“It’s all right,” Polaris said. “Gordon has clearance to know.”
“Thank you,” she answered and hugged Gordon. “I’m supposed to have known you for years, so I guess a hug is acceptable.”
“Yes, it’s a proper response.”
She had purposely not spoken to Pendleton so as not to break with tradition. But as she stepped into the church, seeing him standing in front of the altar caused a wave of heat to race through her. God help me. I can’t believe I’m feeling this way.
She tried to tell herself this was only an assignment, but having spoken to the archbishop, she knew it was more. The moral code embedded in her mind saw clearly that when she said, “I do,” she must mean it.
As Felicia, Melanie, and Perfica joined Lilith on the second step, Arthur’s brother, Ian, and his cousins, Philip and Scott Eaton, ascended the steps to join them. A collective gasp came from the fifteen non-clergy present as they turned to see the bride. Pride swelled inside Peacock.
She was gorgeous, and she knew it.
On Peacock’s side of the aisle stood Ursa’s closest friend, General George Ruttman. Next to him, camera in hand, Ryan Dillon of the BBC poised himself to photograph the wedding. Pendleton had told her Dillon was the only reporter allowed. He would be taking pictures from behind only, so as not to reveal full facial structures for the privacy of both of them.
On Pendleton’s side, his mother, Anne Pendleton, leaned against the front rail for support. Next to her, Prime Minister Claymore smiled catlike as Peacock approached. At the far end of the row, an older man who could have passed for a brother of Winston Churchill gave her an uncomfortable grin. Peacock presumed he was Eric Throgmorton, head of the W.F.C. A younger woman sat next to him looking out of place amidst all the pomp.
When Pendleton took her hand and strode up beside her, she lost herself in the twinkle of his eyes.
“You’re playing it great, Peacock,” Polaris said, halfway through the ceremony. “Ursa and I are almost in tears.”
She couldn’t respond. Everything swirled along faster than she could manage. Her hands trembled, but not from fear. She wanted to kiss her future husband and pledge to him all she was, except her role as Peacock.
Her wedding wasn’t going according to Hercules or her own plan. She certainly hadn’t expected the sweet, sweet, warmth she felt inside as she willingly pledged her fidelity.
Then the moment came upon her. “And do you, Laverna Smythe, take Arthur Pendleton to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Her “I do” echoed with assurance throughout the Kirk.
“I now pronounce you, husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
The word ‘kiss’ barely escaped Archbishop Lloyd’s mouth when Pendleton wrapped her in his arms. Laverna Smythe melted against him, and Peacock stayed hidden and mute. If there is a God, she thought, help me to please this man.
#
Peacock followed Pendleton into the foothills of Ballochbuie Forrest amidst the Caledonian pines.
“Watch your step, Lovey. These old footpaths can be rather slippery.”
She did a demure little bow and blithely sprung up an incline and onto the ledge of a small rocky hill where Pendleton stood waiting.
“Oh, Arthur, it’s beautiful.”
“Yes, it’s a gorgeous place. We’re away from the prying eyes of visitors and the noise of life.”
Balmoral couldn’t be seen from where they’d emerged from the trees. He breathed in a gulp of fresh air and kissed her. “I’m going to miss you the moment you leave. I can’t remember a time in my life when I was happier.”
“Neither can I.”
Their honeymoon week had raced by, and tomorrow she’d head back to Washington and Room 1515.
“Your mother is delightful. Actually, so is your whole family. But how do you manage to be civil to Throgmorton?”
“Let’s sit over here where we can look out over the glen.” He took her hand and helped her slide onto a good size boulder. He plopped down on an even bigger one across from her and peered down into the misty green vale.
“Eric wasn’t always a pompous ass. When I first met him, he was an idealist. Greed destroyed him from the inside.” Pendleton sighed and folded his hands around hers. “We need to have a serious conversation. I’m embarking on several unpleasant endeavors. I don’t want you taken by surprise.”
“Please don’t tell me anything you’ll regret later.”
