“Mr. President? Are you going to beat someone if they are trying to break into your house?” Hampton Ray joked walking in, pointing to the bat in Xavier’s hands.
“What the hell is going on Ray? It’s five o’clock, in the morning, on my one vacation day I get to take a year?” he moaned, “The only day I ever get to sleep in!”
Hampton Ray, slid his hands into his pockets, “Mr. President, there has been an accident.”
Rove sighed lowering the bat and asking flatly, “What kind of accident?”
“Some time around midnight last night James Kompco was killed on highway 100. Authorities found his car completely destroyed. About fifteen minutes before, the fire alarm had been pulled at the Republic Power Company’s large plant, where Kompco was suspected to have been working late. He flipped his car while getting onto highway 100, and unfortunately collided with the fire trucks and ambulances responding to the initiated fire alarm system. Due to the collision, his car was mangled, and we suspect he was dead on impact,” Ray sounded remorseful sitting down on one of the decorative couches of the Presidential Manor.
“Hunny, what is going on?” Rachel screamed coming down the staircase also carrying a baseball bat.
“What is with your family and baseball bats?” Ray asked standing up and pointing to Rachel, “Let me to you all something. A Louisville Slugger may be good for beating baseballs, but if you were being attacked or robbed, they don’t stand up well to a cold .45.”
“Shut up Hampton,” Rachel sternly moaned moving down the staircase, at a slower rate than before.
“Rachel, everything is alright. I was just speaking with Ray about something that happened last night,” Xavier said attempting to ease his wife.
“Ugh,” she stopped, “It is always something with you. A crisis here. A meltdown there. I am really getting sick of this shit.”
Rove rolled his eyes, “Go back to bed Rachel, I will take care of it.”
She moaned even louder moving back up the staircase, “I’m getting real sick of this shit.”
Turning back to Ray, “Ok, but why would you come and wake me up at five am by knocking on my door and bringing the – is that the National Guard?” Rove asked freaking out and going to the door. In his driveway was a military grade humvee with its emergency lights on. “Can you please get them to turn off their lights, they are going to disturb all the neighbors.”
“Mr. President, there is something else,” Ray said slowly, as if stalling. When Rove demanded the information, Ray sighed and said, “There is reason to believe James Kompco’s death was not an accident, but in fact a murder.”
Rove turned his head and let go of the door, “Who would want to murder James Kompco? Yeah he may not be the best CEO but that surely isn’t reason to have him killed.”
Ray put his hands back in his pockets, “That information is still not available, but I could imagine that maybe a few of the big investors would want Kompco’s head on a plate. With that being said, the entire plant has been put under surveillance and the National Guard, Villaggio and Ponchertrain police are working together to search for any indication of struggle. They’ve already found some blood smears, and a couple bullets in Kompco’s office. Weirdest thing though, is that the surveillance cameras were disengaged an hour before the accident, and Kompco’s emergency call button was disengaged as well. The wires were cut,” Ray said nodding his head, scissoring his pointer and middle fingers.
“Yep I would say that all points to murder. But I’m no investigator,” Xavier sat down on the bench attempting to process what was going on. He then looked at Ray, “And again, why did this require you and the National Guard to come knocking on my door at five am?”
At that moment, the door opened again and General Thomas Laurels along with the National Security advisor marched into the Presidential Manor.
“Good Morning Mr. President,” General Thomas Laurels removed his hat, and shook the President’s hand after saluting him.
Xavier looked at his robe, “I apologize for not being more formally dressed General. I mean, I typically do not make a habit out of meeting with the head of my military in my pajamas,” he attempted to ease the tension that was brought in by the two men who entered.
“Good to see you, Mr. President,” the security advisor said stepping forward.
“Stewart Bush, good to see you survived paternity leave,” President Rove grinned, shaking the man’s hand, “We’ve missed you around the office. How’s the kid?”
“Oh she’s doing well,” he said looking around the house, “So I see the island’s gone to shit since I left a couple weeks ago.”
