The Prodigal Son

Posted on Tue May 28th, 2024 @ 8:10pm by Dr. Winston Sinclair & Cornelius Sinclair

2,874 words; about a 14 minute read

Mission: Summer's Fading Light
Location: Conference Room, Academy Building
Timeline: 8/17/2016

The monthly meeting of the Board of Directors of Red Rock Academy for the Gifted was generally a relatively routine affair. Established in 2005, the Board was the body which now technically had the final authority in all matters of the Academy’s business, but with three of the original five members still remaining, including the President and Vice President, they had over a decade of connection and productive working relationships under their belt. The two new Board members were of an opposite pairing, with Sedona’s City Manager being a friendly and cooperative presence and the Junior Senator from Arizona being a very difficult man to work with.

The five Board members and Winston sat around a conference table in the administrative office. Generally an Executive Director, the role that managed the support staff, finances, and resources in the business of the Academy under the direction of Dr. Sinclair, would be in attendance as well. However, the previous occupant in that role had retired at the end of the previous school year.

“I call to order the August meeting of the Board of Directors of Red Rock Academy.” Came the silvery voice of a raven-haired woman who sat at the head of the table. She wore a blue blazer and a Business-like smile. Dr. Erin Faust was the president of the board, but worked as the CEO of Banner Health in the State capitol. “The first item on the agenda is the Headmaster’s report. Dr. Sinclair.”

Winston stood at the invitation and walked over to the smart screen on the other side of the room. He made this report in 100 different ways on 100 different days, and he felt no hesitation about it.

“As most of you already understand quite well, August is the month of final preparation for the upcoming school year. Dorm rooms that haven’t been occupied all summer are being turned over and cleaned, minor repairs are concluding, students are starting to arrive, and new staff will be rotated in. I’ve included several new staff for your approval, including a new Groundskeeper. Our search for an Executive Director continues, and until we find someone to recommend to you for approval,, I’m fulfilling the responsibilities of that role along with my own.”

Almost as if on cue, the door to the conference room opened and a slender, somewhat short man walked into the room with a briefcase in hand. He was middle aged, brown-skinned, tense of face, and wore a pristine dark gray suit with a black tie and thin-rimmed glasses.

“Please excuse my tardiness. I had just a bit of trouble getting in.” He said, and placed his black suitcase on the table. Pulling out a chair without invitation, he sat down neatly and pulled himself a bit closer to the table. The expressions around the table made it clear his presence was not expected or understood by anyone present, especially Dr. Sinclair, who looked utterly shocked.

“Cornelius, what on God’s green Earth are you doing here?” Winston asked, leaning onto the table from his position at the front of the room and looking at the new arrival. The other man showed no emotional response and seemed to care little for the confusion and concern of those around the table.

“I come bearing gifts, Dad.” Cornelius said, looking around at the expanding expressions of confusion on the faces of the others.

“Dad? Who the hell are you?” Asked a man in a dark blue suit with styled blonde hair and eyes the color of lightest waters.

“I’m surprised you don’t recognize me, Senator. Though I have been quite good at staying away from congress these last few years. You are new to the Washington scene.” Cornelius answered, and then looked around the table in a business-like sweep of his dark eyes. “Good evening, everyone. I am Cornelius Sinclair, the current Deputy Director of the Mutant Intelligence Agency and former Assistant Secretary of Mutant Affairs for Special Projects. I’ve served as a Special Counsel for the confirmation of a Supreme Court Justice and am a graduate of Eton College, London Business School, and Yale Law. Most importantly, however: I am the only son of the esteemed Dr. Winston Sinclair.”

At this point, the man popped his suitcase and started distributing folders with the seal of the US President on them. The Board members received them with uncertainty written on their features.

“The US government is aware of your institution’s ongoing financial troubles. Even your high tuition rate and private donations can’t offset your huge expenses, especially considering your CEO’s penchant for waiving fees for poor students.” Cornelius said, looking dryly at his father. “By our calculations, this upcoming academic year will be Red Rock Academy’s last unless something drastic occurs.”

“Well, we don’t know that. Something always happens to keep us afloat.” An old man spoke up at the end of the table. He wore glasses, a sweater vest. and large false teeth. He had a kindly, quiet look about him.

“You’re Dr. Emmitt Kirkpatrick, a celebrated geneticist at Infinity Genetics, is that right?” Cornelius asked, looking calmly at the Board member.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Well, with respect, sir, budgeting based on a projection of ‘something will probably happen’ is an option, of course, and many people take it a few short months or years before their life’s work crumbles before their eyes. And I, for one, do not wish to see my father’s life’s work crumble.” He said, turning his head to look at the rest of the people gathered, including his frowning father. “Dreams die every day because there isn’t enough money to support them. I don’t think any of you want to see that happen either.”

