Cynthia turned around and nodded to George, who was holding the door open for her.
George was about to follow when Terence called out, “George, you too? What, is she swaying your opinion with a piece of tail?”
George smiled, “I’d rather her piece of tail, than yours Terence. I was never good at kissing ass, and it doesn’t seem you need another to kiss yours, anyway.”
With his last comment, George let the door close behind him.
United Nations - New York City, NY - USA
Zhou Song’s lips compressed together minutely. It was the most expression he allowed on his face to register the displeasure he was feeling.
He had been working for over a week to get a consensus worked out for a strong decision or memorandum against TQB Enterprises on behalf of the world as put forth by China, a leader in the United Nations.
To only be pushed back.
Certainly by the powerful countries who figured China was up to something (true), but also by many of the unaligned countries who failed to believe that China would honor their agreements (partially true). China would certainly honor the specific aspects of the agreements, but not the spirit of the agreement.
Inside the fine print was a fair amount of ifs, buts and thens. Plenty of legal language which allowed China to drag their feet should they acquire any of the new technology.
Unfortunately, China’s history over the last twenty years of either stealing technology, borrowing technology, or requiring trading partners to share technology (which they then stole) was catching up to them.
Right when the best technology was being flaunted in their face.
Zhou Song locked his black leather briefcase and nodded to his translator. Not that she was needed. He spoke six languages besides three specific to China. The only one which foreign services knew about was English. So, he often played dumb when around those of other countries just in case they would slip up and say something in his presence.
She packed up her items as he slid behind her and continued out of the meeting room. He nodded to the Representative from Uganda, who he was meeting for dinner next Thursday night and took a left. In a couple of minutes, he had slipped into his limousine and was whisked out to his residence at the Waldorf Astoria. The hotel was now owned by a Chinese-owned Insurance company. The United States, who had previously had all of their UN Representatives stay at the famed location since Herbert Hoover, had moved suggesting that perhaps the government of China was behind the purchase.
Pity that, Zhou Song thought.
The car came up to the front of the hotel, and his door was opened. He kept his briefcase with him and stepped through the entryway to head to a set of special elevators that didn’t work for the general populace. He placed his fob on the front and stepped inside. Hitting the button for his level, he considered what he needed to do to manipulate the contingent from Central Africa to start another block. His country had provided substantial investment, not all of the money going into the projects, but that was how Africa worked.
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Zhou Song walked to his room and nodded to the two security guards who walked this floor. He stepped inside his rooms and placed the briefcase on the table to the right. The same place he sat it every night as he walked into his bedroom to change. He came out in a pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt. He rolled up his sleeves as he walked into his kitchen.
Zhou Song preferred to cook to center himself as he thought. It was relaxing. Cooking was something he had been doing since his early teenage years.
This room had been modified for him, to allow him this exercise. Otherwise, the chef on site was sufficient for those nights he needed to work through his time of meditation.
He stepped into his kitchen and stopped.
He turned to his left to look out of his kitchen into his small living room and beyond to the balcony outside. He turned to his right and stepped out of his kitchen to look into his office.
It was empty.
He didn’t feel anything amiss in the room, so he walked over to the door and opened it. First looking left, then right to see one of the guards, “Mùqián yǐ jìnrù biérén wǒ de fángjiān?” The guard shook his head no, “Yǒu méiyǒu rén zài zhè yī céng?” Again, the guard shook his head in the negative.
Song closed the door and walked back into his kitchen. He placed his hand on the large loaf of bread and pulled the pin out of the loaf and grabbed the sheet of paper.
The message was written in six languages, all in languages he knew and that other people were not supposed to know he was fluent with.
“It is only the enlightened ruler and the wise general who will use the highest intelligence of the army for the purposes of spying, and thereby achieve great results.”
Song put down the letter. The quote, one of Sun Tzu’s, was a maxim in his country. He looked around his apartment and considered what he needed to do next, and his shoulders slumped.
He was going to have to move.
He could not trust living inside his walls now, and it was going to cause him great distress until his technology team could confirm it was safe for him to come back.
This was going to cause him undue stress when he least needed it.
Unfortunately, he never considered that by the time he left, the microscopic bugs had already invaded his briefcase, and he took the little devices with him to the next location at the embassy.
ADAM, however, was already working the little machines as soon as he placed the briefcase down.
