Seated alone in her office, Anne Bonny checked the monitors and saw that no one was approaching in the hallways. Marguerite had been instructed to stall any unexpected visitors. She should have some time alone. She pressed her fingertip to a small sensor hidden below her desk top, and was prompted telepathically for a confirmation code. She sent the reply to the sensor, and a small flat drawer slid out of the bottom of her desk top.
She removed a folder from it: a slim portfolio bound in red leather. There was no title. She knew what it contained. She flipped through, looking for the sheets from Accounting. "Let's see... records of atrocities... funds paid to related contractors... death certificate for Anabel Couteau..." she murmured, paging through. "Press releases of pseudo-political intent, information on Chaos-slash-Bob and related parties, record of humanitarian aid sent... Oh, here we go, the profit statements."
Friends of the Abyss, a terrorist organization supposedly hell-bent on freeing the captive Bob, had been the Corporation's brainchild. It was a very secretive set of operations; only those at the highest level had even known of the Corporation's involvement. They had proceeded under the advisement of their spiritual advisor at the time, Nicholai Crowley... and in retrospect, his endorsement of torture and terrorism had been one of the clues that he wasn't very good at his job. (He had died before they'd had to fire him, a great relief to everyone.)
No one had ever suspected the truth about the Friends of the Abyss. Those who didn't buy the political terrorism angle figured it was some psychopaths taking an excuse to cut up, kids with too much time on their hands, something like that. But really, it had been a profit venture from day one.
After the injuries started piling up from FotA-related attacks, the Corporation had supplied humanitarian aid to the people of Rhy'din - medics, crisis centers, temporary housing for displaced persons and orphans. When the plagues had hit, the last and nastiest of the FotA stunts, the need for the Bonny Corporation medics became desperate. So not only did the survivors thank the Bonny Corporation for their lives (the medics and nurses, those angels of mercy, all wore uniforms with the company insignia), but the Corporation got dramatically richer. The aid was not free.
It was funded by charitable organizations in Rhy'din, sympathetic marks on Earth, and whatever government funding they could talk out of the locals. The Bonny Corporation pocketed most of that. The drugs they claimed to acquire at wholesale prices, when they actually owned their own pharmaceutical manufacturing lines (which had been working for months on the remedies for the specific plagues which would be released.)
The medics and nurses, whose labor was also valued at the market rate, were borrowed from the Corporation's business partners on Earth. They were mostly slaves, ghouls, or indentured servants (people working off debts to the Earth companies instead of having their knees broken.) So although a few had to be hired to amass the needed number of personnel, most of them worked free.
The only downside was that people's luxury spending, according to the charts, went down during the crisis. Those who took it seriously didn't know what to expect next, so they were hoarding their money or spending it on survival gear. The sale of recreational drugs had gone up somewhat, though, offsetting the loss of profit from the sale of silks, exotic pets, and other such goods. And in any case, it had all blown over by the time Club Babylon opened.
This, Anne reflected, would not be a good time for a re-occurrence of terrorism in Rhy'din. Club Babylon had been successful but not overwhelmingly so. People needed a few months of minimal crisis before they relaxed enough to enjoy the Club. So it looked like the Bonny Corporation might potentially be in the business of preventing catastrophes. Kind of heroic, when you thought of it like that.
The Corporation had always found a way to turn events to its advantage. They destroyed cities, and made money. They rebuilt them, and made money. They founded new cities, and made even more money. Recession, war, political turmoil - all of it could be profitable. And there was almost nothing the Bonny Corporation wouldn't do to turn a profit.
She removed a folder from it: a slim portfolio bound in red leather. There was no title. She knew what it contained. She flipped through, looking for the sheets from Accounting. "Let's see... records of atrocities... funds paid to related contractors... death certificate for Anabel Couteau..." she murmured, paging through. "Press releases of pseudo-political intent, information on Chaos-slash-Bob and related parties, record of humanitarian aid sent... Oh, here we go, the profit statements."
Friends of the Abyss, a terrorist organization supposedly hell-bent on freeing the captive Bob, had been the Corporation's brainchild. It was a very secretive set of operations; only those at the highest level had even known of the Corporation's involvement. They had proceeded under the advisement of their spiritual advisor at the time, Nicholai Crowley... and in retrospect, his endorsement of torture and terrorism had been one of the clues that he wasn't very good at his job. (He had died before they'd had to fire him, a great relief to everyone.)
No one had ever suspected the truth about the Friends of the Abyss. Those who didn't buy the political terrorism angle figured it was some psychopaths taking an excuse to cut up, kids with too much time on their hands, something like that. But really, it had been a profit venture from day one.
After the injuries started piling up from FotA-related attacks, the Corporation had supplied humanitarian aid to the people of Rhy'din - medics, crisis centers, temporary housing for displaced persons and orphans. When the plagues had hit, the last and nastiest of the FotA stunts, the need for the Bonny Corporation medics became desperate. So not only did the survivors thank the Bonny Corporation for their lives (the medics and nurses, those angels of mercy, all wore uniforms with the company insignia), but the Corporation got dramatically richer. The aid was not free.
It was funded by charitable organizations in Rhy'din, sympathetic marks on Earth, and whatever government funding they could talk out of the locals. The Bonny Corporation pocketed most of that. The drugs they claimed to acquire at wholesale prices, when they actually owned their own pharmaceutical manufacturing lines (which had been working for months on the remedies for the specific plagues which would be released.)
The medics and nurses, whose labor was also valued at the market rate, were borrowed from the Corporation's business partners on Earth. They were mostly slaves, ghouls, or indentured servants (people working off debts to the Earth companies instead of having their knees broken.) So although a few had to be hired to amass the needed number of personnel, most of them worked free.
The only downside was that people's luxury spending, according to the charts, went down during the crisis. Those who took it seriously didn't know what to expect next, so they were hoarding their money or spending it on survival gear. The sale of recreational drugs had gone up somewhat, though, offsetting the loss of profit from the sale of silks, exotic pets, and other such goods. And in any case, it had all blown over by the time Club Babylon opened.
This, Anne reflected, would not be a good time for a re-occurrence of terrorism in Rhy'din. Club Babylon had been successful but not overwhelmingly so. People needed a few months of minimal crisis before they relaxed enough to enjoy the Club. So it looked like the Bonny Corporation might potentially be in the business of preventing catastrophes. Kind of heroic, when you thought of it like that.
The Corporation had always found a way to turn events to its advantage. They destroyed cities, and made money. They rebuilt them, and made money. They founded new cities, and made even more money. Recession, war, political turmoil - all of it could be profitable. And there was almost nothing the Bonny Corporation wouldn't do to turn a profit.