by James Rosone
Johann bristled a bit. “Peng will not fail,” he insisted. “I have it on good authority that his network is already in place, and he’s already identified exactly how they’re going to tilt things in favor of whoever the nominee is.”
“Peng’s people had better not get caught. If they do, it could jeopardize everything,” Lance stated in an icy tone that indicated he might hold Johann responsible if things went south.
“He won’t get caught. We’ve already found our patsies,” Johann declared with confidence.
Now it was Lance’s turn to lift an eyebrow. “Do tell,” he said coyly.
Johann shook his head as he smiled. “The less you know, Lance, the less you can be held culpable for.”
Lance nodded and winked.
“What are your plans if things don’t work out with this UN peacekeeping force or we meet a greater level of resistance than we planned for?” asked Johann in a nervous tone. This was his biggest concern with the plan; he knew that despite political support and a formal request for assistance, his peacekeeping force would be viewed as invaders and meet heavy resistance from a very well-armed populace.
Waving the concern off, Lance responded, “We have that planned for. We’ll be bringing in private military contractors from other parts of the world when and if they are needed. We’ve already been talking with a few of the major PMCs about what-if scenarios. Funds are being set aside, so when the time comes, the money will be ready. You just need to focus on getting as large of a contingent on Canadian soil as possible. See if Peng can convince his masters in Beijing to pony up a larger force.”
Johann nodded and jotted down a quick note. “Agreed,” he said. He took a deep breath. “I’m still concerned about the US military. What if they side with Sachs when the time comes? How do we deal with that?”
“Let us deal with that end of things,” Lance insisted. “We have contingency plans in place for that as well.”
The two of them talked for a bit longer, going over some additional details before Lance Solomon left to head back to his own office at Goldman’s just down the street. They would be working together a lot over the next year, so Lance planned on being close to the UN headquarters for a while.
Chapter 5
Social Call
Washington, D.C.
Georgetown
Patricia Hogan’s Residence
Sipping on a glass of fine scotch, Patricia Hogan looked over at Riku and asked, “You’re certain this blockchain voting is secure? It’ll work?”
After the successful 2018 pilot of iVote in West Virginia, many of the state’s governors had agreed to offer their constituents the opportunity to use this system during the nation’s primaries. Depending on the program’s success, it could then be used in the general election later in the year. It was initially thought that many people would be opposed to iVote; however, once it had been announced that primary voters would have the option to try it, an overwhelming number of people had signed on to it.
“It’s secure, Director,” Riku replied. He took a sip on his own stiff drink.
“Please—call me Patricia or Patty when we’re not in the office,” she replied. She looked over toward the dining room. It looked like the caterers were nearly done with their preparations for tonight’s dinner. Patty had invited most of her senior staff over for a private holiday party at her Georgetown home.
“Sorry, I guess it’s just force of habit,” Riku replied. “It’s really nice of you to host this year’s Christmas dinner at your home. It’s beautiful.”
Patty’s husband, William, walked over to her and kissed her on her forehead. “If she didn’t host it here, I’d never get a chance to see her,” he said good-naturedly as he took a seat on the couch next to her.
Riku chuckled at the comment. “Yeah, I think that’s why I’m still single. I didn’t think I’d like public service when I left Silicon Valley to take this position, but I must say, it’s really neat to be in a position where I can help to make government more responsive to the people by integrating new technologies. The virtual form system we’ve been developing for all the agencies alone has increased response times to consumers and sped up numerous request processes. I’ll admit, though, I did think I’d have a bit more time to date once I left the corporate rat race—man, was I wrong. These government jobs can be just as all-consuming.” Riku seemed a bit glum. The holidays were always a lonely time when you didn’t have someone to share them with.
“That, my friend, is why you only stay in the senior ranks of public service for a period of time and then get out,” Patty replied.
“How do you know how long to stay in, though? There always seems to be so much to do. Once you finish one project, another one pops up and then another and another. It seems like you could literally stay in this job forever and never fully accomplish anything. Plus, you never know if you’re going to be allowed to stay in your position past the next election.”
Leaning forward, William looked Riku in the eyes. “It’s simple, Riku. You set goals. You go into the position with a set of objectives you want to achieve and a timeframe you want to accomplish them in. Once you’ve completed that mission, you either get out or you establish another set of goals. If you don’t do that, then the job will consume you, and one day you’ll find yourself fifty years old, alone and miserable.”
“That’s a rather depressing way to describe it, William,” Patty said as she lightheartedly jabbed her husband in the ribs. “This is a holiday party, and you’re going to break this poor man’s spirit.”
Riku laughed at the banter. “When you took this job, Patty, what did you want to accomplish? What needs to happen for you to feel like you can move on satisfied?”
Sighing, Patty looked down at her now-empty glass of scotch before replying. “For me, it’s about border security. I’ll be able to leave this job satisfied once I know I’ve made a difference. Judging by the progress we’ve made on the border wall, I think I’ll feel comfortable about leaving at the end of Sachs’s first term.”
