Room 1515

by Bill Wetterman

  “Have you considered China in all this?” Latovsky drummed his fingers again.

  Latovsky was a pawn. If he succeeded in destroying the backbone of Iran and Israel, Pendleton would own him and he’d prosper. If not, he’d be so weakened who would care. If China did attack him, Pendleton would come to his aid, but maybe not quite soon enough.

  Pendleton smiled. “We’ll give assurances to China.”

  Latovsky nodded and the meeting ended.

  #

  Onboard his private jet winging toward London, Pendleton seethed inside. Throgmorton finished his fourth martini, burped aloud, and said, “To control the minds of the people, Arthur, you must control those places and things that they revere.”

  Pendleton sipped his tea and thought. Let the old bugger get arse-over-tit from the vodka.

  “Some love money. Some love bloody security. Others love pagan pleasures. Hook each on what he really loves. Then there are the religious. The religious love Jerusalem for better or worse.”

  Pendleton poured his mentor a fifth martini, dropped in an olive and a splash of 150 mg’s concentrated nicotine, and stirred it slowly left to right. Then he gave it to Throgmorton.

  “In Jerusalem,” Throgmorton said as he downed his martini. “All three major religions and their followers have their hearts. They’re jealous to have and hold Jerusalem. If we hold Jerusalem, we control them. Play ball with us, and you have access. Don’t play ball. We destroy your holy places right before your eyes. Then the E.U. owns the power, and the W.F.C. owns the E.U.”

  With that, he broke out in a sweat. The glass slipped out of his hand and fell to the floor. He tried to speak but only air hissed out of his mouth. His eyes rolled back in his head.

  Pendleton hummed, “God Save the Queen.”

  He called Claymore. “The prong you wished to stick in my revered mentor has been appropriately stuck.”

  “My people will be at the airport with MI6 personnel. The assessment will be that Throgmorton died of a heart attack.”

  Pendleton hung up. World domination could be reached in less than a decade. Throgmorton’s words after the W.F.C.’s meeting with Reed rang in Pendleton’s head. “Don’t get sick.”

  “You didn’t have the vision to lead the world into an enlightened age,” Pendleton whispered to his old mentor.

  He, on the other hand, very well might be able to. He might even persuade China to join him for the good of mankind. Throgmorton had lost focus. But now, Pendleton had no need to remind him.

  “Sorry, old chap,” Pendleton said.

  A very dead Throgmorton didn’t respond.

  Chapter 21

  Isla De Sa Ferradura’s lights twinkled bright in reds and greens. Peacock saw the words ‘Welcome Mrs. Pendleton’ spelled out near the helicopter pad as she and Arthur approached the island.

  “Pull your sweater tight,” Pendleton said. “Temperatures at night can drop below forty Fahrenheit.”

  She nuzzled his shoulder, lost in the warmth of his smile.

  The ride up to Hacienda del Laverna revealed nothing about the island except its rugged landscape. But as she entered the building, her mouth fell open. “Did you redecorate this?”

  He smiled. “I had a spare hour with an architect and an interior designer. They suggested. I approved.”

  The suites, dining and lounging areas, and especially the massive kitchen, paled in opulence anything she’d seen before. Their suite spanned two floors and 3,500 square feet. Every room accented a different spectrum of rainbow colors offset by cream walls.

  She’d rested for a week in preparation. Her hair, nails, and skin, had been worked over by the best professional she could find. Her hands shook at the prospect that this week with her Arthur would fulfill both their dreams.

  #

  Living with Pendleton permanently would not be a good thing, Peacock thought. She was up at dawn, five in the morning to be exact. He slept until seven. Bored, she ascended the staircase to the upper level and opened the drapes covering the full-wall glass windows. From her perch, she could see two waterfalls. The green plants and well-attended landscape showed decorative skill and knowledge of the climate. She didn’t see one plant in trouble.

  As she turned to go back downstairs, a truck rocked up the entryway and pulled to a stop in front of the greenhouse. She had to look a second time to satisfy herself. In the back of the truck was a tree about thirty feet long and still in its root ball. Three men ran to a circular garden, one of three she could see from the window. They began digging away in the already well-prepared soil.

