Resolution

by Douglas E Roff

  Rivera paused, thinking, then asked “Who knew about you?”

  “The President, the CIA, FBI and NSA. Plus, the Prime Minister of Canada, CSIS and the Mounties.”

  “Their involvement?”

  “The Canadians, none. My husband and the PM go way back. He assured Adam that he never heard a peep out of either the President or the State Department. Plus, this is a violation of an old agreement between the two countries. Not good, Representative Rivera.”

  Rivera smiled his trademark grin. “It’s Joaquin. Just Joaquin.”

  Misti smiled back coquettishly, “Why Congressman, are you flirting with me?”

  “If I wasn’t happily married with two kids and you were soltera, damn right I would. But ….”

  “I don’t suppose …”

  “No. Definitely not.”

  “Alright then Congressman, what shall we do? Obviously, my own government, our allies the Brits, and the Israelis cannot be trusted and are still hunting us down. Need I hurt people, starting with these traitors and felons? Or need I do more?”

  “How much time can you give us?”

  “None. You’re trying to kill us right now, and me, right here as we speak. Aren’t you Jeffy?”

  The Chairman said nothing.

  Rivera said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what to do to help that doesn’t involve time and phone calls. Even then, with no guarantees, I might add.”

  “Allow me to help?”

  “Sure, but no killing. Promise me that.”

  “Of course. You are adorable, Joaquin. Did you get a lot of you-know-what in College?”

  “No comment. Let’s stick to business. For now.”

  “Call the Joint Chiefs and the President on this phone.” She flipped it up to him. They’re on speed dial and the calls will go out simultaneously.”

  Joaquin hit the sped dial. The phone went automatically to speakerphone

  Each member and the President answered within seconds. “Hello?”

  “Gentlemen, this is Representative Joaquin Rivera and I have someone who would like to speak to you. All of you.”

  “This is most irregular …”

  “I suggest you listen.”

  Misti began, “This is Misti Alarcon St. James. I’m sure you know who I am and, if not, you certainly know my husband and father-in-law. I wish to be brief today, so listen carefully and then act quickly when we’re done. Admiral Hartley, I’m sure you have spoken to your opposite in the UK?”

  “I have.”

  “Then you know what I am capable of doing?”

  “I am. That is, if you have capacity to carry out any further attacks, which I sincerely doubt.”

  “As you wish, Admiral. Call your Central Command and ask them how many decommissioned ships remain in Long Beach and San Diego. In the meantime, I’ll continue on with the rest of your colleagues.”

  “This is the President of the United States, and I can assure you that I will find you and destroy you. I have the full backing of my military, and they will hunt you down wherever you are hiding in any part of these United States. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

  “Actually, you don’t, so I’m muting you. And you remaining gentlemen had better listen closely and heed my words. I can destroy your military capacity within a matter of days. In can disarm the US nuclear capability and ground every airplane and freeze every vehicle no matter what it is or where it is located. This includes your seaborn ships, and submarines. Call off this operation and none of this has to happen. Fail to do, so and I will rain fire and brimstone on you and yours.”

  “A mighty big threat,” said General Brown. “I say we call her bluff and see what happens.”

  The General, from the Army and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, keeled over, dead.

  “He’s dead said a voice on the phone.”

  A pellet was later found exploded in his brain.

  Rivera said, “You said no killing.”

  “And your General just said he was going to kill me anyway. Call my bluff. Well he got his answer.”

  “You didn’t know he was going to kill you. Maybe just an arrest.”

  “Then rendition and torture? Check your cell for the email I just sent. Then tell me I’m wrong. The country has gone off the rails, justifying the worst behavior behind the rubric of ‘national security’. Wake up Rivera. Our country is slipping away and you’re turning a blind eye. Voter suppression, race baiting and the police gone wild. The most dangerous occupation in America today is being young, Black and male. Being Latino is no picnic either. I’m sending you everything we have, and if I don’t hear a statement from you in the Press within 24 hours, this goes public. Every media outlet in print, TV, radio and the internet. And a lot more. Reign this in, Rivera, or I will do it for you.”