There was obvious agreement with the statement, and their silence spoke volumes in how true Cornelius’ assessment had been. No one argued the facts of the matter and a quite descended on the Board until it’s president decided to break it.

“What’s your point, Mr. Sinclair? This Board is in the middle of an active meeting, and you’ve shown up uninvited and simply taken the floor.” Said Dr. Faust, frowning her red lips at the man.

“My point, Madam President, is that drastic measures are in order. So thank God almighty your old friend, Cornelius Sinclair, has come through with a government contract so big all of your problems will be solved overnight.” He said, his voice sounding monotone and almost bored. He had the feeling of a corporate man, and he didn’t seem flustered by any of their objections.

“Oh, good Lord. You can’t be serious, Cornelius.” Winston interjected, his voice booming. “I don’t do government contracts that save the day. They always ALWAYS expect something in return, and the last thing we need as a school for mutants is to be beholden to the Department of Mutant Affairs.”

“That didn’t stop you in 1992 when you accepted funds from the Department of Education to build classrooms and renovate the property, and it didn’t stop you in 2004 when you accepted funds from the same department for building the sub-basement along with that contraption used for your personal use.” Cornelius said. He was referring to the Confessional, the device Dr. Sinclair used to see into the souls of the people of the world. “All of those things were happily purchased with government money and no one strong-armed you into doing anything after the fact.”

“That’s true. The government usually strong-arms me on the front end. In 2004, twelve years ago andthe last time I took their money, they forced me to establish this Board.” Winston retorted.

“Which is why I am now seeking the permission of this Board instead of asking you, Dad.” Cornelius said, dry and unaffected. He then turned back to Erin with a curious expression. “May I continue?”

After receiving an uncomfortable nod from the Board President, he directed them to a page in their folders.

“Operation Vanguard will contract certain consenting members of your staff to do work under the direction of the MIA in the name of national security. This will involve proper training and equipment for those staff who volunteer. Obviously, the nature of this work will be sensitive, and their involvement strictly classified. In return, Red Rock Academy will be compensated 5 million dollars per annum for the duration of the Operation and each participating staff member will be compensated a base stipend of ten thousand dollars per month. Certain minor renovations will need to be made to the sub-basement under the supervision of the CEO, of course, which will be paid for by the government entirely.”

“Hang on. Let’s slow down here.” Said the Senator. “Are you suggesting to use this school as a staging ground for clandestine operations in the United States?”

“Black Operations, Senator. That means the work they do will be secretive enough as to be deniable. The outgoing presidential administration believes that mutant abilities can prove particularly effective in the ongoing war on terror as well as some key domestic projects.”

“But the MIA isn’t authorized to work within the United States.” The Senator retorted.

“That’s not technically true, sir. “Cornelius answered, cool as a cucumber, his pen waving as the only expression he was putting off. “Like the CIA, we are forbidden by law to gather information on US persons, but Operation Vanguard isn’t an information-gathering project. And even if it was, the Executive Branch has some loopholes that we find devastatingly exploitable. I used to be a FISA lawyer, so believe me when I tell you all of this will hold up in court.”

“Mr. Sinclair, this is a school.” Erin said, her eyes leveling on the new arrival. “Our teachers’ roles are to educate our students, not go galavanting around the country doing dirty work for the government.”

“I’m aware of what kind of institution this is, Madam President.” Cornelius retorted, returning her eye contact without hesitation. “But it is also a gathering of extremely intelligent and uniquely skilled individuals. Their country has need of them, and the well-being of the population and our way of life hangs in the balance. Not to mention, this school has need of a serious influx of cash.”

“Cornelius, it’s obvious what you’re doing.” Winston said, incredulous, “you’re trying to turn my school into a den of spies and government agents! I won’t have it, damnit it!”

“Excuse you, Dr. Sinclair,” Senator Lockhart said, waving a hand at the headmaster, “But this is not your school; it’s the Boards. Isn’t that correct?”

Winston was obviously flabbergasted by the question, so Dr. Faust immediately responded for him.

“As of the institution of this Board, that’s correct, Senator. But we’ve always-“

“Then that means the decision is ours alone.” The Senator said conclusively, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, self-satisfied.

An awkward silence descended upon the room for the space of a few seconds as some members hesitated and some others considered what needed to be said. The next one to speak up was a beautiful, brown haired woman that had been quiet up until this point. Elena Flórez had been City Manager of Sedona and a member of the Board since 2013, and she had always been a gentle hand, trusting Dr. Sinclair.

