After the accolades subsided, the joint session disbanded. Pendleton was escorted into the new Prime Minister’s private office in the Palace. Thomas Reed and Milton Rogers joined them.
“To The Sons of TIW,” Pendleton said and raised a glass of Champagne in toast. The others responded, “To The Sons of TIW.”
“What’s the status of Agent Loomis?” Pendleton asked.
“He’s on Sherman’s short list to be appointed to guard Monroe,” Thomas Reed said. He stood stiff and tall, quivering a bit from his last encounter with Pendleton. And Pendleton delighted in that fact, as he approached Reed.
“If selected,” Reed continued, “he’ll be on the elite team by December 1st.”
“Ease up old boy,” Pendleton whispered. “You made a mistake. Look forward and not back. I’ve forgiven you. You’ll make up for it.”
Reed nodded.
Pendleton noted the strong smell of mouthwash on Reed’s breath. The man was obsessive. “Graham, your cousin will update you on the W.F.C.’s status at a later time. You need to concentrate on the U.S. space-based missile system and the Arab-Israel plan. We’ve only about twenty minutes before your press conference.”
“I dare say the world’s not as safe as it appears when you’re second from the top,” Prime Minister Lodge said. “I liked it better not knowing certain things. Explain the Arab-Israel plan to me.”
“Serge Latovsky is moving Russian troops south for training near the borders of Iran and Turkey. Several states lost in the Soviet Union collapse are on his side. He only waits for a word from me to attack and destroy the Islamic radicals and the conservative Jews in one major operation.”
“Good God Almighty.” The new Prime Minister reached for the arm of a chair and crumpled into it. “Only a word from you?”
“Tell him, Milton.”
“MI6 and the best British minds have been working on a plan to remotely access and fire U.S. space-based missiles,” Rogers said. “Last week, with the help of Thaddeus Cline, the head U.S. scientist on the missile code sequencing project, our boys were able to time the sequences correctly. Arthur negotiated a deal with both Cline and Claymore to make that happen.”
“You’re planning to fire U.S. missiles without their approval?”
Pendleton smirked. “What’s your point?”
“It’s madness.”
“No. Religious fanatics standing in the way of world peace is madness.” Pendleton approached Lodge, moving close enough that the Prime Minister’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Latovsky strikes a thrust at Iran, sweeping down between the Aral and Caspian Seas. A second army heads through Iraq, Turkey, and Syria aimed at Israel. When the Israelis react, we fire the U.S. missiles at Tehran, Tel Aviv, Iranian nuclear facilities, and Israeli key cities. We’ll threaten to destroy religious sites key to both Judaism and Islam.”
“I’ll not be a part to it.”
“Yes, you will. First, the W.F.C. controls the British pound and the European Euro. Second, you have several nasty skeletons in your political closet. Third, the leaders of MI6, the Sons of TIW, and the United Nations military want this done.”
Pendleton tossed several photographs of the Prime Minister’s family and friends on the conference table. “Of course these were taken for your family’s protection.”
“Am I a puppet then?”
“Only if you wish to be,” Rogers said. “Think man. With the Middle East secure, oil flows uninterrupted through Russia to Europe, and our allies rally to us to lead the world into a new age. You could be a hero. Our goal is a future world in peace.”
“This way, not one British solider dies in the process,” Pendleton added.
Lodge placed his head in his hands. “Are there any other surprises you have for me?”
“No. Are you on board?” Pendleton asked.
“It seems I have no choice.”
Pendleton knew he’d lied. At the moment, there were too many surprises for the Prime Minister’s heart to take. This was not the time to discuss Plan B.
#
Day 730
Peacock’s second birthday in Hercules came, and no one mentioned the event at all. Three and a half months pregnant and over morning sickness, she’d received some good news. Her baby was a boy. Pendleton would be pleased, and she was ecstatic.
Into the Central Command, she strolled, having worked five hours with Polaris. They’d spent time face-to-face working on the little details of her communication device. She had to go through an emotional readjustment. Crippled and confined to a wheelchair, her vision of him as a healthy survivor who had fulfilled his duty crumbled away.
Her own situation startled her. After two years in Hercules, she knew her options. She’d either be dead in five years or suffer Polaris’s fate within ten. The latter was more depressing than the former. She had a remote chance, less than ten percent, that she’d escape the fate of others and live to retire.
After that dose of reality hit, three hours of psychological reorientation seemed palatable. She headed into Doctor Kolb’s office and sat down. The woman was late as usual. Every minute the doctor wasted was one less minute of scrutiny.
As she looked out through the glass windows, she saw Kolb strut past her co-workers, barking orders with witchlike motions, and contorting her fingers with evil intent. Kolb had the personality of a slave ship captain with a whip. She entered her office, marched to her desk, and said, “Turn your head. I have to adjust your implant.”
“While I’m awake?”
“Turn your head!”
With an alcohol swab and a small, sharp blade, Kolb opened the pocket of flesh behind Peacock’s ear. She felt no pain at first. Kolb grabbed a tiny meter of some kind and a probe. She couldn’t see what Kolb was doing. But ten minutes later, a severe pain shot straight to the core of her spine.