  “I can’t believe …”

  “My life and the lives of my family and friends are on the line. What you can or cannot believe doesn’t matter. What they’re doing is illegal and unconstitutional. If they don’t cease immediately, after the release of the materials we have, I will personally start killing everyone in any way connected with this irresponsible operation. It will only get worse from there, I can assure you.”

  “I will try …”

  “Trying is insufficient. Succeeding is the only thing that matters. Muzzle that idiot in the White House. Get the Joint Chiefs in line.”

  A voice came on the speakerphone.

  “They’re gone. All of them.”

  “What, Admiral? What’s gone?”

  “Eighty-nine ships. Vanished into the harbors.”

  Silence.

  “The operation is now terminated, Ms. St. James. The order has already gone out”, said the Admiral.

  “You’ll forgive me if I don’t trust you. Better also send the memo to the CIA, NSA, MI-6 and the Mossad, along with all your contractors. One tiny fuck up, and you’re all dead. Test me again at your peril.”

  Misti clicked off the call. She turned to leave through an opening that suddenly appeared in a wall leading outside.

  “And Joaquin?”

  “Yes? My offer still stands. My husband won’t mind, I hope. He already knew I was insane and married me anyway. Absolutely forbids me dallying with men; women he permits. But if I ask him nicely, you never know.”

  “I’m afraid it’s only the thought that can count for me these days. And, I do very much appreciate the thought. But, I really …”

  “I know, I know. You really, really love your wife. I admire that. She’s a lucky woman.”

  “No, I’m a lucky man.”

  “Po-tay-to, Pah- tah-to. End result is the same. Nice meeting you though. And Joaquin?”

  “Yes?”

  “Run for President one day. I can promise you that your Inauguration would be a bangin’ affair.”

  Chapter 35

  Adam and Kendra quickly found the GPS coordinates showing where to cross the border from Switzerland into southern Germany. Misti had arranged for dead drops at various points through the dense forests where food, water, false ID’s and money were awaiting them. They headed by jeep first to Jurapark Argau then north across the border toward the small village on the southern tip of the Black Forest near Frieberg.

  There they found the royal city of Dietschberg, population eight hundred seventy-five, at least during some parts of the year. Like many of the small human/Gens integrated villages dotting the Black Forest, these villages appeared on no maps and bore almost no national allegiance to Germany or any other past conquering empire.

  This was the homeland of the Gens Germania, and through history and symbiosis, their human counterparts. The village territories were roughly one third human, one third Gens, and one third mixed -race. The three groups ruled their territories by elected Councils and met every summer in an ancient location along a long-forgotten river. There they communed with old friends, and made new acquaintances; marriages were arranged and formalized, and the rituals of the G
reat Awakening observed once again.

  For the humans, there was a Royal House. For the Gens, there was a Headman. For the mixed -race, there was a Chancellor. There were few laws and virtually no crime. Each race had saved the others many times over throughout history but, as a constituent member of the Eighty-One, they knew that one day the Chosen One, would be revealed. Whatever had separated the races, and kept them apart would be mended, corrected. The destiny of the Gens and Homo Sapiens, whatever that was to be, would be restored as the Creator had always intended.

  According to the Prophecy, the Chosen One would bring peace to the world in a new way, conflict among the species no longer a factor. It would overjoy some and threaten others. If the Chosen One failed, forces would have to array and a final battle ensue. The outcome was never ordained; it was for the creatures of the earth to settle. The Creator set events in motion but didn’t determine final outcomes.

  The Creator gave the Universe free will, not predestination.

  ***

  The jeep still being driven by Kendra arrived at the GPS coordinates of the Palace of the Royal family. It was large and well-tended but, by European Royal standards, was somewhat small and relatively new. If it was ancient, as described, it must only be in the foundations and cellars.

