by Don Bendell
The interior of the building was equipped with a double-glazed curtain wall system for additional energy and efficient cooling that was complimented by a combination of a polished tan granite exterior wall.
There were two lobbies finished in two shades of imported granite from Spain, and one lobby contained a bank of eight high-speed elevators.
The building also featured a very advanced communication wiring system, and six levels of basement parking, plus there was a functional helipad on the roof. The computer-controlled building management system monitored and controlled the building’s air-conditioning, ventilation, lighting, power distribution, and security, alarm, and fire management systems.
Bo said, “Somebody’s making money here.”
There was a big brass plate approximately ten feet tall and thirty feet wide with what looked like engraved large letters reading PEARLS 2 BAMBOO, LTD. CORPORATE HEADQUARTERS. This was the latest corporate name for the international distribution company that was the shill for the various real estate and stock deals with Hanoi. The company was actually purchased back in 1992 when the senator’s brother could not deal directly with Hanoi.
A beefy uniformed American security guard came up to Bobby and Bo, who were carrying briefcases and dressed in business attire.
He said, “May I direct you to a specific office, sir, or give you directions?”
Bobby smiled and said, “No, sir, thank you. We have thought about doing business with Pearls 2 Bamboo and thought we might come in and investigate first.” He grinned. “You know, snoop around a bit and get a feel for the place. How do you like working here?”
The man straightened up. “Oh, I really like it. It pays good, and they have great fringes. I miss being a cop, but, hey, it’s a job.”
Bo said, “You were a cop?”
“Yes, ma’am. By the way, there is a bunch of corporate information over there on that table. Help yourself and snoop all you want,” he said. “You need anything, just ask.”
Bobby said, “Thank you, sir.”
The man went on, as Bobby and Bo both sensed he would. “Yeah, I was a cop in Chicago, eighteen years. Well, actually, it was Naperville, kind of southwest. Anyhow, I loved it. I was a good cop.”
Bobby and Bo were now sitting in a large, leather stuffed couch and picking up brochures from the fancy teak table for visitors.
He went on, “I had some problems with my ex-wife and decided on a change of scenery.”
Bo said, “I’m sorry. How did you end up here all the way from Illinois?”
He shrugged his shoulders and said, “Well, it was kind of one of those mail-order-bride-type deals, but that didn’t work out. I decided to get a job and see if I could find me a good woman here to take back. There’s plenty who want to go.”
Bo walked over to him and kept talking. Bobby looked at their business brochure and read the words carefully while Bo won over the heart and mind of the guard. The brochure read:
As a major international business firm, with many partners and subsidiaries, we manage a broad range of international corporate, commercial, investment, financial, import/export, trade, regulatory, real estate, and other business matters for our clients throughout the world. Some of the types of business transactions we have handled for our clients include: cross-border mergers and acquisitions; foreign corporate direct-investment and joint-stock ventures; complete corporate project development and finance; commercial (and some high-end personal) real estate investment, development, finance, and management; cross-border equipment leasing; manufacturing, licensing, distribution, and business technical assistance; international trade and business disputes, negotiations, and buyouts. We also represent a diverse and extensive list of American and non-U.S. multinational entities, public and private companies, multilateral institutions, governmental organizations, and individuals. Our clients are engaged in many different businesses and industries, including banking and financial services, venture capital, manufacturing, real estate, pharmaceuticals, health care, and others.
On top of that, some of our closest contacts hold senior positions within the U.S. government, other international businesses, and major nonprofits, as well as high government positions in the Oriental marketplace. Our extensive experience in handling complex international transactions and matters in countries throughout the world and juxtapositioning sensitive foreign entities with trade-hungry corporate America enables us to provide effective expertise in the diverse business cultures throughout the world, and most especially the countries of the Orient. We can fulfill your corporate need in the Pacific. Just speak with our management personnel, and let’s get the pearl rolling for you.
And just below that in small letters it read: “Pearls 2 Bamboo, Ltd., an international corporation, a subsidiary of FWECI.”
Bobby stood up with the brochure, after having put two more in his briefcase.
He walked over to Bo and said, “Honey, I looked at their business brochure, and I am impressed. I have noticed since we have been here, there is a steady stream of people walking in and out. I like what the brochure says, and they are a subsidiary of FWECI, and I know I have heard good things about them, but for the life of me, I do not know what that stands for.”
The guard said, “No problem.”
He walked over to his desk and console of TV monitors and picked up the phone.
He pushed a button and in seconds said, “Hi, Rose. It’s Rufus. Right. I am. Hey, I have a question.”
Bobby handed him the brochure and pointed at the script at the bottom of that page, and Rufus said, “At the bottom of the company’s brochure. Yeah, the fancy tan-and-blue one, it says, ‘Pearls 2 Bamboo, Ltd., an international corporation, a subsidiary of FWECI.’ What the heck does FWECI stand for? Yeah, wait, let me get my pen out. Okay.”
He wrote on his tablet and repeated, “Fair Weather Enterprises Corporation comma International. Okay, Thanks, babe, Talk to you later.”