Rove rolled his eyes, and motioned for the three other men to come into his dining room where they could sit down and talk. Responding to Bush, Xavier joked, “I think it’s a little constructive retooling if you ask me,” he smiled as the four men all sat down.
General Laurels spoke up, “Mr. President we have reason to believe your life may be in danger.”
“And good morning to you too General. Can I offer you a pastry or some coffee with that interesting news?” Rove asked jokingly, “A CEO gets murdered and you automatically suspect I’m next on the list. There are 1.5 million other people on this island.”
National Security Advisor Stewart Bush spoke up, “Mr. President, times are changing. It would be inappropriate to not respond accordingly to the recent increase in threats on your life.”
Rove rolled his eyes, “Listen, I am the President. This uncomfortable situation comes with the territory. What would you like me to do about it? There are going to be loonies’ everyday walking this island insisting they want to kill me. They want unrest. We cannot begin setting policy and running around hiding just because one loon with a gun has an agenda. Well I have an agenda too, and it isn’t to hide from these lunatics. I came to this realization a long time ago. Shit like this, it’s going to happen and I just need to keep a level head, and not hide from my own people,” he moaned.
“With all do respect Mr. President, I would strongly disagree with you,” Stewart Bush articulated slowly. “I think we need to error on the side of caution moving forward.”
General Laurels nodded his head, “I agree, and so does Prime Minister Zhang. Therefore we are going to station you with a permanent Guardsman, whose job is to coordinate your security – at functions, in the tower, and even-”.
“Not here at my home,” Rove said sternly pounding his fist on the table.
“And even here at Presidential Manor, sir,” the General finished, “We have to Mr. President. How would this island function if we lost our President? Given much of the financial woes of recent days on the island that has resulted in declining tax revenue, we are certain to face some challenging decisions ahead. We cannot afford to lose you, or any of our elected officials.”
Looking around the table, “Gentlemen, I assure you we do not need to take these severe of precautions,” Rove insisted.
“I would have to agree with the other two, Mr. President,” Bush said rationalizing.
Rove took a deep breath, and crossed his arms. He moaned painfully, and rolled his head, conceding, “Fine, just one person and that’s it!”
“Good. You have been assigned Private Harvey. He is one of the most competent military police guardsmen we have,” the General shouted.
Rove rolled his eyes and lowered his head, as Ray nudged him. Leaning over, “When all this is over we need to have a quick chat about this Thursday.”
Rove racked his brain, finding it slightly difficult to focus, “What is this Thursday?”
“That meeting between you, Jon Pacer, Sensado and Peter Riddle from the Metropolitan Foundation Service. Something about their funding,” he said, “They’ve come to you to act as the mediator between the three of them.”
Rove sighed, “Ok we will talk about it later.”
He shook his head, ‘Just one day. God, all I wanted was one day away from all this.’
16
“Okay, quiet down,” Executive Press Secretary Elisabeth Mooring insisted, pushing her thin-wired glasses up her gently sloping nose. The Executive Press Corp was all a buzz from the news being leaked about the death of James Kompco. Lis Mooring herself was briefed just a couple hours after it happened, and although the Executive Office tends to be closed on National Holidays, that day was an exception. Thinking of the delicious bratwurst she and her husband were supposed to be grilling, she paused momentarily. Starting back up after the room had fallen slightly more silent, “As many of you all know traditionally the Executive Office of the President is closed today due to Memorial Day. However, I was called by Hampton Ray, the President’s Chief of Staff, and briefed me on a subject I think many of your newspapers will find interesting if you don’t already know.”
“Lis, does this have anything to do with James Kompco’s suicide?” A report shouted.
