“But that is exactly what the Movement is trying to do. We want to sensitize the public. Everybody must form an opinion about what’s happening in society. They need to take sides and not allow others make decisions for them. Banning the Emotion Markets concerns everybody, the citizens of the whole world.” Nicky passionately tried to get back on message, but he knew the interview was over.
“Nicky Fallows, thank you for being here. Dear viewers, join us again at tenwithMaryAnn.com. Until next time, be firm and honest. Cut.”
Yet another interview had finished. She hadn’t enjoyed this one at all and for the first time she thought maybe she didn’t like her job anymore. This interview had been orchestrated by the White House, something she could do without. Besides the outcome wouldn’t have been different if she had arranged it on her own. If she had had the courage to do it her way, she would have cornered Nicky in no time. Now she felt HIS goals had been served. Perhaps it had to be this way, she thought. Nicky Fallows looked like he wanted to tell her something before he left but changed his mind. Obviously there were issues he wasn’t allowed to discuss with her. The whole thing had become global for some time now and his part in it kept getting bigger. Instead of speaking to her, he ran off the set. He gave the impression of a student running to his parents or teacher to inquire anxiously how he had done. He was a pawn, too. So was she. She couldn’t venture a guess how many more there were either. Those pulling the strings regarding the case of the Emotion Markets were doing a pretty good job acting from behind the scenes for the time being.
Once more, the point was shaping public opinion.
Her phone rang and she was surprised to hear Susan Parsons congratulate her on the interview. She uttered a dry ‘Thank you’ and hung up angry that she had been made to thank them for an orchestrated interview. John Walters didn’t have the guts to call her himself, so he had one of his cronies call. How demeaning… If the remotest chance of this little game continuing existed, her career would end with an inglorious 10 with Mary Ann. She wanted no part of it. Let them find somebody else! Disgusted, she thought her good friend Deidre might have played a part in it. If only she could say it was out of the question! She was a fool for not remembering the saying ‘The only people that can betray you are those you trust.’ She didn’t know if there was anyone she could trust and if she wasn’t sure, then she probably couldn’t. Except for her son, a child. Maybe she was not doing many people justice, but that’s how she was feeling at the moment.
CHAPTER 20
BUSINESS AS USUAL
Roma, Via Famagosta
The appointment was always at the same place. He was shocked every time he went into that god-forsaken hotel. Its interior was totally different from its neglected exterior. While traveling, he had once tried to book a room there. They told him that unfortunately there was no available room; the hotel was fully booked. As he went in through the main entrance on his 3rd visit, he saw nothing had changed. The silent people standing threateningly at the front door were not the usual hotel doormen. The same old woman at the reception desk looked at him raising her head slowly. He thought she puckered her lips when she realized who he was as if saying ‘You again?’ without speaking. She had never spoken to him. Mechanically she reached for the shelf on her right and handed him the key. 33. The previous times it was room 12 and 18. He thanked the old woman and she rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed. We do not speak in here, she seemed to be saying. The first time she had looked at him with those bulging eyes he was taken aback, intimidated even. Now it was just funny. Going up the stairs he thought he heard a woman’s voice from a distance. He didn’t turn his head to look or hover in the corridor because he knew he had to attract as little attention as possible. Outside room 33 he took a deep breath, wishing the meeting was over. He knew every time he came to Rome could be his last. This time he had used his own passport. He had a legitimate reason for the journey. However, his non-existent Aunt Benedetta, whom he was supposed to be visiting, was patiently waiting somewhere in Rome to kill him, if need be, with a bullet in his chest and make it look like a freak accident. This deep breath had probably lasted too long because somebody from inside the room said, “Get in, will you? I can see you standing out there like a moron.”
He took a second, even deeper breath and went inside. He didn’t know the man he saw standing at the window, musing. The man turned and looked at him through gold-rimmed glasses. He was in his fifties, bald and had a very wrinkled face.