  A Christmas tree?

  If this was a Christmas tree, it was the strangest Christmas tree she’d ever seen.

  “It’s a Eucalyptus tree from Tasmania,” Pendleton said, gently touching her shoulders. “This species will top off at over a hundred and twenty feet.”

  “Arthur, the tree is beautiful.”

  “All the more beautiful when it’s decorated. Christmas is two days hence, and tomorrow night we’ll worship at a Christmas vigil and sing carols under it.”

  “You’re making me go to church?”

  “No. I’m bringing church to us. It’s Christmas, the birth of Jesus.” He massaged her shoulder, his fingers easing the tension in her neck. “Whatever else I am I’m a believer in God first.”

  She managed a thin smile. She’d heard those words from her father. What good did the words do him?

  By nine in the morning, the Hacienda buzzed as people scurried about cleaning, making coffee, and running to do Pendleton’s bidding. Peacock followed him around making casual comments as he raced from room to room shouting orders. Into a computer room he hustled with Peacock right behind him.

  “Let me show you why our investments are sound, Darling.”

  Pendleton logged on and explored all the international markets. Cell phone in hand, he talked for over an hour with corporate C.E.O.’s and members of his own W.F.C. To her surprise his conversations centered on oil and gold, not on stocks and bonds.

  “Why do you tell whoever you’re talking with to ‘set the usual aside’?”

  “I’ll ask you a question first.” Pendleton swiveled around in his chair. “What country has the most gold?”

  “The United States, of course,” Peacock answered.

  “Right you are. At one time, you Yanks held over three percent of all the gold ever mined.” Pendleton placed his hand on her knee. “Today, America’s gold can’t cover America’s debt.”

  “He’s right,” Polaris said, jarring Peacock’s concentration. “Even at the inflated price of gold on the market, we owe more than its net worth.”

  “Then every nation in the world must be in the same situation,” she said.

  “Yes, but not every power group.” Pendleton’s smile wasn’t warm. The smile reflected a certain pride that disturbed her. “It’s too bad about Throgmorton’s death. He put in motion the strategy that will give the W.F.C. and me the winning position when all things shake out. And, of course, the United States will benefit. They don’t see that reality yet.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “South Africa produces gold. But how much does South Africa keep? International corporations and individuals control the mining of gold, the marketing of gold, and setting its value. One of the W.F.C.’s closest partners, the World Gold Council, buys and holds gold. They set the values. We direct them. The gold producers are the Council.”

  “You’re like a monopoly?”

  “Indeed.” Pendleton turned off his computer and seemed to relish in bragging to Peacock about his triumphs. “There are three bullion vaults, one in New York, one in London, and one in Zurich. As nations fall into economic downturns, we bail them out at the cost of gold. The same is true with major gold producers.”

  “So crooks outsmart crooks and the world suffers?”

  “Oh Lovey, don’t be so cruel. One day the W.F.C.’s ability to leverage will save the world. Throgmorton taught me how to deal
in buying a fraction of gold per transaction through manipulating crises.” He took both her hands in his and kissed them. “You must trust me. I have only good intentions for the outcome. Between the W.F.C., the World Gold Council, the International Monetary Fund run by the United Nations, and the gold accumulated by the E.U. countries, particularly Germany, we have combined control of thirty-two percent of all the mined gold in the world since mining began. The bars are in the bullion vaults. We have no debt.”

  Peacock fumed inside when Pendleton talked this way. Even his reassurances made her uncomfortable.

  “Let’s do something fun,” she said. “You scare me and this kind of economics is beyond me.”

  “Ursa’s staff will analyze the information,” Polaris said. “But Pendleton told you the truth.”

  Pendleton rose and walked her back out into the main hall. “I don’t mean to frighten you. But one day, you’ll rule with the power of the W.F.C. behind you. You’ll rule with me. That should brighten your day.”

  But it doesn’t, she thought.