He tore off the paper, handed it to Bobby, and said, “There ya go, sir.”
Bobby took it and said, “I knew I heard of them. They have a good rep for solid business affairs.”
Rufus said, “Oh, heck, yes, they have to. I heard it was owned by the brother or family of Senator James Weatherford. Fair Weather, get it? You know he plans to run for president. I may be working for the president someday soon. I figured if I stick it out here, maybe I can get a good in to the Secret Service.”
Bo immediately said, “Good thinking. Maybe you’ll get to meet him someday.”
“Are you kidding?” Rufus said. “He knows me by name. He comes here a couple times a year, sometimes more. I think it is to visit his brother, and you know . . .”
Bobby grinned and whispered, “What?”
Rufus said, “I could get fired for telling you this,” and hesitated.
Bo said, “Only if someone tells.”
He leaned forward, chuckling, and said, “Well, the senator likes to get away from Washington for more than the weather. I work late hours a lot and make lots of overtime, you know. Well, there have been several times late at night, when the senator has come or gone from here with some pretty nice-looking Philippine babes. Sometimes two of them at a time.”
He chuckled for a minute and said, “Must be nice to be a senator, huh?”
Bobby smiled broadly, clasped Rufus’s shoulder, winked, saying, “Rufus, this is my wife here. I am not answering that one. By the way, my name is Barry Greenfield and this is my wife.”
Rufus said, “I know, Cookie. How can I forget a name like that?”
Bobby said, “So if we want to speak with a corporate executive or set up an appointment, where do we go?”
“Oh, third floor,” he said. “Here’re two visitor’s passes. There is a big reception desk, and they will take care of you.”
“Great!” Bobby said. “You’ve really been helpful. So, all the corporate offices are on the third floor?”
“Oh, no,” Rufus said, “that is just re
ception and marketing. The big shots are on the tenth floor.”
They walked toward the elevator and Bo said, “Thanks, Rufus. Good luck on getting Miss Right.”
He smiled broadly and waved, as they entered the second elevator.
As Bobby surmised, Rufus never looked at the numbers above their elevator, or he would have seen it stop on “10.” Bobby and Bo never observed Rufus looking at any of the TV monitors the entire time they were in the lobby.
On the tenth floor, they walked off the elevator and saw a very fancy boardroom with a massive hand-carved table with dragons and elephants on it, as well as many gold and ivory inlays. The boardroom was apparently left open to show off the corporate wealth. The furnishings were very expensive and extravagant. While Bo watched, Bobby immediately opened his briefcase, lifted out his Day Runner, notebook, and laptop, and tapped twice on the bottom right corner. The bottom of the briefcase opened up to reveal a fake bottom and compartment underneath. Bobby pulled out a small camera/microphone attached to a recorder/transmitter. He stepped up on the table and could not reach the ceiling, so he quickly grabbed a heavy chair and set it on the table.
A door opened down the hallway and a large man in a suit walked out and headed down the hallway toward them. Bo was standing in the doorway, so he could see her, and she smiled, saying, “Bobby, man coming.”
Bobby had lifted a ceiling tile and had turned on and placed the recorder/transmitter on top of the next tile and was now positioning the tiny microphone and fisheye digital video camera down along the seam of the tile. He worked quickly.
Bo smiled at the approaching man and whispered through clenched teeth, “Five seconds! Five seconds!”
She turned her back to Bobby and looked at the man, making sure she pulled her arms back, so he would get the full outline of her well-proportioned breasts, which men had ogled her whole life since puberty, and which she wished often that she could cut off. He was no exception.
“Hello,” Bo said.
“Hello, ma’am,” the man said almost to her, now. “May I help you?”
Bo started to speak but Bobby stepped out of the boardroom from behind her and stuck out his hand, smiling. “Hi, we seemed to have gotten lost, and I was just in wonderment looking at your conference room. It is beautiful.”
“Yes, it is. We spent a lot of money on it,” the man said. “Lost?”
Bobby said, “Yes, we asked the guard downstairs where we could schedule a sit-down with one of your marketing executives, and I could have sworn he said the tenth floor.”
Bo clenched her teeth, saying sarcastically, “I tried to tell you, honey. He told us the third floor. He said the corporate board offices were on the tenth floor, but you never want to listen to me, honey. I’m just a woman.”
The man started laughing and Bobby held his breath, so his face would turn red. He pretended to give Bo an angry sidelong glance.
The man laughed and said, “I hate to tell you this, sir, but the little lady was right. Third floor. As soon as you get off the elevator, you will see the big reception area.”
Bo looked at him flirtingly and said, “Thank you, sir. You have been most helpful.”
Bobby was already at the elevator and the man grinned and winked, saying, “Anytime.”
Bo winked back and walked over to the elevator.
Inside, she and Bobby started laughing as soon as the door closed. They got off on the third floor and went to the receptionist’s desk.
Bobby said, “Can I have a business card for one of your marketing managers or consultants, please, so I can set up an appointment?”
