You make this so fulfilling for me, so much fun.
The President stayed silent for almost five minutes. That was okay with me. Unlike most humans, I am completely comfortable with silence. It is a strong weapon when used properly, and I know how to do that. So, I just stood there in silence, sure in the knowledge that Armand would finally voice what was bothering him so much.
‘I think Natalie is cheating on me,’ he finally offered. Quite the hypocritical thing to say, being as he was the one who was married and the only willing participant in the affair. But hey, that was his perspective. I stayed silent.
‘She is different,’ he continued. ‘She reacts differently to me.’
‘In what way, sir?’ I asked for the record.
‘It seems she is no longer scared, or apprehensive. Whatever I do doesn’t seem to affect her in any way.’ And where’s the fun in that? I added soundlessly.
‘Maybe she has just resigned herself to the situation,’ I offered.
‘No, that’s not it,’ he answered. ‘I think that she has someone on the side.’ Such a difference of perspective, it almost made me laugh.
‘Have you asked her?’
‘No, of course not,’ he spat. He could not wrap his head around the possibility that Natalie could have a life outside of him.
‘And her family?’
‘Naturally. Lilou assured me that there was nothing going on, and that she would whip Natalie back into shape. They know what depends on my continued satisfaction.’
‘And that does not reassure you?
‘No, not enough,’ he mused
‘What about having her followed?’ I offered. You could almost see his thoughts careening in his stubborn mind. ‘Get someone from your guard to find out what she does after she leaves here. Then you will know one way or the other.’
‘Organise it,’ he said, dismissing me.
I left the room in search of the Head of Security.
Natalie failed to see the car that had been following her for the past few days. It was a common black Renault, and there were a lot of them around, so it was easy to miss that she was being shadowed.
The driver of that same car now stood under the overhang across and to the right of Jean-Claude’s apartment block. He was trying to escape the incessant rain as well as observe the windows of the apartment where Natalie was. He had seen and photographed her entering the apartment complex, and a few minutes later, he observed Jean-Claude’s intimate welcome. The flimsy curtains on the top floor window left little to the imagination. This was what he had come for. Proof that Natalie was seeing someone, that she had a lover. He had to sit it out. Stay until she left, so that he could make a complete report for the President.
Hoping that it would finally stop raining, he settled himself for a long wait.
In the early hours of the morning, Natalie kissed the sleeping Jean-Claude gently on the lips and left the apartment, closing the door softly so as not to wake either of the remaining occupants. Emilie slept in the bedroom, Jean-Claude, and occasionally Natalie, on the folding sofa bed. Extremely uncomfortable, but absolutely fantastic.
She was still on cloud nine. Jean-Claude had been so understanding of her “affair” with the President. He was outraged at the man, and at her family who had sacrificed her for their own advancement. He was livid. But not with her. She had been so scared that he would reject her if he knew, but she had to tell him. Hiding something so important and so determining would kill their relationship. She hated lying, wasn’t good at it and the love that she felt for Jean-Claude wouldn’t allow dishonesty. So, gathering up her courage, she had broached the subject. Jean-Claude already knew. He had heard rumours, seen the tabloids and he was sensitive to her feelings. He had put two and two together and understood what was going on. He didn’t judge her, knowing it was against her will. He held her while she cried. Softly telling her how much he loved her, how they would leave this place and start a new life. How they would live and love happily ever after.
She kept her head low to ward off the unrelenting rain. It had rained all night. Once again, she failed to notice the hunched figure under the overhang. Failed to see the light sensitive camera that he held. She quickly walked to her car, opened the door and was soon on her way to her apartment.
The security man gathered his equipment. He would inform the priest in the morning.
The results of the tests had come in. Jean-Claude was devastated.
The news was bad.
Extremely bad.
Enzo, the specialist, had delivered the debilitating news that the situation was even worse than initially expected.
Emilie needed surgery, but her health was so precarious that an operation now was impossible. Her body needed a boost. She required additional strength and stamina. For this, the medicine should be administered as soon as possible, actually yesterday.
Crying incessantly, Jean-Claude broke down. It was just too much. Even with Natalie’s help, the situation was hopeless.
Emile was getting progressively sicker. The imperfect medicine that she now had delayed the inevitable at most. Her fever was increasing and any resistance her frail little body had was rapidly deserting her.
They had to do something. Quickly. Even Natalie couldn’t get that kind of money at such short notice.
Natalie tried her mother. Surely even she must be moved by the plight of this little angel.
Lilou wasn’t, but she knew that she had to tread softly here.
She wasn’t stupid. She knew that if she contradicted Natalie completely, she would lose her. She needed to be subtler. She pretended compassion. She looked at the photos of the little girl and observed the way that they impacted Natalie. Forcing herself to show empathy, she listened to the pathetic story with pretended interest. After the conversation with President Armand and a further consultation with Father Julien, she and the priest had outlined a strategy. She had to pressure and manipulate Natalie to do her part.
