The lead story in National outlined the President’s plans, in a move reminiscent of British political overhauls, to reshuffle the Cabinet by having five Secretaries trade assignments among themselves. In addition, three Secretaries’ resignations would be requested, their positions to be replaced by new members acceptable to the highly-weighted opposition holding control of both the House and Senate via pre-confirmation confirmation hearings.
City trumpeted the revelation that The Jennings Foundation was in serious discussions with the P+Will+K architectural firm to design a one third scale replica of Frank Lloyd Wright’s never constructed skyscraper, The Illinois. The massive edifice would contain 176 stories and rise to a height of over seventeen hundred feet, easily making it the most spectacular building ever erected.
In a related story, The Jennings Foundation announced its total gifting for the current fiscal year would exceed 200 billion dollars for the fifth straight time. For the third year, the largest individual beneficiary would be the City itself with over 22 billion dollars in the pipeline, roughly divided among cultural expenditures, infra/extrastructure needs and the usual fun projects. One of the latter, the awarding of tens of millions in a lottery held for individuals who completed 20 hours of verified volunteer work in any given month, might offer an even larger Grand Prize than in the past.
He skipped Money and Sports to see if Crime carried the story which had broken on the late news the night before. It did, delivered in stunning detail.
Jamie Castillo, the United States Attorney for the District of New Mexico, had filed a 226 count indictment against Garrison G. Hanson and Larry Lee, seven named co-defendants and Does 1-99 for their participation in what he termed “the most comprehensive, cleverly masterminded, cunning and costly art fraud ever perpetrated.” Hanson, the executor of the estate of James Lisle Davidson (aka J. Lionne-Demilunes), after taking possession of the bulk of the artist’s Combat Art aggregate, had embarked upon “a scheme within a scheme within a scheme” that had fooled a worldwide group of wealthy art collectors, reaping uncountable dollars in profits.
With absolute control of the estate’s assets and the insatiable demand for Lionne-Demilunes creations, not to mention the truism that collectors will pay exorbitant premiums to become the first owners of rare works, the executor was able to set any conditions he chose for the slow, discrete distribution of the paintings including unusually complex contracts covering considerations regarding confidentiality, certificates of authentication, retention of rights to reproduce images and supposed tax advantages to the purchasers depending on where, when and how the transactions were finalized.
Through the use of customized state-of-the-art optical scanners, chemo fusing injectors, ultra-resolution 3D printers and a Samsung Spectral Enhancement Mainliner II, the small group of talented forgers led by Lee was able to create exact duplicates of Combat Art. In addition, via an extremely sophisticated computer program, Lee had scanned thousands of images of the works of Pablo Picasso and Jasper Johns which were then analyzed using a multifaceted algorithm. That being done, the machinery was able to imagine then create “new” paintings by the two artists which, when coupled with forged provenance documentation were passed off as trophy acquisitions to unsuspecting buyers. With this considerable inventory, Hanson was able to devise appealingly mysterious transactions sometimes involving as many as four collectors, foisting counterfeits upon his grateful dupes and retaining the original Combat Art works for future use. One falsified image, Susanna and the Pharaoh, was believed to now be owned in separate versions by at least three different individuals.
The prosecutor reported that his office had initially ignored vague leads concerning unusual transactions being conducted by the Estate but then began an in-depth probe following contact with Julia Gracy, the Estate’s curator. According to Gracy, her suspicions had been piqued upon receiving a request for background information from an individual whom evidently had purchased one of the largest Combat Art paintings which she was certain belonged to someone else. After scouring the internet for even the smallest of references to ownership of specific Lionne-Demilunes works (that ownership being required to remain confidential for two years following the date of sale), she began to see indications that other duplicate sales had occurred.
Castillo wouldn’t speculate on the myriad legal ramifications concerning third parties caught up in scheme though did report that what were to be believed to be most of the major works in the Lionne-Demilunes oeuvre had been located at a ranch house owned by a Hanson associate and would be held for evidentiary purposes before being transferred to Davidson’s mother. Additionally, the prosecutor revealed that eight persons of interest were being sought, including former Southern United Enterprises officer Trisha Lane who was believed to have “left, not necessarily fled” the United States for “a place or places unknown to my office.”
Stonetree looked to the kitchen as Sharon shuffled in wrapped in the huge yellow robe he’d bought a few days before. She yawned and rubbed her eyes, then opened the refrigerator door. She slowly removed a carton of milk then just as slowly replaced it.
She yawned again as she crawled onto the couch and snuggled closely against him. In a few moments she’d be asleep again, if she wasn’t already.
While the treatment was still in its earliest stages—Sharon one of the fortunate few to have been chosen for the first non-blind round—the seven day Camvac regimen was proving to be even more effective at curing CYD than it had been in the 97% of subjects that showed positive responses in the double-blind trial.
She was on her fifth day of the program and had thus far demonstrated a textbook response, already having lost eight pounds and counting on dropping another five by the time of her final dose. Despite the fact she was sleeping close to 20 hours a day, the extreme fatigue and listlessness was a small price to pay.
