by Lee Gimenez
“Even if I were to agree, I would have to convince the Pentagon and Congress it was a good idea.”
“Mr. President, we have sources that keep us apprised of your military situation. They tell us that unless you raise salaries for your troops, you will experience a high desertion rate. As it is, because of your budget problems, you have had to freeze military salaries for the last five years. What would happen if we do not finance your bonds? As for your Congress, they are more than aware of your country’s massive debt. They also want to be re-elected. If their constituents do not receive the benefits promised by your generous entitlement programs, then they will not be re-elected. Remember what happened to your predecessor, President Cooper. He was a one-termer, because he tried to cut back on entitlements. Trust me, Mr. President. It will not be difficult for you to convince your Congress of the benefits of this deal.”
Wilson’s face blanched as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. His hands appeared to be shaking slightly, but he said nothing.
Chang smiled again, trying to soften the blow. “If you agree to our requests, we will purchase your Treasury bond allotment this time, and also purchase your allotment for the next six months. How does that sound, Mr. President?”
Wilson rubbed his forehead as if trying to shake off a bad headache. Eventually, he responded, his voice no more than a whisper. “I agree, General.”
Chang clasped his hands in a steeple. “Excellent. Excellent. I will process the paperwork immediately. Thank you, Mr. President. We are pleased that the People’s Republic of China and the United States of America are such close partners. Good day.”
The general reached over and turned off the monitor, relieved the teleconference was over. He had accomplished his goal. The Premier would be pleased.
Chang sat back in his chair and waited, knowing his assistant would come into his office in a moment.
Minutes later Captain Lin came in, a tall glass in her hand. She closed the door behind her and locked it. Smiling demurely, she placed the drink on his desk, took off her uniform jacket and hung it on a coat hook. As usual, she was wearing a tight shirt under the jacket and her curves strained against the material.
Walking behind him, she began massaging his shoulders. He started to relax almost immediately. The touch of her delicate hands was soothing but also electrifying.
Reaching across the desk, he picked up the glass and sipped the Canadian whiskey, the harsh taste burning his throat.
“I listened in on the conversation, sir,” she said as she continued the massage. “You were masterful.”
“Thank you, Lin.”
He had hand-picked this assistant over hundreds of applicants for the job and had never been disappointed. She was efficient and very discreet, something he was grateful for, since his wife of twenty years was a jealous and cold woman. But a man in his position could not afford a divorce. It would tarnish his reputation in the Communist Party. Instead he enjoyed the occasional tryst with Lin.
She kept massaging his shoulders while he sipped his drink.
When the glass was empty, she turned his seat around, so that he now faced her.
The demure smile still on her face, she slowly unbuttoned her shirt and unzipped her skirt. Then took off her underwear and let them drop to the floor.
Chang was breathing heavily now.
She carefully removed the thick eyeglasses from his face, folded them and set them on his desk. Then she sat on his lap and began to kiss him on the mouth. He groaned as she rubbed her naked body against him.
He leaned back in the chair as her hands unbuttoned his uniform. Moments later he savored the feel of her skilled hands on his bare skin.
She then straddled him and slowly lowered herself on him, the feeling so exquisite he almost exploded.
She put a finger to his lips. “Slow down,” she whispered. “Try to make it last.”
Closing his eyes, he took a couple of deep breaths.
But it was no use and he released, the sweet pain coming in a wild rush.
As he held her in his arms, he knew the passionate afternoon was far from over.
25 Days to Zero Hour
Zurich, Switzerland
Senator Megan Lewis waited in the bank director’s outer office and gazed out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the mountains in the distance. As a two-term senator and head of the U.S. Senate Banking committee, she had been to Zurich many times and never tired of the scenic landscape.
Turning back to her notes, she gathered her thoughts for the upcoming meeting. She had met with Director Henry Mueller before, but always under more agreeable circumstances. Today’s meeting would be difficult.
Moments later Mueller came out of his office and extended his hand. “Megan, always a pleasure.” He was a tall, handsome man, with Nordic good looks.
He led her back to his sleek, massive office and they sat in a seating area that overlooked a lake. The room was furnished with ultra-modern chrome and black-leather furniture. Original Picasso and Van Gogh paintings hung on the walls.
“Coffee or tea?” he asked as he adjusted his Hermes silk tie.
“No thanks, Henry. I’m fine.”
He nodded. “You said you had something urgent to discuss.…”
Megan put her notebook on a side table and leaned forward in the leather seat. Not sure how to begin, she blurted out, “How’s the family? Your kids must be in college by now.”
Mueller frowned, apparently not sure where she was going with this. “Yes. My two girls are at the university – one of them graduates next year.”
“Great, that’s great. You must be very proud of them.”
The man nodded, went quiet.
She glanced around the room, realized she’d better get on with it. “Henry, I’m sure you’ve been following the news about the U.S. economy?”
He choked back a laugh. “What part? I hear your movie and music industries are doing quite well.”
