“That’s sounds a little harsh; maybe we could negotiate this to, let us say, thirty percent.” The President loves to bargain.
“No it needs to be fifty percent otherwise terrible things will happen in the world,” replies Charles. “I agree, I have always supported population reduction through proper family planning, is that what you had in mind?” the president asks.
“Not exactly, I plan on killing millions of indescribably undesirable people... those that I think are undesirable.”
“Oh” The President thinks for a moment. “Do you think that reflects traditional American family values?” he says weakly.
“Who cares, wouldn’t you agree that over-population is a major cause of the erosion of those American values?” Charles asks.
“You may have something in that Charles, Well, OK, I’ll sign it. In fact it sounds like a terrific idea,” says the President.
Charles smiles at the President, saying," I thought so too."
The President signs the document and hands it to Charles.
“Thank you Mr. President!” Charles says with a wry smile.
“You’re welcome Charles, before you leave; can I get your advice on something?”
“Of course,” Charles is delighted.
“As you know we’ve had this tragic war with the Middle East for the last fifty years or more. It’s been costing us thousands of lives and trillions of dollars, and I was wondering how you would try and end it?” Charles thinks for a moment and smiles and says, “Well, what do you think we should do?"
The President thinks for a moment "I guess I really don't know, or I would have ended it by now." "Well then, how would you like it to end?" Charles asks.
"Well they’re interfering with our oil supply which I find disagreeable, I’m displeased," the President responds.
"How would you feel if Russia was over here taking all your natural resources and giving the money they get for it to the four richest Russian families and you got nothing, bubkes?" Charles says in a rather saintly manner.
"I'd be enraged, very displeased," the President returns.
"Well there you go… now you understand the problem. Try and work it out,” Charles says and then thinks for a moment, "Or you could just nuke them, and then you would no longer be displeased." “That’s not much of a compromise, Charles, good thing you’re not President, I guess you’re not in favor of live and let live?”
Charles is angered by the president’s remark. “No, I’m for a brave new order,” he says.
“You are, that’s admirable,” the President is taken back.
“You see Bill, I would really like to be King, how does Charles the First sound?”
The President is suddenly frightened by Charles’ demeanor. “Good thing we live in America,” he says soberly.
“Yes it is Bill; it’s a very good thing,” says Charles on his way out the door.
Chapter 23 Ivan Kolinski was dressed in a fine new gray suit from Brooks Brothers and sporting a long drooping beard as he sat in the waiting room of the Electric Company’s central office on 14th street in NYC, his shoulders slightly slumped presenting a meek façade. The receptionist opened the small window into the waiting room and bellowed in a Brooklyn accent, "Mr. Davis will see you now.”
"Thank you Madame,” Ivan said nervously.
"You don't have to be nervous Mr. Kolinski, Joe’s a great guy," the receptionist said encouragingly. "Thank you," Ivan said timidly.
She pressed a buzzer that unlocked the door. Ivan walked through quickly carrying his old and worn traditional European style briefcase. He journeyed down the long hallway past cubicle after cubicle of people on phones; at the end of the long line of identical cubicles was a slightly larger cubicle that had a small plate next to the entrance with the name Joe Davis on it.
Ivan walked into the cubicle.
Joe Davis stood and Ivan extended his hand saying, "My name Ivan Kolinski."
"I'm Joe Davis, please come in and make yourself comfortable." Joe replies.
The two of them shake hands.
Joe’s workspace was undecorated containing only a photo of Joe with his arms around an absolutely enormous Saint Bernard and a small trophy under the picture, shaped like a large dog. Although the cubicle was the largest in a long line of cubicles it still was incredible small. Behind his desk was a cabinet covered with small models of trucks. One of them was a larger model of a fire engine. Joe was middle aged, bald in the front and white at the sides. He had a large, protruding gut, but a rather nice looking round face although somewhat pasty from never going outside and the glare of the ruthlessly unflattering fluorescent lights turned Joe an almost ghastly green. Ivan tried to sit down. The room was very cramped and Ivan’s knees butted up against the front of Joe’s metal desk.