The weight would return as quickly as it was lost, the fatigue replaced by what was best described by patients as cold, fresh energy. The brilliant dreams most patients experienced, focused on peace and tranquility, would subside but the memory of them would endure.
Not wanting to disturb her, he swiped to Arts & Entertainment.
Cheyenne, Wyoming Mayor Sam Hixsoon announced that revised estimates indicated more than 175,000 fans had flooded into the capital the weekend of Wexford’s memorial service and that most of the misdemeanor charges—mostly involving disorderly conduct, public intoxication and trespassing—filed against attendees would be dismissed. Donations for a monument commemorating the event, held a month after the singer was taken off life support, had surpassed the $27 million mark and the City Council was examining options including a museum featuring an adjoining sandwich shop modeled after the one built in his Jackson Hole mansion.
In a related story, the singer’s former manager Douglas Smite was said to be considering a plea agreement to avoid facing a possible death sentence in his upcoming trial for the bombing of a Pittsburgh police station which resulted in five deaths. Two accomplices had already entered into deals for 20-40 year sentences in exchange for their cooperation with prosecutors.
Standoff! creator Franklin Potcheck, in a segment taped on Thursday for broadcast on Kurt Andersen’s popular PRI radio show Studio 360 the morning before, revealed the headlining act slated to appear on New Year’s Eve in the 19,000 seat showroom at his Las Vegas Prism resort the night before the final match in its $100 million World Standoff! Tournament would not be pop star Peggy Quinlan.
It was no secret that there’d been a falling out between the singer and Potcheck as evidenced by a very public screamfest held at a posh eatery in Chicago weeks earlier that had ended with her not only knocking over their table but an additional four of other diners as she made her exit. When the host calmly inquired as to the reason for this surprising announcement, the entrepreneur responded “Kurt? Mr. Walbee and I, after consultation with our friend and trusted advisor Jip Spotswood, have decided Margaret lacks the maturity, and
I dare say high-wattage skills and charisma, appropriate for the levels necessary to qualify for what I’d humbly suggest is going to be the biggest rock concert ever held in the history of the universe.”
When pressed about exactly who would be appearing, he’d only offered that there would still be a pair of concerts: the act on the 30th to baptize the showroom now set in stone (though temporarily remaining a secret) while negotiations regarding the New Year’s Eve extravaganza were “continuing as we speak.” He recommended listeners check in at Pinkiefinger “around 6:00 eastern Saturday” for a possible update.
After thanking Potcheck for stopping by, his guest added “You know that fascination you have with American Icons, Kurt?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Would I be correct in guessing you’ve never seen one as it was being created?”
“You would.”
“Then perhaps you could be our guest for a wonderful weekend and join Jonathan for some give and take. The remuneration won’t be bad and will be broadcast to a slightly larger audience than is listening to us this morning.”
The host must have been stunned, leading to an unedited nine seconds of dead air finally broken by Potcheck’s chuckling.
“I could probably do that,” he finally replied.
Publishing industry blogs were overheating with rumors that Time Magazine was preparing a special issue naming Arthur Camden Time’s Man of the Century. The scientist’s isolation of the CYD envirus, the creation of its first treatments and now The Cure, along with the successful early trials of Alzkyagine were no doubt enough achievements to qualify him for this unique accolade. When his upcoming receipt of the Presidential Medal of Freedom and the Congressional Gold Medal, along with possible nominations (and odds-on wins) for a breathtaking three Nobel Prizes in the Chemistry, Medicine and Peace categories, it was generally agreed, as one writer put it, “Time’s timing is exquisitely timely.”
Stonetree squeezed Sharon’s shoulder and shook her gently but the most she could give in response was another yawn.”Are you awake?” he asked softly. He put his free arm around her and kissed her nose, a bit alarmed at how cold it felt, but remembered that a temperature in the 94 to 95 degree range wasn’t an uncommon side effect of Camvac.
“Are you going to use me for a pillow all day?” he whispered, brushing the hair off her forehead.”This is going to be a very busy Sunday. If I’m going to take care of you I’ve got to get the errands out of the way. What do you say? Let’s get you back to your kip.”
She opened an eye halfway, curled still closer and seemed to smile, but then she was out again. Which was fine with him as he’d now have enough interrupted time to read Spotswood’s piece and discover what had happened after he and Sharon had called it quits at 9:00 the previous evening.
Jip wasn’t in top form. His popular signature style, a conversational voice mixing an insider’s knowledge, allusions to all manner of cultural touchstones, autobiographic references, humorous ennui and most importantly what he’d once told Stonetree was this obsessive-compulsive need I have to find a contextual patina I can share with others…whatever the hell that means, was half a tone away from pitch perfect. The piece was obviously at best a slightly corrected first draft composed within tight time constraints. Nonetheless, it made for a great read and best of all were some winks and nods he’d inserted for a single reader’s enjoyment.
Just as he swiped back to the title and was about to reread the essay, his trans chirped. Seeing the caller’s ID, he answered “Yes, sir?”
“Dave? Arthur. Do you have a moment?”
“As many as you want.”