Riku smiled. “So, you’re really a border wall person?” he asked. “I kind of thought you were just going along with what the President wanted, you know, picking and choosing your battles.” He still held a lot of the liberal ideals he’d been raised with in California, and he’d made no secret about the fact that he thought a barrier was a colossal waste of money.
She shook her head. “No, I’ve always been a proponent of it. My sister’s husband was killed by a drunk driver eight years ago. The man that killed him was an illegal immigrant who had been deported three times. I can’t help but think that if we had a system or process in place that would have kept him out of the country, my brother-in-law might still be alive. So, for me, it’s personal.”
She chuckled. “I mean, look around Georgetown, Riku—we’re surrounded by the rich and influential people who run this country. Nearly all of them have walls around their homes. Why can’t the less fortunate, the working poor of our country also be protected from those who have entered our country illegally?”
“Yeah, but don’t you think we need these immigrants to do the jobs average Americans won’t do? How do you square that stance with the realities of what’s needed just to sustain our society?”
Patty’s husband grabbed her empty glass and headed to the wet bar. “I’ll get everyone some refills before this conversation gets too deep,” he said. William left to give them a few minutes to chat and to check on some of the other guests. Many of them were still either on their way or starting to arrive.
“You bring up a very good point, Riku. As you know, that’s also a major issue our department has been working on with Congress. This past budget finally worked to address some of that by raising the number of unskilled visas to one million annually and also streamlining the process for those who want to apply for citizenship. We have a skills gap; no one is disputing that. But we can’t flood the market with millions of unskilled workers, especially when they
don’t speak our common language. It’s not fair to our own unskilled workers or those who have done the right thing and waited in line. It’s a balancing act, but I think this last bill that passed a few months ago has finally righted that ship, if you will.”
Riku reached up to accept his refilled glass from William. “I think you may be right, but time will tell. We’ve kind of cut ourselves short by limiting the number of H-1B visas. The tech and medical sectors are dying for more skilled labor and can’t seem to find it.”
Waving the concern off with her hand, Patty replied, “That’s a problem those organizations should be addressing directly with the universities and technical colleges. Importing cheap, specialized labor only fattens their wallets at the expense of our own citizens. Why pay an American software engineer a $140,000-a-year salary when you can import one from India or China through the H-1B visa program and pay him half that? It just improves corporate profits.”
“Right now, these companies don’t have to invest in their retirement programs, and they can downsize and ship them back to their country when they’re done with them. No, I think if the medical community and tech giants have a shortage, they should be working with community organizers and local educators to make sure college graduates and workers have the needed skills.”
Snorting at her reply, Riku retorted, “You’re kind of a socialist in that regard, aren’t you?”
“I suppose,” she said, not liking the use of that word in reference to her own political beliefs. “I guess I’m just tired of Wall Street and the tech giants dictating policy that only enriches themselves at the expense of our citizens and the government.”
Changing subjects, Riku asked, “So, what did you think of the debates last night? Did any one particular person stand out to you?”
She sighed at the direct mention of politics. “To be honest, I didn’t watch it and I haven’t really seen any clips. Perhaps I should be paying more attention, but let’s be frank—if any of them win the election, neither of us will be in their administration.”
Riku chuckled at the nonresponse. “I suppose you’re right,” he responded. “Maybe I was naïve in thinking that I might be able to ride this position no matter who wins the next election.”
“No, not completely,” she said, walking back her earlier comment. “You have an important position implementing the upgrades in Homeland’s technology, especially with the new blockchain voting. But you’re also in a politically appointed position, and everyone who’s in those slots tends to get the axe when the opposition party takes over. That’s not to say you definitely won’t be able to stay, but the trend has been to bring in their own people.”
The rest of the evening progressed over several courses of food and a white elephant gift exchange, which proved to be rather comical. It was a nice break from their all-consuming jobs and a chance to unwind socially with each other.
Chapter 6
Election Preparations
September 2020
Seattle, Washington
University of Washington
The campaign grind was really starting to ramp up now that the nominating conventions were done. It was now a sprint to Tuesday, November 3, and the presidential election. With the first debate less than a week away, Senator Marshall Tate had largely secluded himself with his debate prep team in his hometown of Cleveland, Ohio, to get ready for what was sure to be a raucous debate with President Sachs.
However, despite the prep, his senior advisor had insisted that he hold a campaign rally at the University of Washington in Seattle. The rally, of course, was a cover to allow him to meet with a small cabal of his financial and political backers.
*******
“This way, Senator,” said his aide as he held the exit door open to the stairwell. The two of them walked down the flight of stairs with his Secret Service detail, which guided him down the poorly lit passageway that led to the basement of the building. Once at the bottom, one of the agents held the door open as they entered a dark hallway. Another agent stood opposite them, guarding a door to a small room.
