“The first step said, ‘Are you aware that what you are doing now will cause death?’ The second step asked the same question but in a different way. And the third step said, ‘If you press “return” now, that’s it, you will never return.’” The people laughed. Walter loved that joke.
“Did anyone change their mind at the last minute?” a woman asked.
“No. Not one.”
Someone else asked if he still performed the service.
“No. I came on this ship like you folks. This is my retirement. I no longer practice.”
“But what if someone was suffering?”
Masters looked at the person who asked the question. He smiled. “I might help you throw them overboard, but that’s it.” Everyone laughed. And in a strange way they all felt safer than they had before Masters arrived. It was as if the man who could end their suffering was now one of them. Just the knowledge of that took away some of the anxiety of death. And how could that be a bad thing?
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Susanna Colbert was having dinner with her Chinese counterpart when her wrist tingled. She looked down and saw her assistant. Susanna was informed that Nate Cass was on the line. She excused herself and went to a corner where she could talk privately. It was funny; they’d finally come up with a working Dick Tracy device to communicate with, but no one had figured out the privacy aspect. You still had to either whisper into your wrist or walk someplace where you were alone. And even if people couldn’t hear you, they could look over your shoulder and see the face on your watch. There was no privacy in the future. “Hello, Nate.”
“Susanna. I hope everything turned out for the best.”
Susanna knew that Nate Cass was not calling to chat. He had done her a huge favor, and she had been wondering when it would be called in. This seemed to be the moment. As soon as he said he needed to meet in person, she knew the favor would not be a small one. Nate said, “I’m going to be in Washington next Tuesday. I would love it if you would meet me for a quick lunch.” Susanna pressed a button on her watch and her schedule was superimposed over Nate’s image. She knew that whatever it said, she couldn’t say no. The reason Susanna was so successful in business was that she followed the unwritten code of “You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.” By the urgency in his voice, it seemed Nate wanted a total body rub with release. But she was going to keep her word.
“Tuesday is a monster for me, but I’ll make time because it’s you.”
He didn’t thank her, he simply said, “Noon or one, you pick. We can have a bite at the Emerald.”
The Emerald was one of the newer hotels in Washington. It was designed like a monument: tall and thin, and if someone didn’t know any better they might have thought that was what it was. It came to a point at the top and at that point there was a restaurant that overlooked the city. The restaurant had a number of private rooms that had their own entrances, so even though it was a tourist attraction, people could hold a meeting there and not worry about being seen. Except, of course, by the hotel staff, but that wasn’t who people tried to avoid; they didn’t like the gawkers and the tourists with their shirt cameras who could take a person’s picture just by walking by.
It had been so odd when the first shirt that had a camera disguised as a button hit the market. The second button down from the collar looked no different from the others, except that it could capture perfect video and sound, and people had no idea when they were being photographed and recorded. Someone on the street could be taking your picture without holding anything or even giving any indication that they were paying attention. Basically, it was the clean underwear syndrome gone mad. Every time you left your house you’d better look like you’d want to if you were broadcast to the world, because that’s exactly what happened, especially if you were famous.
In 2022 the first person caught on a shirtcam was one of the biggest male movie stars in the world. He was alone, or so he thought, sitting in his car with another man, with his pants down. Someone walked past and got into another automobile. The person didn’t have anything in his hands and they didn’t even seem to notice, and that night the image of two men having sex in a parked car, one of them a matinee idol, was everywhere in the world. It wasn’t even the fact that the star was messing around with another guy, it was that he left his hair at home and he looked forty years older. The combination of bald and gay was a killer. It dropped his asking price by twelve million dollars.
Nate was waiting in a private room when Susanna walked in. “This is some hotel,” she said, trying to make light conversation.
“Let’s get to the point. I need a return favor and I need it quickly.” Susanna didn’t even have time to order.
“How can I help you, Nate?”
“My brother Charles—you know him, I’m sure—is in the middle of a very messy audit.”
Susanna’s face fell. She hadn’t known what the favor was going to be, but she’d hoped she wouldn’t have to interfere with another government agency. Nate continued. “Apparently he put a large amount of money offshore, not as a tax dodge but as a holding place until he could reinvest it. When the time was right he was going to pay his taxes, but they discovered the account and now they not only want the taxes but they are looking into his entire business. As you know, Charles is worth fifteen billion dollars. To have all of his businesses investigated would be a nightmare.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little unorthodox to wait until you’re profitable before you pay taxes?”
“Be that as it may, I would like to see the audit called off and I would like to see Charles left alone by the IRS. Just end this. He will pay the taxes due and that will be it.”
Susanna thought about this request. Not since she had become Treasury secretary had an illegal favor been asked of her. Quite frankly, she didn’t think she even had the power.
“I want to help you, Nate, you know that. You were helpful to the President and he knows it, but this could get ugly. I don’t think I have the power by myself to stop an audit of this size.”