“First off, how’s Sharon faring? This is day six?”
“Five, actually.”
“And?”
“And she’s in the pocket. No complications, no surprises.”
“Excellent. Excellent.”
“Might need a new wardrobe if she keeps that weight off.”
“I’m sure you…it’ll come back but if not, I’m sure you could afford to take her out for a shopping spree.” He paused.”Pierre told me that…have things been finalized?”
“Wrapped up last week.”
In the aftermath of the Sirius encounter and the events leading up to it, he’d been placed on a paid leave of absence pending the examination of the issues involving his continued employment with Southern United Enterprises.
Favoring his remaining at SUE were the facts that Picard was extremely grateful for the role he played in prying Camden’s research from Lane’s hands—who’d been unceremoniously terminated the following morning—and the CEO’s firm belief, as he stressed in a Wall Street Journal interview, that the company was in need of a top to bottom shuffling and shakeup of both personnel and procedures, focusing on proven risk takers who bring original thinking to the table in order to not only alter our corporate vision, but to also strengthen our mission which first and foremost is providing our customers with exemplary service, care and products.
Cutting against retention were the facts he’d engaged in corporate espionage, and if given absolution for those activities the HR manual would be rendered worthless.
At Picard’s invitation the two had met for cocktails the previous Sunday evening. His offered resolution, contained in a short memorandum of agreement, was what he believed “a reasonable dénouement to help me save face and tide you over while you chart your undoubtedly promising future.” He’d remain on a paid leave of absence for as long as he chose, including his salary, benefits and the transfer bonus Lane awarded him. SUE would waive any claims it had or might have in the future arising out of The Incident. In return, he need only waive any claims arising out of his employment with the company.
“All’s well that ends well, eh?” Camden asked.
“I really can’t complain. I mean…that must have been a hard decision on his part.”
“Speaking of decisions, have you thought things over?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m about ready to wrap up all of the paperwork and get down to business. Much to my relief. I didn’t realize giving away money could be so complicated.”
The afternoon following The Incident, Picard and the scientist had met to discuss the way ahead. The only others in attendance were Charles Tessler and Guillermo Santana, their holdings in SUE providing more than enough leverage to approve any deal that might be reached. Even though the formulas Camden believed might result in cures for both CYD and Alzheimer’s were purely theoretical, the men stated that money wasn’t a concern. Unstated was the fact they were in it for the glory; to play major roles in the making of history.
Camden’s outline in return for licensing his brainchildren to SUE was heavily weighted in the extreme. Namely, to himself.
He’d require a large research and fulfillment staff of his choosing and compensated as he determined, to be based at an off-site facility furnished with any resident or outside technology currently available.
He’d have use of one or more of SUE’s corporate jets for his or his associates needs.
He’d have a team of lobbyists, attorneys and political rainmakers to smooth over any regulatory issues to insure, when he was confident in the products, that testing and government approval were mere formalities.
He’d immediately be awarded five percent of Southern United Enterprises stock, doubling his stake in the company to ten. His remuneration on sales of Camvac, Alzkyagine and any additional medications related to them would be based on an escalating royalty schedule.
Finally, the SUE Charities and the three men would provide the seed money for an as-yet-to-be established charitable foundation bearing his name to the tune of ten billion dollars. Each.
The contract was signed as soon as the terms were cleared by the quartet’s respective counsel.
“Who’s on board?” Stonetree asked.
“I had a nice meeting with Jett Jennings last week. Her, Jamie Black and Jim Tuitte. Ever seen her place?”
&nbs
p; “Jett’s? Just from the outside.”
“Quite an operation. Being at the top of the Forbes list seems to have its advantages,” he chuckled.
“So how’d things go?”
“Not bad. Not bad at all.” He paused.”Ms. Jennings was very understanding and helpful. Very generous.”
“She’s known for that.”
They both laughed.
“So the deal is,” Camden continued, “Jamie comes over for a year as COO, 18 months at most, to get us up and running. Tuitte fills in for her in her absence then we give things a second look.”
“A second look?”
“David, hear me through.”
“I’m sorry. Go ahead.”
“Jamie said she’d stay no more than a year and half because she’d like to have at least another year at Jennings to make sure she’s got everything there in order before taking an early retirement. Jim, by that time, will have the chops to achieve the summit of all things foundational, COO of Jett’s little shop.” He hesitated a beat.”She’d be an extraordinary mentor. Jamie knows I want a permanent replacement. Jamie knows who.”
“Who?”
“Somebody who needs to learn the ropes.”
Those, Stonetree knew, were some ropes he was unfamiliar with.”Can’t argue with that.”
“Three options. Choose one, please. I’ve got a huge pot of Mom’s Famous Chili on the stove that needs a stirring and a seasoning check.”
In their conversations over the past few months, Camden had implied that he eventually wanted Stonetree to be in charge of day-to-day operations with the founder of The Camden Foundation initially holding the titles of Chairman and CEO. Bringing Jamie Black or Jim Tuitte over as the first President and COO was always on his wish list for practical and especially credibility reasons, providing TCF with an immediate pedigree in charitable circles.
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