  The gravel driveway separated around a circular garden, the centerpiece of which was a beautiful fountain, reminiscent of Roman fountains of the Renaissance. One would stop in front of the Palace entrance and the vehicle would continue around the fountain back to only road in. To the right side exiting the only road in and out was a small grassy area, probably once the resting place of horses and buggies.

  Standing in front of the Palace’s open oak doors was a wizened old man, bent and withered with age. He came forward slowly to greet the pair in the jeep but stopped short as Kendra emerged from the driver’s side.

  “A woman! My, my I wasn’t expecting such a surprise this early in the day. You must be Octavio, second to the Chosen One.”

  “Must I? I think not. My name is Kendra Boles and I am the bodyguard to Adam St. James who is here to meet Queen Caroline and her advisor, Hans. Who, may I ask, are you?”

  “Well this old bag of bones is the Hans you seek. Let me welcome you both to the Palace of Dietschberg. You sir,” now looking in the direction of the passenger, “must be Dr. Adam Stephen St. James.

  Hans turned to Kendra, and said, “Forgive my earlier rudeness; there was no offense meant.”

  “And none taken,” said Kendra. “I have heard tales of your storied youth and would love very much to hear more. I believe I have much to learn from you, if you can find it in your heart to forgive my gender.”

  Hans laughed, “A compliment enveloping an insult. You are worthy, my new young friend. I hope we may learn from one another.”

  Hans turned abruptly and walked toward the foyer of the Palace entrance. “Well hurry along; let’s not dawdle. We’ve much to do and you have not, as yet, had a chance to meet your host, the Queen.”

  ***

  “Follow me, Queen Caroline is right this way in the Study awaiting your arrival.”

  They followed Hans into a beautifully arranged Study, replete with books of every vintage on wall shelving, dark wood paneling and elegant furniture arranged in pods for multiple private conversations. In the center, lounging on a couch, reading glasses perched on the edge of her nose, was a young woman reading a back issue of Vogue Magazine.

  Hans cleared his throat, and announced “Adam St. James and Ms. Kendra Boles, may I present Caroline, Queen of Dietschberg.”

  The Queen looked up, removed a wad of gum from her mouth and stood up, walking over to welcome her guests. She was dressed in skinny jeans and a peasant blouse, Teva sandals and a minimum amount of jewelry. If she wore any makeup, it wasn’t in evidence.

  “Not impressed, I see,” she said. “Well, me neither to be completely honest, but I was born to this nonsense, so apparently I have ‘responsibilities’ I am required to perform. Please come over and sit down, so we can chat. I’m dying to hear news from the outside world. The juicier, the better.”

  She looked fifteen but had been assured that she was in fact twenty-five, well-educated and a bit mischievous; an iconoclast amongst her folk.

  Hans spoke up, “I can assure you that the Queen is quite prepared for the long journey ahead, though she prefers living in the forest, hunting. She’s revered among the Gens Germania, my folk, and adored among her own folk and the mixed folk. She presents a tepid first impression to the outside world but don’t be fooled by appearances. She is formidable as a natural state Gens, and few would want to, how do you say, fuck with her.”

  “Hans overstates everything as usual, but he has been my guardian and advisor since my parents died and my grandmother, the last Queen, passed.”

  A man suddenly appeared at the Study entrance, tall and fit looking, well dressed and with cropped blond hair.

  “Hans is correct in every respect. Caroline, sorry your grace, I mean Queen Caroline is indeed formidable and a pain in the ass in almost every other respect. But I love her madly and am but her loyal subject, required to obey her every command.”

  Hans and Caroline burst out laughing.

  Hans, now looking less wizened and bent, explained. “This is Tarken, fiancé to the Queen, and newly elected Headman of the Gens Germania to succeed his father when the time comes. They are to wed in eleven days in a ceremony gathering representatives from all the clans of the Eighty-One for the first time in our history. It seems the esteem placed in our new Queen has spread over the years and the clans clamor to meet her and attend the wedding. We cannot say no; it would be uncivil.”

