November 2nd, 2017 – Late Morning
The Boardroom of Clandestine Cleaning was designed to look respectable.
Thick carpet. Long table. Discreet screens. Artwork that suggested success without inviting too many questions about how.
No logos. No mission statement on the wall. Just a view of the city and the quiet hum of money at work.
What it didn't show: the off-book contracts, the unmarked vans, the remote sites where problems went to disappear. Those lived behind other doors.
Asher sat at one end of the table, trying not to fidget. Sandra stood against the wall behind him, slightly to the left—assistant, shadow, witness.
Across from him, Board members took their seats.
He recognized some from magazine profiles and the occasional reluctantly attended charity event:
Harlan – greying temples, grandfatherly smile, Chair of the Board.
Cho – immaculate suit, razor eyes, head of Legal.
Elise – hair scraped into a severe knot, CFO, expression like a permanent audit.
Azad – perfect tie, smooth tan, the kind of eyes that never quite matched his smile.
Others joined by video, their faces appearing in neat windows along the far wall screen. They were framed by libraries, home offices, one blurred background that screamed secure bunker.
Asher's brain, uninvited, started painting them.
Harlan appeared in a faded blue wash—concern with something else underneath, old and heavy.
Cho was a precise silver-grey, sharp at the edges.
Elise was dark green, numbers and fear coiled tight together.
Azad…
Azad was a sunset.
Warm honey-gold on the surface, rich green underneath, and a thin, oily black coil that writhed just out of sight whenever he smiled.
That's probably just bias, Asher told himself. I've always thought he was a creep.
"Mr. Hale," Harlan said, voice gentle. "Thank you for joining us on such short notice."
"Yeah," Asher said. He cleared his throat. "Thanks for… letting me be here."
"You have every right to be here," Elise said. "You're Victoria's son."
Her outline pulsed yellow on every right.
He swallowed.
"First and foremost," Harlan said, "please accept our sympathies. Victoria is not just our CEO. She's a… foundational figure. Her health is of utmost importance to all of us."
The room filled with warm noises of agreement. Asher's brain watched patchy colors flicker: small honest blue, polite beige, thin streaks of yellow when people said utmost and all of us.
"We're doing everything in our power to support her recovery," Cho said. "Clandestine Cleaning has access to the best medical care, and we've instructed our security team to coordinate closely with the hospital."
That, at least, sat in flat, solid grey. Procedure, not emotion.
"However," Elise said, "as fiduciaries, we have a responsibility to ensure continuity for our… operations."
The pause before operations was barely noticeable. The way a few video feeds flickered slightly wasn't.
"Some of our clients are understandably nervous," she continued. "They purchased, among other things, the illusion of stability. Our risk models do not enjoy unexpected CEO collapses."
"We need to reassure them," Harlan said. "We need to show that the company's… services… will not be interrupted."
Asher shifted in his chair.
"Are you telling me your very special, please-don't-audit-this services have a customer service problem?" he asked before he could stop himself.
A few remote faces twitched. Cho's mouth almost quirked.
Azad's smile widened, the oily coil in his colors tightening.
"We provide a range of specialized solutions," Azad said smoothly. "Discretion, remediation, deterrence. Some of those solutions are, shall we say, sensitive to leadership changes."
"Right," Asher said. "You make problems disappear and clean up after other people's… accidents. We're all adults here."
Harlan cleared his throat.
"Our concern," he said, "is that certain… hostile actors might see Victoria's condition as an opportunity. Clients could be poached. Internal assets could be approached. Our investors might get… creative."
Investors. The word made something in his chest clench.
"As her closest relative," Cho said, "your position carries legal weight in a worst-case scenario. Wills, power of attorney, emergency succession protocols—these instruments all take you into account. We wanted to include you in our discussion, so nothing is done over your head."
More yellow flared around include you and nothing is done over your head.
He thought of the note in his mother's folder: They don't need you to run it. They just need you to bless the theft. Don't.
He laced his fingers together on the table so no one would see them shake.
"What exactly do you want from me?" he asked.
"A few signatures," Elise said bluntly. "On documents that clarify the Board's authority to maintain continuity in the event Victoria is incapacitated for an extended period."
"So… you want me to sign something that says 'please go ahead and do whatever you want,'" he said.
"Not at all," Azad said, spreading his hands. "These are standard governance measures. Nothing we're proposing changes the operational reality. It simply formalizes what already exists, and gives our banking partners comfort."
Thick yellow bled through his sunset when he said standard and nothing.
On one of the side screens, a remote board member shifted, their outline flashing a dull yellow at banking partners.
Asher's heart hammered.
"You're talking about control," he said. "Who gets to steer the nice, respectable front company while the not-at-all-respectable part does its thing. Right?"
"Crude, but not inaccurate," Cho said.
"At present," Elise said, "Victoria holds certain veto powers. Certain assets are only accessible with her authorization. Some of those structures were… tailored to her."
"To keep you honest," Asher said.
Yellow flared again, this time across three faces.
