Chapter 168: In the Table(1)
Miles from any major city, deep within a desolate stretch of the Nevada desert, Richard’s android doppelganger, accompanied by a small detail of human security, stepped out of a sleek, private jet onto a dusty, isolated airstrip. The air was hot, still, and heavy with the scent of dry earth. Waiting beside a polished black limousine was a man with a neatly trimmed beard and sharp, European features, impeccably dressed despite the oppressive heat.
"Mr. Santamo," the man greeted, extending a hand. His grip was firm, surprisingly strong. "I’ve been expecting you. I must congratulate you again for your incredibly successful business ventures. My name is Lex Martin, a representative of the Rothschild family."
The doppelganger, programmed for meticulously feigned surprise, offered a pleasant, acknowledging smile. "Mr. Martin. The pleasure is mine. Your reputation precedes you."
Lex Martin gestured towards a massive, unassuming hangar nearby. "If you’d follow me, please."
As they approached, the hangar doors, a seamless part of the desert landscape, slid open with a soft hydraulic hiss. The doppelganger’s internal sensors registered the vast, cool space within, but his programmed external reaction was a subtle, almost imperceptible widening of his eyes, a calculated gasp of awe. Inside, bathed in a soft, ethereal glow, stood not one, but three genuine Unidentified Flying Objects.
Their metallic surfaces were seamless, alien, utterly beyond any known human technology. One was a classic disc shape, another a triangular craft, and the third, a more elongated, almost organic form. Richard had seen Lina’s simulations, but this was... different. The doppelganger successfully conveyed the impression of a man utterly captivated.
Lex Martin smiled, noting the doppelganger’s reaction with satisfaction. He led the way to a large table positioned just behind the alien craft. A tall, lean man in his fifties sat there, distinguished by long, curly brown hair and a meticulously maintained mustache. Behind him, two hulking security guards stood motionless, like statues carved from granite, their eyes unblinking.
"I’m glad to finally meet you, Mr. Santamo," the man said, his voice a smooth, resonant baritone. He extended a hand across the table.
"I am Anton Rothschild. I’m sure you must have heard of me from somewhere, but let me just say, congratulations on your ventures. Your company, Bytebull, and your name, are quite popular not only in the tech industry but also in the vehicle industry."