“My God,” Peacock said, stifling a yelp.
“Nothing to concern yourself about,” Kolb said and handed her a mirror. “Do you see any incision?”
“No.”
Kolb held up a picture of Pendleton and Peacock taken at their wedding. A mellow euphoria rolled into Peacock’s mind.
“On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate that discomfort?”
Discomfort? Her mind swooned with tender, warm thoughts. “I feel a plus forty on the Cupid scale.”
“Give me a number from one to ten.”
“A one.”
“The implant is reacting to your attachment response. You can control that emotion by detaching your feelings.”
Kolb held up a picture of chocolate cake. Peacock giggled. “I like the taste of chocolate.”
“No reaction at all on my meter.”
The doctor held up several pictures of objects and miscellaneous people—even two photos of a naked female in the embrace of a bare-chested man.
“No emotional reaction?” Then a picture of Ursa was flashed in front of her.
“Ouch,” Peacock screamed.
“I take it you have a strong attachment response to our boss. What was your level of discomfort?”
“I’d say an eight.”
Ursa made her angry. The man was supposed to be her leader, her guide, but he didn’t care for her like Pendleton did.
“I want you to reduce the pain by changing your attitude.”
“She flashed Ursa picture up, again and again. Peacock forced herself to think positive thoughts about him, thereby reducing her pain.”
After several tests, Kolb asked. “What was your level of discomfort on the last trial?”
“Four,” she said.
“Is that tolerable?”
“Yes.”
“You see you reduced your own pain by consciously changing your feelings toward the subject.”
Kolb reached over and picked up Pendleton’s picture. She showed it to Peacock. Peacock smiled, “Still a one.”
Kolb flashed the picture at her again and sent a shock into Peacock’s head. Ten minutes later her emotions were numb�
��zip—zero. The discomfort shot to an eight and stayed. Without the shocks, her emotional response to Pendleton returned to normal in three days.
#
Having dethroned his wife’s nemesis, Pendleton boarded his private jet and headed for Switzerland to continue meetings with the Project Enlightenment team. The Widder Hotel opened its doors wide for this secretive group.
These bright leaders had two things in common. First, each had achieved recognition for their real world accomplishments, coming from meager backgrounds to prominence on their abilities. Second, they’d obtained advanced degrees from prestigious schools like M.I.T, Cambridge, Oxford, and Yale.
Today the subject was twofold: religion and human motivation. An interesting combination, Pendleton thought. Milton Rogers accompanied him as Pendleton’s second-in-command, a position Pendleton hoped his Lovey would hold someday. She was simply a product of her upbringing. Given enough time, she’d see his purpose was the right one.
Pendleton set the guidelines for this team of twelve, and the team developed the best solutions based on intensive study. He opened the meeting with prayer, and then headed right to the core of the subject. “Let’s start with the topic of religious freedoms. What are your thoughts?”
Linda Farnham, former Chairwoman of Behavioral Sciences at the University of Birmingham in England, pushed her chair back and stood up. “The opening on this topic has been tossed to me. Our team drew its conclusions on the conditions that the Jerusalem issue is settled, and we control both Muslim and Jewish holy places.”
Pendleton nodded.
“Freedom of spiritual expression should be allowed as long as no World Justice System law is violated. The government will impose no religion on the people. Further, no one method of religious expression will receive any special privilege over another.”
“Let’s be sure the penalties for violence based on religious differences are severe.”
“Of course, assault is assault regardless of the reason.”
Pendleton grumbled. “The penalties ought to be stiffer for religious feuding.”
“Your opinion, but not the groups,” Rogers said.
“Proceed.”
“Countries will no longer exist,” Farnham said. “But individual citizen can identify themselves with a particular faith, Moslem, Christian, Hindu, and the like. As long as they obey our laws, there will be no problem.”
Rogers waved a finger. “Forgive me. But let’s use examples. For instance, my church requires me to tithe, but money will no longer have meaning. So what do I give?”
Pendleton mused at the comment. The answer showed the simplicity of the system. “You’re right. No one will have money. You’d give of your time, talent, and service. Build your places of worship in your free time with free resources. The Bible never intended the tithe to be money. The tithe said you give the best of what you have to give.”
“All right then, what about evangelizing?” Rogers asked.
“There is a law about non-solicitation, door knocking and the like,” Farnham said, “If individuals break that law, they’ll be at hard labor for a year. But nothing prevents inviting people to your church. There’ll even be television networks devoted exclusively to spiritual programs. Individuals can choose what they watch.”
“What about the Vatican? Today the Pope claims the Vatican grounds as a sovereign nation.”
Pendleton lowered an eyebrow. The Pope would be guilty of sedition. Life in prison would be his fate. “Jerusalem must be a free city. Holy places will exist only if the government is cooperated with. The Pope must declare the Vatican a residence, not a nation.”
“I fear the consequences,” Rogers said. “But you can be very convincing.”
Pendleton rose and motioned for Farnham to sit. “I’m a Christian. I believe the blood of Christ saved my soul. But God gave everyone a free will. I can’t force my belief down other people’s throats. But I can require the laws of the Global Realm to be obeyed. Justice, equality, and liberty should abound for all human beings to grow to their maximum potential.”