“No, I trust you.” He pointed down toward the water’s edge. “Look, three red deer are drinking from that little stream.”
“It’s like a scene out of Tolkien, rowan, birch, and willow trees, valleys and rocky hills.”
“You’ve read Tolkien?” Pendleton asked.
“I’ve read the Lord of the Rings twice, and The Hobbit.” She squeezed his hand. “Give me the bad news quickly, so I can enjoy the rest of our time together.”
Pendleton pulled off his wedding band and lifted it up. “Who do you think I am?”
“What?”
“I’m serious.” He stood and turned facing her, a kindly smile on his face. “The Roman Cross and the Old English inscription were uncanny intuitions. Who do you think I am?”
“I can only tell you what I feel.” She focused in on his eyes. “You have a special calling. You’re like one who has returned from the era of Camelot, a romantic man of honor who will defend the Isles.”
Peacock surfaced from within her. “I wasn’t meant to marry a common man, but a man of destiny.”
Polaris roared with approval. “What a load of tripe.”
But Pendleton leaped straight up in the air, kicking his heals together, and landed perfectly balanced. “I knew it. You’re a seer blessed with mystic insight. Lovey, I tell you the truth. One day, the whole world will emerge from the darkness of this age, and I will lead it. Greed and pride are destroying our planet. Someday there will be little to be greedy about.”
He rubbed his hands together. “When you hear that Chinese banks are crumbling and the Yuan is freefalling, the W.F.C. will be orchestrating the fall.”
“But the Chinese will try to demand the United States immediately repay our debt.” Peacock’s stomach soured. “You know how I feel about my country.”
“I do.” Pendleton smiled. “I’ll stop the Chinese before they follow through. Japan is the E.U.’s strongest business partner. This is a move to strengthen Japan’s economic position in the Far East. The Iranians have been buying nuclear materials from the Chinese. I’m sending them a message. Play ball with the W.F.C. and stop the crap. Pardon my vernacular.”
“Ask him about the Russian’s involvement,” Polaris said. “Ursa wonders if they’re doing the same thing.”
“I thought Russia was the villain in selling those materials to Iran.” Peacock rubbed her neck. Could she be experiencing stress? Impossible.
Pendleton chuckled. “Russia is blamed for many sinister endeavors. Most of the time, the press in the U.S. and Britain fuel the fire. Believe me. China is the culprit in this case.” A serious frown disrupted his otherwise pleasant face. “Unfortunately, the only way to unify some countries into thinking globally is to eliminate the rulers at the top. If you hear about assassinations in Ring of Fire countries, keep your ears opened. Let me know if the E.U. or the W.F.C. is being blamed for them amongst Washington’s elite.”
She let out a healthy laugh. “You’ve just told me you’ll be behind the assassinations.”
“Of course, you know but no one else should,” Pendleton said. “Ah Lovey, sometimes your friends become your enemies and vice versa. If my partners and I don’t act now, the violent will inherit the earth. Eventually they’ll blow it to bits, if it doesn’t die from the curse of humanity beforehand.”
He reached out and touched her. “America has been foolish. I love your spirit, but your greed, and the greed of the rest of the world is going to destroy everything that lives and breathes. I visualize a world at peace. In my universe, mankind reaches the ultimat
e in learning and achievement. Poverty is eliminated. Knowledge is respected. The ecology thrives. But sometimes the ends must justify the means to accomplish such a noble task.”
He tilted his head and flashed a grin. “This is why I need your help.”
Peacock desired everything Pendleton described. But she’d been taught achieving that peace came through democracy. This was why she joined Hercules. She and her husband longed for the same things. She rubbed up against him and her nipples hardened under her t-shirt. “What kind of help do you want, King Arthur?”
His face turned beet red. The innocent part of him pulled her to him like a magnet. How long he’d hold on to innocence without life corrupting this part of him, she didn’t know. But he’d kept it so far.
“You’re a dangerous little nymph.”
