"I will not withdraw my support for Johnson," Drake said steely to the man seated opposite him.

The man, Joseph, took a long drag of his thick cigar unperturbed by the rejection. His expression remained the same-his signature bulldog look. His fatty cheeks sagged grumly  down his face, his lips were downturned and his eyes just bore into whatever, or whoever, was in front of him like they weren't there. Whether it was breaking the legs of a nosy journalist or painting his wife's fingernails, the man's placid expression was worn like a glove and it never faltered. It meant one thing, a placid Joseph was a bored Joseph. Never a good thing in Drake's experience especially for the one saying fucking no to Joseph, like he was.

"It won't look good." Joseph slowly shook his head. "No, it won't.  How do you think people would see us if our family is all over the place like this? You supporting that Johnny fellow, me supporting the Rose Group. It's bad for our reputation. We can't be backing different political parties, people would be thinking we are fighting. Then they'd start to get stupid ideas, left, right, center." He smacked his lips in disgust and leaned back into the comfy armchair. He sucked the tip of his cigar a few times and blew a thick haze of smoke. "Look here, we need to get behind one guy for this running."

Drake turned his head away from the fresh onslaught of smoke coming his way. "I know what you saying, Uncle Joseph. But I can't get in with you this time. The Rose Group people have a solid stand in the Militarized Drone Research Limited Licensure Bill, that policy is not in my favor. I can't get behind that."

Joseph huffed and waved his hand holding the cigar, dismissing his nephew's point. Then he brought the cigar to rest snuggly between his lips. "Not that damned policy again."

"Yes, uncle. It may not affect the family or our united political front, but it affects my business, my company.

"Oh forget it now. It will just be a minor step back for your company. We can arrange other things to make up for it in the future, but for now, we need to stand as family."

"Family won't be the one affected, my company will."

"Your company, your company..." Joseph turned his head from side to side in exasperation as he spoke. "You don't become great on your own, do you? You do it with people together, same with family."

Drake looked at his uncle. He deeply respected the man as much as he did his own father. Thirty-five years of politics and groomed over sixteen godsons to govermental offices, had five subordinates in the Senate and a long line of political associates, Joseph commanded respect. Each time he had to refuse the man that afternoon, he felt his stomach tighten, not out of fear as as anyone else on his seat might have. It was out of respect, he admired to this man so much and to take a decision to be his opposition was as much difficult as was saying no each time. "I'm sorry but for this election, I'm throwing my weight for my candidate. I need to protect my interest."

And the interest of the whole goddamned country with it. Even if they didn't know it. Drake did, the policies the Rose Group was working on was a cripple baby.  Not now, but give it just a decade and the whole country would be scrambling to reform it.

Joseph bent over slightly and tapped the burning end of his cigar in the ashtray on the glass side table beside him. He peered up at Drake, his eyes dead serious. "I remember when you were a kid. You used to run in my backyard in your tiny, bright blue swimming trunks," he smiled, "then you used to yap 'why can't we all get along?'. So Drake, why can't we all get along?"

Drake closed his eyes and sighed. He looked at his uncle again. If someone had told that little boy in blue trunks that one day he and his uncle would be on opposing sides. He would have balked at the idea. Family was important, family grew strong together. Anyone who opposed one of them, opposed all of them,  at least that was how he was raised. And look at them now.

"Uncle, it's not that I am being stubborn--"

"You are being stubborn."

"You don't understand my stance here. Your candidate is backing a policy that is instrumental to my company. I mean, limiting tech licensing in drones in any area that could be remotely militarised except to military based cooperations is bull!"

"It's not cutting off research completely, Drake."

"We are cutting our own foot off. The rest of the world would pass us quickly. They are already breaking new grounds on applications and we are lagging because of this bill."

"Look, I'm not tech savvy like you. We don't want some geek playing with his equipment in university to do some unreported project, invent something potentially fatal, drop it in the wrong hands and compromise state or national security."

Drake glared at his uncle. Joseph knew how he started his beloved company.  For him it was not a pet project. It took sweat and sleepless nights to comandeer a part in the industry's monopoly. No matter how people twisted its application or strapped new gadgets on the drone concept, it was still dear to him. The thought of closing off an future potential to secure a political front was very unpalatable.

"That policy could make my company fall behind on the international market."

"Look," Joseph shifted in his seat and leaned forward. "Our family stands to lose more than a few millions here. The money is not important. We lose here and people begin to think maybe," he shook his index finger, "just maybe, we are marginally less powerful than they imagined. The morale gets low, sluggishness enters our subordinates and our lackeys in government begin to feel less willing when we call them to order. We are going to have to ruin a few of their heads to fix it."

Drake shrugged. "It would be a little hassle but when that happens, we can handle it."

Joseph raised his hand. "Let me finish,  I don't have time to teach brats lessons and with the presidency reruns next year, nobody's going to have time. We have to unite. Anyone who doesn't stand with us now won't stand with us in our stake."

The wheels were turning quickly. Drake looked in his uncle's eyes and saw the man was giving the final offer. Treat him well now and he would repay the favor. Uncle Joseph always did, but he also always spared nothing for fools and his enemies. Of course, family was not enemy but it didn't mean he could give the cold treatment. And cold meant icing all relations, businesses, projects, associations. Inherently making whosoever was the poor receipent of the chilly treatment nonexistent in any circles that Joseph operated in, and that was a lot, till whenever the family needed to hurdle together again to weather another storm, then all could be forgotten.