The woman gave him a card, and they got back on the elevator and went down to the lobby. They handed their passes to Rufus and bade him farewell, promising they would return.
10
PRESIDENTIAL POWER
Back in Washington, D.C., the president told his secretary to have General Perry come in.
Then he said, “Wait a minute. Get me whoever is head of my Secret Service detail this morning.”
A tall agent in a blue suit and maroon tie came in the door.
The president said, “Hi, Tom. How is your wife doing?”
“She is doing well, sir. They used dissolving sutures,” the agent answered. “She wanted me to thank you very much for the flowers and card, sir.”
The president said, “No problem. Now, hysterectomies can lead to serious depression, so you be very understanding with her.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, I have our little celebrity waiting to come in with General Perry,” the president said. “I need to know for certain you guys swept her.”
Tom grinned and responded, “Mr. President, we sweep everybody who meets with you, and they never know it. She is not wearing a bug or video camera.”
The president winked and nodded and Tom left the room.
Again, he pushed the button and said, “Sandra, please have General Perry and his guest come in.”
General Perry held the door open and a ravishingly beautiful woman walked in. She had perfect body parts everywhere, a face that would make men immediately think secret thoughts, and make many women want to take their husband elsewhere. Her hair was long, shiny, and jet black. She walked right up to the president, gave him a firm handshake, and looked him straight in the eye.
General Perry shook hands with the president, and he invited them to come over in front of the fireplace and be seated.
National network news special reporter and occasional anchor Veronica Caruso had been a former love of Bobby Samuels, solely to use him and get information. A bisexual, she had an affair with Bobby and Bo’s assistant and got her to divulge many of their secrets, information she was feeding to an al Qaeda operative who had infiltrated the U.S. Army as a military reporter and was killing American soldiers in Iraq by committing acts of sabotage.
Bobby and Bo caught her and her lover on video and audiotape, and she was confronted along with General Perry in his Pentagon briefing room. General Perry booted the secretary out of the army, not for her sexual behavior, but for divulging military secrets. He essentially blackmailed Veronica Caruso and let her know she may be called upon in the future again. She was worried that she was being called upon now.
“Mr. President,” she said, “I have spoken to you in press conferences and a couple reception lines, but I have always wanted the honor of meeting you face-to-face in this hallowed room, sir.”
He chuckled and said, “Ms. Caruso, were you actually thinking that a couple years ago when you did that hatchet job on me about illegal immigration with your buddy Senator James Weatherford?”
Her face reddened, and she said, “I am sorry, sir. I am a reporter, and it’s my job to report the news.”
He laughed and said, “Yeah, yeah, I know. I am only teasing you anyway. How would you like to do a one-on-one interview with me, in this hallowed room for let’s say one half hour uninterrupted?”
“Whoa!” she said. “Are you serious, Mr. President?”
“Do you think I would joke about that?”
She laughed, and showing she was a longtime hardcore crusty news reporter, said, “No, I don’t. Gee, who do I have to screw?”
Without hesitating, the president said, “James Weatherford, along with one of your girlfriends.”
Perry chuckled out loud.
Ronnie Caruso laughed and her face reddened again, but she felt light-headed.
She said, “Seriously, Mr. President, to what do I owe this honor?”
He laughed and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.
“The honor of serving your country by helping to rid it of a traitor who has been consorting with our enemy,” the president said very seriously and quietly. “I have been made well aware of certain talents you have, Ms. Caruso, besides looking damned good on a TV screen. I want you and one of your beautiful girlfriends to seduce and have a sexual threesome with Senator Weatherford, and I want it all on videotape. I believe given his own
habits and your capabilities, it should be an easy task for you. It will be our secret, along with the good general here.”
“No, I absolutely will not!” she said. “No way!”
General Perry cut in, “Fine, there is no statute of limitations on treason. Can we have her neck stretched like Saddam Hussein, Mr. President, or will it have to be lethal injection?”
“Okay, okay.” She sobbed into her hands.
The president went to his intercom and said, “Sandra, coffee and tea for the three of us, please.”
“Yes, sir.”
Less than a minute later, there was a knock on the door. A Secret Service agent opened it and a white-gloved orderly pushed a cart in with two large silver coffeepots. There were small cookies, and china cups and saucers, along with various types of tea. He took everybody’s request and poured coffee for the president and general and hot tea for Veronica. He left the cart at the president’s request.
The chief executive said, “Ms. Caruso, I did not become president of the United States without knowing how to be as ruthless and cunning as you and Senator Weatherford, except I save that power to use in benefit of our nation, not for my own career or well-being. I will do whatever is necessary to protect the United States. I hope you understand and appreciate that commitment.”
“Yes, sir,” she said resignedly, then becoming Veronica the survivor, she brightened up, adding, “Were you serious about the interview, Mr. President?”
“Yes, I was,” he said. “That is your benefit in this. I have already seen you naked on video, and so has the general, and I happen to be very happily married, and unlike your friend the senator, I do not use my position to bed other women. We will be the only people who see this, unless you act stupidly at some point.”