Lilou suggested that they look at the bigger picture: how Natalie could help on a much larger scale by making her affair with the President her priority. She could sway the President to help the families who needed it, not just this little girl. Maybe she could entice the President to start a new campaign to improve his popularity by aiding specific cases like Emilie.
Lilou had a velvet tongue. Given the master manipulator she was, she slowly felt Natalie bending to her will. This was how she had done it all her daughter’s life. How she still managed to determine what the young woman did, even what she thought. She made it sound so logical, as though it was the only alternative.
Though she refrained from actually asking, Lilou was certain that her daughter was involved with someone. The manner in which she spoke of the father of the child, Jean-Claude, indicated that there was more than just empathy in the relationship. The past few days she had a lightness in her step. She radiated again, and there was no way that could come from the President. Lilou could imagine how that affair was progressing. However, there was more at stake here than her daughter’s feelings. The young woman would have to toughen up and bear her burden. Her beauty had a value for her family, and this was it. But she wasn’t stupid. Natalie was an exceptionally intelligent woman. One of these days, she would rebel. But not now. Now was a bad time. Clement was just being introduced in the political arena. It was imperative that he had the President’s backing for a few months more. That meant that Lilou had to convince Natalie to let her stupid feelings go and please the President.
Natalie warmed to the idea. She could see the value that a campaign to help sick children would offer. Mostly to the children, especially for Emilie, but just enough for the President’s publicity that she could sell it to him. That would entail that she changed her approach. That she would start to play him more.
Lilou didn’t mention her meeting with the President, or his suspicions. She explicitly refrained from voicing her suppositions about the relationship with the father of the child.
Now was not the time. Besides, if Natalie focussed more of her female charm on the President, he would forget any suspicions that he may have.
Lilou informed me of the conversation she had had with her daughter. I was especially interested in the outcome. It was progressing exactly as I had planned. Natalie would sway the President and then things would go magnificently wrong, for all involved, and, more importantly, for France.
I decided not to pass the security man’s report on to Armand just yet. First, he had to be manipulated into agreeing to the new campaign. That shouldn’t be too hard. It was something that could be used to counteract all the extra cuts that the government was about to make.
Children always worked. It was universal. People melted. As long as the children were helped. If she really put her mind to it, and I would reinforce that at Natalie’s next confession, it would work. She still regularly spoke with me as Father Benedict. And I was able to influence her in that way in addition to my presence here at the Presidential Palace. Hearing the same from all sides would convince her. She was a much stronger woman than she thought. It was therefore imperative that we kept her under control.
The unrest in the country was reaching a new high. There was even talk of revolution. Last night there were peaceful demonstrations that had turned ugly when the police intervened. There had been casualties. That had fuelled the flames of revolution once again. It was going well. Even though both Natalie and Jean-Claude had no connections with the revolutionary fractions, they were destined to play a large role in what was to come. Become the figureheads even.
The situation with the immigrants inflamed the already volatile situation. All the more mouths to feed. Masses to house. Poverty was rampant. Crime on the increase. People had to eat. If you had food, someone else was bound to try and take it from you. Lethal incidents were a daily occurrence. Those with money protected themselves, as did the desperate would-be criminals. Arms sales rocketed.
In this unstable situation, the President’s popularity was reaching rock bottom. The measures he was forced to take under pressure from the ailing EU only worsened what was already almost impossible to manage. He desperately needed a new boost with the elections looming next year.
I would talk to him tomorrow. Prepare him for Natalie’s idea. Make sure that there was fertile soil for the seed to be planted. He needed to agree with our proposition. It was imperative for my plan.
The past week had been very different for Armand. Natalie had completely surprised him by an almost one-eighty in her approach towards him. Last week, she had been “accepting” at most. This week, she went out of her way to seduce him. They had even spent the night together. She had stayed in his quarters here at the Presidential Palace. Though he had enjoyed her reluctance and the constant conquest before she was so accommodating, such a willing and beautiful creature as Natalie couldn’t help but turn him on as she was now. He loved it. His libido was sky high. They tried all kinds of new things, pushing the envelope. Any misgivings he may have had about another man were totally expelled by her new willing attitude.
And then last night, she had presented a new way to improve his popularity. He was acutely aware of his precarious political position with the elections coming up. She had an idea that he could endear himself with the simple folk by helping their children. By caring. He saw the merits immediately. Low costs, high exposure and get them where it hurt and helped most: the children. Natalie even had a few cases lined up. Something about letters that had been addressed to him, begging him to help with medicines, surgery, schools, things like that. She seemed very enthusiastic. Together they debated on how they could maximise the impact of the publicity. How they could milk it. He suggested a press conference, where he would announce his plans. She went one better by remarking that it would have a greater impact if he invited the parents to his Presidential Office, offered the help and televised it live. The parents would be both impressed and extremely grateful. The whole of France would see the thankful tears, the caring President. He could lay it on thickly, maybe even wink away a tear himself. It was beautiful.
