Man's Hope

by Zellmann, William

  "It got to the point where the banks would issue a mortgage to anyone, at ridiculous 'adjustable' rates, just so they could meet Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac requirements. They weren't even allowed to ask for income information, because somehow that was 'racist'. So, people who didn't even have a job were buying $250,000 homes. A few entrepreneurs began to buy up these sub-prime mortgages, and began trading in them. Then the buyers started defaulting by the thousands, of course, and Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, as well as the entrepreneurs, were stuck with billions of dollars in worthless loans. They ran to congress, and demanded more money.

  "Congress decided that it was the big, bad banks' fault, of course, for making such poor loan decisions. That was when the banks and Wall Street really became the targets of class warfare. And of course, through their Wall Street connections, anyone who had 'too much' money became one of the hated 'one per centers'. I started moving my investments overseas when I saw that the wealthy were going to be targeted this time."

  Susan looked unhappy. "You told me that running away was not a way of dealing with the problem. It sounds to me as though you're grabbing your money and running."

  His expression became guilty and troubled. "I know, and I often feel the same way. But this is a problem I can't solve. I cannot take on the entire U.S. government, or change the attitudes of the American people."

  "You can use your money to apply pressure to change American policies. You can back candidates who share your views. You can . . ." She stopped as she saw he was shaking his head.

  "No, I can't, Susan," he said in an anguished tone. "I'm no George Soros, who thinks he has all the answers and is smarter than the American people, and as a result is hated by half the population of the U.S. I'm just a computer nerd who managed to hit it big. I don't claim to know 'the answer' to the country's problems; I doubt there is a single 'answer', and besides, that's the voters' responsibility. Believe me, I hate having to leave the country I served with pride, and if the business climate in the U.S. improves, I'll move my investments back there in a heartbeat. But when the President of the United States is promising to make sure I pay my 'fair share', by which he means seizing my assets, I'd be a fool not to move them out. Please, Susan, do the research. But do it with an open mind. Check into the reporting, tax, and licensing requirements imposed by the federal and state governments. Run a 'what if' scenario. What if you wanted to start a small business in California? Plan on, say, fifty employees. We'll be here for a few days. Please, Susan," he repeated, "do the research."

  She looked troubled and doubtful. "Well, I'll check it out. But I still don't believe that nonsense about NASA, and the CIA, and the other stuff you talked about."

  "I know," he said. "If I weren't such a space nut, I'd probably have missed it, too. Once again, do the research. Look into how many 'joint ventures' NASA has entered into with smaller countries and civilian companies. They use their backing to encourage the 'partner' to overextend, and then, when the partner is stretched thin, NASA pulls out, leaving the 'partner' far in debt or bankrupt.

  "Talk to Joao's friend from the Space Agency. They did it to Brazil, and he'll give you an earful. It has caused a lot of hard feelings down here. If the Brazilian government does sign up with me, a lot of the reason will be that I'm not connected with NASA. That part of my speech upset you; but I can assure you, it was a hit with the Brazilians.

  "As for the CIA and that other stuff, that's a guess. But it's an educated guess, based on believable reports from credible witnesses and victims. And surveillance techniques have come far since 2001. So, I'm going to do the prudent thing and prepare for the worst. Call it paranoia, or pessimism; but remember that a pessimist is never disappointed. He may be pleasantly surprised occasionally, but not disappointed. I won't mind being pleasantly surprised."

  Susan still looked troubled, and shook her head. But after a moment, her face cleared. "I promise to do the research. But I didn't get all fixed up and put on this heartbreaker dress just to talk about politics and business. So if you don't get busy trying to seduce me, I'm going back to my room!" She threw him a blinding smile.

  He grinned. "Seduction is a little out of my line, and besides, you look more like an invitation to a rape! That is one spectacular dress! I love it."

  She stood up and twirled around, the slit in her dress revealing nearly the entire length of a shapely leg. She winked and grinned. "If I'd known you had rape on your mind, I'm not sure I'd have come in here." She said.

