The Last Enemy - Parts 1,2 & 3 - 1934-2054
Page 78
Chapter 32
The smell of jasmine was strong all around the courtyards and patios of the Getty Villa in Malibu, California. Badly damaged during the Civil War, it had all been restored to its former glory the previous year, with the exception of the ancient Roman statues, as part of the collection had been lost forever.
Charles was walking around the main pool, waiting for Skip to finish the press conference after the signature of the peace treaty with Mexico. The villa was buzzing with high-ranking politicians, high-profile businessmen and their security staffs. Charles thought that there was probably no ordinary people present within one mile from the villa.
Ordinary citizens were all dwelling in the ruins of Los Angeles, three-quarters of which had been destroyed or abandoned over the last twenty years. Charles had witnessed the destruction from the plane that, three days before, had flown him together with the Presidential delegation from Washington.
Across the pool, Charles noticed a slim, fit, tanned woman, who dressed in white and was waving at him. Charles looked at his watch. He was scheduled to meet Skip in half an hour, so there was still enough time for some conversation. He waved back and started walking towards her.
Helena greeted him with a glorious smile and kissed him on both cheeks.
“It’s time to celebrate today, Charles. All our efforts have paid off and our two countries are friends again. You have been great in persuading Congress to grant an amnesty, and US citizenship, to Mexican immigrants that took part in the Rebellion but eventually repented.”
“Don’t underestimate your quality as a negotiator, Helena,” Charles softly replied, “or should I say one of the key influencers of the Mexican government? I am surprised you have not yet been appointed Minister, or offered another important role.”
“Come on, Charles. You know I do not like the limelight. I only felt a duty to help fix things that somehow I got started in the first place. Actually, I might say, we got started. Don’t you feel the same drive, Charles?”
“I do not feel much regret, if that’s what you mean. For that matter, I do not feel much of anything after I lost Sally.” Charles replied plainly.
“Anything, except revenge?” Helena hissed. “If you are not interested in revenge, you’re pretty much done with life, Charles.”
“Revenge…” Charles echoed, “Did you ever quite manage to avenge George, Helena? I never managed to come up with an explanation about his death. I do not believe it was natural, but I was never able to find a clue, much less a culprit.”
“No, I didn’t. Lots of hints, but no clear evidence. Which, if what we have learned is correct, does not seem to be the case for Sally. You are lucky, Charles.”
Charles ignored the statement, and looked toward the main wing of the villa, at the end of the pool. The growing animation was a sign that the press conference was over and that Skip and his court were moving toward the patio and the pool.
“I really liked George. He might well have been the victim of the same plot that killed Sally.”
“Possibly, Charles, possibly,” Helena replied dismissively, “But you told me, you have never been able to get any evidence around George’s death, and neither did I. In any case, I would have managed it myself, anyway. I never let others retaliate on my behalf, if that’s what you are afraid of.”
“No, I am not afraid. Sally is reason enough to make a decision. Now, if you just excuse me, I need to talk to our President and I cannot miss the slot.”
Charles hastily shook hands, and left, without giving Helena the time to greet him properly. She considered whether she had to raise her tone to wave him goodbye, then she looked around at the patio, which was filling up with Secret Service agents, and gave up. She could see Charles walking straight to the President, at the other end of the pool.
Charles waited for his turn to speak, then took Skip under his arm and started walking alongside the pool.
“Glad to see that you seem to be enjoying the Conference, Charles,” Skip was beaming as he spoke, “I hope it’s a sign you are overcoming grief. There are so many things to do now, I have great proposals to offer you, Charles.”
“Perhaps, you might start by telling me the truth, for once,” Charles replied politely.
“The truth about the rumors that you read in the news? That I am thinking about you as new Secretary of Treasury to help fix our economy?”, Skip’s enthusiasm was uncontrollable.
“The truth about Sally.” Charles replied bluntly. “You should know quite a bit but you never told me.”
Skip suddenly stopped and put himself instinctively at arm’s length from Charles. Before he could speak, Charles continued.
“Why did you give the order to kill her, Skip?”
“She was killed in a sectarian attack, you know that. You just haven’t come to terms with it yet.”
“It was not a sectarian attack. I got evidence that the gang was armed and instructed by government officials to make sure the congregation would be destroyed” Charles paused, “And Sally along with them.”
“What evidence do you have, Charles? Videos? Mails? A secret blog? It’s all bullshit, you know that everything can be manipulated and changed nowadays.”
“That may have been the case. Then I went back to the old way. Word of mouth and trust.”
“You are telling me that you are trusting Sally’s friends’ in Israel more than me? They are just trying to divide us. And maybe they are the real culprits.”
“I did not get the information from them. What really matters is, if you gave that order, Skip? You have to tell me.”
Skip did the utmost to control his rage, after a few seconds he stared straight into Charles’ eyes and hissed,
“I am responsible for the security and the rebuilding of this country, and God only knows how many threats I have had to fend off in the past decades to try to preserve it, despite all the damage that the delusions and greed of people like you were doing. I do not have anything to justify to you, and much less to apologize.”
There was a moments of silence, Charles kept staring at Skip and continued,
“Did you give that order, Skip? I need to know.”
Skip spoke louder this time, attracting the attention of the Secret Service agent who was following them.
“It was a foreign spy you have been sleeping with for decades, and you knew it,” Skip paused for a moment and turned his eyes away from Charles, he was now staring at the pool, and continued,
“You know what? I think I tolerated it way too long. I actually regret not giving the order myself, and let a gang of negroes do a shabby work instead.”
Charles kept silent. He looked at the pool beyond Skip’s shoulders, then inched a step back. Skip sighed, as if in repentance.
“Ok, I was too blunt. Sorry, but I had to tell you, Charles.”
“Sure, Skip. Understood,” Charles replied, calmly, staring back at Skip. “I also had to ask you. It’s time to call it off.”
Charles then lowered his eyes, and extracted a small box from his pocket. Skip failed to recognize the micro spider grenade a second too late to react and ask for help.
The Secret Service agent behind them noticed the small flare coming from Charles hands, followed by the cascade of grey balls that landed on the ground, surrounding them. Immediately, they started looking for targets. He tried to rush back to safety, but he was a bare ten yards away from the President. He was bitten and died exactly three seconds after Skip Ross and Charles Daniels.