Tales of the Red Panda: The Mind Master by Gregg Taylor

Author:Gregg Taylor
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-05-02T07:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Three

The morning came far too early for August Fenwick. The lifestyle of a supposedly indolent young billionaire was hardly the most regimented one could imagine, but there were appearances to keep up occasionally. He struggled briefly with the plush mattress on which he lay, his still-sleeping mind straining to comprehend the meaning of the sudden onrush of daylight. He pushed himself onto his elbows as Thompson the butler busied himself opening curtains without apparent provocation.

“Good morning, sir.” Thompson was as clipped and efficient as always.

“Thompson, what the devil time is it?” Fenwick said at last, squinting hard.

“Eight-thirty, sir,” the gentleman’s gentleman said with a trace of a sadistic smile.

Fenwick shook his head to clear the first layer of cobwebs. “And did anyone happen to make you aware of the time that I retired last night?” he said at last.

“There seemed to be very little agreement on this subject, sir,” the butler said, busying himself with gathering his master’s morning effects. “Some were of the opinion that you graced us with your presence as early as a quarter to five. Others seem certain that it was closer to six.”

“It was six-fifteen, in fact,” Fenwick glared.

“As you say, sir. Like most of the household, I have long ago stopped keeping track of such matters.” Thompson stood beside the bed and held out a beautiful silk robe.

“Then what, precisely, makes you certain that I would wish–”

“Fenwick Laboratories, sir,” Thompson smiled. “The board of directors’ meeting–”

“–is canceled,” Fenwick said, throwing aside the bedclothes and taking the robe from Thompson as he rose. The butler sputtered slightly.

“But sir, I heard no such thing,” he protested.

“No,” said Fenwick as he pulled the robe over his shoulders, “but I imagine it will be when I don’t show up.”

“But, sir!” Thompson protested.

“I’ve never been entirely clear on why I need a board of directors anyway. And not just one. I must have about twenty.”

“Thirty one,” Thompson said, smoothing out the wrinkles in his master’s shoulders out of habit ingrained by long years of service. “One for each major corporate division.”

“Aren’t I the only shareholder?” the young man asked petulantly.

“Shall I have coffee sent up?” was the reply.

“No,” Fenwick said firmly. “I’ll take breakfast on the veranda. And the papers.”

“But sir–”

“I’m not going, Thompson. You can’t make me.”

In an instant each man became aware that they were playing out a scene they had acted since the wealthy young man was a small boy. Thompson interpreted this history as the upper hand in his favor.

“Shall I have the car wait out front, sir?”

“Ah-ha!” the young man pounced, spinning on his heels to waggle his finger at the manservant. “I’ve got you now! You can’t have the car brought ‘round.”

“May I ask why not, sir?” The older man was flustered now and barely concealing his annoyance.

“Because I’ve given Miss Baxter the morning off,” Fenwick said, his hands on his hips in triumph.

“You’ve… you’ve…”

“Miss Baxter is, in her capacity as my chauffeur, often obliged to keep my hours. I told her to get some sleep.

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