CHAPTER TEN
Washington D.C., USA
The President walked into the meeting room with the fourteen heads of companies he had requested to attend with him. Fourteen heads that he had pulled with his top business advisors from the information provided by TQB. When asked, he was adamant he wouldn’t tell them where the information had come from, simply that he had it and that the FBI was able to confirm a fair amount of the details.
He had planted twenty-two additional names in the meeting request in case they started talking before they got to Washington. He then had his press secretary tell the extra twenty-two they would be joining him at a separate location in the Whitehouse. That would be his second meeting.
He walked into his first meeting with four members of the secret service and four members of the FBI.
He had asked Gen. George Thourbourah to attend this meeting to listen.
Everyone turned to face the President as he stepped up to the podium. There were no chairs in the room as he didn’t intend for it to be very long.
He turned to make sure the doors were shut and then turned back to those standing in front of him. “I appreciate all of you coming today. Unfortunately, you are here for a different reason than many others.” The noise started to ramp up, and he just looked to the left and the right. He waited about thirty seconds and then looked at his watch before tapping on the microphone to get their attention. “I will be quick, because I have another meeting, one with people living inside of our society, not trying to live above it.”
He put up a hand to forestall the noise, “I don’t personally care if you want to argue with what I have to say. Just let it be known that I have representatives from the FBI here in this room with whom I’ve shared documents delivered to me that suggest there is an illegal Cabal, operating for well over a century, that has done many harmful things for their company’s benefits and their personal gain. Now, I’m also aware that those members have taken it upon themselves to start a fight. A fight using both legal and illegal efforts to obtain technology that does not belong to them.”
He looked out over the mass of faces, a few eyes, he noticed, darted to others in the room. “Now, unlike many Cabal efforts in the past, this time, they have bitten off way more than they can chew. Based on our research, compiled as we watched for evidence of these battles both on the stock market and off, shows us that this Cabal is getting their asses kicked.”
He looked arou
nd again after a pause, “Or they are dying.” When he said that, the whispering got a little louder.
“Now,” He continued, and the noise died down, “Officially, I don’t know any of this at this moment. I can’t help anyone, I can’t defend anyone, I can’t possibly ask for clemency from another group who might believe that there is such a rule as an eye for an eye and are willing to implement it.” He looked hard at the people in front of him.
“What I can tell you, is that I have documents that let me know who I should be talking to right now. You can be assured, as the good countryman you are, that your government is now aware of this effort and will not sit by and allow this Cabal to operate going forward.” His face firmed up, his look of annoyance clear on his face.
“I can tell you we know how to protect those who might be afraid of the dark, so to speak.” He looked around, hope shining out from at least a third of the eyes in the group. “But, they aren’t going to like the solution, I don’t think. It seems the group that was attacked only recognizes our prisons as safe zones. So, to be safe, people have to turn themselves in.” He smiled to the speechless people in the audience, caught unawares that they now had a binomial option of safety in prison, or no safety.
The President turned to his right and nodded. Two FBI agents stepped back beside the General as the President turned around to the audience again, “It saddens me to say that inside this information provided me was proof. Proof that this Cabal had infected people all the way to the top, so to speak. The FBI has confirmed this information, so in front of you as witnesses, they are taking into custody General George Thourbourah, for aiding and abetting a group that was inimical to the United States of America.” Now, the room erupted in talk as the General went wide eyed and the two FBI agents quickly turned him and popped handcuffs on his arms before he got his wits about him. The front FBI agent pulled a card out as the room quieted.
“You have the right to remain silent…” He started. The President leaned one arm on the podium, and watched every person as the General was read his rights and then walked out of the room, his head hung low. Everyone turned back to see the President staring at them.
He spoke in a conversational tone, “You have the same right to remain silent, to not implicate yourselves in anything. What that will accomplish is staying out of the only guaranteed safe place in this solar system. If you have any desire to be safe? Well, these two guys up here have business cards, you might ask for one. Have a good night.” The President stepped off the podium and swept out of the room with his security, leaving the two FBI agents behind with everyone else.
The President thought the looks of shock on all of the faces in the room were priceless.
Paris, France
The sound of the door closing behind George hadn’t yet left the room when Terence smiled to the rest of the people sitting around him. “So, there go the only two without the, excuse me, ladies,” he smiled around the table, “The BALLS to seize the future!”