"Do you mind if I set these here?" Ivan asked trying to set his briefcase in the chair next to his.
“That’s what chairs are for,” Joe responded.
“My name Ivan Kolinski.”
“Yes, you mentioned that, Hi, Ivan, is that Russian?” Joe inquires.
“Yes,” Ivan returns. He appears very insecure and Joe is somewhat surprised by his timidity.
"We have a lot of Russians in New York now," says Joe, trying to put Ivan at ease.
Ivan smiles but says nothing and there is an uncomfortable pause.
“What can I do for you?" asks Joe.
"Excuse me Joe, I very nervous," Ivan said.
"Am I your very first sales call?" Joe asked.
"Yes, I take sales job to sell envelopes," Ivan said. "So let me see what you’ve got. I use a hell of a lot of envelopes; who do you represent?" Joe asked. There is suddenly the sound of a ringing phone. Joe slightly taps the left side of his head and answers, “Yes, I can’t talk right now, bye.” He then taps his right temple.
Ivan is interested and confused; he stares at Joe surprised.
“Ivan,” he says, “haven’t you seen this, it’s the latest thing, an implanted phone. It’s the size of a pin head and they install it right into your brain. It works great. You tap the left temple to answer a call and you tap the right temple to cancel the call. You bend your head forward to turn off the phone completely. Look at this manual.” He takes out a manual around two inches thick, saying, “I got this off the Topple web site, it’s really simple once you’ve got all the moves down. I still have problems with the sounds in my head - it's sometimes confusing with all of my turning thoughts. I also hate the subliminal messages they implant in my sleep. Sometimes I wake up with urge to go out a buy a new car or I feel I need more insurance.”
“Interesting,” Ivan responds, “Can you have it removed?”
“Only after one year, that’s how long my service contract is for,” says Joe.
“Very interesting, “Ivan says.
The phone rings again. Joe taps the wrong side of his head “Oh, that’s so frustrating, I just killed the call.” The phone rings again, still flustered, he taps the wrong side of his temple again. “Damn piece of crap, I just cut the phone call off again,” Joe continues,” It really works much better than this Mr. Kolinski.” Ivan is clearly amused, “I’m sure it does; American technology.”
Joe is angered, “Are you making fun of us?”
Ivan quickly tries to correct the damage. “Oh no, I think American’s very clever. You invent jazz music which I like very much, and there is Walt Disney.” Joe is somewhat pacified, “Well, let’s get down to it, how can I help you?”
“I sorry, didn’t mean to offend,” Ivan says sheepishly. “You must be very glad to be in the United States.” “I am,” Ivan agrees.
Ivan's eye began to twitch. He wants to kill Joe. He imagines in his mind what Joe would look like with an ice pick protruding from one of his eyes. "I got out just in time with wife and family," said Ivan forcing a smile.
"Yeah, must have been rough living with those commie bastards," says Joe.
Ivan's eye began twitching uncontrollably.
>
"Is something wrong with your eye?" Joe says. "Yes I tortured by Russian Intelligence, eye very sensitive to light, especially fluorescent light," Ivan said, evoking sympathy.
"Let me see what you've got, Ivan?"
Ivan handed him an envelope, saying, "How would you like an envelope that your customers would look forward to licking, something that would make them pay their bill as soon as they got it? Just lick the envelope I gave you."
Joe licks the envelope and then licks it again and says, "It tastes and smells just like fried chicken," he says, licking his lips.
"Pretty good eh? We make paying your bills culinary experience," Ivan boasts.
"It’s terrific, Ivan."
Ivan hands Joe another envelope and he licks it eagerly.
"This tastes like a Burrito," Joe says, almost drooling. "So Joe, you get big point, and you order any flavor from our list of thirty flavors." Ivan boasts.
Joe appears excited and says, "Yes, we can offer different flavors to different areas of town. In Spanish Harlem we can offer taco flavor and the upper east side we can offer lobster bisque," Joe speaks as if it was a revelation.