  He also stood and approached her. "Yes, you would," he said confidently. "You came in here in that dress to let me know that the Susan I've known is only one side of a far more complicated person. And it worked. I'm fascinated. I can't wait to get to know this new woman. And I'm going to start by greeting you the way I should have at Midway Airport!"

  He stepped forward and took her into his arms. Pulling her to him tightly, he bent his head and found her ready lips waiting. The kiss seemed to go on and on, Frank reveling in the feel, smell and taste of her.

  Finally, she stepped back. "Whew!" she said. "I think you'd better feed me before we both get carried away, here. We still have a lot to talk about, you know."

  Frank stepped back reluctantly. He picked up the house phone, and a few moments later a discreet knock announced the arrival of dinner.

  "I feel I've known you for years," he said after the server left, "and at the same time, I feel as though I don't know you at all." He smiled. "I know you're divorced, and have no children. But I don't even know how old you are. Or much of anything else."

  "Good," she replied archly. "That means you haven't been poking around in my personnel file."

  He chuckled. "Actually, that never occurred to me. Now that you mention it, though . . ."

  "Don't you dare!" she snapped. "It has the most horrid picture . . ." she noticed his mischievous grin, and the sentence trailed off.

  Frank's expression turned serious. "I've come to realize that I've been attracted to you for several years. I remember often thinking that you'd be a very attractive woman, if you were to dress a little more casually, and wear your hair in a less severe style. The problem, and the reason I didn't let myself acknowledge my attraction was that I was your boss. I had too much self-respect to be one of those cretins that uses his position to pressure a subordinate."

  She snorted. "Pressure, indeed! I did everything but send up smoke signals! I decided that if I walked into your office stark naked carrying a motherboard, you'd never even notice me, but you'd identify the motherboard from twenty feet away."

  "Oh, come now, I wasn't that bad!" He grinned. "Maybe you should have tried it. We both might have gotten a surprise. But now," he continued in a more serious tone, "we both know that we're both attracted to each other, and that we have a lot of time to make up. So, I vote we table the question of my sanity or obsession, and concentrate on doing that."

  Her brilliant smile flared. "Then the motion is carried unanimously. And if you don't get back over here right now and kiss me again, I swear I'm leaving!"

  This time the kiss was even longer, and ended with Frank hugging her passionately. "Susan," he whispered in her ear, "Would you spend the night with me?"

  Her reply was also nearly a whisper. "This night and every night, you idiot."

  She pushed herself from his arms. "Now, I think I want to see that bedroom you were bragging about."

  Frank's heart leapt. "Uh, you know it doesn't really have a round bed."

  Her grin didn't falter. "Prove it," was all she said. She turned her back to him and lifted her shoulder-length hair. "Care to help me with my zipper?" she asked in a breathy, theatrically sexy tone.

  Frank laughed, and lowered the zipper to her mid-back. "But if you ask me to 'come on up and see you some time,' I swear I'll spank you."

  She turned back to face him and gave him a hard stare. "I refuse to admit to being old enough to know who Mae West was," she replied. Before he could reply, she turned away and headed for the b
edroom door, with Frank in close pursuit.

  She reached behind her to finish lowering the zipper. "I certainly hope you're wrong about that CIA surveillance stuff," she said, and then she lowered the top of her dress, revealing that she was wearing no bra. Her breasts were ample and full, but not overly large, and showed practically no sag. As he shed his dinner jacket and started on his tie, she cupped a breast in each hand. "They're not really very big," she said.

  Frank laughed. "You know what they say, 'everything over a handful is wasted.' They're beautiful, dear. Please lower your hands so I can enjoy looking at them."

  Flushing pink, she did lower her hands, to where her dress had settled around her waist. "But wait, folks," she cried in the tone of a TV pitchwoman, "that's not all you get with this terrific bargain." She pushed the dress over her flaring hips, and it dropped around her ankles, leaving her clad only in an old-fashioned garter belt, nylons, and high heeled shoes. She simply stood, both hands on her hips, one leg slightly bent, as Frank devoured her with his eyes."