Downstairs and outside of the hotel, Cynthia stepped up to the curb and waited for her personal limousine, a Mercedes, to pull up. George stepped up to her, “Were you honest about wanting comfort?” He asked.
She slipped an arm around his, “George, you have no idea how close you dodged the bullet in there.” Her limousine drove up, it was a little longer and had modifications for security. George noticed a driver, but another man from the front seat stepped out to open the door.
He nodded to George before opening the door for Cynthia, “Is this the man you expected?”
Cynthia nodded, a little sad, “I’m sad to say it was, no others chose to align themselves with me this evening, Nathan.”
He nodded his understanding when a separate woman surprised George by exiting the vehicle. He didn’t get a good look at her, just noticing the black hair before she put a hat on her head as she walked into the hotel. Cynthia half pulled, half pushed George into her backseat before Nathan leaned into the car, “You have seventy-two hours before the deal is over, understand?”
Cynthia nodded her head, “I’ll be there, with the proof.” She stared Nathan in the eyes, “I’ll do my time.”
Nathan nodded, “See that you do, Cynthia. I went out on a limb to help you here.”
She held a hand out and Nathan took it, “I know Nathan. We’ve done good business together in the past, and I wish you and your wife a beautiful and healthy child.” He nodded, accepting her good wishes and closed the door.
He turned and lowered his head, his hat covering a large portion of his face as the vehicle left and he walked into the hotel to go to a meeting room in an out of the way area of the hotel.
—
Terence never noticed that each time a server left, they did not come back. He was about to suggest they break up into smaller work groups when he noticed a woman with a veiled hat and a man dressed in livery standing beside her.
“Who are you?” Terence asked. It took only a few seconds for everyone at the table to see others looking behind them and to stop talking and turn around themselves.
“Oh good,” her voice was smooth, and Terence was wondering what she looked like under that hat. “I finally have your attention.”
“I believe the man asked who you were,” Constantina asked from a few places closer than Terrence, “This is a private meeting.”
“Yes, I’m aware.” She said standing up, “This is an offshoot of the Illuminati created in 1776, now a sad spectacle of the original shining ideals. Well, at least somewhat shining compared to you.” She started walking along, a black gloved hand drawing along the backs of everyone down the side. “I’ve heard enough of your plans, thank you very much.”
She reached over and grabbed Truett Mastersos III, “Truett you are judged, good-bye.” Terrence was shocked as she easily grabbed Truett and pulled him bodily out of his chair into the air where he just…vanished.
“What the hell?” the next man over exclaimed.
“The hell,” she told Marco Broussard, “is that you have been doing evil deeds for over seventeen years, Mr. Broussard, and now it’s the penalty box for you. She yanked his chair out and caught him under the arm. She pivoted and threw him up over the table, and those on the other side screamed as he started coming in their direction, but he never landed.
He disappeared as well.
“The hell with this!” Karthi Montero muttered from down at the other end of the table and pushed his chair back; he kept his eyes on her as he walked away and around the end of the table to walk out the door. She watched him the whole time as he continued walking.
Right by Nathan.
Two women screamed when they saw the man turn into a literal wolf-man in front of their eyes. Karthi was screaming as the wolf-thing growled and held his neck in its left hand. Then looked at all of those still at the table as dinner. Two of the men got out of their chairs and slid across the table to get on the other side from the Werewolf.
“Hold! Don’t eat him, your wife will be most upset,” the strange woman told the Werewolf.
“What the hell is that and who the hell are you!” Terence yelled, twisting his head between the two of these frightening beings.
“I’m the one you should not have crossed. I took a survey of one, myself, and decided the future would be a lot better without you in it. Nathan here,” She waved a hand at the monster holding Karthi, “Is here to make sure you hear what I have to say.”
“What is it?” Terence wanted to scream but tried to keep calm with everyone else freaking the hell out.
Her voice went silky smooth over steel, “You have been tried by the Queen Bitch herself for crimes against her, her people and humanity in general. Everyone stand up.” Those still sitting pushed themselves out of their chairs, “Now wait until I get to you, but feel free to be as scared as you want as you can’t move your muscles. I’ll get to each of you in a moment.”
SUED FOR PEACE (The Kurtherian Gambit Book 11) Page 11
