The Sins of the Fathers

Chapter Eleven

May 2064

The Stoddart Residence

Boston

Massachusetts

"Grace...is that a collar?" Sean Fletcher asked, removing his glasses and staring intently at his screen in the oval office. He was in shirtsleeves with his tie pulled loose, and drinking what looked suspiciously like a scotch at eleven o'clock in the morning.

"Yes...I am method acting, remember? And as soon as I am finished with you, my keeper is taking me out for my daily exercise?" She replied, deciding not to tell her uncle that she was tethered to the chair again. Miss Klein had mellowed a little bit, but she still had her red lines and she did not like Grace having unsupervised access to a computer or being left alone unrestricted. "With a loved-up Mena Forbes?"

"Yes...I heard about that...not sure what I think of it...but we will have a spy in another interesting little camp, I suppose?"

"Did Stuart have a word, Uncle Sean?"

"About this Cartwright woman and your broader concerns? Yes, he did...but he doesn't want me to send in the troops because Reece Cartwright is right up to his ears in this convent hospital nonsense?"

"But what if the use of equipment is more widespread? The Cartwright's aren't the only people who have spent time in London...and if doctors are being paid to falsify disablement certificates, they could also be paid to equip people here?" Grace insisted, and her uncle gave her a little nod of understanding.

"Quite possibly...I mean, it's highly illegal...a federal crime...but some men are bastards and they will abuse the system...and Stuart doesn't want me to take Cartwright off the board just yet, Grace?" Fletcher repeated, and Grace sighed, disappointed but understanding their points. Brett was working closely with Reece Cartwright on the convent building project and they both reported to Howard Procter as the senior partner. But they were not yet in a position to find out who was really behind the project and what their intentions were, because Brett's involvement thus far had been all about zoning applications and pre-contracts with architects and construction firms. Brett needed to get on the inside, with her help, and if Mena really was going to marry Procter, they would be much closer.

"But you could start an investigation without arresting anyone?" Grace suggested, and her uncle rolled his eyes like a frustrated teenager.

"I am so sick to death of investigations that don't go anywhere, young lady?"

"Didn't Dad get his hands on one of those chip detectors that the British police use to monitor their people?" She asked, and he frowned, thinking about it.

"I think so...I forget how?"

"Well, you could get someone to drive around the city a few times and see what the extent of the problem is, couldn't you?" She urged and he sat back in his chair, considering it. "The city is getting more and more...British...in terms of discipline and behaviour...it's like an invasion...more and more conspicuous piety...I think Boston is becoming a serious problem for us, Uncle Sean?"

"New England...the perfect place for the Reformists to get their first real foothold in this great country of ours?" Fletcher sighed, reminding himself that he only had a few more short months as President to make a difference. "Okay...if the Prof still has that gizmo, and it does what you think it does, I'll get the FBI to have a look...and if you're right, and we have real problems, they can feel a few collars...leaving Cartwright out of it for now? How does that sound, Grace?"

She thought it sounded good, and felt that she was being really useful at last. Grace wanted to work for the Rosen Foundation, but she did not want her role to be passive or decorative because of her gender. Being Brett's wife was not her career, and she wanted to play a full role, by his side, not walking two paces behind him on a leash. But there she was, tethered to a chair, waiting for Miss Klein to come and take her out for a walk. She shook her head and laughed at herself, just as the door opened and she was reclaimed.