  #

  Within hours, the entire property glistened with Christmas. Peacock forgot her momentary discomfort with her husband. She convinced herself he was human, and his weakness was his dream of a one-world system. Besides, he was now devoting all his attention to her exclusively. The two strolled through the property, helping decorate when an extra hand was needed.

  “This is all ours,” Pendleton said. “Yet I’d give it up in a second if you disapproved.”

  “I don’t disapprove,” she said. “I’m happy, Arthur. I think I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”

  “Sorry about boring you with finances,” he said. “I’ve cut all dealings off until the 26th. From here on out, my attention is all yours.”

  Her mind raced with thoughts of seduction. Ursa’s plan for her to revel at the Embassy Hotel had the reverse effect. Although her ego received ample stroking, she realized even more how much she longed for Pendleton. Right now, all her body signs indicated the time was perfect for conception. She’d stopped her birth control and planned to make love to him in every bedroom in the Hacienda, or wherever he wanted on this fourteen-acre island.

  Did happiness equate to love? She couldn’t understand the concepts. But she did understand she felt safe and warm with this man. For someone who lived in the moment, feeling warm and safe was priceless. She blocked any thoughts about consequences out of her mind.

  That night after all the celebrations ended and his employees received their Christmas bonuses, Peacock bedded her husband giving him all she was. Exhausted, but talkative Pendleton dreamt aloud to her.

  “Imagine Lovey, a world where individual achievement for the sake of advancing mankind was the gold standard for every person. Every job would have that goal as its purpose. There would be no hunger, because food distribution worldwide would make hunger a thing of the past. The quest for knowledge and self-improvement would give true equal opportunity for all.”

  “You said once, our house would be three steps above the average workman, and his would be two steps above what he has now. How are you going to make that happen?”

  Pendleton beamed ear-to-ear. “Today we pursue things—cars and home ownership. In my world, those items would be irrelevant. Everyone would have them free-of-charge. The quality of an individual’s home might vary a bit between a truck driver and an astrophysicist. But the variance will be more in room size and view than in quality of life. To improve the environment we’ll build our living communities up instead of out.”

  “I can’t even fathom that world.” Peacock licked his chest hairs.

  “A Global Realm is not that far off. Already the plans have been made—blueprints if you will. The distribution and logistics have been worked out. The power to implement and control them worldwide is all that’s missing.”

  “But a Global Realm sounds dictatorial to me.”

  “Yes, Democracy breeds mediocrity. The attempt to satisfy everybody leads to satisfying no one. One enlightened leader with unlimited power could create change for the greater good faster and at a higher standard of excellence than a Democracy ever could.”

  “You believe you’re doing all this for God. Isn’t Jesus supposed to be the one who rules and reigns?”

  “Ah yes, Lovey, He is. If He returns before I put my plans in place, I’ll be glad to turn the planet over to Him.” Pendleton rolled close to her and whispered. “I believe He wants humanity to show Him they can live in peace, before He returns.”

  Why she felt uneasy about Pendleton’s beliefs bothered her. She reminded herself that if there was a God, He didn’t like her.

  #

  Day 601

  Peacock strapped herself into a gorgeous silver auto at the Richmond International Speedway. She’d earn the right to drive this car. These wheels would be hers to use for herself and Hercules’ benefit.

  “Be very careful when accelerating in the SSC Ultimate Aero,” Magnus said, leaning in the car window. “Take her around for four or five laps to get a feel for her.”

  “Explain the toys first.” She planted a kiss atop his head.

  “Hum, yes of course.” Magnus raced around and jumped in on the passenger side. “Start this baby up.”

  Power vibrated through her body. A rocket launch couldn’t have had the same impact. “The Aero maxes out at 260 miles per hour. Be careful braking at any speed over 170 miles per hour.”

  She stared at him. “I’ll never go past 120.”

  “Never make stupid statements,” he said. “The windows are bulletproof. The black button on the gearshift fires machine gun bullets.”

  “You’re not going to tell me spikes protrude from the wheels to shred someone else’s tires. Are you?”

