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Sunday 15 January 2012

Project: Evil - the Final Interview Part 1

Project: Evil Chapter Two - The Final Interview part 1
Brian looked around Mr O'Feld's office while fighting off the urge to sneeze, his eyes watering more than the quack had suggested they would after taking the anti-histamines.  He took in the wood panelling, shag carpet and the ornate decanters stood on one side.  Mr O'Feld looked like he could lose some weight, as could the white Persian purring on his lap.  Daw sat next to O'Feld, shuffling papers nervously.  A secretary sat to one side making notes in shorthand; Brian was sure Daw had referred to her as Miss Blowjob but he could've been mistaken.  O'Feld smiled hard, popping his monocle out onto the desk top.
'Mr Richards,' he said in his rich Irish brogue, 'Mr Daw here has recommended you from the short-list.  I've read his report and subject to a satisfactory meeting here this afternoon I'm sure we can complete the paperwork and bring you on-board.' 
'Assuming you're still interested in the job,' added Daw.  O'Feld shot Daw a stern look.
'He'd better be, seeing what happened to the others on the short-list,' he snapped.  Daw looked sheepish.
'Over-exuberant henchmen, a river boat and a surplus of ready-mix cement,' he said in way of explanation.  Brian decided he probably would accept any offer made and would run like hell if he was turned down.  O'Feld fixed Brian a hard stare before reaching inside his white suit jacket, pulling out a slip of paper. 
'This is a critical role in my organisation and I require the highest standards of professionalism.  You would be expected to keep up to date with the current trends in arch-villainy, attending appropriate trade shows such as the International Megalomaniac Convention in June,' he said.
'Where is it held,' asked Brian, keeping an eye on the piece of paper being waved in front of him.
'NEC, as usual,' replied O'Feld, referring to the National Exhibition Centre in Birmingham. 
'It's very good,' added Daw, 'a bit like the Good Food Show with garrottes and grenades.'  Brian turned his attention back to O'Feld.
'Will you be there?'  O'Feld glowered.
'Not this year, the keynote is by that nippleless bastard Scaramouche.  There's no way I'd go anywhere near any convention he was speaking at.  I expect that Kraut Doktor Negatif will attend though, and that waster Brass-digit...'
'Gold-digit,' interjected Daw, not looking up.
'Whatever, looks like a scrap metal merchant to me, nothing like a super-evil arch villain,' replied O'Feld.  'Anyway, there's no way I'd attend the conference unless I was giving the keynote.  It should have been ME!' he said, thumping his chair arm.  Daw kept his eyes on his notes.
'You had the keynote two years ago,' he said, angering O'Feld even more.
'And I was fantastic.  I have half a mind to blow the whole conference up with everyone in it,' he stated, his eyes blazing.  Daw raised his eyes to the ceiling.
'We've been through this.  International megalomaniacs don't go around assassinating each other and anyway, I recruit heavily from the competition – how am I supposed to do that if you keep blowing them up?'  O'Feld simmered for a few seconds before returning his stare to Brian.
'You know about my goal of world domination by any means,' he stated, holding the slip of paper just out of Brian's reach.
'Any means?' asked Brian.
'Any means using ruthless force and unreasonable pressure on world leaders, then,' corrected O'Feld.  Brian relaxed, he'd thought for one awkward moment O'Feld might have been considering democracy as an option.
'In that case, yes, but to be fair Mr Daw hasn't been too forthcoming with details.  Are we talking about a space station with a death ray here or perhaps a fleet of ocean going liners furnished with tactical nuclear warheads?'  O'Feld threw a cautionary look across at Daw, who buried himself back in his paperwork.

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The characters, companies and places referred to in Project: Evil are fictitious and any resemblance to people, companies, businesses or places is entirely coincidental

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