“Come in, Tony. It’s Tony, right?” he smiled.
“You know it isn’t Tony. Who are you?” He knew he would never tell him, but it didn’t hurt to ask.
“No need for details. I’ll call you Tony and you call me M.”
“Why isn’t L here?” M and L were very similar – both exuded the same intense coldness.
“Because his letter has expired… Aren’t you pleased to meet the next letter of the alphabet?”
“I am delighted. Shall I report to you?” he said drily, trying not to think about what had happened to the last person he had reported to.
“Naturally. That’s why you are here. No need to feel alarmed. We need you more than ever. We need you to do well. So, tell me. Is everything in place?”
He hoped that was true. He hated to think what would happen to him if he became… dispensable.
“As far as I am concerned, I did everything that had to and could be done. Not so sure the others were as adequate.”
“You worry about yourself. The plan is well organized; you have nothing to fear.” M spoke with a calm, even tone that belied the danger of their operation.
“Perhaps but I am afraid I’ll be compromised. I can’t cause suspicion and, as you know, I am obliged to attend the PATOTTM conference. What if she recognizes my voice?” He couldn’t mask the fear in his voice.
“You are a fool to be afraid. There’s no chance you’ll be anywhere near her. She will be with the VIPs.”
“And if by any chance Parsons wants to introduce me? What then?” He tried not to get hysterical, but these were the questions that kept him up at night.
“Do something. Change your voice. Wait a minute. Why would she even consider introducing you?” M sat in the one wooden chair provided in the room. It creaked under his weight, threatening to splinter.
“She’s become arrogant. She takes for a fact that the health reform bill will pass and she’s afraid of nothing anymore. She might say more than she should. Even Walters has his doubts.”
He would never touch any of the furniture in this room. There was no telling what unsavory people had stayed here and nothing looked particularly sturdy.
“Wouldn’t be the first time he has misjudged somebody. He`s well-known for choosing the most incompetent associates.” M spoke with clear contempt.
“Yet he nailed it with Congresswoman Parsons. Her initiatives got us this far.” He hoped his opinion wouldn’t anger M. He needed to stay on this guy’s good side.
“I don’t think anything would be different if someone else was in her place. Don’t be naïve. The Emotion Markets target basic human instincts. Their success and impact are certain. Parsons only managed through a clandestine affair to link her name with the President’s on the pages of contemporary history.”
The creaks underneath him made him second guess his choice to sit in the chair. He stood up and walked to the window although the view was quite dreary.
“And to think someone else would do it for cash. She’s very ambitious. Don’t be surprised if she’s the party’s presidential candidate in one of the next elections.”
“Yes, we have considered the possibility. It is not in your best interest, while it rather helps us. She is certain to try to get rid of anything linking her to dirty business. You are an accomplice in her dirtiest business so far,” M warned him although he wasn’t particularly concerned about the safety of this man. It wouldn’t be so difficult to replace him.
“I’m not sure about that. I hav
e the feeling she’s hiding much more. She’s often paranoid when it comes to matters of confidentiality or security. She’s overcautious and always has bug detectors with her as if her previous job was with the MI6.” M was more talkative than L. Maybe they could be more like work colleagues… although almost definitely not.
“She could be a spy operating for the state. Political espionage is always in fashion.” M’s face seemed to wrinkle even more, if possible, as he considered the possibility.
“So you don’t get any ideas, I’m telling you I have taken every precaution. I’m no fool, you know. I’ve made sure of my survival.” At least he hoped he had.
“In some foreign land, I presume. Croatia or Greece? Somewhere in Africa, perhaps?” M started to lean on the metal desk but thought better of it when it groaned under the slightest pressure.
“Some place far away from all this.”
“Nowhere is far or safe enough when it’s a matter of life and death for them to find you. Just hope everything goes according to plan.”
“That’s all I do. I hope and keep my fingers crossed.”
M dismissed him with a gesture of his hand. It didn’t serve well in this business to make connections with subordinates, and they had talked long enough.