She forced a smile. “Yes, that’s a fact. No, I’m referring to our trade balance and our budget deficits.”
Mueller shook his head slowly. “Very sad, what’s happening. America used to be the leader of the free world. Now….”
“That’s what I needed to discuss with you, Henry.”
“I see.”
“Your firm is the leading bank in Switzerland. You have close ties with the Swiss government. And you also have operating control of banks in Germany, England and the rest of Europe. I’ve done a lot of research. Your cash flow is tremendous and your balance sheet impeccable.”
A small smile spread on his lips. “We have done good research, Megan.”
She tucked her short blonde hair behind her ears. “On the other hand, the U.S. is running enormous deficits. Our national debt is out of control. We can barely pay the interest on the debt, let alone the principal. And we keep digging ourselves into a deeper hole every year. We finance the debt by issuing more and more Treasury bonds, but it’s getting harder to find buyers.” Her voice lowered. “The Chinese are financing much of our debt.”
He nodded, a grim look crossing his face. “I’m aware of that. My sources tell me the Chinese are exerting significant control over your country.”
“I’m afraid so. The President’s hands are tied.”
“Very sad, Megan. But how can I help?”
Her face brightened. “That’s why I’m here. I have a proposal for you.”
Mueller laughed. “You’re a very attractive woman, but I’m happily married.”
She smiled back. “Not that kind of proposal. Although that’s an interesting thought. But it wouldn’t work anyway, since I bat for the other team.”
A puzzled look came over his face.
“I’m a lesbian.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Not many people do. But since we’ve known each other a long time, I wanted to lay my cards on the table.”
The man nodded.
“My proposal,” she continued, “relates
to our deficit and your ability to finance it.”
He held his palms in front of him. “We do buy some of your Treasuries.”
“Not many,” she said. “I’m proposing you buy much more, and replace the Chinese as our largest creditor.”
“You think we would be better financial partners?”
She leaned back in the chair. “I know you would. You Swiss like to make money. But you like to stay in the background. You wouldn’t meddle in our affairs, like the Chinese do. You don’t get involved with politics. During World War II, you remained neutral. Isn’t that right?”
He rubbed his temple. “We…we did ignore the atrocities of Hitler. That’s true. But tell me, Megan, what would we gain by buying more U.S. bonds? They’re almost worthless.”
She smiled sweetly. “Here’s where my proposal gets interesting. Switzerland is a tiny country. How would you like to own large tracts of land in America?”
His eyes lit up. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve been working with congressional leaders and the President. If you agree to fund our debt, we would turn over Federal lands to you. Large parts of the national park system. Think of it – you could own pristine land next to Yellowstone and the Grand Canyon, and vast acreage in Montana and Utah.”
Mueller’s eyes widened, then a smile formed on his face. “You could do that?”
Megan nodded. “The President has authorized me to give you this.” She reached in her notebook, pulled out a folded letter. Placing it on his desk, she said, “This is an initial proposal –we would have to work out the details, of course.”
The man unfolded the letter and read it. “Amazing,” he whispered. “Truly amazing. Your government must be desperate.”
Megan sighed. “I’m afraid so.”
Mueller leaned back in his chair, gave her a skeptical look. “But your citizens would certainly object. Americans are a proud people.”
She nodded. “It’s true, but our people are also greedy – they don’t want to cut back on any government services. Our previous President tried that and he lost the next election.”
Mueller went quiet for several moments, obviously in deep thought. Finally he sat forward in his chair. “I like it. This proposal gives Switzerland something we’ve never had. Vast territories.”
“I agree, Henry. It’s good for you and us. There’s just one stipulation and it’s an important one.”
His eyebrows arched.
“We need assurances,” she said, “that you would not interfere with our domestic or foreign policy.”
Mueller smiled. “That will not be a problem.”
“Good.”
The man steepled his hands on his desk. “Of course, I have to get our board of directors to agree, along with the Swiss government.”
She laughed. “We both know who runs this place. You.”
“Ah, well, there is some truth to that. But, still, I have to convince a lot of people.”
Megan reached into her notebook again, pulled out a second folded letter. “This is something to sweeten the deal.” She handed him the letter and he began reading it.
“It’s an agreement between our government and you personally, Henry. If this deal closes, we’ll give you 5,000 acres of prime Wyoming land. And the best part of it, no one has to know but you.” She smiled sweetly. “It would be our little secret.”
Mueller looked up at her, a wide smile on his face. “You make it very tempting, Megan.”
“That’s my objective.”
He nodded. “I will review your proposal and then meet with our board. I think they will be receptive. Then I’ll have to convince…the others.”
“Of course. How soon before you can let me know?”
“Several weeks, at a minimum. A month or two on the outside.”
She forced a smile. “The sooner the better.”
“Of course. By the way, would you like to have dinner with me tonight? We could talk in more detail….”
She stared at him. His eyes had a mischievous look that wasn’t there before. “And dinner is all you have in mind? I thought you said you were a happily married man.”
“I am. But you are a very attractive woman.”
