Event Horizon Part Two

Part Two

“Mr. Kampbell will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you,” Milo nodded. Before him was a large executive suite, designed in modern fashion for someone with a generous amount of wealth. It was that kind of minimalistic look that although there was little there, it was obvious that the owner had cash to burn. Decorative, historical pieces that were probably worth the cost of a home were scattered around the spacious room, and Milo made sure to investigate each and every one of them.

While standing next to a 600-year-old painting from Germany, Milo began to hear whisperings from the other side of the wall. Seeing no harm in doing so, he leaned in and focused his senses on the conversation.

“Yes, it is all going smoothly.” The man in the space adjacent had a heavy voice, one that commanded respect and held great dignity. “Just like all the others, this firm is succumbing at a remarkable speed.”

Milo began picking up on an Indian accent and placing together who could be separated from him. The other voice was indistinguishable, causing Milo to assume new CEO Mr. Ramamurthy was speaking into a phone.

“The surnames make it obvious,” Mr. Ramamurthy chuckled. “There’s nothing more exhilarating than seeing all those Smiths become Singhs.”

Milo shuffled his body a little closer to the wall, pushing his entire frame against it.

“The final contract for Gold Enhancement is going in tonight, and I expect to have it all settled first thing tomorrow. By the end of this week, we should have all nine in the palm of our brown hands.”

The Indian CEO then laughed, the bass so powerful it almost reverberated against the wall Milo was next to. But he didn’t notice it as he was too busy quickly writing down the name ‘Gold Enhancement’ in his notebook. That was another major financial firm in the country, and notably the last to not be bought out by Mr. Ramamurthy. When he had a chance, Milo would immediately tip his boss and hopefully have the City Post cover it before anyone else.

“And once that’s done we’ll be off to Phase 2.” Milo could practically hear the man’s smirk. “नवभारत will be born.”

“'Nav-bha-rat'?” Milo muttered to himself, the Hindu syllables struggling to leap off his tongue. He went to grab his notebook once more to try and write the word, but accidentally knocked the painting beside him off the wall. In a moment of pure desperation, he caught the art, but the rattling was enough to alert the man across the wall that somebody was listening in.

“Crap!” Milo whispered to himself as the sound of a phone call ended clicked from the other room. Quickly, Milo restored the painting back to its original spot and rushed to escape. But just as he was about to leave, the door swung open to reveal a tall, imposing male figure.

“Mr. Rammonds,” the older male walked into the office and closed the door behind him. “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.”

“Not at all, Mr. Kampbell.” Milo tried to stay calm, hoping this interview would give him some time to come up with an explanation when the Indian CEO confronted him. Or hopefully, if the Indian CEO confronted him.

“I had a meeting with a high-profile client across town and traffic was fairly messy.” Mr. Kampbell paced the room with an air of refinement. He was a man of classic taste. His well-tailored suit and perfectly-coiffed gray hair aided his distinguished appearance. His stern and firm manner of speaking also solidified his place as a man of heritage and dignity. Plus, his healthy physical appearance showed no outwardly signs that the aging process was having any malignant effects.

“Please, take a seat.” Mr. Kampbell motioned to a chair beside the desk before taking one behind it. “If you would just give me a moment, I have to log in for the day and then we can begin.”

Mr. Kampbell typed away at his desktop, opening up the computer. Milo simply busied himself with tidying up with notes.

“Ouch!” Mr. Kampbell zipped, pulling his hands away from the keyboard momentarily. After catching Milo’s concerned eye, he rolled his eyes. “Just a little shock. The new CEO has us updating our software to ‘better fit his needs,’ whatever that means.”

Milo decided to jump off from there, “Do you have a different way of doing things, Mr. Kampbell?”

The older gentleman smiled, crossing his legs and he leaned comfortably back into his chair.

“I’m a man of tradition, Mr. Rammonds,” he smiled. “Not the kind of tradition that believes because things have worked for centuries a certain way, that’s how they should remain. Rather, I do things the way that have always worked well for me personally.”

“A creature of habit?”

“Exactly.” A soft grumble emitted from the room. Mr. Kampbell didn’t appear to hear it, but Milo did.

“Has habit always shaped how you work?”

“Most certainly.” Another grumble, although this time it was more centralized to one location. Or rather, one being. A third made it obvious it was coming from the older man’s stomach. But still, Mr. Kampbell wasn’t phased by it, nor did he even seem to recognize the sound’s existence. 

“And what are some of the habits that you would say differ from Mr. Ramamurthy’s?”

Although underneath a suit jacket and white button-up, Milo swore he could see the other man’s stomach physically vibrating. It pulsated and pushed forward, heaving up against the limits of the shirt. It was a little early for lunch, but the man must have skipped breakfast in order to be so hungry. Yet Milo had never heard of a stomach bloat due to being starved; it seemed a little counterintuitive.

“Sure,” Mr. Kampbell replied as he unbuttoned his suit jacket, the beginnings of a belly plopping forward onto his waist. “But I guess really they are just other ways of coming to the same conclusion.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“The new CEO and I come from very different backgrounds,” Mr. Kampbell replied. He itched his beard as he considered the matter, the hairs flowering out into a luxurious, mature black.

“Are you referring to your different nationalities?” Milo asked.

“I assume you meant regionalities,” the man corrected. “Vivek Ramamurthy is a city lad at heart. Was raised in the great metropolitan areas of India and developed his personality and ideals as such.”

Milo fervently took down notes, trying his best to hide the blush of embarrassment. He had done a background synopsis on the older executive before the interview–that would have been a rookie mistake if he hadn’t–yet he had still somehow made a mistake. Once he was sure the pinkish hue had escaped his cheeks, he looked back up to meet the eyes of the intimidating Mr. Kumar. The bulky, Indian male was a man who demanded obedience. If his goliath frame didn’t make you feel less-than, then his well-deserved haughty and entitled disposition would.

“I however started in the countryside, switching between farms of jute and tea before climbing my way up into the financial business.” Mr. Kumar’s accent only accentuated his point, certain syllables rolling off his Indian tongue pointed to a history of starting from the bottom before climbing up. “So when I say that Mr. Ramamurthy and I have different traditions, it is simply referring to two separate ways of accomplishing the same goal.”

“And that is?”

Mr. Kumar typed something into his laptop, his interest in the interview rapidly fading. “Establishing India’s dominance over this country.” 

Milo paused at that, not knowing what to take of the quote. Typically, he would sum it up to high-and-mighty arrogance, but remembering what he had heard from the CEO before made him feel a little queasy. He had felt that something was off earlier–now he was sure of it.

“Is that all?” Mr. Kumar requested. “I’m an important man, Mr. Rammonds.”

“Oh…uh yes,” Milo immediately stood up, ready to make his exit. “Thank you for your time today and-”

“Goodbye.”

With a curt nod, Milo made his way towards the door. He could hear the larger man typing furiously away behind him, stopping momentarily to take a sip from the chai tea at his desk. Milo hadn’t remembered seeing a cup there, but the spice blend was undeniable. Either way, Milo only had one thought on his mind as he turned the handle and left the office: leaving. His boss at the City Post wouldn’t like it, but he’d chalk up some story that there was nothing there to bite. 

Without drawing any attention to himself, Milo made his way to the elevator. He just had to leave.