it.
Natesh had his routine. The stories changed depending on the exact project, but the basic formula stayed constant. Introductions came first. Then he would tell a story to both captivate and serve as inspiration for a strategy. For this project, Natesh decided that he would tell his story about a professional pickpocket from New York City. That one usually went over well. Natesh would follow that up with comparisons between the competitors. Normally his competitors were two major conglomerates. Today, they were two superpowers. From there, Natesh would get to the meat of the conversation. He would go over project objectives and begin brainstorming about ways to create competitive advantage. MBA’s usually ate it up. He wasn’t so sure about this audience.
It was highly likely that the activities they created in this particular project would involve killing on a mass scale. It would be unlike anything Natesh had worked on before. He hoped that his gift for analysis and strategic thinking surpassed the line between corporate battle and actual battle. Certainly the man who had picked him for this assignment thought so.
But oftentimes, with the gift of genius comes the curse of thinking deeply. Life’s harsh realities were magnified by this lens. Natesh thought about how people on the Manhattan project had felt, knowing that they were designing death. There was the utilitarian justification that was used by so many after the bombs were dropped on Japan. A supposedly far larger number would have been lost in a hostile invasion of the Japanese mainland. Was this war-planning analogous to that? They were designing a most efficient plan for war. Natesh hoped that the greatest good would rise from the smoke.
Three sharp knocks sounded on his door.
He opened it to find Lena staring at him. Natesh’s parents were both Indian. While he would never admit as much in an American society dominated by political correctness, he preferred women that were from a similar ethnic background to his own. Lena, however, was a truly beautiful Asian woman. Her looks seriously called into question any previous preference Natesh had. Her dark brown eyes had a fire that showed intelligence, confidence, and—what was it? There was some other quality there. Passion? No. Ruthless commitment. She looked like she had never failed at anything in her life, and that she had expected as much. With full lips and a well-proportioned, athletic body, she looked like she could have been a model for one of those women’s fitness magazines. Natesh wondered if it was her looks that made his blood pressure rise when she was around. No, it was her ruthlessness.
“Good morning, Lena. We have another twenty minutes before—”
“Let’s talk in my office. Please follow me.”
She turned and walked down the barracks hallway. Natesh grabbed his key and presentation notes off his nightstand and hustled to catch up. He was glad that he had gotten ready early. They walked out of the barracks and down a 100-foot-stretch of gravel that brought them to the smallest building on the island base. Everyone assumed that this was a base, although Lena was likely the only one that knew for sure. An arc of tropical trees shaded the path.
Natesh’s feet crunched through the stones and seashells as he walked. The morning sun cast a beautiful light over the beaches beyond the runway. He wanted to stop and admire the monstrous green mountain at the heart of the island, but Lena trudged onward at a quick pace. A trickle of sweat slid down his forehead as he hobbled after her.
They reached the concrete structure with satellite dishes and a group of antennae on top. Razor wire lined the roof. Metal bars caged in each of the narrow windows, making it look like a small town jail. Lena’s fingers danced over the digital keypad as she typed in the code to the single
Natesh had his routine. The stories changed depending on the exact project, but the basic formula stayed constant. Introductions came first. Then he would tell a story to both captivate and serve as inspiration for a strategy. For this project, Natesh decided that he would tell his story about a professional pickpocket from New York City. That one usually went over well. Natesh would follow that up with comparisons between the competitors. Normally his competitors were two major conglomerates. Today, they were two superpowers. From there, Natesh would get to the meat of the conversation. He would go over project objectives and begin brainstorming about ways to create competitive advantage. MBA’s usually ate it up. He wasn’t so sure about this audience.
It was highly likely that the activities they created in this particular project would involve killing on a mass scale. It would be unlike anything Natesh had worked on before. He hoped that his gift for analysis and strategic thinking surpassed the line between corporate battle and actual battle. Certainly the man who had picked him for this assignment thought so.
But oftentimes, with the gift of genius comes the curse of thinking deeply. Life’s harsh realities were magnified by this lens. Natesh thought about how people on the Manhattan project had felt, knowing that they were designing death. There was the utilitarian justification that was used by so many after the bombs were dropped on Japan. A supposedly far larger number would have been lost in a hostile invasion of the Japanese mainland. Was this war-planning analogous to that? They were designing a most efficient plan for war. Natesh hoped that the greatest good would rise from the smoke.
Three sharp knocks sounded on his door.
He opened it to find Lena staring at him. Natesh’s parents were both Indian. While he would never admit as much in an American society dominated by political correctness, he preferred women that were from a similar ethnic background to his own. Lena, however, was a truly beautiful Asian woman. Her looks seriously called into question any previous preference Natesh had. Her dark brown eyes had a fire that showed intelligence, confidence, and—what was it? There was some other quality there. Passion? No. Ruthless commitment. She looked like she had never failed at anything in her life, and that she had expected as much. With full lips and a well-proportioned, athletic body, she looked like she could have been a model for one of those women’s fitness magazines. Natesh wondered if it was her looks that made his blood pressure rise when she was around. No, it was her ruthlessness.
“Good morning, Lena. We have another twenty minutes before—”
“Let’s talk in my office. Please follow me.”
She turned and walked down the barracks hallway. Natesh grabbed his key and presentation notes off his nightstand and hustled to catch up. He was glad that he had gotten ready early. They walked out of the barracks and down a 100-foot-stretch of gravel that brought them to the smallest building on the island base. Everyone assumed that this was a base, although Lena was likely the only one that knew for sure. An arc of tropical trees shaded the path.
Natesh’s feet crunched through the stones and seashells as he walked. The morning sun cast a beautiful light over the beaches beyond the runway. He wanted to stop and admire the monstrous green mountain at the heart of the island, but Lena trudged onward at a quick pace. A trickle of sweat slid down his forehead as he hobbled after her.
They reached the concrete structure with satellite dishes and a group of antennae on top. Razor wire lined the roof. Metal bars caged in each of the narrow windows, making it look like a small town jail. Lena’s fingers danced over the digital keypad as she typed in the code to the single
Similar Books