“This brings us to the boredom factor.” Pendleton sat down and pointed to Victor Romanoff of the University of Kiev and Oxford.
“Let’s review the social atmosphere of the society we’re creating.” As Romanoff spoke, pictures and graphs flashed examples on PowerPoint. “Illegal drug trafficking disappears. Weapons are confiscated. Gambling establishments close. No prostitutes roam the streets. With no financial incentive, greed, as we know it, vanishes. We don’t have a Wall Street. There are no advertisements, political campaigns, or the constant bombardment of bad news through media.” Romanoff flashed a smile. “That’s the good news.”
“And the bad news?” Rogers asked.
“With all due respect, our society becomes sterile and boring. What do we do to replace all the useless pastimes people occupy themselves with?” Romanoff stood and his partner Farnham took his place managing the overheads. “We create an entirely new set of objectives and pastimes.”
“Thank God, no more ridiculous political advertisements,” Rogers said.
“Global objectives will tax the limits of the human race,” Romanoff faced Pendleton and pulled his shoulders back. “We must wipe out pollution worldwide by the year 2100. World task forces from every province must combine brainpower to design, manufacture, and install green products in all fields from residential heating to agriculture. Those within our population zealous about the environment will actively pursue that dream.”
“You’re saying we give individuals whose talents and dreams match Global goals the opportunity to fulfill those dreams.” Precisely the solution Pendleton hoped for. “I agree. And I believe firmly in the sharing of ideas between provinces.”
“Absolutely.”
“What about exploring the universe?” Pendleton asked. “With money unnecessary, resources could be directed to the heavens.”
“We have the capabilities now. Greed prevents us from the accomplishment.” Romanoff strolled around the room, hands folded behind his back. “Allowing people to achieve individual goals and dreams fitting their interests will be our greatest challenge, after we meet their basic needs.”
“Yes,” Pendleton said. “Feeding the world comes first.”
“If our mathematics and agricultural-physics formulas are correct, our planet has the capabilities of comfortably supporting a world population of seven billion people without further sacrificing our ecology.” Romanoff shrugged. “We need a committee to make recommendations regarding sustaining a planet of seven billion. That committee should be working on food production and distribution worldwide.”
“Food distribution is first priority,” Pendleton said. “Load every ship at our disposal with balanced meals and supplies. We’ll see to it food is not a problem. We’ll destroy all military opposition to our plans. But we won’t force people to accept our help. I doubt the starving will refuse.”
“Next, we create academic, sport, and game competitions between the twelve provinces and within them. These will be the key to reviving the human spirit.”
“So we’ll have competition of the mind and the body. I like it,” Pendleton said.
Farnham put a collage of pictures up on the screen showing community-building designs.
“Finally, we’ll build our society up, not out.”
Romanoff sat down and Farnham took over. “Instead of sprawling cities, major populations will live in communities with transportation networks linking to industrial, recreational, and service sectors. We will tear down the old buildings and neighborhoods and create parks, wildlife preserves, and recreational areas.”
“When you say we’ll build up not out,” Rogers said. “Describe what you mean?”
Linda Farnham stuck out her British squared chin. “I mean up toward the sky. Take a major United States city like Oklahoma City. The city sits on 607 square miles of land. The total population of the larger metro area is 1.2 million give or take a few.
Building residential forty-floor quadrangles in a one square mile area with central shopping could house ten thousand residents per complex.”
“A quick second,” Rogers said. “My God, the whole metro population could be housed in 120 of these complexes.”
“Yes. And comfortably,” Farnham said. “They’d be plush accommodations, roomy, spacious units, even for the lowest qualifying society members, leaving well over 400 square miles of real estate for parks, recreation, and beautification projects.”
Romanoff added, “Eighty-seven square miles are left for green industrial production.”
“How soon do you project a green world would be possible?”
“Fifty years after securing the Globe Realm, Mr. Rogers.”
“And a completed restructuring of society?”
“One hundred years after the cession of all hostilities.”
Shivers filled Pendleton. His vision for the future could be accomplished. By working together as one people, mankind could restore the planet, explore the universe, and live in peace. With the human race pursuing these dreams, all this could be achieved.
Chapter 36
Day 882
Peacock’s private jet landed on St Johns at eleven in the morning, an hour later than expected. She disembarked preceded by two Herculean agents and followed by two members of John Sherman’s team compliments of the president. Pendleton waved to her from behind the makeshift netting that separated arriving passengers from those waiting for them.
The sight of him filled her with joy. Then a shock jolted her back to Dr. Kolb’s acceptable level. The pain was manageable. Her psychological rehab continued, even though she wasn’t sitting next to the witch.
Pendleton’s mother stood with Arthur, smiling and waving.
Once through customs and immigration, Peacock emerged from security, and Pendleton ran to her. He gave her a gentle hug. “You look gorgeous.”
“I feel like a whale.”
“You can’t fathom how deeply I love you,” he whispered.
The pain spiked and then subsided. She struggled to retain her warm feelings but the probe beat her every time.
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