Page 135 of The Session

What he really wanted was to go back to his room and see what was on Kevin’s phone.

Beach Ball

Mark drifted through the party, making occasional conversation with the guests, focusing more on polite talk—who they were, where they liked to vacation, what sports they liked to watch, and the quality of whatever drink they currently had in hand. He asked questions and offered answers about himself. A number of them—more outsiders than he would have expected—knew that he was Max Lightman’s son. Mark deftly avoided pointing out the different last name or any connection to the man beyond biology, staying cordial as possible. Tru and her friends framing this as a social event was helpful, and the less Mark focused on how out of place he felt, the easier it was for him to get on with it.

Mark was beginning to feel like he had the hang of things and could maybe fit in after all, when he caught Nathan Morris looking at him from across the lounge.

Morris gave him a nod and started walking toward him.

Mark returned the nod unconsciously, but felt part of his body begin to panic.

“What do you think about all this?” Morris asked as he sidled up to the table where Mark was posted.

He wanted to ask if Morris had tried to have him killed in Haiti, and why, but instead replied, “I don’t think I’ve been around this much money.”

“Well, get used to it, kid. This is the business you’ve chosen. But you seem to be doing all right. Once you realize they’re basically just a bunch of pretenders who use money to compensate for insecurities, it’s not hard to talk to them.”

“Talking is the easy part. It’s closing that I’m still trying to wrap my head around.” Mark knew Morris was checking him out to see how much he suspected, looking for detectable suspicion or anxiety. He tried to keep it casual.

“I imagine these things were pretty wild back in the day,” he said.

“We were a lot younger. Better drugs. More energy,” Morris replied. “Not as rich, though.”

“This is still pretty crazy.”

He could only begin to imagine the money spent on the party, from the outdoor video walls to the crazy buffets and ice sculptures and knockout women walking around serving drinks and hors d’oeuvres.

“This? This is nothing. Wait till you go to the defense show in Dubai. That’s where the real money is.”

“What do we sell there?”

“Max would say stability. Others might say control,” Morris said.

“You mean like Constellation and Andromeda?” Mark asked.

“That’s part of it. But it’s not enough to have troops on the ground to maintain order. You also need people who aren’t going to steal from you to help you figure out how to run things. That’s really where there’s potential. People think it’s conflict. It’s not. It’s letting people pay you to make sure you don’t have conflict,” Morris explained.

“It’s that big?” Mark asked.

“Globally, consulting is growing at a faster rate than defense tech,” Morris told him.

“Interesting.”

Why was Morris talking about all of this with him? Was he toying with him? Or was this normal conversation?

“It’s the future. Tell me, when you were in Haiti, do you think more soldiers were on the ground than needed?”

“No. People just wanted to go on with their lives, but they couldn’t trust anybody.”

“Think about that. How bad do things have to get when you decide it’s safer to call in complete strangers who look down upon you to come into your country?”

“Pretty bad. So what are you saying? We just send in a bunch of management consultants?”

“You start with bookkeepers, make sure the accounting is in order. Then you do financial reform, make sure the banks are doing what they’re supposed to. You work your way through step by step,” Morris explained.

“Sounds like you’ve thought this through.”

Morris nodded. “Over time, you start to realize what the real problem is. And it’s not a lack or an abundance of nuclear weapons, or even the superiority of one ideology over another. It’s just stability.”