  Kendra spoke first, “There must be a story behind this. If you can, can you please tell us what it was to garner this esteem?”

  Caroline sat up on her couch to begin her tale but was cut off by Tarken. “I’ll tell the tale, my love. You make it sound like a memo, while I add all the spices necessary to make the story memorable.”

  Caroline frowned. “He’s so long winded. We’ll be here a week before he’s done. He should have been born the human and I the Gens, though he is well loved by his folk.”

  Hans interrupted, “Let Tarken tell the tale. I prefer his version as do all our subjects. Tarken …”

  ***

  “It’s a right a of passage, a ritual we Gens, and humans have done for centuries. All children, human and Gens alike, at the age of eight are required to transform for the first time to the other race by means of drinking the special water that flows from certain springs here in the Black Forest. We do not now, nor have we ever consumed human blood. It seems that, epigenetically, consuming human blood does nothing for us anyway. Through this process, Gens discover whether they will always remain Gens, humans always remain humans, or whether some will choose to become mixed -race. Intermarriage is common, though the talents and proclivities of mixed -race children is variable. Most principally mixed-race Gens prefer to take their “holidays” as humans. A few principally mixed-race humans prefer their holidays as Gens, but for very different reasons.”

  Kendra asked, “Why?”

  “For the Gens, it’s sex. Human sex is simply far more fun, varied and creative. For Gens, sex is principally for procreation and begins and ends quickly during mating season. Not so, you naughty humans. The crazy things you invent, well … I digress.

  “For humans, it’s the thrill of the hunt. Primal blood lust, the thrill of the chase and communing with nature.”

  “Ahem …”, hinted Caroline.

  “Yes, to the story. So little Princess Caroline shows up in my village, wrapped in her ritually embroidered skins and clothing, waiting her turn to go last. She was a short skinny little thing that a strong wind could blow away. Few believed that she would pass the test.

  “The ritual is to release a kind of female rabbit bred for the occasion that we call a ‘snow bunny’, as the ritual takes place in the dead of winter.”

 
; Adam chuckled. “Sorry, I live in Canada and we have another cute mammal we call a ‘puck bunny’, but that’s a story for another time.”

  “I see. Well each human child, male and female line up at the meadow’s edge, the meadow usually fresh from the previous night’s snowfall. Almost all the children catch their bunny, at least given time and occasional adult help. Most take their bunny home as a pet. They’re quite beautiful animals, and the urge to hunt prey not present during their first transformation. Even most of our Gens children of that age have little urge to hunt.

  Then this child, this thin little waif strolled up the edge of the meadow, removed her furs, and signaled for the release of her bunny as she transformed to our Gens state.

  She stood at the edge of the meadow, motionless as the bunny ran off. The villagers and human attendees feared she wouldn’t chase the animal and bring a modest amount of shame to the Royal Family. But it was only a feint.

  Caroline stalked the bunny quietly and carefully, chasing it one way or another. The crowd was restive as the bunny eluded Caroline time after time. The whispers began to grow until the Headman, my father beckoned them to hush. Princess Caroline wasn’t failing in the capture, she was playing with her prey. Like a cat playing with a trapped mouse. My father then let out an old, and ancient howl, unused in over two hundred years. The Princess heard the command, and lunged for the bunny, extending one claw out while grasping the animal with the other paw. Caroline slit the throat of the snow bunny, held it to her mouth, and drank its blood. When finished, my father let out a second howl and the little Princess instantly returned to where my father was standing. She went down on both knees, offering her prey to the Headman with both paws above her head in obeisance, it being the right of every Headman to demand a share of hunted prey.

  “There was no way that Caroline could’ve known any of this. Only Headmen recalled the old ways, and most have long since been forgotten. But this was still known to the Gens Germania and those present were stunned. The humans, because it seemed unnaturally vicious and sick. What was wrong with Princess Caroline, they wondered?