  And she was even more attractive than Frank had imagined. In her present costume, she could have posed for a pinup. A narrow waist flared into womanly hips forming a heart-shaped frame for the small triangle of pubic hair at the juncture of her thighs. Her belly showed only the sexy double dome that is so flattering to a woman. She obviously worked to keep herself in shape, but her body showed none of 'hardbody' firmness and angularity Frank considered so unsexy.

  "My God," he said after a moment. "You're beautiful!"

  She didn't move, remaining posed, but her smile flared again. "If you only knew how hard I've worked, and how long, for this moment." She took a deep breath, and then, as though she was reciting oft-practiced lines, she said, "Frank, this body is my gift to you. I have kept it in good condition for this moment. I hope you will enjoy it as much as I will enjoy sharing it with you for many years to come."

  Frank was thunderstruck. Aside from a few flings in college, his experience was limited to his lovely, shy, somewhat repressed Yoli, who got embarrassed every time Frank saw her naked. Yoli had been raised with the mores of the very conservative Philippines. If Frank had needed a reminder that Susan was going to be quite different from Yoli, this display of confidence, independence, and, yes, boldness would have certainly been it.

  Dropping the last of his own clothing on the floor, Frank stepped forward and took her in his arms. "You're wonderful," he murmured as he guided her to the rectangular bed.

  Chapter 5

  The next three days flew by in a bright, sexy blur. They hit all the tourist spots in Brasilia, and they spent many hours learning about each other in their suite. They checked Susan out of her suite, and she moved in with Frank, to his great relief.

  They had just returned from lunch at a downtown bistro when the suite's phone rang. It was the secretary to the Minister for Space, inquiring if Frank would be available for an interview with the Minister the following afternoon.

  Frank was amazed at how quickly and completely the 'new' Susan could transform back into the 'old' Susan. The woman who accompanied him into the Minister's office showed no signs of the changes of the past three days.

  The Minister was not alone. Frank was surprised when the Minister, Gilberto Almendes introduced him to Paulo Teceres, President of Brazil.

  "We felt it advisable," the President began in heavily-accented English, "that you not be seen visiting the Palace; yet I felt it was imperative that I talk to you myself. As you know, our experiences with space development have been mixed. Now, you come, offering to spend many millions of dollars to enhance our space capabilities. I have heard of your plan, and I admit it seems too altruistic to be genuine. When someone offers me something for nothing, I become very nervous."

  Frank smiled and nodded. "I understand completely, Mr. President. I too have always been suspicious of something for nothing. However, I do not consider this something for nothing. True, I offer to spend millions to expand your space capability. Yet I do it for my own purposes. Yes, I could have gone to the Russians, or to ESA, and spent several hundred million for a launch.

  "But my project is genuine, sir. I wish to launch this mission in the name of 'Man's Hope International,' a multinational corporation registered in Geneva, not in the name of Frank Weatherly, or Russia, or ESA, or even Brazil. If accepted, our agreement would provide me a lease of land at Alcântara, on which I will build a launch pad and control center. But when my ships launch, they will not be launching from Brazil's Alcântara Launch Center; they will be launching from the corporation's launch pad, which happens to be located in Brazil. After my mission is completed, we will have a big, public ceremony during which I will sign the launch pad over to the government and people of Brazil. The main reason for doing it this way, Mr. President, is to make sure that everything that is done will be done by me, not by the government of Brazil. You will be able to 'disavow any knowledge of my actions' as they used to say in an old TV show. I suspect you will be required to do that on several occasions, at the UN, among other places.

  NASA will not be happy to be unable to get details of my program, and they will use every ounce of influence they can muster. I'm sure they will demand that your government launch an investigation of my activities, an investigation in which they would gladly assist. I hope to draft the agreement in such a way that you can refuse, unless they have firm proof of wrongdoing under Brazilian law. Secondly, it gives me the freedom to do nearly anything I like without stumbling over 'inspectors' and 'consultants' from every Ministry that can dream up an excuse."