There were three days left until the annual congress of PATOTTM and being in Rome caused him extra stress. He was very far. He left the hotel with mixed feelings. On the one hand he was relieved he was still alive and on the other he didn’t know what to expect three days from now. His return flight was in a few hours and his appointment inside the Vatican City was in 10 minutes. He was pressed for time. I’ll be damned if I don’t change my job after this, he thought and promised himself to act on his decision.
CHAPTER 21
PATOTTM ANNUAL CONFERENCE
Manhattan, New York
The Waldorf Astoria Hotel loomed into the sky in its midtown Manhattan location. The height and quality of the skyscraper made an impression on tourists and locals alike. Luxury seemed to radiate from the lavish revolving doors of the 47-story building. Porters and concierges gushed over the throngs of people who had been entering the hotel since the early hours of the morning. It seemed like every staff member of the hotel was working. Waiters flitted from one room to the next with big silver trays baring the most exquisite cutlery and dinner sets. Floor managers tried to stay calm and maintain the chaos that was threatening to overwhelm the employees of the grand hotel. Guests gazed in wonder at its décor. A giant chandelier hung over everybody, embracing them with its golden light. Ceilings seemingly stretched into the sky, complimented by high arching windows. The carpet designs served to hypnotize the privileged attendants and guests with their beauty.
The annual PATOTTM conference was being held, unusually, in the Grand Ballroom of the Waldorf Astoria. For an event to be held in the ballroom, and not in one of the many luxury conference rooms that the hotel offered, it truly had to be significant. It was the only multi-tiered ballroom in New York City and was reserved for only the most special of occasions. Balconies looked over the vast floor space. The regular tables had been removed and the chairs had been lined up to make the most of the space and cater to the 2,000 or so members of PATOTTM. Even with these precautionary measures, space was still going to be very limited.
Dr Caroline Emerson and her mother, Jane, walked arm in arm into the lobby on a total high. She couldn’t believe the situation. Her mom had treated her to lunch in The City Bakery, Caroline’s favorite café. She didn’t feel like she deserved any of this. She would have given anything to be back inside the protective walls of her laboratory, soothing herself with some routine tests and checks. She looked down at the cocktail dress she had bought especially for the occasion. She used to hate wearing dresses. Give her a lab coat instead of some high heels any day – this was so much fuss! All the same, she couldn’t help feeling excited. The world really was going to change now; she was so grateful that she was going to be alive to witness it. She glanced across at her mom and grinned foolishly. Jane beamed back at her. She was in her element here. She had always enjoyed the finer things in life. She held on to her daughter’s arm confidently, the proudest woman in the world. A part of this conference was for her Caroline and her accomplishments.
PATOTTM employees in the lobby broke away from their conversations when they noticed that Caroline had arrived. Somebody out of sight started to applaud and, gradually, others joined in until the whole lobby was clapping and cheering loudly, honoring Caroline. She blushed heatedly and nervously held up a hand in appreciation of the applause.
“Jane, Caroline, darlings, you’re fabulous!” a posh voice called out.
Caroline looked up to see Susan coming forward to embrace her. Say what you would about her, Susan certainly looked the part. She was dressed head to toe in Chanel. Her cream cocktail dress and matching handbag were complimented beautifully by her carefully applied make up.
She put an arm around Caroline warmly and turned her to pose in front of some of the photographers who had turned up in the hope of being able to cover the event, or at least catch a snapshot of the woman of the hour.
The overwhelming scent of Susan’s perfume made Caroline feel even woozier than she already was from all the attention. Caroline turned to smile at Susan. She was determined not to act awkwardly around her even though she had on more than one occasion flirted with her husband. Though she might have other, more political reasons for supporting Caroline, she had been a significant financial bankroller throughout the construction of the Caroline Emerson Foundation building. For that Caroline was truly grateful.
“How are you, Susan?” Caroline asked genuinely. “You look beautiful!”