“OK, enough of the cloak-and-dagger crap,” Marshall said. “Why can’t we have lights on, anyway? This is ridiculous.”
“We’re trying not to attract attention, sir,” the Secret Service agent replied, “and several of the people in the room have asked for discretion as well.”
This had better be good, Senator Tate thought. I’m supposed to be preparing to debate this buffoon, not holding a campaign rally in a reliably safe blue state.
When the agent held the door opened for him, Marshall was immediately surprised by the sight of the folks who were waiting to see him. It was not who he had expected.
“Welcome. Mr. President,” said Roberto Lamy, the current Director-General of the World Trade Organization.
“Yes, welcome, Mr. President. We have a lot to discuss,” said Peng An, the head of the China Investment Corporation. He motioned for the senator to take a seat at the lone empty chair.
Still a bit stunned by the people he recognized sitting in the small circle, Senator Tate walked gingerly to the empty seat and sat down, unsure of what was about to happen until he saw Lance Solomon.
At that moment, he knew exactly what was going on. Despite him and Lance both being Skull and Bones members, he hadn’t had much contact with his Society brother. Their paths had crossed a few times, but Senator Tate mostly knew of Lance from the few times he’d attended events at Goldman Sachs with his wife.
I always heard of backroom deals being cut by powerful men, but I never thought I’d be involved in them, Marshall thought.
Erik Jahn, the manager of the Norway Sovereign Wealth Fund, held his hand up to forestall any questions. “Mr. President, we asked to hold this intimate gathering to discuss with you your future.”
Senator Tate lifted his chin up slightly as he felt his ego simultaneously being puffed up and bruised. This group of men thought they could discuss my future…as if I need their help, he thought.
“I think I’ve done pretty well for myself up to this point,” he said with a tepid smile, careful not to offend those who appeared to be his secret benefactors. “And I’m not President…yet.”
“Of course you aren’t,” Erik replied. “But that is only a formality we must deal with until November third. On November fourth, you will be President-Elect, and the world will be drastically different.”
“Why exactly am I here at this meeting?” asked Senator Tate. “My poll numbers are strong, and the current president’s unfavorable numbers continue to rise.”
“Relax, Marshall. You know why you’re here. This is your first official meeting as President-Elect,” replied Lance reassuringly.
Smiling, Marshall let out a soft sigh and nodded for them to continue.
Leaning forward, Roberto simply said, “You know what makes the world go around? It’s trade. Commerce. Money. That’s what makes the world run, Senator, and America is a big part of that. However, the last four years have been an utter disaster for global trade. The world’s largest trading partners now find themselves locked in a deadly trade war that has spilled over into Europe and the rest of Asia. I don’t need to tell you how severely this has riled the world’s financial markets. It has also led to the rise in dozens of ultranationalist governments both in Asia and Europe. This is 1938 all over again and something has to be done to stop it.”
“I agree with you, Roberto. But until I win the election, and that’s still a big if, I’m powerless to change the government’s current stances on these issues. Even as a senator in the minority party, we’ve been unable to stop the current administration. But I can assure you that if I’m elected, I will be reversing these trade tariffs and will work to restore the world’s trading markets,” Senator Tate said as he sought to appease these powerful men.
It suddenly occurred to him that Vancouver was hosting the World Economic Forum, which would explain why all these men were in the same place at the same time. It
also suddenly clicked why his campaign staff had insisted on holding a rally in Seattle, a mere few hours away by car.
“We need more than that, Senator,” Peng insisted. “You cannot lose. No, let me rephrase that. We,” he said, waving his hand around the circle, “cannot let you lose. There are certain things that are going to happen to ensure you win. We need you to go along with them. We need you not to fight them,” he said cryptically.
Senator Tate’s face crinkled. “What do you mean certain things are being done to ensure I win? The administration moved forward with the iVote system—you know, the blockchain voting app. My advisors tell me this is the most secure way to vote. It’s virtually foolproof.”
Shaking his head, Erik remarked, “Nothing’s foolproof.”
“What do you mean by that? Can the system really be hacked?” Marshall asked, genuinely concerned.
“No, it can’t be hacked,” said Johann Behr. “But Erik is not talking about that. Not everyone can or will use the new electronic voting app. That’s our angle. That’s how we are going to ensure you win.”
Erik held up his hand. “It’s best if you don’t ask a lot of questions, Senator. We just want you to be aware that powerful forces are at work to ensure that you prevail in November. Nothing is being left to chance.”
Marshall shook his head. He wanted to win, and he believed he could and would win. But what these men were talking about…was treasonous. It was cheating, and it demeaned the very office he sought to obtain.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea…,” he finally said cautiously. “I think I can win on my own. If you get caught, or word ever got out that the election wasn’t fair, that a foreign power directly changed votes, it would delegitimize the election and my presidency. I’m not sure it’s worth the risk.”
