Homicidal By Design [Hector Escaton]

Chapter 21

Isabella Moore was stunning—and if Charlotte knew anything, that meant that none of the idiots at Delos saw past her tits and ass, but she knew better. There was a lawyer, a notoriously fearless and bullheaded lawyer at that, lurking underneath whose mind did laps around those of the other Delos associates without trying. Every wave in her hair, the shimmering eyeshadow, the jewelry—they created a poreless façade of easy sophistication, every detail chosen with intent to create an iron veneer against the world and those who would defy her.

It didn't take a genius to understand why Isabella was done with Len and Lee's piss poor attempts to maneuver her. Charlotte was just happy to see her come out of her hotel room, something she hadn't done since returning from the park. It made this process easier and seem less premeditated.

When Charlotte found the blonde woman picking at a scone on the mesa, engrossed in a book, she was amused by her good luck.

"Isabella Moore, is that you?" she ventured, as if she didn't know who was hiding behind the massive black sunglasses.

Aforementioned sunglasses were slid down the bridge of her nose with a manicured hand. "Charlotte, it's good to see you. You look well."

Charlotte had dealt with more chilly welcomes than that. "I'm glad I ran into you, I was afraid I wouldn't see you before the gala! You mind if I sit?"

Isabella squared her shoulders, putting the book down and setting the neatly folded sunglasses on top before turning her attention to the other woman. "Of course not. How have you been?"

They chatted idly for a while, enjoying the tempered warmth of the balcony. It gave Charlotte time to get a full read on her target; files and hearsay only got one so far. She needed to scope Isabella out, in order to understand what the most effective strategy was.

..."Yeah, so if you could believe it, that jackass had the balls to make a pass at me while he was supposed to be down in Design working on the new storylines!"

"Something about Lee Sizemore makes that unsurprising," the other woman replied with a knowing smile and a sip of her coffee.

With a practiced sigh, Charlotte continued, "I'll cut the bullshit because I can tell you've had enough smoke blown up your ass during your time here, and for that I apologize. If I were in your position, I would be angry too. How are you ever supposed to understand what the fuck is going on when everyone is hitting you with their agenda?"

Isabella narrowed her eyes. "And I suppose you have no angle, Ms. Director of the Board?"

"We all have angles, Ms. Moore. Mine is just a bigger picture angle. I care about the park and its future, I'm not here to take part in a pissing contest between the old guard and the new. Quite honestly, I share some of your concerns regarding the hosts—what is the point in making them so realistic? I've seen Blackfish, I would never want our park to be housing thousands of non-human slaves," Charlotte joked.

"Your solution to host consciousness is just to lobotomize them?"

"Well, we both know that we can't set them free just to live in society. The only civilized thing to do is to roll them back enough so that they have none of the cognitive abilities that are leading to these dangerous improvisations. Keep them safe and keep the guests safe..." Charlotte gave what she hoped seemed like a sympathetic smile. "...it is the only humane alternative for the hosts. You know that. You're like me, Ms. Moore, you're a realist deep down. Having compassion like we do can often complicate things, so when we can find a happy medium, the best-case scenario for someone, we have to fight for them."

A part of Charlotte's carefully crafted speech seemed to strike a nerve, albeit not the part she had suspected, and the other woman's manicured brows furrowed. "What dangerous improvisations?"