“This does concern James Kompco’s passing. However, I would tread softly when referring to it as a suicide,” Lis said pointing to her note pad, “Last night Mr. James Kompco, the embattled CEO of the Republic Power Company was pronounced dead after being pulled from his car just outside of the RPC’s large plant and headquarter building. There were no witnesses to the incident outside of the fire truck driver who was operating the truck that Mr. Kompco’s SUV slammed into. Authorities from across Virtagwalla have swarmed the site and have launched an unprecedented investigation. The reason I warn you to walk the line softly when referring to it as a suicide is because authorities are now believing that Mr. Kompco may have in fact been murdered,” she paused again, not believing what she was reading from the memo sent to her from General Laurels, “According to a memo sent directly from General Thomas Laurels of the National Guard, “numerous bullets and bullet casings have been found across the plant, starting in Mr. Kompco’s office, down the hall and stairs, and out into the parking lot. The most interesting bullet that has been found was lodged in the wheel well of Mr. Kompco’s SUV. Although the findings have not been officially announced, I am confident that we will discover there was in fact fowl play involved.”
She paused, as several hands shot up, “Has RPC expressed who will be replacing Mr. Kompco?”
Lis looked down, finding her notes woefully under documented, “I have no doubt the Board will bring in someone new as CEO, however I do not have the slightest idea of when that will be. That’s their circus, not ours.”
“Lis, will the President have any say in who the new CEO will be for RPC seeing as he helped to engineer the bail out for the power company?”
Nodding her head, “Absolutely not. The President is not a member of the Board of Directors of the company. As I have explained to you all multiple times, the loan that was given to the RPC is just that, a loan, it is not an investment into their stock or in anyway an investment into their actually ownership.”
A reporter raised his hand, and she called on him quickly, “What has been the President’s response, in terms of security, since this attack?”
Lis picked up a sticky note, relieved she actually had an answer, “The National Guard has decided he will be, from now on, escorted and tailed by an assigned Guardsman. Outside of that the President has placed the National Guard on alert for more potential acts of terrorism if in fact that is what Mr. Kompco’s death will be deemed.”
“Will the Guard assigned to the President be dressed in usual military attire?”
Lis snickered, “I imagine he will be there with camouflage, a beret, and probably even the shiny silver saber. The public just seems to go crazy for those ceremonial swords,” she looked over and saw Charlie McFuror waving in the door, “I’m sorry folks, the next briefing will be at 9:30.”
Bounding off the stage, and to the door she asked, “What’s up?”
“You just had to bring up the sabers didn’t you?” he asked rolling his eyes, his hands resting on his hips.
“You pulled me off the podium to criticize my infatuation with the National Guard’s sabers?” Lis moaned.
Charlie shook his head, “No, but that’s a good enough reason to do so in my opinion.”
“Then what’s up?” Elisabeth Mooring asked beginning to walk towards the elevator.
“The President is coming into the office for a bit and would like to meet with the staff,” Charlie communicated to Elisabeth as he pushed the button calling the lift.
“He’s in the office on Memorial Day?” Lis looked out the window as they waited for the doors to open to the elevator, “Oh Dr. Rove is not going to be very happy about that now is she?”
Charlie smiled, “She’s here, and she’s definitely not happy.”
Lis thought to herself about how much she empathized with Dr. Rove, still giggling in her head about the sabers, and salivating at the thought of the delicious brats she would be missing out on.
17
Eric Larynx’s started each morning with a cup of green tea, and an hour alone in his office speed-reading newspapers from around the world. This time allowed the creativity to flow within him, and permitted him to enjoy his office space as opposed to always feeling the pressure of being the President of his massive company. However, this particular morning, he knew he would have to cut his morning ritual short. He had a very special appointment coming in, and they hadn’t a lot of time to fool around.
“Dr. Rove proved rather difficult to schedule,” Susan explained to her boss a couple day’s prior, “But I was able to make something work. It would just mean saving the obituaries and cartoons till lunch,” she joked.
“Very funny,” Rove sighed.
It was a sunny day over Ponchertrain. Dr. Rachel Rove was quickly shuffled into Eric Larynx’s office. It was a temple built to honor the God, its builder, Eric Larynx. The afternoon when Susan had contacted Rachel, she was instantly taken off guard and flattered that Mr. Larynx, that wealthy tycoon wanted to meet with her. She was instantly skeptical. ‘Very few people ever have a reason to call up an environmental engineer,’ she pondered to herself getting into her car that afternoon.
