by Leslie Wolfe
...64
...Thursday, July 28, 8:32PM Local Time (UTC+3:00 hours)
...CANWE Headquarters
...Undisclosed Location, Greece
The Aquarium, well-lit, had welcomed its guests for the evening. The five of them, with Vitaliy Myatlev sitting at the head of the table, had just arrived, his chopper delivering them on the well-lit heliport. Outside the Aquarium, Myatlev’s security surrounded the transparent conference room on all sides, guarding all doors. When the last guest had been seated, the Aquarium walls polarized and turned opaque, protecting the secrecy of their meeting.
“Thank you all for coming,” Myatlev said, “and thank you for all your hard work in the past few months. We have made tremendous progress together.” He bowed slightly toward Mastaan Singh. “Mr. Singh has raised awareness across all of Europe for the humanitarian cause of Eastern Africa Development Fund, making fundraising easier. That doesn’t diminish the value of Mr. Javadi, whose fundraising abilities have been very fruitful. Mr. Shah has ensured we can move funds and materials freely across all of Europe and America by plane or by courier under a very ingenious cover, and Mr. Sadiq ensured we have a clear, direct connection to access our cash in the Bahamas and bring it into the continental United States without much trouble. This is a remarkable accomplishment. Gentlemen, we have achieved everything we had planned to achieve in the six months since we started our work. These activities must continue, at an accelerated pace, because they are the lifeline behind our operations.”
The four men nodded their approval.
“But I didn’t invite you all the way here today just to thank you,” Myatlev continued in his flawless English. “In only three months’ time, America will be electing a new president. We need to examine and agree which candidate will make the most sense for us to support. I am strongly inclined to say Bobby Johnson will be the most favorable candidate for our common cause. What do you think?”
“I am very disappointed, Mr. Myatlev, no offense,” Muhammad Sadiq said. “I thought this council was about more than just lobbying for one candidate versus the other. I thought we were going to make a difference, take bold action to establish the new world equity. That was the goal we all embraced when we joined your council, wasn’t it?”
Javadi and Shah voiced their support to Sadiq’s point. Singh remained immobile, impenetrable, with a trace of an enigmatic smile on his lips.
“We have done everything you asked us to do,” Sadiq continued. “We have built the infrastructure you said we needed to execute the plan. Yet the plan continues to disappoint. We can move explosives, but are we moving them? We can fund military action, mercenaries if we want to, but what are we funding? Nothing, at this point. I thought we were going to take over America, not just talk nonsense and politics. Who cares who wins the elections? Not much difference to me, it’s still going to be an American in the White House, right? I don’t see much difference at all.”
Shah started laughing quietly. Everyone looked at him. He cleared his throat a little before speaking. “There are many ways to accomplish our goal. For example, India is already taking over America. I’ve always admired your country for its slow yet certain invasion,” he said, bowing his head a little in the direction of a puzzled Mastaan Singh. “While other countries train soldiers and spend billions to arm and prepare them for an invasion, your country sends tens of thousands to America each year as workers, and Americans even pay for it! Brilliant, I have to say,” he said, laughing with admiration. “See? Even a peaceful solution can help you reach the same goal, but differently.”
“Pfft.” Singh dismissed Shah’s comment with a wave of his hand. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Shah. This is ridiculous.”
“Let’s stick to the issue at hand,” Sadiq interrupted. “Mr. Myatlev, where is the action we were promised; when will it start happening? I am eager to see some results.”
“The action is happening already,” Myatlev answered, causing his audience to shift in their seats and look at him with raised eyebrows. “Despite what you might be thinking or how much you would like to see bombs go off, we have a lot more to gain if we place a certain individual in the White House, Johnson to be precise. We have ways to influence Johnson’s decisions. No, better said, we have ways to control Johnson’s policy. Just think what that could mean. Shifting trade policy to favor our respective countries. If we need a war someplace, we can make that happen. We could just send the Americans to fight it for us. You want more Indian workers to be accepted in the States each year, Mr. Singh? Johnson can make that happen for us. We need weapons at preferred pricing? We can make that happen. We need America to leave us to our own devices in Crimea, for example? Just tug on the American’s leash, and he’ll back off. Now think of that and tell me it’s not a worthy plan, bound to get us the new world equity we all want.”
No one spoke for a while. Shah broke the silence eventually.
“I don’t know if you are brilliant or delusional. How strong is your grip on Johnson?”
“Very. The moment he steps into the White House he belongs to us.”
“Personally, I am deeply bothered by something, Mr. Myatlev,” Javadi said. “Since we have joined your council, you have not fully trusted us with your strategy. I feel like a pawn in your game, not like a partner. This grip you say you have on Johnson, this is not something that you gained overnight, or since we last met.”
“I agree,” Sadiq said. “You’re asking us all to trust you and work with you, but you don’t trust us.”
