by Bell, D. R.
Denver, USA
“Look at these people!” John Dimon pointed at the TV projection showing massive demonstrations. “I understand they’re not happy over their leader dying, but blocking government buildings? Stopping traffic? Refusing to go to work? That’s just ridiculous!”
“Well, they are upset,” allowed Chris Bigelow.
“Yeah, well, bringing the economy to a standstill is not the way to address their grievances,” Dimon shook his finger at Bigelow, as if the man was guilty of organizing the protests. “When I’m the president, I’ll deal with this kind of stuff appropriately. I’ll call up the National Guard and restore law and order!”
Dimon took a gulp of bourbon, calmed down a bit and turned to his other campaign advisor, Jonathan Morton:
“Speaking of the presidency, how are we doing? I presume with this unfortunate death of Jeff Kron, I’m firmly the lead dog, right?”
“It’s likely the case,” Morton sounded very careful, “but you should understand that traumatic events like this tend to re-write the script.”
“What the hell are you trying to say?” bellowed Dimon.
“You see, about the quarter of the electorate was pro-Kron and we simply don’t know which way they’ll swing,” Morton pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead. “It’s fair to assume that it’s between you and Tice now.”
“Why in God’s name would these voters go to Tice when you kept telling me all along that this is the year of protest vote, against the status quo, against the establishment? I am the only non-establishment candidate standing now!” Dimon’s face was getting bright red.
“Well, John, you and Kron were quite different. Different types of dissent, so to speak. I wouldn’t just assume that his voters will come to your side. Besides, there is this Cui Bono question hanging in the air; who benefited from Kron’s assassination...”
“Don’t give me this crap, I didn’t kill him!” shouted Dimon.
“Of course not, but as long as the matter is not resolved, suspicion hangs in the air. And these demonstrations, they just feed the flames.”
Dimon turned to Bob Johnson:
“Your FreedomShield guys know how to deal with riots. Can you put a plan together to start breaking this up?” Dimon pointed at the TV projection still showing huge crowds protesting.
“Mr. Dimon, I am afraid not. I just got the news a few minutes ago that FreedomShield’s headquarters in Richmond are being raided by federal agents. I am to continue providing security services with the personnel I have here, but nothing else.”
“Your offices are being raided?” Dimon looked stunned.
Morton and Bigelow exchanged glances, then Morton carefully offered:
“Perhaps under the circumstances, it would be best if we decline FreedomShield’s services and accept the earlier offer of protection from the Security Service? John? …John?”
Dimon seemed shocked, repeating:
“Offices are being raided?”
They were interrupted by a careful knock on the door. After Dimon failed to react, Bigelow called out:
“Yes, come in.”
A pretty young secretary waltzed in with a smile:
“Mr. Dimon, there are some gentlemen here and they say they have to talk to you.”
New York, USA
“It’s your damn fault, Bryce!” the man with an aged movie star appearance shook his finger. “We should have just stayed with Tice like I was planning to.”
“Bullshit!” retorted an elderly man in jeans and cowboy boots. “When Tice was in the third place, you Jim were just as anxious to dump him as any of us.”
“Calm down, you two!” interrupted George, breathing heavily. “What are we going to do now that Dimon’s been arrested? Anybody know where Sheila is?”
“Not returning any calls,” shrugged Bryce. “I think we should crawl back to Tice, beg his forgiveness.”
“I’m not sure Tice needs you now.” A staticky voice from a holographic 3-D image of the hedge fund man. “Kron is gone, Dimon is gone. Who’s going to stand in his way?”
“And where are you, hedge fund boy? Busy with your ‘activities’ again?” scowled Bryce.
“No, gentlemen. I have a nice big farm in a remote area of New Zealand. With my own airstrip and all. I think I’ll just stay here until things blow over.”
“You little pussy, worried about a few protesters,” said George dismissively. “The rabble will disperse as they always do. Everything will be fine.”
“OK, George, if you say so. Things are fine until they stop being fine. And I’d rather not be around at that time. Good luck to you!”
The holographic image disappeared.
“Well, that leaves the three of us. Three out of six,” Bryce sounded philosophical.
“So, are we going back to Tice?”
“What choice do we have?” shrugged the ‘movie star’ Jim. “His approval ratings are pretty low, so he can use our money to pump himself up.”
“OK, ten million again?” sighed George.
“With only three of us, we’ll have to double it.”
Moscow, Russia
“He is downstairs, Mr. President,” reported Maxim Fedorov.
“How did you get him?”
“He was in one of the locations that his assistant Primak gave us. Nemzhov had a gun but didn’t try using it.”
“Are you making any progress in decoding his electronic archives?” asked Mosin.
“Some, but it’s slow going. Primak doesn’t know everything.”
“Thank you, Maxim. Now take me to see him.”
They walked down to a room deep in the basement, multiple sentries clicking their heels to attention along the way. There were four guards in front of the room.
“You look good, Nikolai,” Mosin sat down across from Nemzhov. “Nice tan, nice suit. You must have gotten some rest over the last two years.”