  “You’ve read the manual.” Magnus leaned back and buckled up. “Hit it.”

  Peacock floored the Aero and put the car through its maneuvers.

  “This baby hums,” she screamed as she hit 130 miles per hour down the back straightaway. “Cornering is a problem.”

  “Indeed so, extend the spikes and bump the drone car coming up on your left.”

  She did as instructed blowing the drone’s tires into pieces, at the same time turning the Aero slightly to the right.

  “Accelerate to 160 miles per hour.”

  She did and her hands almost vibrated off the steering wheel.

  “Slow and stop.”

  Peacock brought the car around the mile track and pulled next to the drone still smoking from the impact it took when it hit the safer barrier.

  “That was as good as sex,” she squealed.

  “Nothing’s as good as sex,” Magnus replied. “At each corner you have to look ahead to where you want to end up.”

  “So I look toward the next straightaway before I start my turn?”

  Magnus crawled out of the car, and Peacock exited as well. “Martin is scheduled to be at the signing in Dusseldorf. At this point we must assume he doesn’t know you’re a Herculean since you helped him enter Room 1515.”

  “Daphne paid with her life.”

  “Daphne?”

  “Forget it.”

  “We need to know how much Pendleton knows about the assassination attempt on Monroe. Martin may be able to tell you.”

  “Does Ursa have a plan to make that happen?”

  Magnus shook his head. “There are too many variables. You’ll receive instructions real time. When you arrive in Frankfort am Main, your Aero will be parked in Section E5, Space 14.”

  “But Arthur is meeting me in Frankfort.”

  “Tell him you have a surprise for him and to have someone available to drive his rental back to Düsseldorf.”

  She might have a surprise. But not the surprise Magnus meant. Two weeks after obeying Ursa’s instructions about the Lagoon Room, Peacock stopped taking her birth control pills. Her obligation to her boss fulfilled, she decided to fulfill a desire of her own. Since then she’d only been with her husband. Christmas time h
ad worked perfectly into her cycle. She felt wonderful. Her husband wanted children. Maybe not so soon, but he wouldn’t be disappointed.

  She’d missed a period.

  #

  Day 643

  Peacock concentrated on the voice in her head. Polaris fed her information non-stop for over four hours. He covered the politics, the economics, and the science of the Stromiehre deal. She had to memorize the information. She wasn’t allowed to take a note. Nothing of what she knew about a mission could ever be put down in writing.

  Her time at Hercules taught her how to store information, reactions, every happening in her life into separate compartments. She lived in the compartment in front of her, ignoring other thoughts.

  Ursa’s instruction to go to the Lagoon Room and enjoy herself was a typical example. My moral compass told me I shouldn’t go, she thought. But her boss demanded it. Thinking about right and wrong sent her into a panic. Forced to do the wishes of Ursa, monitored in fact by her implant, her moral compass had to be locked away.

  She learned to enjoy the moment. She fooled herself by thinking if she never entertained the same man a second time, her husband could maintain the unique privilege of being her steady lover. After all, Arthur Pendleton was treacherous even if she adored him. In fact, she hated herself afterward.

  Throgmorton, his business mentor, was dead. Within Hercules, rumors flew that Pendleton murdered him. She believed the rumors. Then there was this man Thomas Reed, the man with a thousand aliases. The tasks in front of her were monumental. If she were normal, she might experience fear or doubts about her capabilities. But those emotions didn’t exist within her. Self-preservation, yes. Fear, no.

  Hercules knew from a C.I.A agent implanted in MI6 that an attack against the president was eminent. That attack was being planned and executed by Reed and The Sons of Tiw. Pendleton’s friend, Van Meer was in the States as part of that plan. The man called Lytle, her personal nemesis, would show up again sometime. Her job was to find out where Van Meer and Lytle were and what they were scheming.

  As she opened the door to her room at the Emerald, Ursa’s voice, not Polaris spoke to her. “A few minor last-minute instructions, when photographing documents, take the photo, send it to Hercules, and delete it before taking the next. That way . . .”