Levels of Power

by Mike Gilmore

  He paused for a few moments as he gathered his thoughts. “The president’s bill certainly addresses the corporate tax problems, and his drum-beaters have stirred the public to a high fever. However, all that said, I think the president has taken a Band-Aid approach to fixing a tax problem that should be resolved by fixing the basic problem. That means rewriting the corporate tax codes to close all the loopholes corporate America and the foreign companies have been exploiting for years. The new tax bill would probably be two thousand pages long.” He paused again. “All of you know how I feel about huge pieces of legislation.”

  Before he could continue, they all spoke together. “If it’s more than one hundred pages, then we probably can’t afford it.”

  Randy looked at the people around the table and started to laugh with them at their jab at one of his personal mantras. He reached for the cloth napkin still in his lap and wiped his mouth. During the meal, he had been facing Pall Mall East Street and occasionally watching the people walking by the restaurant. He had just laid the napkin on the table next to his water glass when his hand froze in place.

  His eyes locked on a figure on the other side of the street. The younger man, dressed in a heavy black turtleneck sweater and blue jeans with black walking shoes, looked very familiar. His hair, showing beneath a wide-brim hat, was black and curly. His skin tone was dark, an uneven, thin beard pattern on his face. He was not a black man: probably European, Persian, or maybe Arab.

  Randy watched the man use a cell phone to take a picture of Trafalgar Square, almost a full block away. The man dropped the hand holding the phone to his side and glanced over his right shoulder, shifting Randy’s view from profile to full-face.

  Even though the hat partly hid his face, Randy was certain about the man’s identity. He was looking at a ghost from his recent past. Only three years earlier, the man across the street had shot Randy Fisher twice in the chest from a fifteen-foot distance.

  Chapter 9

  London

  Saturday, November 28, 2015

  12:30 p.m.

  Annie was the first to see the strange look cross Randy’s face. She had been waiting for him to finish his answer to her question. She looked at Randy and then quickly swiveled to look over her left shoulder at whatever had drawn his attention from the group at the table.

  “What is it? What are you looking at?”

  Annie turned back to Randy. The others took a quick look out the window but then turned back to Randy. From the look on his face, something was certainly upsetting him.

  Randy watched the stranger across the street who had paused to take some pictures with a cell phone camera. The man adjusted a backpack slung over his right shoulder and then walked on toward Trafalgar Square.

  Randy Fisher was no longer a tourist. He looked at Arthur Willis and pointed his right index finger at his father-in-law. “Arthur, pay the check and take everybody back to the hotel. Stay there. Stay together in Annie’s room. I want to know where everybody is at all times.”

  He rose from his chair and turned toward the nearest door from the Texas Embassy Cantina that would exit onto Pall Mall East.

  Annie Fisher called after her husband. “Randy, what is going on? Where are you going?”

  Randy paused only long enough to turn his head and talk over his right shoulder. “Do as I say; now!”

  Without another word, ignoring the stares from other restaurant patrons and his own family members, he rushed out the side door onto Pall Mall East Street. He turned right toward Trafalgar Square in the distance, looking for the man.

  He could not see him. He quickly looked back the other way. Had the man turned around in the few seconds Randy had taken his eyes off the person now consuming his attention? Was he walking away from Trafalgar Square?

  No. He had been taking pictures of the square from outside the restaurant. Randy started to jog toward the square. He was a long city block away, but he covered the distance in less than thirty seconds. He had to pause for heavy traffic when he came to where Pall Mall East curved south and became Trafalgar Square Road.

  Over the top of the cars making the turn from the Trafalgar Square Road to Pall Mall East, he searched for the man as he waited for a break in the heavy noontime traffic. He could not see him. He had to remember the traffic pattern flowed right to left and not step into the fast-moving combinations of taxis, private automobiles, and trucks supplying goods and services to the hotels, restaurants, and shops in this busy tourist location.

  Directly across the street from where he stood was the fourth plinth, located on the northwest corner of Trafalgar Square. This particular structure was different from its three counterparts, also located within the boundary of the square. The two southern plinths carry sculptures of Henry Havelock and Charles James Napier.

  Major General Havelock, born April 5, 1795, died November 24, 1857, at the age of sixty-two, was a British general associated with India who had recaptured Cawnpore from the rebels during the Indian Rebellion of 1857. During the final year of his life, Havelock commanded a division during the Anglo-Persian War. He was present at the action in Muhamra, and later his troops were engaged in the Indian Rebellion.

  Throughout August of that year, Havelock and his troops pursued and destroyed all mutineers and insurgents, despite being heavily outnumbered. His years studying the theories of war and his experience in earlier campaigns by the British Army came to good use. His goal was to relieve Sir Henry Lawrence at Lucknow and Wheeler at Cawnpore.

  Three times, he advanced toward Lucknow but decided to hold his position to preserve his troops, nearly wasted by disease and the hardship of battle. Finally, with the arrival of reinforcements on September 25, he was able to take the fort, only to be forced to take shelter from a second group of rebels who had arrived to retake the stronghold once again.