“Thanks you, Mr. President,” Nemzhov seemed relaxed, a well-dressed man in his sixties, looking dapper but needing a shave. “Perhaps you can get your people remove the handcuffs? You have four armed guards for one old handcuffed man.”
“Sorry, Nikolai, but given what you tried to pull off, no precaution seems to be extreme. How did you manage to get so many top military people on your side?”
“All of them had something to hide in their background. You don’t get to the position of power without doing things you wouldn’t want others to find out. And once you get there, you don’t want to leave. As you know, Boris.”
“I know,” agreed Mosin. “You could have tried to work with me instead of running.”
“Please, Boris. Be honest, you were going to throw me to the wolves back in 2022 when these two amateurs, Ferguson and Sappin, blew our scheme. I wasn’t going to be the fall guy.”
“I would have thrown you to the wolves,” agreed Mosin. “How could you let these two nobodies fool you?”
“I made a mistake,” nodded Nemzhov. “I was sure I could control them and then take care of them when the time was right. I offered good money for their silence, figured they were going to milk this for a while. I just needed a bit of time to make sure I neutralized them. I didn’t expect them to expose everything.”
“Well, as you know Nikolai, there is no room for mistakes in this business.”
“That might be, Boris, that might be. Except that you need me,” smiled Nemzhov.
“Why would you say that?” Mosin smiled back.
“Because you’re probably not having much success decoding my files.”
“Your assistant Primak is working with us.”
“Primak?” laughed Nemzhov. “Arkady was my guy for blackmail work and he knows a few things. I gave him a reputation as a computer genius, but that’s just hot air. The real computer geniuses behind the system are gone. As in dead.”
“We can figure it out, Nikolai. We’ll put our best programmers on it.”
“In time, perhaps you will. But the value of information declines as
time goes on. I know you, Boris. Why would you take a chance when you can have a sure thing?”
“What do you want, Nikolai? You know that to the outside world, you must be dead!” Mosin leaned forward, his pale eyes squinting.
“Of course, Boris. I’ve lost. I will never be officially in a public eye, but I still like to have that feeling of power and control. I’ll live in secret, I will enjoy my luxuries in private. It’s a cheap price for you to pay for the information and help that I will provide.”
Maxim Fedorov was waiting for Mosin just outside the room.
“Mr. President, should we eliminate him?”
“No, Maxim, we need him still.”
Washington, D.C., USA
“What are you going to do about this?” Brian Tice pointed out the window of the Oval Office at thousands of people occupying the square. “Kron’s supporters brought this country to a standstill!”
“And what do you think I should do?” replied President Maxwell. “Are they not within their constitutional rights?”
“Every day this is going on, the economy is losing over thirty billion dollars,” protested Tice. “This has been going on for a week now. They are hurting everyone! They are weakening the country! They are criminals!”
“Brian, they are not criminals,” asserted Maxwell. “Again, what would you have me do?”
“Send the army and break this up! You have the authority. How are we going to run the country otherwise? How are we going to have the elections?”
President Maxwell leaned on the table, looking directly at Tice:
“You are asking me to send armed troops against tens of millions of protesters? No president has done this. Do you realize that if we do that, somewhere – probably in many places – shots will end up being fired?”
“Joe, what’s more important? A few malcontents or the well-being of the whole country?”
Maxwell carefully enunciated every word:
“Brian, I will not be known as the president that sent the army against peaceful protesters!”
“Then you don’t have the spine to run the country!”
“Get the hell out of my office!” bellowed Maxwell. An angry Vice President stormed out.
Maxwell turned to the other person in the room, his Chief of Staff, Greta Nulon:
“Dimon’s support collapsed after the revelations of shady dealings. Greta, Tice is now the leading presidential candidate. Would you trust him to run the country?”
“Joe, I wouldn’t trust him to take my dog for a walk,” Greta shook her head. “But what are you going to do? With both Kron and Dimon gone – and may I say so, thank God in Dimon’s case! – who is there to stop him?”
“Yes. That’s a bit of a dilemma, don’t you think?”
“I’m glad I don’t have your job, Mr. President.”
Maxwell got up, walked over to the window, stood there looking at the protesters outside.
“Greta, how long have you been with me?”
“Twenty eight years, Mr. President. A long time. You were a young congressman when we met. There was hardly any gray in your hair,” smiled Nulon.
“Yes, a long time. Four years ago, when Mitchell Williams ran against me and was assassinated, I wanted to quit.”
“I know you wanted to, but who could have stepped in at the time?”
“That almost tore the country apart. We barely managed to hold things together. I wonder if the Kron’s assassination and Dimon’s disgrace will prove to be too much to overcome.”
“It’s possible,” agreed Nulon. “Especially with someone as heavy-handed as Tice.”
“How did we get to this point?” whispered Maxwell. “I had only good intentions. I served honestly.”
“I know you did, Mr. President. I think we all kept kicking the can down the road, hoping that it’ll just disappear somehow. But the can kept growing bigger and bigger, and the road came to an end.”
After Greta left, Maxwell stood by the window looking at the protesters. “No Taxation Without Representation!” placards were everywhere. I had to stop Dimon. Problem is, Tice isn’t that much better. Brother fighting brother, Americans against other Americans. What to do?