"Exactly; how intelligent of you to see potential immediately,” says Ivan. You know Joe; all I want is test, just one district so you can see it works. We don't have to start real big; maybe just 2 zip codes to prove people would look forward to paying bills. They never know what flavor would be next." Joe has been getting progressively more excited and says, "Great idea!"
Ivan goes for the close, saying, "You know we provide all envelopes for test free. Here is price list and brochure from Culinary Enterprises; please, you think about and I call you tomorrow. Here are few extra envelopes if you need them to show around office."
"It looks good Ivan, let me run it past my boss; you know just respect and all that; he eats out of my hand."
Joe gets up from his desk, looks down the hall and checks to see if anyone is listening outside of his cubicle and says, "Let me ask you, would your company be interested in buying a couple of pedigreed dogs from me personally?"
Ivan is again amused "dogs? You sell me dogs, what kind of dog, eh?"
"They are very good dogs, Yorkshire terriers with papers and everything. Let's say $1500 per dog." You could see the greed in Joe's eyes, and Ivan could only see his eyes dripping blood."
"I no need dog!" Ivan exclaims.
"Sure you do Ivan, if you want to make this sale; you want three dogs, the best!" Joe said as if questioned. "Alright, I take dogs, and we have test, just like Russia."
Joe is very excited and says, "Call me tomorrow and we’ll arrange everything."
Joe shook Ivan’s hand as Ivan's eye twitched again and his smile turned slowly to a sneer from ear to ear. The phone rings in Joe’s head again; Joe taps the correct side this time saying, “Hello, I’m sorry, I’m having trouble with this new phone.” He loses the call, the phone rings again, “Shit, Oh, not you, I don’t know how to use call waiting, damn, I think that’s my arm.” Joe flexes his arm and says, “Hello – can I call you right back?” He taps his temple again. “Hello, oh damn, I lost everybody. Ivan I’ll talk to you later, I have to deal with this phone issue.”
*****
Ivan left and returned to EOJ headquarters. Charles was pacing in his office as Ivan entered and said, "Ivan, we have real problems, Sam is alive, and I want him dead!"
“OK, I take ca re of it - you never told me you wanted him dead, you said, ‘scare him a little.’ I scared him a little, scared is scared and dead is dead,” replied Ivan. “I told you to pop the bastard,” Charles is angry. “You didn’t!” Ivan insists.
“I most certainly did , Charles pauses a moment saying, “Well maybe I didn't, I can't remember,” and he snickers to himself.
Ivan was not happy with what Charles had said or the way he said it. He had killed men for lesser insults in his military days, but he knew he was in a new country and he had to work himself into a higher political position; then he could kill whomever he wished. He liked the United States; he immediately understood that politicians had to be corrupt and what they had to sacrifice to get the positions they held. They were criminals with idealistic personalities. That doesn't mean they couldn't do good. The problem has always been ‘good according to whom?’ He understood this and he planned to take full advantage of it.
"Do you want me to take charge of it personally?" Ivan asks.
"Yes, of course," Charles replied.
Charles saw the devil himself in Ivan, a man with no conscience about killing and at moments brilliant. He was a dangerous weapon and he didn't like using him, but he needed to move quickly for his plans to work. "Did you handle the sales job?" Charles asked. "Of course, I am good American salesman, we will have test, I sure of it," Ivan boasted, “plus three dogs.”
Charles asks quizzically, “dogs?” Then he sees Ivan’s big smile and continues, "Good, Sam doesn't know what we’re up to and he won't do anything stupid. He's going to try and make a deal with me for himself and Chase. He knows it's the only chance they have. So we'll wait, and when they come you'll kill them, kill them both."
"Good, killing them make me feel better, killing help me relax," Ivan reflected.
"I'm so happy for you," Charles put a large cigar in his mouth and lit it up saying, “Every man needs a hobby.”
Ivan and Charles were heading to the microbiology lab having a conversation. At that moment Sam was about to come around the corner and face them. He heard Charles and Ivan talking. He stopped and edged along the wall until he was within earshot, and listened.