  The attack by the rebels failed, and Havelock was again successful. But the strain of battle and fatigue had taken a terrible toll on the general. He died on November 24. He lived long enough to learn his new title of baronet, earned for his victorious march. He never knew of his promotion to major general.

  Sir Charles James Napier, born August 10, 1782, died August 29, 1853 at the age of seventy-one, was another general of the British Empire under Queen Victoria. He was the commander-in-chief in India and most notable for conquering the Sindh Province in what is now Pakistan. Perhaps one of the most interesting stories about General Napier involved a Hindu priest complaining to him about the prohibition of Sati by British authorities. This was the custom of burning a widow on her husband’s funeral pyre. According to his brother William Francis Patrick Napier, the general had taken very little time before delivering his response.

  “Be it so. This burning of widows is your custom; prepare the funeral pile. But my nation has also a custom. When men burn women alive we hang them, and confiscate all their property. My carpenters shall therefore erect gibbets on which to hang all concerned when the widow is consumed. Let us all act according to national customs.”

  The northern plinths, larger than the southern plinths, were designed to have equestrian statues, and the northeastern plinth had one of George IV. The plinth directly across the street from Randy never reached completion due to lack of funds. Today the location is special to the square and used to display a changing scene of various works from contemporary artists.

  To Randy’s right he could see the main attraction of Trafalgar Square, Nelson’s Column. To his left was the huge National Gallery building that was to have been his recommendation for the group’s last day in London. Now his focus was far from sightseeing as he tried to catch sight of his target. The traffic cleared enough for him to dash across Trafalgar Road into the square. As he walked past the fourth plinth, he approached the first of the two great fountains inside the square.

  The fountains, built in the late nineteen thirties, replaced the original two structure
s, which failed to work properly. The water spurts from the original fountains received comparisons from local citizens to the opening of a bottle of beer. Removed by local artisans, the fountains found new homes in Ottawa, where they are still sputtering away. The newer models can shoot water as high as eighty feet on a very quiet day without a breeze. The addition of LED lights of various colors added to the attraction of the fountains.

  Hundreds of tourist and local Londoners were spending their lunchtime sitting around the edge of the fountains. Randy continued to try to locate his target. He kept turning in all directions. He finally walked to the edge of the closest fountain and stepped up on top of the outer rim near the north side of the fountain that kept water from overflowing into the square. Several people nearby were giving him dirty looks and wondering what the stranger was up to.

  From his slightly elevated position, Randy continued to look around. He was about to drop back down to the pavement when his target walked out from behind the second fountain in the direction of Nelson’s Column. The hat was distinctive from what other people on the square were wearing. His target was still taking pictures with his cell phone.

  Randy jumped off the concrete lip of the pool and ran around the northern outer perimeter of the fountain toward his quarry. He had to step around the many people between himself and the man who had shot him three years ago.

  Past the fountain, he finally caught sight again of his target. Randy’s position was sixty-some yards away, but he moved faster and in a straight line, fewer people now separating him from the man. He had only taken a few long strides before the man suddenly turned and saw Randy coming out of the thick group of people near the first water fountain. Even with the distance between them, Randy could see the man’s facial expression change to recognition and shock.

  Suddenly the hunt turned into a chase. The man turned toward the most populated spot on Trafalgar Square and broke into a run. His object was Nelson’s Column and the four large bronze lions guarding the monument, surrounded by hundreds of tourist.

  The man had only about twenty yards to travel to the northeast lion. Randy was more than twice that distance from the popular tourist attraction. He would never reach his target before he lost him among the spectators.

  The four magnificent lions were almost 148 years old. According to legend, the lions will come to life if Big Ben chimes thirteen times. The film producers of the 1967 James Bond movie Thunderball ignored this myth when they used thirteen chimes of the world’s most famous clock to accede to the evil Specter organization’s demands for the return of two stolen twenty-megaton nuclear devices.

  Randy increased his speed as he raced toward the object of his attention, now approaching the closest lion. He remembered reading that the original designs for the lions called for granite but instead were cast from bronze said to come from captured French cannons. Another tidbit of information he found amazing was that the casts were hollow. Sir Edwin Landseer designed the magnificent creatures using a cast taken from a dead lion that belonged to the King of Sardinia. When first revealed to the British public, the lions were ridiculed for their reclining posture instead of standing tall and projecting strength and dignity. Today they are one of the biggest tourist attractions in London and pay for all the attention they receive from the tourist and local visitors. Recent examinations had shown extensive damage inflicted by tourists climbing on the backs of the lions, especially at the tail sections. Some experts have warned of the possibility of the lions collapsing under the weight of their “riders”. The lion considered to be in the worst condition was the northeastern lion, Randy Fisher’s destination as he hurried to catch up with his target before he was lost among the tourists.

  Randy covered the distance to Nelson’s Column and stood between the two northern lions. All four statues, positioned in a perfect square and spaced twenty yards apart, protected the column located directly in the center of the lions.

