you. Second, you’re not connected with me. Nobody would even look twice at you traveling to South Africa and back. If I or if Valerie were to go it would be a media circus and if I were to send someone from the company, it might alert Sireesha.” Quinn paused. He looked at Ramesh, trying to discern any indication of a response.

Ramesh mulled it over in his mind. He had not been outside of Fort Collins much in the past few years. He hadn’t even left the sanctuary of his home for more than trips to the grocery and other shops. To fly to Durban, his childhood home, seemed daunting, and there were the nightmares of his past in Durban. He thought of Brad. They had been like brothers for a time.

“Okay,” Ramesh said tentatively. “For Brad, I will go.”

Quinn felt a rush of relief and of adrenaline at the same time. He had hoped that Ramesh would go, but it meant that he would now have to introduce Ramesh to the truth – and he wasn’t sure how Ramesh would take it.

“Thank you.” Quinn straightened in his chair. “You’re going to want to sit down now.” He breathed deeply then turned to Ramesh.

“Do you have the list of numbers that I sent you?” Quinn asked. Ramesh fumbled through his pockets and then withdrew the list. “Okay, when did you receive the list?”

Ramesh looked quizzically at Quinn and answered, “This morning.”

“Specifically, what time was it?” Quinn asked again.

“I would say about six a.m., though I am not certain,” Ramesh answered.

“And what time would that have been in London?” Quinn continued.

“I believe that is one p.m. Greenwich,” Ramesh answered. The expression of puzzlement grew in his eyes at the line of questions.

“Yes. And do you know what time the major lotteries are played around the world?”

“I believe that the numbers are drawn in the early evening for the national American lotteries, but I know nothing of the International lotteries,” Ramesh responded.

“Well,” Quinn began, “just so you know, there are several lotteries that are drawn each Wednesday and Saturday, including the British lottery and many of the national lotteries here. Typically the draw time is between five p.m. and seven p.m.”

Quinn spoke knowledgably and quickly as he explained. “Now, it’s almost six p.m., so on the East coast most of the regional lotteries have already played.” The viewscreens opposite the two men lit up again. There were six displays, each showing a lottery drawing. One was the British lottery and five others were regional lotteries on the East coast. “These, of course, are not live, but they are the actual drawings that occurred today. We can confirm that fact later if you like.”

Quinn’s mood seemed to have lightened. Ramesh noticed that Quinn was speaking quickly and he had a glint of deep excitement in his eyes. Ramesh was surprised that Quinn was interested in the lotteries. Quinn’s wealth significantly surpassed the value of any lottery. In fact, Quinn’s wealth easily surpassed the sum total of all winnings of all lotteries currently in play.

Ramesh watched as the numbers fell in each lottery drawing. When all six were played, he looked back at the numbers on the page he had received from Quinn earlier in the day. He looked up at the screens again. His eyes widened and he looked at Quinn with utter astonishment.

“This is impossible,” he whispered. He looked at the paper again and then at the screens. He was holding the winning numbers for six lotteries. His hands trembled at the significance of the paper.

“Not impossible, but extremely improbable,” Quinn gleamed. “I think the odds of winning just the UK lottery are about one in thirteen million. What do you think the odds of winning six lotteries at the same time are?”

“Winning one lottery has no impact on winning or losing any other lottery. They are independent events,” Ramesh answered, “So if there is a one in thirteen million chance of winning one, then the chance of winning all six is one in thirteen million to the sixth ... impossible.”

“Not impossible, but extremely improbable,” Quinn reiterated. He chuckled to see the astonishment in Ramesh. “So, Ram, you’re a scientist. Postulate. Theorize. Tell me how you think I did it.”

Ramesh stood again. He always thought more clearly on his feet. He had developed a habit of pacing on his stoop in Fort Collins. It had become such a part of his life that he had worn through the exterior carpet originally installed on the stoop. He rubbed his hands together and considered the question.

“There are two options that come to mind. Each is as unlikely as actually winning the lotteries,” Ramesh said, turning to face Quinn.

“And those two options are?” Quinn asked.

“First, I think you may have rigged the drawings. But that is unlikely because there would be no benefit to you and it would put you at legal risk.” Ramesh stopped and looked at Quinn. Quinn nodded and winked. Ramesh continued, “The other option is nonsense, but I cannot think of anything else.”

Quinn grinned. “Go ahead. I’ve heard a lot of nonsense.”

“The other option I considered is simply an option, not that there is any justification or sense in it.” Ramesh paused as if considering whether he would actually say what he was thinking. “Perhaps I have read too much fiction.” He paused again, and then turned away from Quinn to hide his embarrassment. “The other option is that you traveled in time.”

Quinn simply raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Interesting theory,” he said. “But, not the case. I didn’t travel into the future, but you’re going in the right direction.”