  The president's eyes narrowed. "It sounds as though you intend to engage in illegal acts."

  Frank nodded. "I know. But I will be frank, Mr. President. I suspect that I will be skirting the edge of legality pretty close on occasion, but I will do nothing to which my lawyers could not mount a defense. If this contract is accepted, I will consider Brazil to be a partner in my enterprise; and one does nothing that will harm a partner." He grinned. "To put it another way, one does not pee in one's own pool."

  He paused and sobered. "Actually, I expect your government's involvement to be mostly political. Aside from all the hooraw in the UN, I am virtually certain that a U.S. arrest warrant will be issued for me, probably over that same technology transfer nonsense they used on you before. I will have to depend upon your government to refuse to let the U.S. government bully you into surrendering me or permitting them to search my premises. If you do turn me over to them, I expect the project will be ruined. Oh, I'll probably end up in jail and in various courtrooms for the next twenty years, but it would mean that Brazil would again be only one of many small space programs, vying for contracts to launch small satellites."

  Frank shook his head. "I am well aware that the Russians consider me a fanatic, sir. They go along because they will obtain a hundred million of my dollars for a pet space project. But I believe they think I will be back in a few months, begging to use Baikonur, and they will be able to obtain many more of my millions. There is only one Russian involved with the deal who really believes it might happen, and he is more engineer than politician.

  "But no, sir. I will not say I have no intention of doing anything illegal. To be honest, It is possible that I will find it necessary to obtain a small nuclear reactor to place aboard the ship, for instance."

  The President interrupted stonily, "Brazil will not assist you to obtain nuclear technology." The denial was flat, and obviously final.

  "I would not expect that, sir," Frank replied. "The most I would ask from Brazil is that your inspectors possibly fail to note a higher-than-normal radioactivity level.

  "At any rate, that is the only possibly illegal act I contemplate, and I'm not even certain that will become necessary. Even if I must do that, I give you my word that I will not do anything immoral, or contrary to the best interests of mankind or Brazil."

  The President, still frowning, shrugged. "A fanatic's promise is of little value. Whose definition of
the 'best interests of mankind' do we use?"

  "Mine, of necessity. Sir," Frank replied. "But I can only accomplish my mission if I have the support and help of good, talented people. At the moment, there are few people involved. We have David Tarrant, the former U.S. Astronaut, and Paul Goodman, a well-known American physicist and scientific generalist. In Russia, we have Sergei Andorovich, an engineer in the Russian space program, and Dr. Anton Ternayev, Deputy Director of Engineering at RKK Energia. These are good, solid, reasonable people, not a fanatic among them. I do not think they would be with me if they thought I was a fanatic, or that my plan was impossible."

  The President still looked troubled. The possibility that Frank might do something illegal plainly bothered him. "Very well. We have talked with the specialists at the National Institute for Space Research, and they seem to agree that your project is at least technically possible." A thin smile broke his troubled expression. "Some of them became quite passionate about it, I understand." The smile faded "And you will be unsurprised to learn that we have launched a detailed investigation into your background and finances."

  The President rose to his feet. "You will please provide a list of the people you mentioned to the Minister." The troubled expression had not left his face. "If all of this checks out, I will agree to sign your contract. Both our legal staffs, of course, must draft it and we will sign one copy in English, for you, and one copy in Portuguesa, for us. We will provide your facility, Senhor Weatherly, and we will protect you from your government. And I pray to God we are doing the right thing."

  The president swept out the door, still looking troubled.

  Frank was slightly confused. "I can have the contracts here for your government to review by Friday," he said. "But I gather the President was expecting a lengthy procedure."

  The Minister smiled. "He is, and you should too. Take the time. Have your attorney fly down, or contract a Brazilian attorney to speak for you. This is not something so simple as selling surplus equipment to a foreigner. This must be most carefully drafted, to provide maximum protection for everyone involved." He shrugged. "The President, or our Ambassador to the United Nations, may be forced to defend this agreement before the Security Council or the International Court of justice. It must be absolutely airtight."