“Oh stop it, darling, this is nothing,” Susan giggled delightedly, adjusting her dress subtly.
“Where are Ethan and Mike?” she asked, trying to act casual. She kicked herself internally for even bringing them up.
“Oh they’re coming along in a bit with Ms. Sanchez,” Susan replied, waving her arm nonchalantly at the mention of her husband and son.
“Your nanny is coming?” Caroline asked, surprised.
“Of course, darling, someone will have to look after little Mike. I am going to be far too busy today and Ethan is in his own world most of the time. Besides, it will be good for her to see a little more of our culture.”
Caroline shuffled awkwardly at Susan’s backhanded critique of her husband. She wondered if Susan knew how lucky she was and secretly hoped that she didn’t. She couldn’t help but recall her encounter with Ethan at Valet’s Garden. She had felt such a connection with him but she couldn’t escape the complexity of the situation.
“Caroline, honey, do you mind awfully if I leave you for a moment? There are just a few things I need to do before the conference, a few hands to shake.”
“Of course not, go ahead. Important people are waiting!” Caroline replied, joking affectionately.
“Oh the senile old men are such a bore, but I must speak with them. Such is the life of a politician, I fear,” she muttered to Caroline out of the corner of her mouth. She gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and swept off gracefully without another word, being surrounded immediately by her bodyguards and advisors.
Caroline and Jane smiled at each other. Jane shook her head fondly as they looked after the glamorous politician chatting animatedly to an old couple who likely owned Luxemburg or some other country. Susan threw her head back and laughed charmingly, showing just the right amount of teeth.
“This is the life dear, this is the life,” Jane gushed excitedly, giving Caroline’s arm a squeeze. “Come on, let’s get some champagne!” she grinned, leading Caroline over to the bar. Maybe I could get used to this life after all, Caroline thought mischievously, taking a sip of the complimentary alcohol she had just been given by the handsome barman.
Ethan frowned as the limousine pulled up outside the Waldorf Astoria. He had never become used to the pomp and show of Susan’s lifestyle. He
looked over at his son who was playing awkwardly with the bowtie of the tuxedo his mother had made him wear.
“You look like James Bond. The girls are going to be all over you, little man,” Ethan said, grinning at Mike, reaching a hand over to tussle his hair then giving him a high five. Mike looked back gratefully at his father.
“Come on, let’s knock em dead,” Ethan said before getting out of the door that was being held open for him by the driver.
“Have a good day, sir,” the chauffer smiled, touching his cap as a sign of respect.
“Thank you,” Ethan responded politely.
He had chosen not to wear a tuxedo as a point of rebellion. Instead, he had donned a checked shirt, plain tie and some neutral colored slacks, topped off with his favorite sports jacket. He looked self-consciously down at his outfit now. It was sure to upset Susan. Though a small part of him wanted to push her buttons, he scolded himself now for being so childish. If she wants me to come to these things, she could at least let me be comfortable, he thought sullenly to himself.
He stepped aside so that Mike and his nanny, Ms. Sanchez, could get out of the fancy car. He held out a hand to help them. Their nanny looked fiery and elegant as she stepped on to the sidewalk in her short red dress, which wasn’t entirely appropriate for the occasion.
Ethan still couldn’t believe they had brought their nanny to the conference. He thought it would have been less obvious telling the papers that he and his wife couldn’t care properly for their child, rather than parade their nanny publicly in front of the cameras for everyone to see. Still, Ethan couldn’t deny that she would be a help and Mike appreciated having her there.
Once the three of them had assembled on the sidewalk, they looked at each other for confidence and joined the crowd of people that were milling towards the Waldorf Astoria. They were greeted again by the two porters at the doors, dressed in all their finery. Ethan keenly took note of the bar’s location once he was inside. He would need a drink if he was going to make it through this ordeal!
EMOTION MARKET: the Tailor of Hearts - A gripping psychological thriller Page 17