“You don’t, Susanna. It will take the President or John Van Dyke at the very least. But it can be done and you know it. This is what I am asking for in return for ending the President’s, how shall we say, dilemma.”
“I understand. Let me do what I can. I want to repay you for the favor.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you want to order?”
“Not really. I think we had a successful lunch and we saved a couple of thousand calories.”
Nate got up and put two hundred dollars on the table as a tip. He gave Susanna a fake hug and then left. She sat there alone, her head hurting. Her honest government cherry was officially broken.
* * *
Over at AARP, Paul Prescott had a bulletin board where he put up the pictures of people who either had already committed crimes against the olds or were under suspicion. That morning he added Max Leonard. Why would a guy who looked like that, and had money to boot, waste his time doing this?
When Robert Golden walked into Paul’s office and first saw the photos, he had no idea what Paul was trying to accomplish. “Why are you collecting these? Shouldn’t the FBI be doing this?”
“Hopefully they are. But it doesn’t hurt if we do it, too. I’m trying to see if there’s a pattern here. Maybe if we can understand these kinds of people, we can figure out how to stop them.”
“Well, that’s a noble thought, but I think the only pattern you’re going to find is that these people are all young. No old people are killing their own.”
“But why would someone who’s rich, like this Leonard guy, care so much about this issue?”
“Who knows? Maybe he had a grandfather who abused him.”
“So you think he hates old people because of that?”
“Listen, Paul. I think it’s great what you’re doing. You’re a smart guy, and if you can find something that ties this together, then that would be helpful, but this isn’t your job. I think all of your
time should be spent trying to get Congress in line so that if Bernstein ever decides he’s going to keep his campaign promises on life extension, we’ll be there to stop it.”
“Does he even have the votes?”
“Not now. But the violence is having an effect. Did you read the editorial today from the mayor of Chicago?”
“No.”
“I printed it out. Read it. Don’t worry about catching guys or figuring out a pattern. Here is our clear and present danger.” And Golden put the editorial on Paul’s desk. It was titled, “Enough Is Enough.”
“Jesus, does the mayor know there is a revolutionary group with the same name?”
And as Paul read the editorial, it sounded as though any one of the people on his bulletin board could have written it. It said the transfer of wealth was long overdue. That it was time to give young people a break. And one line stuck with Paul because he thought it could catch on: If we don’t improve our youth’s chances for a better life, we will one day hand this country over to a generation that does not want it. Paul thought a line like that could only cause more trouble. It was time to ask a favor.
Paul knew a gay conservative writer he had once been set up with. They had had a pleasant evening but no connection. The writer had a sizable following, more so among Washington elite than regular people, but he was read widely. Paul had not spoken to him in almost a year. He appeared on the writer’s screen. “It’s Paul Prescott.”
“My God,” the writer said. “How are you?”
“Well, I’m hanging in there.”
“A lot of shit going on with your organization, huh?”
“You can say that. I wondered what you think about the violence?”
“What I think? I think all these young people should be executed. Get a fucking job and stop whining.”
“I knew it. I knew that’s what you think. Will you write about it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I understand it. I don’t like it, but I get it. Don’t you?”
Paul was silent. He couldn’t really say he didn’t understand it, but so what? There were a lot of things he understood but still wanted stopped. It was clear why all terrorists hated their targets, but that didn’t mean you didn’t try to kill them. “Are you there?” the writer asked.
“Yeah. I’m just thinking about what you said.” Paul didn’t have the energy at that moment to try to convince him. “Hey, if you don’t want to write a support piece then so be it. I just love your writing and thought you could help the cause.”
“That’s cool. Listen, keep in touch. If I change my mind, I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks. Good to see you.” And Paul clicked the man’s face off his screen. The conversation made him glad they had never really connected. And anyway, Paul thought the guy wasn’t aging well.
It’s amazing how fast you can turn on someone when he disappoints you.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
The wedding was a big affair. Senator Stanley Markum let loose. Shen Li was gaining a great deal of fame, not just in political circles, but among average people, too. As health care in Los Angeles was slowly transforming and people started to feel that someone was really concerned about their well-being, Li was hailed as the one person who finally made a dent in a system that had frozen in time.
At first Li staffed the small clinics with Chinese nurses and doctors who’d been specifically brought over to get everything started, but it had always been his intention to train Americans to share in the work. So Li found himself speaking to medical schools and colleges and especially vocational schools. His English was near perfect, just enough of a challenge to make him sound cute. And he was a brilliant speaker. He not only had passion and a record of success, he also spoke with great love for America. He was becoming one of the most requested speakers at every big event. They billed him as the new minister of health. It wasn’t quite true—there was no such position—but it sounded great and people lapped it up.
