“No. This is not the CIA. The intricacies of our organization will be made clear to you later,” Briggs said.
AJ did not want to look the fool again, but he was equally afraid this might be his only opportunity for straight talk with the Principal Director for a very long time.
“To be frank, sir, today has not been anything like what I expected. I assumed that I was being recruited for a biotech firm involved in hush-hush government contracts, but that does not appear to be the case. If you could humor me for a moment and tell me exactly what this company does, it would go a long way in calming my nerves.”
Nicolora laughed. “It’s very simple — we solve problems that others cannot. Every Think Tank employee is a specialized, highly trained expert in his or her field. Unlike most companies, where experts are tasked to work with like-minded individuals on a single project for months or even years, we operate differently. We have adopted a model where the ‘best-of-the-best’ are combined into cross-functional teams that exist only until the assignment is complete. When a job is done, the experts are reshuffled into new teams and assigned to different problems. Resources are maximized. Great minds are kept fresh.”
“I thought the Nicolora Foundation was a not-for-profit organization full of PhDs and social scientists working to solve the world’s social and environmental problems?”
“It is, and we are,” said Nicolora. “You are free to take a tour of the Foundation at anytime. The people working on Level 2 do commendable work. I would stack my Foundation up against the RAND Corporation or the Cato Institute any day of the week. But you weren’t recruited to work for the Foundation.”
“Okay, then who do I work for?”
“You work for me.”
AJ was tempted to speak, but held his tongue. The whole cloak-and-dagger routine was clearly a charade that everyone he’d met thus far seemed hell bent on playing. He felt like a kindergartner in a game of keep-away on the playground, except he was the poor oaf chasing a ball he would never be permitted to catch. It was pointless.
“I didn’t answer your question, did I?”
“With all due respect, no sir, you didn’t,” AJ replied. “Why all the secrecy? Why the James Bond gadget lab in the basement? Why run a business that you conceal from the world? This place seems more like a covert branch of the government than a think tank.”
Nicolora clasped his hands together. He inhaled and stared at AJ with narrowed eyes. Then, he began.
“Throughout recorded history there have been many great leaders. Kings and queens, prophets and saints, chiefs and generals, presidents and prime ministers. Some leaders are benevolent, others not. Some are motivated by power, some by greed, some by doctrine, and others by righteousness. Some are celebrated, and many are despised. Regardless of the unique mark they leave on history, all leaders have one thing in common. They do not lead alone. Behind every leader stands a cast of advisors and confidants whose influence and counsel quietly shapes the world. These men and women are the unsung heroes of legend and lore, and these men and women are we.”
AJ pondered the power of Nicolora’s words.
“You see AJ, the notion of a think tank is nothing new. Think tanks have existed as long as governance itself. Oh, maybe not in name, but certainly in practice. What chief had not a council, what king no court, what president no cabinet? Through the millennia, we have been called mystics, wise men, advisors, mentors, counselors, and even apostles — whatever the name, our charter has remained unchanged: to provide information, options, and guidance to those who make the decisions that shape the lives of men. It is a daunting task. It is a duty that should fall only on the most worthy and capable of minds.”
“Still, why operate in secrecy?”
“Many reasons, but I’ll give you the top three. Because our services are primarily solicited by entities who demand secrecy. Because our embedded resources’ effectiveness is directly proportional to their anonymity. And most importantly, because our operation would be viewed as a terrible threat by some who maintain positions of power in government and industry.”
“And the field agents?”
“AJ. Don’t disappoint me by asking questions you should already know the answer to,” Nicolora chastised. “Why do you think we have resources trained to operate in the field?”
Nicolora was right; he knew the answer to his question. He had known it his entire life.
“Because if you want something done right, then you’d best do it yourself?”
“Exactly. In the beginning, we naively believed our charter was to provide a place where our clients could come for answers — solutions which they would go on to implement independently. We learned quickly that our clients not only have trouble problem solving, but they are equally dreadful at executing. Hence, our field resources were born.”
“Is The Think Tank tied to the U.S. government?”
“Around here, AJ, we just call it The Tank,” Nicolora corrected.
A chime sounded from the ceiling, interrupting the conversation. Nicolora looked up.
“Yes?”
A smooth, ethereal voice answered. “Mr. Nicolora, you have a priority call waiting.”
“Who is it, Coordinator? I’m in a meeting.”
“It’s Ms. Morley from Vyrogen Pharmaceuticals, Sir.”
Nicolora’s face hardened. “If you all would please excuse yourselves. I need to take this call. AJ, I’m sorry but I need to cut our Q & A short. Albane can handle any other questions during your orientation today.”
“Yes, Sir, thank you,” AJ replied.
“One more thing…”
“Sir?”
“Welcome to The Tank.” Nicolora smiled and then shot Briggs a knowing glance.
AJ nodded respectfully, stood up from his chair, and followed the others out of the room. Nicolora waited until the doors had shut and then pressed the flashing green Line 1 button on the conference room table phone.
“Hello, Meredith. What time should I send the plane?”
Chapter Eleven
Her beauty was gravity. Raven hair, milky smooth skin, full lips and a diva’s curves. Pulling his gaze from her took a physical effort. More than once she had admonished him with her eyes for his adolescent impropriety, but AJ could not help himself. He had never encountered a woman like Albane Mesnil before.
She was an enigma. He had spent the entire day with her and still knew nothing about her. Unlike most people, Albane’s favorite subject was not herself. In fact, she’d shrewdly coaxed him into talking volumes about “AJ” while defusing his attempts to learn reciprocal information about her. Still, it hadn’t stopped him from trying.
From outward appearance alone, it was impossible to guess her age, and he dare not ask. He imagined Albane could pass for a college girl of twenty-one just as easily as she could a business woman of thirty-five. She simply had one of those remarkable faces. Her demeanor betrayed what her skin belied. Poise and confidence like hers came only from years of experience. Albane was seasoned, of that much AJ was certain.
AJ was not alone in the category of those left to wonder about Albane and her shrouded past. Her private life was a carefully guarded secret she kept locked away. In the entire organization, only Nicolora knew something of her life before the Tank. He had taken a chance on Albane, and since her hire, she had yet to disappoint him. Occasionally she would say or do something to pique his curiosity, tempting him to lift a stone he knew better than to look under, but he always resisted.