Maxwell sat back at the desk, pressed the intercom button:
“Get me Sam Baker, please!”
Beijing, China
“Good morning, Comrade General Secretary!” greeted General Cao as he was shown into the room. He was unpleasantly surprised to see that Sun Yang was there too, but he hid his disappointment.
“Ah, General, please come in,” greeted him Kai Liu. “Would you like some tea?”
“Yes, thank you!” accepted Cao.
After taking a polite sip, Cao pointed to the thick folder he brought with him:
“I presumed Comrade Liu wanted a report on how our preparations are going?”
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary,” Kai Liu waved off the offer. “That’s not what we called you in for.”
General Cao stammered:
“Forgive my surprise. What can I do for you?”
“Well, General Cao, I had an interesting conversation with the Russian President Mosin. And he sent me this intriguing document,” Kai Liu put his hand on the paper in front of him.
“What document?”
But Kai Liu ignored the question:
“General Cao, did you know about the planned coup in Moscow?”
Cao hesitated and immediately realized that he gave himself away.
“Comrade General Secretary, I’ve heard rumors that some of the high level people in Moscow thought that Mosin was timid, that he was going to allow the Americans to rebuild their strengths, that he lost his nerve so to speak...”
“General Cao, I think you’ve heard more than that!” Sun Yang impolitely interrupted their conversation.
“Why would Comrade Yang say something like this?” Cao exclaimed, still talking to Liu.
“Because you told people in the General Staff that there would be a change in the Russian policy before the end of the month! How could you be so stupid?” shouted Yang. “This saying of yours made its way to Mosin and he now believes that we, the Chinese, supported a coup against him!”
“Let’s not exaggerate,” Kai Liu raised his palm calmingly. “President Mosin does not think that we plotted against him. He does, however, believe that certain people in China knew about the plot. It took some effort on my part to persuade him that I knew nothing about this and that our government was in no way involved with the coup attempt.”
“Does this mean that the Russians now won’t support our plans for Taiwan?” whispered Cao.
“Yes, under the circumstances Mosin will most definitely not
support our plans,” replied Kai Liu. “And that’s a good thing. Because the man that you counted on, Nikolai Nemzhov, would have let us and the Americans fight it out, bleed ourselves to death, while he was going to move west, occupying Eastern Europe.”
“That’s impossible!” shouted Cao.
“Oh, it was not only possible, it was definite. Nemzhov was planning all along to lead us into the war and betray us. The Americans weren’t going to fight the war on two fronts. They were going to let him have Europe and he was going to let them crush us. He already had a deal with John Dimon. That’s why we were supposed to wait until Dimon came into the office. Who exactly came up with the idea of attacking Taiwan on the day of the American presidential inauguration?”
“It was Admiral Kaiping Li,” whispered Cao.
“Of course,” snorted Sun Yang. “Another traitor.”
“I am not a traitor!” protested Cao. “Whatever I did, I did for the glory of Greater China!”
“And how about the glory of your bank accounts?” retorted Kai Liu angrily. He pushed the piece of paper he had his hand on towards Cao. “President Mosin’s people did some forensic accounting of the SOFI transactions. Seems that you profited quite nicely back in 2019. And of course we always knew that you’ve taken tens
of millions in bribes over the past fifteen years.”
“Please forgive me,” uttered Cao faintly.
“Well, General, I can forgive bribe taking and corruption as long as it’s outside of the public eye. What I can’t forgive is a bad judgment. You have almost gotten us into a disastrous war because you let someone blackmail you. For that, you’ll have to pay.”
“How? I’ll do anything!”
“Thank you, I appreciate your loyalty to the Party in this matter. The situation in the country is tense, people are angry. Since we now can’t direct their anger against the Americans, we will do some show trials to demonstrate that we are tough on crime, even when it happens at the highest echelons of power. You and Admiral Li will be arrested and tried for bribery and corruption. You will publicly confess, you will make the proper statements. In exchange, you will be allowed to live and your family will be treated well.”
Kai Liu got up, signaling that the meeting is over.
“Thank you, Comrade General Secretary,” whispered General Cao.
Laguna Beach, CA
It was time to go, before they started worrying. Jennifer took one more look at the rocky part of Emerald Bay Cove across the water. She wore large sunglasses and a hat, craving solitude and anonymity. The Secret Service didn’t know whether they were still supposed to protect her or not. She told them to leave. Tom, the one that grew close to them, asked: “Mrs. Kron, let us stay. You may still need us.”
There was guilt in his eyes, in his posture. The innocent guilt of not being able to save Jeff. She shook her head: “No.”
How did it all come to be? A chain of random events stretching over eighteen years: her father somehow having a role in Jeff’s release, Jeff coming to thank her, accidental involvement in politics that grew into a movement... And now he’s gone. Just like that. A few days ago she said bye, and that was it. Why didn’t she stay with him? Better yet, why didn’t she insist that he come with her? She was angry at him, so angry... The people from the movement wanted something from her, they were looking up to her as if she was the one with the answers. Jennifer turned off her phone so she didn’t have to talk to them.