Drake didn't deny the tingle of fear in his guts as he knew the cold treatment that would await him, and the most of the rest of the family would back Joseph. Still, he wasn't a helpless baby in the political scene or one of Joseph's helpless phonies who suckled on him for a safe stand. He had a few strongholds, there were ways to outlast the storm and buttons he could push. He could start a fire in Joseph's wintery cold.

"Uncle, whatever you need to do, do--"

"Look at the time!" Joseph turned his attention to the custom-made gold watch, effectively cutting off the conversation. "I'm supposed to have a few drinks with the minister of transport today. I have to go." He stood up, stretched his legs and twisted his hips from side to side. Then he buttoned the flaps of his silk suit.

Drake stared at his uncle as the man stood in front of him. Surprise was written on his face, from his raised brows to the small gap his mouth formed at his Joseph's sudden actions. He scoffed and his surprise faded. He sighed and stood to his feet, "Well then, goodbye. Take care of yourself, uncle."

"By the by, before I forget. The power sector nationwide would be privatised pretty soon. Our family's got a leg in for a piece of it and a good chunk too. When it comes through, the family would be meeting for dinner over it but," Joseph paused and smiled, "It would be really, really hard to invite someone who turns their back on us to dinner. Animosity is bad for digestion. You understand?"

"I will think about it."

"That is good, that is good." Joseph took his cigar from its position at the side of his mouth and bent over to the side table beside the sofa he had sat in. He snuffed it our in the ashtray and left it there. "Well, take care of yourself, Drake. And go see your papa sometime, he wants grandchildren and he wants them yesterday."

"I will work on it, when he decides to retire."

Joseph scoffed and shook his head. He turned and left the office, and just like that he was gone. Drake drooped his shoulders and sighed exhausted.

Just as he dropped back into the soft sofa and was beginning to appreciate the wonders its firstclass feather softness, worth every dime to ship the set across two oceans to his office, was doing on his back, his secretary strode into the office. Drake looked at his secretary from his halfhooded eyes. The man looked the slightest bit agitated,  or perhaps exhausted. His suit jacket was off and the sleeves of his light pink shirt were rolled up, plus, it was a different shirt from the one he wore when he left to correct the documentation for their goods at the ship warehouses an hour or so earlier.

"Sir, I've got the deputy police commisioner on line two for you." Peter started off.

Drake grunted and lifted himself out of the sofa. He meandered from his office reception area to his desk behind it. "I guess no rest for the wicked. How was the shipyard?"

"We will have no issues there anymore."

"Good," Drake grumbled.

Just as he picked the receiver, Peter continued before Drake could press the dial to connect the call.

"Election Candidate Johnson called. He wants to talk to you about the Fishermen Fundraising dinner. He wants to smooth some details about the quarter you are donating for the auction."

Drake stiffened. His conversation with his uncle over the past half hour replayed in his head. He looked at his secretary.

"Anything else, Peter?"

"I'm glad you asked." Peter snapped the file in his hand open. "Johnson's campaign coordinator has been calling for some sort of journalistic piece featuring both you and Johnson to promote them. The head of the technology division just dropped a memo for a five o'clock meeting with the lab heads, you need to be there. Germany called, the host company wants a date to start the new test runs. The Timothy brothers want to file a lawsuit for privacy infringement. And the National Tribune newspaper published an article today with pieces of information from our new drone model that shouldn't be avaliable to them or the public at this point. You might need to give the editor's sponsor a call. Today's appointments still stand, sir. I'm afraid more than half of them cannot be shifted."

Drake opened his mouth to fire detailed orders to handle each issue but he closed it again without uttering a word. He looked at Peter then nodded and dropped the receiver.

The bill restricting research was going to go through whether he liked it or not. He had to move past that and create another way for himself. He could support Johnson to safeguard his company's interest but with the power sector privatisation on the table, that deal was a small speck now. The present research was a small cookie compared to the feast of cake called the power sector. Privatisation of the power sector, electricity supply would now be controlled by privately owned companies. He needed a piece of that action, no, his company needed a piece of it.

The drone research, especially in possible agricultural operations, was a big project for him. That was not to say with the right adjustments it's agro-friendly concept could not be weaponised or something along those lines, which meant under the new bill it would be taken out of his hands, sealed off and given to some militarized research unit despite its original purposes. Yet, it was his dream to explore the everyday applications that were grossly overlooked but could potentially turn the economy on its head. He could see the possiblities but with the policy the Rose Group was pushing, research, international exportation of specific products and resource exchange would be maimed to regulate the country's current scientific breakthroughs in the sector.

Drake understood, but in the long run it would cripple them. They, even his company, depended on the projects of freelance genuises and their fresh take on the technology to bolster competitiveness and market their products. 

Perhaps it was time to move this area of his company's research faction outside the country. And a cut of the privatized power industry was a future investment worth not overlooking.

Drake walked around his table and sat in his executive chair. "Peter?"

"Sir."

"Redirect any messages from Mr Johnson and his people from now on. When he calls, tell him I am busy."

"Yes sir."

"And I want you to meet the head of human resources and tell her to begin to inquiry for the documentation to move a research facility abroad. Then prepare a meeting with the head of technology and human resources in boardroom three for 4pm today. Drop everything else."

Peter opened the file, pulled out a pen and started scribbling quickly while mumbling to himself. When he was done, he looked at Drake and nodded. "Noted."

"One more thing."

"Sir?"

"I need a vacation."