Redemption

by Sally Fernandez

  “Nice touch,” Noble admitted, and then on a more serious note, he warned, “We have just three more days to wrap this up. I’ll have the website ready; what say all of you?”

  “I’m just polishing off the speech, with a few additional lines,” Paolo noted, as he winked at Hank.

  Seymour raised his right hand. “All the infomercials are about ninety percent complete. Hank and I will have them ready for your viewing the day after tomorrow. We’ll still have time for some final editing.”

  “I’ll need a little time tomorrow to work on the surveys I’ve created for polling purposes,” Chase indicated, and then asked, “Seymour, can you make time to review them?”

  “No sweat. But Noble, are you going to have the secure feed ready by the time we start blasting the airwaves?”

  “It will be ready. There will be no trace back. Also the links into the Civic Analytics’ and Catalist’s databases will be operational.”

  “Noble, doesn’t that border on illegal?” Hank asked with his hallmark grin.

  La Fratellanza were familiar with both companies having heavily used their services to promote the election of Baari. The data-mining techniques proved invaluable to create the appropriate voter-information databases for a miniscule of targeted segments of the population.

  “They’ll earn their reward when the country is back on course,” Noble replied. As if on cue, he was saved by the flashing red light that momentarily distracted the group.

  They were all startled, having not realized the late hour. It was eight o’clock and Jax was his usual prompt self, arriving with their dinner.

  “Anything else we need to review?” Noble asked as he gave Hank the evil eye.

  “We’ve got it covered,” Chase stated with confidence, also eager to end the discussion.

  “Then you guys go freshen up. I’ll help Jax set up in here,” Noble volunteered.

  They gladly obliged.

  41

  COUNTDOWN

  For the past sixty-one days, the group had dissected, debated, and deliberated the issues they found responsible for the country’s woes. And after the last seventy-two exhaustive hours, which blended into seamless days and nights, with few breaks—they had finalized all the necessary steps to implement the Renaissance 2017 Project.

  Now the moment of reckoning had arrived. As the members of La Fratellanza sat around the table, and fixated on the empty, newly placed regal chair, memories quickly resurfaced, as each, in his own way, brought to mind another time when they took on the impossible—and succeeded.

  Noble bore witness as he watched them, apparently absorbed, reflecting on their past accomplishment. He also reflected, but on more recent events—those encompassing Simon. He wrestled with the reality that once again, he was anointed to lead the charge to save the country from a national disaster. This time there was not a single face to place on the hydra-headed enemy.

  Watching the time, Noble said, “The president will be here in fifteen minutes.” Then he urged them to get up and loosen their bodies and minds. “You’re all looking a wee bit uptight.”

  “I’ll go brew some fresh coffee,” Chase offered, “my eye-opener special.”

  The others kicked into motion.

  On schedule the red light flashed above the chamber entrance. They knew this time it was not Jax and quickly headed to stand next to their chairs. Suddenly, the doors parted.

  “Welcome, Mr. President,” Noble greeted, as he clasped the outstretched hand.

  The president then proceeded to greet the others in a similar fashion. After making his way around the table he pointed to the attention-getting chair, and asked, “May I sit here?”

  “Yes, sir,” Hank replied. Being the closest, he summarily pulled the chair out as a show of respect.

  Once the president was seated, the others followed suit.

  As scripted, Chase began. “Mr. President, in our last conference meeting we identified several overall areas that must be addressed, either by a change in policy or remedial legislation. But you’ll note up on the monitor we’ve pared it down to the top six most far-reaching issues that will have the greatest impact. We’re convinced that job creation and a strong economy will provide the impetus we need for sustained growth.”

  He gave the president a moment to review the bullet points on the monitor. Then Chase reviewed each point supported by tangible evidence to support their recommendations for restructuring.

  “You’re asking for drastic reforms,” he observed. “First off, I find it highly improbable that I’ll be able to convince Congress to invoke a spending freeze—and I will not resort to using the executive pen. The weapon of choice for my predecessor.”

  “Sir, I’d like to hold off on the process for the moment.”

  “Continue.”

  Chase looked in Hank’s direction, who picked up on the cue.

  “Mr. President, we recommend that commissions be established for each of the issues identified. It’s our strong belief that spending must be tackled first and foremost to reduce the tax burden on individuals and corporations—the major impediment to job growth and economic stability.”

  “Hank, commissions take excessive time and in the end they tend to become political fora bearing little tangible results.”

  Hank gave a nod to the president and then proceeded to explain the makeup of the commissions, along with the stringent guidelines and strict timetables that would be imposed.

  The president seemed unconvinced.

  “Granted, you’ve zeroed in on the target problems that plague the economy, but I’m still unclear as to how this will stop the downward spiraling. The first bullet point is indeed a start, but I only have a razorslim majority. I know with certainty that a handful of my own guys might not endorse an across-the-board spending freeze.” The president appeared even more dubious.

  “Sir, if I may?” Seymour asked.

  “Go on, Mr. Lynx; your ideas are usually scintillating.”