“Gentlemen, this is not an issue of trust,” Myatlev said. “This grip we have on Johnson was the work of many months of work that could have failed many times. While it didn’t happen overnight, it did achieve an important milestone very recently. There are a lot of moving parts in this plan and some I had to execute on my own because of the high risk involved with them. Just to give you an example of such a high-risk maneuver and a demonstration of my trust in you, I can tell you that Johnson wouldn’t have had a shot to run for president if the current vice president, Mark Sheridan, hadn’t stepped down. And that, my friends, was just one of the many moving parts. He was a favorite for this year’s elections, and, with him in the running, the Democrats would have never thrown their support behind Johnson. Against Sheridan, Johnson wouldn’t have had a chance in hell.”
“How did you get Sheridan to back off?” Javadi asked.
“Let’s say that everyone has something they’re never willing to sacrifice, no matter what the prize is,” Myatlev responded.
The looks of disappointment Myatlev had faced earlier were replaced by looks of respect, admiration even.
“Let’s remind ourselves why we are here,” Myatlev continued. “For my country, American interference with our internal affairs, especially in Crimea, is a very sore point. However, on a personal level, I have a lot to gain if the right policy is in place in America, favoring my oil, gas, and energy interests and allowing me to build a stronger infrastructure of energy distribution. You all have interests, personal, as well as national for the countries you represent, interests that would have a lot to gain from a favorable American President.
“Mr. Singh would surely like a higher number of Indians to be able to immigrate to America each year, and he’d like to make sure there aren’t any protectionist measures against the outsourcing of labor to India. This is probably, at this point, one of the biggest revenue sources for his country and for him personally, if not the biggest one. Furthermore, India would prefer to have no American interference in its military and economic policy and would like its diplomats treated with more respect.
“Mr. Sadiq would go home a hero if he could promise Pakistan a sky clear of American drones. Mr. Shah has infrastructure interests in his native Afghanistan that are hindered by the American forces still meddling with the way things are done and putting their own people in the government. Afghanistan is ready, and has been for a long time, to get rid of the last rem
aining American forces in the area and to bring peace and restore the rights of the Afghan people, whether Taliban or not. Finally, Mr. Javadi, for himself personally and for Iran, would like the self-determination and true values of Islam to be restored to the Iranian people, without fear of American intervention. Am I right?”
They approved silently.
“All right, then let’s figure out how to put Johnson in the White House.”
...65
...Friday, July 29, 10:01PM EDT (UTC-4:00 hours)
...Flash Elections: Breaking News
...Nationally Syndicated
The familiar credits faded to allow a wide-smiling, slightly excited Phil Fournier to announce the political happenings of the day.
“We saw this coming, especially in the wake of Vice President Sheridan’s decision to not run for president in the upcoming elections. Today, the Democratic Party presidential primaries concluded its vote, and now it’s official. Senator Bobby Johnson, Illinois, has secured his party’s nomination by an undisputed majority. Initially seen as the underdog in the Democratic Party race for nomination, holding little hope if he were to compete against Sheridan, Bobby Johnson has been riding the tidal wave of Sheridan’s retirement announcement and has gained increasing momentum and public support, even though at modest rates.
“His key opponent this coming November, Douglas Krassner, holds a higher share of the people’s support, as captured by recent polls. The latest surveys shows support for Krassner at 51 percent, while Johnson’s trailing quite a ways behind at 28 percent. While significantly behind Krassner, Johnson’s numbers are steadily increasing and will most likely continue to climb, considering today’s nomination.
:The one question clouding the celebratory spirit at Johnson’s campaign headquarters today is how do they reverse the poll results and capture the majority. From here on for Johnson, campaigning will be a head-on battle against Krassner. We will watch every minute of that battle and report back to you the most quintessential moments of what promises to be a fiery game of all-or-nothing. From Flash Elections, this is Phil Fournier, wishing you a good evening.”
...66
...Thursday, August 4, 10:53AM Local Time (UTC+5:30 hours)
...ERamSys Headquarters
...New Delhi, India
Alex repressed a sigh, sneaking a peek at her watch. Another PowerPoint slide and she would scream. During the past few days, all requests she had made to gain access to the software’s source code, no matter how high up the power chain she went, were passive-aggressively deterred and answered with semi-mandatory invitations to attend yet another presentation. She had absorbed, one after the other, hundreds of slides illustrating just how good the quality practices were, how talented and educated the people were, all kinds of testimonials and references from ERamSys’ long portfolio of household brand-name clients, and there was no end in sight. No end in sight for the bullshit PowerPointology, and not a single minute of access to see the actual code she was supposed to sign off on.
She had even tried to hack into a server that she thought the code might be stored on. She’d gotten caught in less than fifteen minutes. Someone just barged through her office door and invited her to yet another three-hour lunch she couldn’t refuse. She missed Lou badly. She had asked him for support, but he couldn’t hack in from the outside. They’d be on to him in no time, and that put both her life and her mission at risk.
Well, the mission is already at risk—at risk of not being accomplished due to the biggest stonewalling conspiracy ever, she thought bitterly. Gotta do something about it, and if they don’t like it, well tough luck. She felt bad for the enthusiastic young woman walking her through the impeccable work conditions offered by ERamSys, but she had to interrupt.