“He must not leave this building alive. He must not reach Beneizen or Chase,” Charles hisses to Ivan. “I understand, you know I have too much to do. Kill Sam, kill a few million people in New York City, assume new responsibilities here, train new Guards, maybe I need assistant, maybe I need raise,” Ivan grins slyly.
Charles smiles, saying, “You want an assistant killer, maybe a mother who needs a part time job? Maybe the job is too much for you, maybe I need someone else.”
Ivan replies, “Charles you look grim, you need vacation, you are wreck, and maybe you get off my case, maybe you program one of Guards to do some of this work for me, eh?”
“I can’t, Guard actions leave a trace; they were built to leave a trace. Just kill him before he leaves the building and finish your test,” Charles walks away down the hall.
Sam does not move. He is no more than a few feet from Ivan. Ivan stands in the hall for a moment. They somehow feel each other’s presence. Ivan does not move and he listens. Sam then moves out into the hallway to confront Ivan.
“What are you doing Ivan?” Sam says.
“I just carry out orders,” Ivan replies, “I’m glad it’s like this, I love confrontation.”
“What are you planning to do in New York?” Sam asks.
“You were at meeting, you know most of what I’m going do, you just don’t know how, when, or where, and it doesn’t much matter, because I'm going to kill you,” Ivan says as he takes out a switch blade ice pick, presses the button and it opens with a snap. Ivan lunges at Sam who easily moves to the side, asking, “Are you going to use Bumba?”
“Maybe!” Ivan says as he lunges again.
“You should think again about killing me especially here, are you sure this is the place for it?” chides Sam.
Ivan lunges again and misses badly. Sam quickly gets out of the way and says, “What unholy alliances have you and Charles formed?”
Ivan slashes at Sam again, “What alliance, I hate fat pig?”
“You know Ivan you are rather stupid, as a matter of fact you are dangerously stupid. I built this place, and you and Charles think you can just walk in and take it over, this is my home.” says Sam.
Ivan instantly throws the ice pick at Sam who catches it in midair just before it plunges into his eye. “You missed Ivan,” he says with a smile.
“You think so” Ivan replies and out of his wrist flies a small
dart that hits Sam in the arm.
“You’re dead,” Ivan snarls.
Sam sees the small dart sticking into the shirt in his arm and immediately takes it out. He looks up at Ivan and then falls to his knees. Ivan looks on amused. “I thought it would be harder to kill you, bye - bye Sam, I have a city to kill,” Ivan walks away.
Sam pulls up his shirt and tries to find the puncture mark. He looks at his arm carefully and sure enough, very near the elbow is a small pin prick. He places his finger just before the small hole and presses very hard. He then rises and limps into the microbiology lab, goes over to a small refrigerator, opens it, and looks for a small bottle. He finds it and quickly injects himself with the fluid. He sits down in a chair and slumps back. Slowly he falls into a deep sleep. Ivan walks down the hall with a jaunt in his step back towards Charles’ office to give him the news. Charles is sitting at the end of his desk talking with Senator Lee.
“Excuse me, I not know you busy,” Ivan opens. “No problem, I was just updating Senator Lee. He’s very much in favor of our little test,” Charles responds cheerfully.
“I just want you know, that little problem has been taken care of,” Ivan smiles gleefully.
“Good Ivan, thank you for letting me know,” he responds.
“You welcome,” said Ivan as he leaves... He is happy; he can’t help his need for praise. It’s what motivates him; as much as he hates Charles he needs him for validation.
After Ivan leaves, Senator Lee says, “I have only one question for you Charles.”
“And what would that be?” Charles asks.
“Who is giving us our directives, is it the President?” “Yes, that’s right,” Charles responds.
“And who is giving the directives to the President?” Lee asks.
“The world committee, you know all that?” Charles is growing impatient.
“I‘ve heard rumors that the President is a Guard Charles, and I know he has not met with the world committee in months, all I want to know is what's going on,” Lee probes.
“Are you insane? That’s impossible, ridiculous,” Charles responds incredulously.
Sentinels of the Cosmos Trilogy Page 10