"Of course," Azad said, "no one here would ever act against the company's best interests."
Full, oily yellow-green now. Sunset curdling.
Asher almost laughed.
"I got fired yesterday," he said instead. "My car was stolen. I live in a crappy apartment. I have never read a balance sheet in my life. And you want me to sign paperwork about 'governance structures'?"
"We don't expect you to design them," Harlan said. "We have Legal for that. We simply want your acknowledgement that, in the event of… prolonged incapacity, the Board is empowered to act."
"And if I don't acknowledge it?" Asher asked.
Silence.
"Then certain counterparties may decide the company is too unstable to partner with," Elise said. "They may withdraw their… more interesting contracts. Our investors may reallocate their capital."
"And some of them might decide the easiest way to minimize risk is to buy us in pieces," Azad added mildly. "With or without your name on the dotted line."
"So you can do all this without me," Asher said. "You'd just prefer I make it look like a family decision."
"At minimum, your cooperation would simplify things," Cho said. "And make it less likely that any restructuring would involve… external scrutiny."
External scrutiny. Investigations. Governments who didn't like private companies with questionable side-lines changing ownership in the dark.
They weren't asking him to be CEO.
They were asking him to be a human stamp on whatever they already planned to do.
His skin crawled.
"I think," he said slowly, "that my mother would kill me if I signed anything like that while she's still breathing."
"That's rather dramatic," Azad said lightly. "She is asleep, Mr. Hale, not dead."
"For now," Asher said. "Doctor Wade said they're still figuring out what's wrong. Until they tell me she's never waking up, she's still the one who gets to decide who runs her…operation."
He had no idea if that was the right word, but it was better than the ones in his head.
He expected outrage. Or at least serious frowning.
Instead, Harlan sighed.
"No one is trying to take her company away from her, Asher," Harlan said gently. Yellow flickered, thin but there. "We simply want to be ready if the worst happens."
"Then you won't mind waiting until we know whether it has," Asher said. "I'm not signing anything today."
Elise's mouth tightened.
"Time is a factor," she said.
"Client confidence is a factor," Azad added.
"My mother's brain is a factor," Asher shot back. "You want my cooperation? Great. Then you'll bring me something my mother's lawyer has seen, that Dr. Wade has confirmed doesn't give you power over her medical decisions, and that doesn't quietly move her vetoes into your pockets. Until then, the answer is no."
He had no idea if any of that was legally coherent.
But Cho's color flickered from neutral grey to a thoughtful blue, and that felt like he'd accidentally said something useful.
"You want independent counsel," Cho said. "That is… reasonable."
Elise turned toward her, surprised. "Cho—"
"Pushing him into a signature while his mother is in the ICU is bad optics," Cho said flatly. "If this ever leaks, we look like vultures. We can circulate drafts. He can review them with Victoria's people. The bank will accept 'process underway' for a few days."
"And the less we panic him," Cho added in an almost idle tone, "the less likely he is to go to anyone outside this room with phrases like 'investors' and 'off-book services.'"
Yellow did not appear on that last sentence.
Which meant, unfortunately, that she was right.
Azad's coil twisted tighter. His smile didn't reach his eyes now.
"Of course," he said smoothly. "We have no desire to rush you, Mr. Hale. We simply wanted to present the options."
"Great," Asher said. "Consider them presented."
He pushed back his chair, stood up, then remembered he wasn't actually allowed to storm out of boardrooms like a movie.
"Are we done?" he asked more politely than he felt.
"For now," Harlan said. "Sandra will coordinate with Legal. We'll get you the documents."
"And, Asher," Harlan added, "if you have any questions, please don't hesitate to reach out to me directly. We are all on the same side here."
Yellow flared across more faces this time.
"All of us," Azad echoed, his own color sliding into that "smug sunset over an oil spill" feeling Asher would later write down. "We all want what's best for Victoria."
His stomach rolled.
"Sure," Asher said. "I'll… keep that in mind."
He turned away from the table.
As he left, he caught a last, quick impression of the room: a smear of yellows around certain phrases (succession, same side, best for Victoria), a steady blue-grey around procedure words (process, counsel), and that oily coil around Azad whenever he talked about "investors."
He didn't know yet what to do with any of it.
But he knew one thing:
Whatever this world was—boardrooms, investors, "special solutions"—he wasn't being asked to run it.
He was being measured.
As a problem.
As a tool.
As something to turn into an asset or erase.
He stepped out into the hall, lungs tight.
Sandra fell into step beside him.
"You didn't sign," she said.
"Was I supposed to?" he asked.
"No," she said. "You did well."
"I mostly just… stalled," he said.
"That's the first useful skill in this building," she said. "Stall until you see the pattern. Then decide where to cut."
He looked at her.
"You think I'm going to cut someone?" he asked.
"I think," she said, "that you're going to have to decide what you're willing to cut, if you stay in this world."
"I don't want to 'stay in this world'," he said.
She gave him a long, unreadable look.
"Unfortunately," she said, "this world wants you."