  “We need to unbutton the shirt collar on conservatism. Quite honestly, sir, your administration’s message should have been more strident. With all due respect, you did win the election, but not the popular vote. To reach the American public this time around in a moment of crisis, we believe they’ll be more receptive to a positive message that offers them genuine hope. We’re in a battle to win their hearts and minds. The past failures have conditioned them for a message of honesty and competence. This time around the message needs to be cool to be convincing.”

  Seymour was in his stride—He had the president’s attention. He moved in with his fastball pitch.

  “With a successful campaign the American people may be swayed to support programs that offer them a glimmer of realistic hope. History shows that revolutions are based on hope, not hopelessness, and our ideas are revolutionary. But in the end, we are confident Congress will be forced to act.”

  “Seymour, along with the rest of your brethren, you do not carry the reputation of being impractical. But how can you be so certain?”

  “With much chagrin, sir—We’ve done it before.”

  For the first time, the president softened his expression. “I’m well aware of your accomplishments, although it’s the results that will keep me in the Oval Office.”

  Seymour, feeling he was back in the game, said, “Sir, if you will indulge me for a moment longer.” He quickly placed the first of his infomercials on the monitor and then flashed through each one of them in succession.

  The president sat back and watched intently.

  The others watched the president.

  “How many taxpayers’ dollars does it cost to screw in a light bulb? Clever,” the president stated with a pained expression, and then he acknowledged, “Although I do like the way you revamped The Life of Julia.” He paused. “Okay—I understand your micro-granulated market analysis that leaves no person untagged. And I understand you’ll bombard the airwaves as you did in the past in an attempt to garner the support of our ci
tizens. But how does that translate in to forcing Congress to act?”

  Chase tackled the answer. “Mr. President, that goes back to your original question as to how the Congress can be convinced to invoke a spending freeze.” Noting the receptiveness on the president’s face, he explained in detail how he would personally conduct full-cycle surveys weekly to plumb the mood of the public. “I will then feed the polling results to the media outlets selectively. I’m confident that, with our laser-like questions targeting the appropriate population segments, we can convey a clear and honest message that will reveal support for our approach. The polls will prove to Congress that their best recourse is to join in the reforms. Sir, we believe the American public will give you the year you need to implement the necessary legislative changes.”

  Hank ventured back into the conversation. “Think of this as more than a political campaign, but a formula for success based on transparency and reality.”

  “Hank, the campaign trail is hardly cold. Yet, there are some residual sores that haven’t healed.” The president smiled for the second time and then nodded to encourage Hank to continue.

  “Speaking from experience, sir, we need to marshal forces, just as we did during our get-out-the-vote campaign. No question, we need to target the Jon Stewart followers—the Milleniums and Gen-Xers. Representatives from your administration must appear on the major news segments to sell the various reforms. Communities must be organized to get out the message. I can use my Chestnut Foundation to initiate some of the drives. We’ll pass out T-shirts scrawled with ‘Renaissance 2017’ and create walking billboards. We must generate a wave—a movement.”

  “Hank, if I may,” Seymour interjected. “Sir, this is a movement—a cause to restore America’s greatness. In addition to our other tools, we will utilize Thunderclap, the best crowd-speaking platform on the Internet. We’ll create a campaign with a compelling message about the rebirth of America. Our citizens will be inspired to share the message with millions of people around the globe. World economies are inextricably intertwined. This could possibly establish a model for other countries and will demonstrate our strength as a nation.”

  The president took note of both Hank’s and Seymour’s exuberance, but admitted, “In all honesty, I find marketing the future of country rather distasteful, as though it was the latest iPhone release.”

  Hank took the opportunity to respond. “We assure you, Mr. President; this is not purely economics and unfortunately it will come down to politics—that calls for a full-court press of communication tactics, using every media. We need to appeal to the young, the minorities, and the female voters, the ones who have given up. I wish I could say it’s just the sign of our times, but this method of getting out the message is here to stay. It’s how business is conducted.”

  Noble sensed the president found the realities uninviting and cut Hank off. “Sir, tactics are a necessary means to accomplish the goal, but you have our word there will be no obfuscation. The message will be truthful and straightforward.” He swiped his tablet and the home page of the website appeared on the monitor. “This is the Renaissance 2017 website that will provide all the information on the purpose, the method, and the expected results that will be derived from the reforms. The infomercials, social networking sites, and other means of messaging will point the public to this valuable resource, where they can learn and understand the issues in an honest concise format.”

  The president watched the various web pages on the large display as Noble ran through their features. The others spent the time studying the president’s various expressions. All appeared to signal a mild acceptance.

  “Sir, your speech will trigger the campaign. At that moment, everything will move into high gear,” Paolo stated. “I’ve taken the liberty of emailing a copy of the speech to your private email address. You possess the only other copy.”

  “Ah yes, I must not forget you, Mr. Salvatore. Give me the gist of the message, Paolo, and we’ll review it in detail later.”