He straightened his shoulders and moistened his lips. “Monroe is blocking our bids on military contracts. Do you remember my example when I asked you to marry me?”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to meet the man I’ve selected to push through a critical set of contracts and secure the bids.” He pointed his finger at her. “You’ll actually benefit. You own a considerable portion of one of those companies.”
“How can I help?”
“Get him a pass to enter Room 1515. You should be able to as a hotel director. Introduce him to certain people. Introductions are all I ask, nothing more.”
“Arrange it!” Polaris whispered. “We’ll be able to listen in and hear the strategy.”
“Will he know about our marriage?”
“He will one day if he’s successful, but not now. I was specific. Only those attending our wedding are to know now. The B.B.C. identified you as a prominent Washington socialite.” He pulled her into his arms and held her close. “My power is hidden. I avoid publicity. The fact we’re at Balmoral is seen as a token of friendship with the Crown. Things will come out. That’s inevitable. But gradually over time.”
“I’ll do it,” she said. “Who will be contacting me?”
“His name is Philip Martin. Treat him well, darling.”
As they strolled back to Balmoral, she wondered about coincidences. Was it a coincidence Pendleton knew about Room 1515, but not her role there? Was it a coincidence that he and his operatives had talked to Nash daily while she was seeing him and didn’t realize who she was?
Could Pendleton know everything about her and still want to marry her? Was she being played?
#
As Pendleton’s plane reached cruising altitude west of Aberdeen heading to Dublin, he contacted Milton Rogers in Zurich. “Hello Milton, Arthur here. Have a sec?”
“Aren’t you on your honeymoon, old boy?”
“She’s headed back to the States. Update me on Project Enlightenment.”
“The project’s too huge to update in one phone conversation. Ask me questions, and I’ll answer if I can.”
Milton was right as usual. Enlightenment was too enormous an endeavor to be chewed and swallowed all at once, “How many curriculum corporations have we purchased?”
“The W.F.C. owns twenty-eight. You own four outright. Eighteen corporations are full-out creating computer subject cores. The others are coming up to speed.”
“Are all cores and sub-cores taught with an English language base only?”
“Correct. In essence, the programs require one expert class mentor per sub-core, and a maximum ten students in the sub-core at any given time.”
Subduing the earth’s population by means of economics and military strength was only one cherry on the stem. Having in place a system of education, structured to meet the necessary life-sustaining and cultural development needs of mankind, was a more important piece.
“I’ve talked to the Skills Encyclopedia Division. They identified over three thousand core occupations thus far.” Rogers sighed. “I know we’re doing the right thing. But I’ll miss the old ways.”
“I won’t,” Pendleton said. “In fifteen years, the world will be fully converted to optimum education and optimum performance standards. Within thirty years the past methods will be forever forgotten.”
“How do we discipline the troublemakers?”
“We’ll supply life’s basics equally. But we’ll withhold life’s basics from the disobedient. When they grow hungry enough, they’ll come around. You have to keep an eye on the goals: no poverty, maximize every human’s potential. Wipe out war and greed. And—rid the earth of electronic media. People need to be actively involved in the world, not sitting in front of a television all day. It’s possible.”
“Are you still planning to allow religions other than Christianity to study their faiths?”
“You can’t stop or dictate a religion. We can’t impose our belief on others. But I think you’ll find a world that is fed, clothed, at peace, and offered the maximum education possible will stop fighting over religion.”
Pendleton checked his watch. He had time to educate his friend. “Can you imagine a family in the Sudan sitting down to three, full-course healthy meals a day supplied by the World Government? Isn’t it even more amazing when you consider every person in the world will receive the same?”
“It boggles the mind.”
“Studies are already completed regarding world production and distribution equalization. The astonishing fact is our planet can feed the existing population and up to a billion more given our present resources. Distribution is the problem. Our world today wastes enough food to feed a billion people. With one government, that problem goes away.”
“Well, I’m only in charge of world security,” Rogers said. “But I’ll be relieved when the first group of five-year-olds advances from ignorance to meeting the world’s job needs.”