  The centerpieces of the square was the 170-foot tall column composed of Dartmoor granite and bronze, constructed between 1840 and 1843, honoring Admiral Horatio Nelson, who died at the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805. William Railton designed the column, and the Craigleith sandstone statue of Nelson is by E. H. Baily. The eighteen-square foot-bronze panels were cast from other captured French cannons. The original cost for the monument in 1843 was £47,000, but the statue received an overhaul in 2006 at a current-day cost of £420,000. At that time, the workers discovered the statue to be fourteen feet, six inches shorter than previously thought.

  Randy decided to move east around the northeastern corner of the monument and dodged between the sightseers. He made the turn at the corner and walked quickly along the outer edge toward the southeast lion. His quarry was no longer visible.

  He had almost reached the lion on the southeastern spot of Nelson’s Column when he caught sight again of his quarry. The man had already crossed the street beyond the monument and was now running past the statue to King Charles, still maintaining a fifty-yard advantage on Randy.

  Randy knew he needed to increase his speed if he wanted to catch up with his target. He broke into a fast run toward the street. The traffic at the intersection of Cockspur and Strand Street was just a heavy as when he had tried to cross from Pall Mall East into Trafalgar Square—perhaps heavier because cars and trucks from Northumberland Avenue also entered the traffic pattern around the Charles statue.

  Randy saw a slight break in the traffic flow when two cars suddenly tried to occupy the same spot. Amid the honking car horns, screeching tires, and angry drivers, he made a dash across the busy street into the center island occupied by King Charles sitting astride his horse on a granite pedestal.

  Randy had learned a little-known fact. The specific location of the statue was also the exact spot that all road distances to London are measured from within the country. All information about the distance to London on any signpost throughout the country was determined from that central point.

  Randy continued his mad dash over the traffic island and crossed through the heavy traffic again onto the eastern sidewalk of Northumberland Avenue. While dodging the heavy traffic moving in the seemingly wrong direction, he had lost sight of his objective. He tried to reacquire his target, but the man was nowhere in sight. He had lost him.

  Chapter 10

  London

  Saturday, November 28, 2015

  12:50 p.m.

  Randy stood still among the Londoners walking past him as he searched for the man. That was the only way he could think of him. He had no name or nationality with which to identify his target. Only the fact that someone possessed the mirror image of the man who shot him three years ago and tried to set off a nuclear device in his home city in South Carolina made him continue in his search. There was no doubt the man he was chasing was not the terrorist from three years ago. Randy had absolute proof the terrorist was dead. However, the fact they looked exactly alike meant he needed to catch the man and determine his identity.

  The wind was starting to pick up; dark clouds were moving in overhead to block the sunshine. It appeared the warm, moderate weather London was enjoying was about to end. Randy had left his overcoat at the Texas Embassy Cantina and was wearing a long-sleeve white cotton shirt over dark brown slacks. His sports jacket started to flap in the strengthening wind.

  He stood at the intersection on Northumberland Avenue and The Strand. The entrance to the Charing Cross Subway Station was only a few feet away. If the man had entered the subway system with other pedestrians as Randy crossed the heavily congested streets, then he probably had lost him.

  Randy looked south down the length of Northumberland Avenue, but there was no sign of his target. He looked east up The Strand. The busy city street, congested with traffic, sidewalks filled with noontime pedestrians, offered a wealth of sights and sounds, adding to potential hiding places. Huge buildings and many doorways offering dozens of spots for his advers
ary to hide filled both sides of The Strand.

  Randy was about to look back down Northumberland when he noticed a body leaning out from the doorway entrance to the Waterstones store, located in a huge building nearly seven stories tall, with over sixty yards of frontage along The Strand. Was that his man?

  The answer came almost immediately. When his target noticed Randy looking back, he stepped backward, out of Randy’s view. A few seconds later Randy saw the man break from the bookstore entrance and dash east toward the train terminal. Randy broke into a full run. Now it was a race between one man and another.

  The area was one of the busiest in all of London, among the most heavily populated area in the City of Westminster. Hotels like the Corinthia, the Royal Horseguards, and the Guoman were all within a few minutes’ walking distance. Dozens of restaurants were located there, offering almost any style of ethnic food to satisfy any person’s taste buds. Centers for higher education, like the King’s College Medical School and Courtauld Institute of Art, were within the confines of the area. Tourists could find many spots of interest, like the Cenotaph, which became the center focus of the British population every year on the Sunday closest to November 11 as they paid homage to the victims of two world wars. No serious student of architecture would want to miss visiting the historic St. Martin-in-the-Field Church designed by Scottish architects James Gibbs.

  Randy moved as quickly as possible as noon lunch ended, dodging pedestrians on the street and people leaving the restaurants and shops. He could see the railway station and ran for the entrance. His target had already entered the hotel directly connected to the huge transportation hub complex.

  London was one of the most densely populated cities in the world. During the Cold War of the nineteen fifties and sixties, thousands of Europeans escaped from their countries, fearing the domination of the Soviet Union during that time. Travel to the United States was difficult and the shorter distance to the United Kingdom was more attractive. Over time, the population of London changed with the addition of different ethnicities. London was a magnet, and more people moved there to live with family members. Of the city’s thirty-two boroughs, thirteen were in Inner London and nineteen in Outer London.