Chapter #29Perfectly Portia by: imaj   Two weeks later.
The elevator dings softly and the doors open, revealing an open plan, modernly styled office. You stride out confidently, Fi trailing along behind you. A dozen or more faces look up from their computers and workstations as you pass. Some hurriedly look straight back down as they recognise you. A handful, mostly men, give you a smile. You save a coy wave for the most handsome amongst them.
At the far side of the office, a woman in an expensive pantsuit does a double take as she spots you and scrabbles to her feet. “You can’t go in there Portia, they’re in a meeting.”
You stop for a moment to regard the woman - your new father’s PA Diane Tindall - coolly. Satisfied that your pantsuit is both more expensive and more flattering than Diana’s, a wholly Portia impulse, you simply push past her and through the glass door into the boardroom.
“Daddy,” you squeal as the sober looking men and women inside fall silent. A horse-faced woman at the back sighs loudly, which you very pointedly ignore. For now.
“Portia,” says Edward Lovelace, with a weariness that is all too familiar from Portia’s memories. He pulls a pair of old fashioned reading glasses from his face and rubs his eyes with the other hand. “Can it wait? We’re in the middle of something important here.”
You pout angrily - Portia’s personality comes on strong and it is easier to let it act out on its impulses. “But Daddy,” you wheedle as you send your shadow out towards Edward. “This is important too.”
“No Portia,” he sighs, shrugging off the effects of your shadow. You barely manage to keep the surprise off your face. You’ll need to work out why it hasn’t worked on him at some point “Wait in my office.”
You stamp your foot angrily without thinking. When you leave the boardroom you find Fi and Diane in huddled conference. You make a harrumphing sound, and then another. On the third attempt Fi pulls away from Diana with an aside glance and a roll of her eyes. Inwardly, you appreciate the attention to character.
You indicate to Edward Lovelace’s personal office with a small tilt of your head. Fi dutifully follows you in. There, you plant yourself in your father’s leather office chair, resting your high heel clad feet on top of his mahogany desk. Meanwhile, Fi goes round the room, closing all the blinds so that no one from the rest of the office floor can see in. Then she stands by the door with a blank look on her face, the insouciant expression that was visible only moments early having vanished.
You pick up a family photograph from the desk while you wait. It looks like it must have been taken half a decade ago. The teenage Portia, pictured from before her cosmetic surgery, is unrecognisable. The rest of her family - her father, her late mother and her twin brother Edward Junior are easier to identify.
“Ok Portia, what is it,” asks Edward Lovelace as he enters the office. He doesn’t notice as Fi closes the door behind him.
“The College of Hermes Daddy,” you reply, gently spinning the chair from side to side. “You’re going to let me in, and to the Third Order.”
Edward does a good job of feigning confusion: “What in the name of God are you blabbering about this time girl?”
You pout again, then make a small gesture to Fi with your free hand. She reaches into her purse and pulls out a grey mask from within. Before Edward can realise what is going on, she places it on his face. His face twists inhumanly as it absorbs the mask, then it is as if the mask was never there.
“Let’s try that again Daddy,” you say, putting the photo back on your father’s desk. “No lying this time. The College of Hermes?”
“What about it,” he asks, puzzled at the admission he has made. “What have you done to me Portia?”
“Oh, you have to do everything I say now Daddy,” you explain gleefully. “Now the College…”
“You aren’t really Portia are you,” he interrupts. “You’re the Ghost. The one that killed Hyde-White.”
That catches you by surprise. “Don’t I look like Portia Daddy? Don’t I sound like Portia? Don’t I have the same £50,000 boobies that Portia,” you ask. “Thanks for, by the way Daddy. They do feel truly magnificent.” You stop to giggle for a moment. “I guess I’ve given myself away - when does Portia ever thank you for anything? I’m Portia now though,” you continue. “And honestly, I’m a better Portia than the old one ever was. I’m the daughter you always wanted. So no more silly business about me not being Portia.
“Yes Portia.”
“Much better Daddy,” you beam. “Now the College of Hermes - the Third Order. I know you’re the Ipsissimus Daddy, so get me in.”
He gives you a pained look “I… can’t.” When you give him an angry look, he explains: “I can’t just add more masters to the Third Order. There can only be six, and the others will be unhappy if I try to add another of my children.”
“Another,” you ask, picking up on that detail immediately.
“Your brother,” he begins.
“Well that has an easy solution Daddy,” you interrupt, ignoring the look of horror developing on his face as he guesses your intent. “My brother has an accident. Then there’s a space in the Third Order, and no child in the College of Hermes.”
“But…”
“I’m a much better heir than Eddie ever will be,” you tell him, pouting on Portia-impulse again. “So you want me to replace him. Maybe you can get those people at Diana to do it all for us?”
“Yes Portia.” His voice is monotone. Maybe you’ve broken him?
“Thanks Daddy,” you beam. “Now, tell me about the Committee and how they run Fane.”
“That’s not how it works. It might take a while,” he explains.
“The short version then,” you sigh with Portia-impatience.
“The short version is no one runs Fane. The College, the Brotherhood, the Gylch and all the other societies argue over who controls what company and what projects. The Committee is supposed to mediate the disputes.”
“Does it?”
“Mediate disputes? Not really, but it lets the leaders of the societies talk to each other. All anonymously though. All digital too now.”
“And you’re part of this Committee Daddy,” you ask.
“Sometimes. Sometimes I send your brother,” Edward explains. “I think some of the other societies send proxies too.”
“Not anymore,” you giggle. “It’ll be me instead. You can give Fi the details and she’ll sort it out for me. And one last question Daddy: The cutie in accounts with the beard and glasses. He was wearing a pink shirt.”
“Tom,” interrupts your father, before preempting your question: “He’s married.”
“Oh,” you say as you swing your feet off the desk and stand up. You pause thoughtfully for a moment before continuing. “Is his wife pretty too?”
To stop reminiscing, attend to Fi's reports in "A Short Hop" 
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