She chuckled, admiring his good looks. It’s not like I’m strictly a lesbian, she mused. I can go both ways, especially if it helps this deal. “I’d love to have dinner with you, Henry.”
He stood. “Excellent. I’ll have my assistant set it up. I know this quiet little place overlooking the lake.”
Megan stood and extended her hand. As they shook hands she studied his blue eyes. She had a good feeling about the deal. Maybe, just maybe, she could pull it off.
And if she did, the payoff could be immense. She was only in her forties and she had presidential ambitions. Something like this could pay big dividends in the future.
24 Days to Zero Hour
Washington, D.C.
Erica Blake stormed out of her boss’s office in the FBI building, slamming the glass door on the way out. Once again Justin Temerius couldn’t connect the dots. As she marched down the hall, her thoughts churned on the Carpenter case. There was something odd going on with the senator’s death, and Temerius wouldn’t accept it.
Skipping the elevator, she took the stairs, racing down the six flights to burn off her frustration. By the time she reached the parking garage in the basement, she was winded but less tense.
She found her Ford Explorer, got in and drove out of the garage, merging with the light nighttime traffic. Checking her watch, she realized why – it was past nine p.m. and the city’s government workers had cleared out. They were already home in the nearby suburbs. She hadn’t had dinner and almost stopped at her usual diner, but at the last minute decided to head straight home. The meeting with Temerius had given her heartburn and greasy food would make it worse.
Reaching her high-rise, she parked on the street and noticed a black Suburban SUV roll past slowly and take the next corner. She’d spotted a similar vehicle following her on the way over. She shook her head and chuckled. Getting paranoid, she thought. There are a million of those things in the city.
She entered the building, took the elevator to the third floor and let herself in the cramped, modest apartment. Her inexpensive furniture was from Ikea, and the walls were devoid of any personal items – no photos or art. Packing boxes, stacked in a corner of the living room, still sat unopened from when she’d moved in a year ago.
The place smelled of spoiled food and she checked her garbage bin in the kitchen. Damn, she thought. Forgot to empty out the Italian take-out from yesterday.
She was about to prepare a sandwich when her cell phone buzzed. Unclipping it off her belt, she glanced at the incoming call. Detective Gray. She held it to her ear as she slumped on the lumpy sofa in the living room.
“What do you have for me, Gray?”
“Well, hello to you too, Agent Blake. Thought we were on better terms.”
“Sorry. Just met with the boss, you know how it is.”
“Yeah. Been there. Listen, Erica, I ran down a couple of leads. This case is getting strange.”
Her interest perked up. “Tell me.”
“I talked to the power company a couple of times today. They gave me the runaround at first, then I threatened them with a subpoena. Finally they admitted what happened. The outage in Carpenter’s area was caused by some type of EMP burst.”
“An electromagnetic pulse? Thought those were caused by a nuclear explosion.”
“That’s what I thought too. But I was sniffing around, checked with one of my friends at the Pentagon – apparently the military has developed small, portable EMP devices. They create short bursts that knock out electricity. Black ops stuff.”
“Damn, Gray – what the hell is this?”
“Dunno, but it’s smelling like deep shit to me.”
Erica rubbed her forehead, which was starting to pound from a headache. “When I met with Temerius, I told him about the military
incendiary grenade. Told him I thought this was much bigger than a robbery gone wrong. But he wouldn’t hear of it – said I should focus on the theft angle.”
“Jesus. Well…like you said before, the guy’s a jerk.”
“That’s a fact, Gray. But this new EMP stuff – he won’t be able to ignore that. I’ll check on the EMP stuff on my end. My ex-husband’s a spook with the CIA – he’ll be able to dig something up. In the meantime, why don’t you go back to the scene, interview the neighbors again, see if anything else pops.”
“You got it, Erica.”
She hung up and put down the phone. Then she took off her blazer and unclipped the gun holster from her belt. After washing up, she went back to making dinner.
Opening the refrigerator, she looked at the meager contents on the shelves. A sad looking tomato, several containers of cold-cuts and a six-pack of Budweiser. Grabbing a bottle of beer and a package of ham, she started making herself a sandwich. Unfortunately all she had was stale bread, but it would have to do.
Sitting at her tiny dining table, she sipped from the beer as she absently chewed on the dry sandwich. Finishing a few minutes later, she snatched another longneck and sprawled on the sofa.
Grabbing her cell, she punched in numbers.
Moments later she heard Steve McCord’s voice. “McCord here.”
“Hey, it’s me.”
She heard him chuckle. “Hi, beautiful,” he said. “How’s D.C.?”
“It sucks. But you already know that. You still in Rome?”
“Yeah. It’s a great morning. I’m having breakfast at that little trattoria by our hotel.”
She took another sip of the Budweiser. “I’m jealous. I’d love to be there, doing nasty things to you right now.”
McCord laughed. “Anytime, anywhere.”
“Listen, hon, I’m working on the Carpenter case….”
“How’s that going?”