“Aw well, you should at least see what he wants. He is kind of cute! I certainly would not mind having a reason to be alone in a room with him,” one of her girlfriends mentioned giggling, after Rachel spilled the details to them during one of her ladies’ spa weekends.
Rachel Rove was wearing a stunning skirt suit complete with a matching bag. When Susan knocked on her boss, Eric Larynx’s office door, she pushed Rachel into the room beyond after a few moments. Rachel found herself in a beautiful space, with enormously vaulted ceilings, expensive artwork, and a partial skeleton of a dinosaur. Larynx, whose feet were on his desk, quickly snapped up, put the paper down and coughed a couple times to clear his throat and organize his thoughts. Walking out from behind his desk, to the extremely stiff professor, he offered his hand, “Dr. Rove. It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person.”
Rachel shook his hand, “The pleasure is surely all mine Mr. Larynx.”
Letting go of her hand, he gestured to his sitting area, “Please, Dr. Rove, call me Eric, and please, feel free to take a seat. Would you be interested in anything to drink? Can I entice you into any coffee, green tea, scotch?”
Rachel didn’t know if he was being serious. She noticed the digital screen that was a map of the entire island. On the island were illuminated paths that she instantly assumed were the rail lines crisscrossing the nation. She was amazed by the luxuriousness of the furniture in the office, and yet it’s rather modern feel. She looked up at Larynx and shook her head, “No I think I am alright for now. Thank you,” she said moving jerkily over to the couches.
Larynx nodded his head, pushing a bit more, “Are you sure Dr. Rove? I have some very good scotch?” he smiled at her as she continued to look around.
“Is that a real dinosaur skeleton?” she asked pointing at the fossils.
Larynx put his hands in his pockets as he moved over towards it, “Yes. That is a Tyrannosaurus Rex, only the most vic
ious and brutal of the dinosaur kingdom. I bought its skull from an auction up in States during my college years. I have been collecting the pieces of the beast over the past decade or so. She is truly one of my most prized possessions,” he said grinning in its direction.
As if snapping out of a trance, Rachel shook her head and sat down calming herself, “Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Larynx I apologize for distract us from our meeting. I am sure you are an extremely busy person and have many important things on your plate.”
Eric laughed, and moved over to his desk grabbing his newspaper and green tea. Sitting down in a chair adjacent to Rachel, he informed her, “I’ll be honest with you Dr. Rove, usually this is my time to drink my tea and read the newspaper,” he snapped it open and began reading. Showing her the front page he asked, “Dr. Rove do you by chance regularly read the Virtagwallan Times?”
Rachel shook her head, “No. I do not. Is that why you asked me here? To inquire about on whether or not I read the Virtagwallan Times?” she asked anxiously.
Larynx shook his head. He collapsed the newspaper, and glazed over the anxious professor, “No. No that is not why I have asked you here. But that’s quite a shame that you do not, as the Virtagwallan Times has some fairly decent content,” pausing, sensing her anxiety, he continued, “Very well then, let me stop wasting your time,” he stood up and moved to his desk. Returning with a letter he handed it to Rachel, “This right here is a letter from the Minister of Transportation detailing the discussion that took place on the floor of the Parliament in the aftermath of a topic I brought to their attention.”
Responding to the annoyed look on Rachel’s face, “Judging by your facial expression, I am going to assume you care very little for politics, Dr. Rove. However this issue involves you. Well, it may involve you. I mean if you wish for it to, it can involve you.”
Rachel stood up, assuming she would get pulled into leveraging her relationship with her husband in order to push someone else’s political agenda. Grabbing her purse she scolded, “Thank you Mr. Larynx for your hospitality, but I think our meeting’s over. I will not be a pawn in one of your political games.”
utopia unraveling (The Virtagwala Series Book 1) Page 10