“I wish you long life Milton. These things will happen faster than you think.”
#
Peacock stared down at the ocean below. She watched the waves and contemplated the turmoil in her life.
“I have to build a mental dike,” she said to Rigel, who was with her in the early morning hours.
“Poor Peacock,” he answered. “I find compartmentalizing as a good way to cope.”
“I’m a genius at putting my life into boxes.”
All her dead emotional buttons had smoldered a bit with the wedding and honeymoon. A desire, no a craving to be with Pendleton, had ignited again. Now that craving had to be extinguished.
Admit it, Peacock. He matches with you like Adam matched Eve.
“What’s the plan when I reach Washington?” she asked.
“A debrief with Ursa, a two day refresher with Magnus, and then back to Room 1515. There’s a congressman from New Hampshire we want you to get close to.”
Gloom enveloped her. She raged inside over her duty defiling her vows of marriage. Inhaling cleared her mind. Work would help her focus on that duty. She wasn’t scheduled to see Pendleton again until October. Placing one mental block upon another, she built her treasonous dike.
#
Thaddeus Cline, Skipper to his friends, rushed up the stairs to the third floor of the Missile Defense Agency. He placed his left hand against the identification plate, fingers in the designated spots. When the light flashed green, he gazed into the iris scanner.
“Welcome back to ‘The Asteroid Project,’ Professor Cline,” a sexy automated female voice greeted him.
The doors in front of him swung open and he stepped inside, only to be searched head-to-toe by two husky military policemen. He snarled inside but smiled to their faces. An M.I.T. graduate at eighteen years of age, two PhD’s by twenty-four, and group leader of this elite space weapons program, he detested the daily treatment he received.
“Thad, we’ve finished the pre-work,” Doctor Hendrix, Center Administrator said. “Do the honors of flipping the switch.”
I’d rather flip you off.
At the press conference yesterday, Hendrix took center stage referring to Cline and the others as “. . . my handpicked staff.”
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“Thanks Paul, I’d be glad to.” He flipped the switch activating the test model to the cheers of his colleagues.
I hope you rot in hell.
Later, as he checked the launch sequencing programs, a co-worker with a badge that read, Homeland Security, slipped him a note.
Skipper, your contact is coming to New York. He’d like to see you A.S.A.P. I have you cleared to leave in two weeks. No questions asked. An associate will pick you up at La Guardia.
Leon
If he boarded that plane, there was no going back. He was thirty-two. He hadn’t had time for real fun since he was eleven. Important people wanted his mind. They’d pay for the unique mathematical genius he possessed.
He nodded an affirmative as the co-worker headed away.
A tiny voice in his head warned him that traitors were at times put to death in America. But the voice was nearly inaudible. A louder one screamed, “You’re smarter than the others. You’ll never get caught.”
Chapter 15
Thomas Reed ran the fingers of his left hand along the smooth marble walls of the London offices of the W.F.C. He examined the marble’s texture in the huge hallway outside the Queen’s Court meeting room. His other hand held a briefcase and a thousand thoughts swam in his mind.
British Prime Minister Grace Claymore and her entourage swept past him, burst into the meeting room, and disappeared without saying a word as the doors slammed behind her.
“And a good day to you, Gracey,” Reed grumbled. He gave her the finger, hoping somehow she’d feel the sincerity of his action.
A moment later, Eric Throgmorton, himself, stuck his head out and motioned to Reed. “Mr. Reed, your presence is now requested.”
Walking at a pace equal to Throgmorton’s, Reed entered the room and was seated facing the entire W.F.C. elite.
Pendleton stared a hole through his mentor, as Throgmorton limped back to his chair. We ought to off that bugger, Reed mouthed to Pendleton. Pendleton smiled and nodded politely.
Reed uneasily faced the room. A quick observation of posture said Pendleton led the group. Throgmorton slouched and didn’t make eye contact. The majority of the others present focused on Pendleton. He clearly called the shots. Reed relaxed.
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