“Priya,” she said, “please don’t take offense, but I have to go. This was very interesting, but I do have some other things I need to look into right away.” She stood up and gathered her things, but before she could leave the room, the door opened and Bal stepped right through it, wearing his signature frown and clenched teeth. He waved Priya away without a word, and the girl disappeared in a hurry, avoiding eye contact the whole time.
How does he know when to come in? Alex wondered for a split second before remembering that everything was under strict video and audio surveillance. They knew everything and heard everything.
“Sit down, Ms. Hoffmann,” Bal said as he took a seat.
“I prefer to stand,” Alex responded almost defiantly, “I have some serious work to do, so I’m a little pressed for time. I hope you understand.”
“What is your mandate here, Ms. Hoffmann?”
“Oh? I thought you knew,” Alex answered, surprised by the question. “I am responsible for software quality and scope validation. Before DCBI can close the contract, I need to sign off on the software from a quality and scope perspective. I will evaluate the software to make sure it meets all the specs and does exactly what it’s supposed to do, and that it is bug free and working smoothly. That’s what my mandate is,” she said, still standing and ready to leave.
“We didn’t manage to make you gain any confidence in our company’s ability to deliver the highest quality software, after all you have seen?” Bal asked, his eyes drilling into hers angrily.
“You have absolutely succeeded in that goal, Mr. Bal, because otherwise you wouldn’t have been awarded this contract in the first place. You see, having me see these presentations is a waste of my time and not what I came here to do.”
Bal stood and started walking slowly, approaching her. When he was within inches of her face, close enough that she could smell his sweat, he said, “India is very different from America, Ms. Hoffmann. Many things in India are dangerous to Americans coming here. They could eat the wrong thing, be in the wrong part of town, say the wrong thing, and any such thing can kill them within minutes. Our commitment was to show you not only how trustworthy we are, but also how to keep you safe and out of trouble. We would hate to have to ship you home in one of those metallic caskets. It has happened before, you know...Cholera here is rampant. I hope you understand,” he finished speaking so close to her face that she felt his breath touch her skin. That made her sick, sicker than the actual threat.
“Are you threatening me, Mr. Bal?” Alex asked, holding his dominating gaze staring her down with contempt.
“I am warning you, that is all. Warning you of the many dangers of India, Ms. Hoffmann.”
“Well, consider me warned. Now, when can I get access to the code?”
Bal turned around angrily and left the room without responding. Alex felt a slight moment of pride for not being the one to break eye contact first, securing a small victory for her ego. Then reality overwhelmed her. Holy shit! What am I gonna do? He’s gonna kill me!
She wanted to sit down badly, to steady her trembling knees and shaking hands. She remembered the video surveillance and decided not to give the viewer the satisfaction. She took her things and went straight for the elevator, heading for the roof, for a breath of hot, humid air and a place where she could call Tom.
There weren’t many people on the roof yet; lunch break had not yet started. She took her cell phone equipped with the SatSleeve and dialed Tom’s number from memory.
“Well, hello stranger,” he picked up immediately, although it was late at night in sunny California.
“Hey,” she whispered and felt tears burning her eyes when she heard his voice.
“What’s wrong?” Tom asked. He had an uncanny way of knowing immediately when something was bothering her, no matter how far away she was.
“I’m not getting anything done,” she said, getting a grip on her emotions. “I’ve been here how long, and I haven’t even seen a line of code. All they do is stonewall me, and, more recently, threaten me.”
“What did they say?”
“Just your typical threats, not even very creative. India is dangerous, people die here, and all that shit. I’m not overly impressed; we knew
that was coming. I’m just frustrated I can’t break through and see any lines of that damn code.”
“I understand,” Tom said quietly. “What do you want to do?”
“Well, after today’s threats, I think diplomacy has failed, don’t you agree? I will crank this up a notch, see what happens. Let’s rattle the cages, see what snakes crawl out.”
He didn’t say anything for a while. “Be very careful, Alex. I don’t need to repeat that, do I?”
“No, you don’t. I will, I promise.”
She hung up, a tear-filled knot still in her throat. She swallowed hard and headed for the roof access door, regaining control of her emotions. Fuck these assholes!
...67
...Sunday, August 7, 3:38PM Local Time (UTC+3:00 hours)
...CANWE Headquarters
...Undisclosed Location, Greece
The Aquarium lit up and filled with people for the second time in less than two weeks. Things were heating up, and Myatlev wanted to make sure his council members’ support stayed active and focused.
As soon as the last of his guests took a seat, Myatlev polarized the glass walls, turning them an impenetrable milky white that reflected the strong lights within the Aquarium.
“Thank you all for taking yet another Sunday away from your families to meet with me,” Myatlev said. He had a gift for addressing people, making it standard to thank everyone for their time. After all, time spent you can never recover; it’s the most precious gift someone can give. He continued, “As you might have heard, we have made an important step forward in our plans. Our preferred candidate for president of America has been nominated by his party, which means we are now on our final stretch.”
Myatlev looked at everyone at the table. They were watching him intently but were very guarded and neutral. Singh was the only one whose body language showed some openness and support. It was normal; after all, he knew a little bit more than anyone else. They needed a show of trust.