Armand had given her the OK to get the campaign running. They would not waste time. Next week he was scheduled to leave France for more than a week on official visits to NATO in Brussels, with a short trip to the US after that. It had to be done before he left. She promised to get it organised. He had no doubt that she would achieve that.
Lying in the bed, still a bit heady from the wine and the sex of the past night, he smiled at himself.
Life was good.
The launch of the campaign and the televised meeting with the parents was tomorrow at eleven o’clock.
Naturally, one of the parents was Jean-Claude. The children themselves would not be present. Two of the three were ill and so it was not deemed a good idea to lug them all the way to the Presidential Office. Besides, no one wanted any germs or contagious viruses in the room. The children, all three of them, would be visible on large photo’s that the parents would carry.
Armand was even a bit enthusiastic. The prospect of increased popularity, the role that he would play in the scene tomorrow and, most of all, his renewed confidence and belief in Natalie had lifted his spirits. Not even the unrest in the country or the revolutionary attacks on the food depots could dampen his mood.
However, I had something that would make it all come crashing down on him again.
The next step in the plan.
Arriving at his office at mid-afternoon, with a bound report under my arm, I took up my normal position in the room, waiting for the meeting to finish so that I could deliver the bomb I had with me.
He acknowledged my presence with a nod and then joined the discussion again. Very different than a few weeks ago, he was actively participating in the decision-making. The ministers were pleased with his new temperament. The President was finally involved in running the country.
After an hour, the meeting disbanded. Armand turned to me.
‘Father Julien,’ he greeted me. ‘How can I help you?’ He spied the folder I now had in my hands. My visage was stern, but then it always was as Father Julien, so he couldn’t read anything out of that. He was intrigued.
‘Your Excellency,’ I replied. ‘The security man that has been following Madame Natalie has submitted his report.’
I laid the report on the desk in front of Armand. He looked at it, not really interested in the information. After all, he knew now that there was nothing to his silly suspicions of two weeks ago.
‘I had forgotten that,’ he said. ‘Doesn’t matter anymore. I have changed my mind anyway.’ He dismissed the report. ‘Could you pour me a whisky, please? And something for yourself if you like.’
‘Your Excellency,’ I insisted. ‘Maybe you should take a look. It may not be what you expect.’ I turned towards the drinks cabinet. With my back to the President, I could feel him hesitate. Then finally his curiosity got the better of him. He pulled the report towards him and opened it. His sharp intake of breath was what I had been waiting for. The first photograph was quite an explicit one. Taken from an apartment across the street, it showed a naked Natalie in the arms of another man. The passion on her face was evident. The date and time on the bottom of the page showed that it had been taken the day before. Early, in the first light of the morning.
I could see his thoughts as though they had been tattooed on his forehead. He was that transparent. The bitch had fucked this man and then come to the office and seduced him. The vein in his right temple was pulsating as he scanned the photos and the accompanying texts.
I placed the drink, a triple whisky, in front of him, setting the bottle next to it. Without looking up, he grabbed the glass and drank it down in one swig. Going back to the report, his anger increased with every sentence he read. The impact was what I had anticipated. He was enraged.
‘The bitch’ was all he could say. He threw the report on the table, grasped the bottle and poured himself a new drink. Standing up, he paced th
e office with the glass in one hand and the bottle in the other. It would be a long night for the President.
I silently left the office. Left him to his own thoughts. Let his anger fester.
We were nearing the pivotal moment. I could feel it in my bones. The tension in the air was electric.
It took all of my restraint not to smile. Laugh even.
They were all playing into my hands. I couldn’t have asked for more.
Armand, the idiot, would be the catalyst. The unsuspecting reactant. He’d been so easy to manipulate, it was almost pathetic. He would get his wish—he would be remembered for centuries to come. Not as the ultimate ruler, the new Caesar, but as the moron who started the French Civil War. The civil war that ultimately started the global struggle. The Third World War. He would outshine Hitler—another of my protégés—by a mile.
Sometimes my work can be so rewarding.
There was always collateral damage. That was to be expected. That didn’t bother me. It was for the greater good. Not a good that you could see, but in the long run the sacrifices would be seen as minimal. These casualties, and all the others that would be caught up in the struggle as of tomorrow. Acceptable on all fronts
After the shit hit the fan.
The next morning, Natalie arrived at the office early to get the final details organised for the launch of the campaign. Everything was in place. There would be three cases that would form the basis of the launch. Emilie and two little boys. One with a life-threatening illness and the other was a cripple. Both of the boys came from impoverished families with out-of-work parents, who still contributed in a large way towards the communities where they lived. Like Jean-Claude, they would figure as examples for the rest of France. They would be the living proof that dedication and loyalty would be rewarded. That the President valued these aspects.
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