  “Sir, the speech will be short and succinct. I’ve timed it to take approximately twenty minutes. Primarily, you appeal to the American people for their support to help you reform their government. It speaks to how we must learn from historic mistakes and how we can’t spend our way to prosperity. You single out the overspending, fraud, and abuse and how it stands in the way of any future tax relief. The overriding message will ring loud—to restore jobs and the economy. You will implore Congress to do their job and follow through on the people’s wishes.” Paolo continued to elaborate on a few other points and then stopped, noting that the president appeared nonplussed. Even after mentioning the symbolic revamped seating arrangement for the vice president and majority leader, the president remained expressionless.

  Uneasiness prevailed at the table.

  “Mr. President.” Seymour stepped forward, willing to brave a potential storm. “You may recall that we asked you in our prior meeting to enlist your press secretary to leak information to the media. This will broaden the reach of the message by giving the news outlets a heads-up on the speech. This should also induce viewers to tune in. Immediately following your speech, everyone with an electronic message device, be it a TV, computer, handheld device or whatever, will receive the first infomercial I showed about the Renaissance being the rebirth of America. That will be the start of the massive communications campaign we have planned—a plan to create a movement that Hank and I alluded to earlier.”

  All remained silent, sitting on edge, awaiting the president’s response.

  After moments of contemplation and still burdened somewhat with doubt, the president spoke out. “Despite all your hocus-pocus, you’re asking me to make a promise to the American people that I can keep. That’s a formidable task by any measure.” Then, shifting his direction, he looked directly at Noble. “How can I be sure all of this will happen just as you say and with the intended results?”

  “Sir, I don’t mean to make light of your question, but Seymour is correct. It’s all about getting out a valid message that is supported by honesty and transparency. You recognize this group as having the tools and a proven record.” Noble realized he was going for broke in what may have been the last opportunity he’d have to give the president advice on this matter. He paused briefly before making his next statement. Then with great sincerity, he declared, “I’ve spent two months in solitude with these gifted men. I have full confidence the plan will succeed, notwithstanding the headwinds we face.”

  The others were blown away by Noble’s compliments, but refrained from acting.

  The president stood up.

  Instinctively, the others rose from their chairs eagerly, awaiting his closing words.

  “You have my blessing,” the president said, “but you might consider soliciting some additional support and ask God to join forces to help you save the country.”

  The president shook their hands warmly and walked out of the chamber. The group remained in a paralytic stance as the reality set in—They had just received the green light.

  42

  THE ART OF FUGUE

  The days seemed to be getting longer to Max with each new discovery, adding to her concern about flying solo. But as soon as she entered her apartment she began to relax. As part of her normal routine, she first kicked off her shoes and then tossed the day’s mail onto the ever-increasing stack. Odd, she thought, as she noticed that the pile had been moved. She glanced toward the kitchen and spotted it on the counter. Hmm, Stanton must have moved the mail when he was here last night. Oh well, she thought, and thrust the envelopes onto the pile.

  Retreating into the bedroom, she changed into a pair of sweats and pinned her hair up off her neck. Magically, the stress began to recede further. “One last gesture and I’ll be totally at ease,” she said, thinking aloud, a frequent occurrence when at home alone. She walked into the kitchen and uncorked a bottle of Capannelle Chianti. Then she poured herself a glass of wine and moved into the living room. On
ce curled up on the sofa, she began the arduous task of sorting through the mail, hoping that the majority was the usual junk. Then, just as she ripped open the second envelope her smartphone rang.

  “Hey you, what a pleasant not-so surprise.”

  “Wow, you sound in a good mood. That is a pleasant surprise.”

  “Sorry, I’ve been so on edge. But last night was wonderful.”

  “Just what your secret agent man ordered. Like another backrub?”

  “It’s so tempting, but I have to do some boring life stuff tonight. Like get rid of a couple weeks of mail. By the way, did you move the pile that was on the table in the foyer?”

  “No, why would I?”

  “Duh! I guess I moved it and didn’t remember. I’m really losing it.”

  “Go pour yourself a glass of wine and I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

  “Already did. Thanks for being so understanding.”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  Max took a few more sips of wine and enjoyed the warm soothing feeling in her throat, along with the sensation in her relaxed neck muscles. And after discovering the majority of the mail was junk, she was in heaven. “Just a few more pieces of mail to go!” she spoke out again with glee. The next one she happened to pick up was a brown CD jacket with no markings. Inside was a CD with no label. “You slippery devil, you did move the mail, making sure I’d find the CD.” Max smiled as she thought about her rough, tough, ex-military, and now-secret-agent man. At times, he could be a real romantic. “What’s my problem?” she asked herself as she walked over to the stereo. She inserted the CD and hit the Play button. Curled up back on the sofa, she poured herself another glass of wine and prepared herself to be wooed.

  As she listened, she found the melody quite pleasant. But halfway through the track, there was a repetition of cacophony she found intrusive. At times, it sounded like the music score from a Bela Lugosi movie, not what one would consider romantic. “What was he thinking?” Max questioned, as she continued to listen, waiting for his hidden message. “Surely, it’s there somewhere. It can’t be that subliminal.” But by the last track, Max had become restive. “This sounds so familiar.”