“We all have a great deal of respect for you, Dr. Sinclair. No one here is suggesting otherwise.” She said, and in saying, gave a chastising look at the Senator. She then turned her warm brown gaze to the headmaster’s son. “Mr. Sinclair, you said that you will be asking for volunteers to sign up for your program. What will you do if none of our staff are interested?”

Cornelius listened to her question calmly, and then chuckled at it, seeming perfectly at ease.

“I can assure you that won’t happen, but if it did, the Academy will still get the five million dollars and the renovations. None of that will come out of your pockets.”

“People, we can’t seriously be considering-“ Winston started to say, exasperated, but was cut off by the Senator.

“Dr. Sinclair, you must let the Board deliberate and trust us to make the right decision as you always do when you ask something of us.” He said rather sharply toward the old man. Then he turned to address the Board. “As far as I am concerned, this deal is a win-win for the Academy and our country and I’m in favor of it. We could use this influx of cash in order to remain open. If any participant has problems with the projects that will be given to them during the operation, no one is forcing anyone to participate.”

“I don’t really like it one bit.” Said the dark-skinned Board Vice President who sat at the right hand of Faust and wore a big tan cowboy hat. “But I’m afraid I have to agree. We really need this money.”

“I’m glad you see the imperative, Mr. Blake.” Cornelius said, glancing at the rancher and speaking in a business-like but approving tone. “If approved, this Operation will need an on-site commander, and I have the honor of having been tapped by the President for that role. I would like you to consider whether it might be a help to the Academy if I do double duty as your Executive Director. I think you’ll find my education and employment background makes me qualified for such a position.”

“More than qualified.” Elena said with a frown. “Are you suggesting you’re prepared to leave your position as the Deputy Director of a major Federal agency to come work at a high school in Sedona?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. The agency wants an experienced hand on site here, the project is important to me and, frankly, ma’am, so is this Academy. It is my father’s legacy, after all.” Cornelius responded, gesturing toward Winston who looked even more displeased at the admission.

“Yes, Cornelius, that is exactly right.” he responded, falling into his chair at the head of the table and sighing in frustration. “I built this Academy with an initial investment of millions of my own dollars. I shaped Its mission, its visión, and its entire structure. Every member of the staff has been recruited and hand-selected by me, as have been most of the students. You are correct that this Academy is my greatest work and my life’s legacy. That is exactly why I am decidedly against the changes that my son has proposed, after barging into this meeting uninvited and commandeering its agenda.”

“Your objections are duly noted, Dr. Sinclair.” Senator Lockhart said with a fake politician’s smile. “But I remind you that you took money from the government more than once already to enhance ‘your’ vision, and then sold the entire property to this Board for a sum of millions of dollars paid to you. It is not yours anymore, to be perfectly frank. This Board entrusts you to guide its institution, and you have done a fantastic job in many ways. Financially, however, we are on the brink of collapse and Mr. Sinclair here is the only man presenting a real solution.”

Lockhart turned to Dr. Faust then.

“I move that we accept this proposal as presented and hire Cornelius Sinclair as our Executive Director at a salary of $95,000 dollars on a one year contract.”

“This is ridiculo-“

“Dr. Sinclair, there is a motion on the floor and you are not a member of this Board.” The Senator interrupted aggressively.

A moment of surprise and uncomfortable tension passed over the board as Winston fell silent, his dark eyes locked on Lockhart angrily. He had half a mind to do something terrible to the man’s mind in that moment, but restrained himself. The time for righting things would have to come later.

“I have to second that motion.”Vincent Blake said, avoiding eye contact with the headmaster and CEO.

“There’s a duly seconded motion on the table that we approve the proposed deal presented by Mr. Cornelius Sinclair and hire him on a one year contract at a salary of $95,000 dollars.” Erin Faust said, keeping her eyes plastered to the table in shame. “Is there any discussion?”

“You’re making the right move, friends.” Cornelius said, smiling somewhat darkly.

“You’re making a mistake.” Winston said, seeming furious.

Several silent seconds passed again before it was clear that everyone had basically made up their minds and were ready for the vote.

“Seeing no further debate, please call the roll.” Erin said, looking almost sheepishly at Winston.

Winston looked down at his minutes and scowled. As acting Executive Director, he had been serving as the Board’s secretary for the summer.

“Senator Lockhart?”

“Yes.”

“Dr. Kirkpatrick?”

“No.”

“Dr. Faust?”

“Yes.”

“Mrs. Flores?”

“No.”

“Mr. Blake?”

“Yes.”

Erin clasped one hand in the other and sighed deeply.

“The motion carries 3 to 2. Welcome to the team, Mr. Sinclair.”

 

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