Markum held the wedding outside of Los Angeles, near Santa Barbara. It was on a rambling estate that overlooked the ocean. The main house had had to be torn down because of the quake, but the grounds were intact, and when all of the decorations were finished, it looked like a fairyland. It was a coveted invitation. This was the joining of a powerful American family with one of China’s most successful men. The wedding itself represented exactly what was happening to the country.
Senator Markum had always wanted Li to meet Dr. Sam Mueller, so Mueller and his wife were invited, and had accepted. Li, of course, knew who Mueller was and was in awe. “I can’t believe you are at my wedding. I would look at your picture when I was a boy in China and I would think that you are what I wanted to be.”
“I’m flattered,” Mueller said. “I heard you speak a month ago, not in person, but I watched it and I thought what you are offering this country is long overdue. I think you are going to have great success.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I mean it,” Mueller said. “I have always been in the business of miracle drugs, but without care itself taking a huge step forward, the health system can’t survive. I admire that you recognize that.”
Li could only grin. He was used to great things happening in his life, but once in a while you have to stand back and just gawk at your own existence. Here he was marrying an American princess and being complimented by the man who cured cancer. All in the same day. He just hoped he didn’t wake up and find himself back in elementary school. Please don’t be a dream.
After the dinner and some dancing and a lot of drinking, the senator took the microphone and asked everyone for their attention. He held up a glass of champagne and made a toast that was not expected.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is not often that you can genuinely surprise someone. As many of you know, we have made a fast track to citizenship for the good people who are here from China helping Los Angeles rise from the ashes. Those who stay two years and want to continue living and working in this great country will have the opportunity to do so as a U.S. citizen. My new son-in-law will be one of those people, but I wanted to speed things up a bit and get him something for his wedding that he would truly remember for the rest of his life.” Markum then reached behind him and brought out a plaque. “Shen, the Congress has voted you an honorary citizen of the United States of America.” People applauded wildly. “Just so you know what an honor that is, the last person to receive this was Winston Churchill. On this, your wedding day, I give to you one of the best gifts in the world, full citizenship in our great country. Congratulations.”
There was more applause. Li’s parents, who had only been on an airplane once before when he brought them to Beijing, listened to their Nextron translate what the senator had said and wept with joy. From beginnings that were beyond humble, their son now looked as if he’d achieved everything there was in this life.
When the last person had left the party, Li and his new wife were finally alone. There was a guesthouse on the property that had not sustained irreparable damage and that had been fixed up just for this event. They sat together by the fire and Laura made another toast. “To my husband and my soul mate. Together we will conquer the world.”
Li laughed. “What’s left?”
“I have some ideas.”
And they kissed and kissed again and both felt as if they were blessed by God, though neither believed there was one.
* * *
When Susanna Colbert told John Van Dyke of Cass’s request, he was furious. “How the hell did I not know this was going on?”
“I don’t know how much the President tells you, John. That isn’t my business.”
“So Nate Cass killed his mother?”
“Well, I don’t think that is the way to phrase something as difficult as this.”
“Susanna, don’t give me this bullshit on how to phrase things. He pulled the plug and now he wants the IRS to do the same thing. That’s what you’re ask
ing.”
Susanna knew when it was time to stop the doubletalk.
“Yes.”
“I’m really upset. I’m upset that this is illegal and difficult and I’m upset that the President did not confide in me what you were up to.”
“That isn’t my fault. I don’t control who the President of the United States tells his business to. I did a favor and now the favor has to be repaid.”
“And what if it isn’t?”
Susanna hadn’t thought of that. She’d just assumed this would be quid pro quo. Nate Cass was not just stupid rich but vindictive as hell.
“I wouldn’t want Nate as my enemy, John, especially if I had to run for office again.”
Van Dyke did not want to discuss it further. He had to make some tough choices. He could say no. He could ask the President to intercede, but that would be dangerous, bringing an illegal request directly into the Oval Office. He could try to handle this himself. He didn’t know what the answer was at that moment, so he did nothing.
Susanna left the meeting feeling a bit betrayed. She presumed every single thing the President thought or did was cleared by John Van Dyke. If she’d known she was doing this alone, she might have corrected the situation while there was still time, but now she was in a bind. She didn’t want this gesture to come back and bite her in the ass. Should she go to the President herself and explain? No. There was a chain of command and it must be followed. She didn’t know the answer, either, so she also did nothing.
* * *
As time went on, Betsy Bernstein was feeling worse, not better. She felt she’d devoted her life to her husband, at the expense of her own ambitions. Something was changing inside of her, and each day she felt less like she could spend another four years in this charade. She finally broke down and shared her misery with her sister.
Her sister, Lori, was a child psychologist. They had never been very close, but as Betsy’s world closed in when she got to the White House, she found her sister to be one of the only people she could really trust. And now that her husband was no longer serving in that capacity, Lori was essential for her well-being. Betsy called her late one night.
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