On Deception Watch

by David H Spielberg

  “Ms. Carlyle, I’m glad to see that you have not disappointed me. You have spunk. It’s a quality I admire and one all too rare these days. Since you have spoken so frankly with me let me be equally frank with you. Time is of the essence for my plans. And you are quite correct. What I need you for is important to me, so I have used forceful measures, which I now see were wrong. Let me begin again and try to replace your worst-case fears and uninformed speculations with some facts that may help to persuade you of my sincerity and of the righteousness, if you will, of what I will ask of you. May I?”

  “That depends. Are we through with the intimidation? I mean if I say ‘no you may not begin again,’ do I get to just get up and leave? James and I that is.

  “Ms. Carlyle, when I tell you what is really happening today I know you will want to stay. I know you are in fear for your lives. I know you have been since your team first succeeded with fusion ignition. I know that Mr. Marshall’s involvement was an attempt to protect your lives by conspicuous media coverage. These steps, these concerns are all so petty, Ms. Carlyle. Your management—Cranshaw and Berman—their thinking was too small in the final analysis.

  “Do you really think that any organization that had discovered the secret to unlimited power essentially from the sea would simply be allowed to set up shop like a candy store, even a very big candy store? The laws of the land, even this land, even our constitution, are all too small for an event of such immense implications for humanity. How could you or anyone think that this would be allowed to progress as simply another company with a fabulous new product?

  “A new Bell Telephone, Ms. Carlyle? No. No, Mr. Marshall. We are not playing entrepreneurial games here. AJC Fusion forged the golden key to a new world. And it was going to be wasted by our late President Drummond with his absurd and unworkable joint venture with the United Nations. There were no controls, you see, on the technology. It was a hopeless dream, a fantasy by our late president—driven by his need to be written into history as a great benefactor to mankind. Well and good. But the road to many hells have been paved by good intentions, Ms. Carlyle and our president was going to risk the security of our country in a time when enemies abound worldwide and get nothing in return for the risk he so blithely accepted except the Good Guy award from the United Nations. It was a fool’s errand and the supreme Missed Opportunity, Ms. Carlyle.

  “Our late president had a vision, for sure. But it was just too small a vision. When he saw that we are on the cusp of a new world order, he did not see far enough, that whole dogmas, ancient and entrenched, needed to be cast off and replaced with new thinkingnot evolutionary, but revolutionary thinking. And unhappily, he may have paid the price for not recognizing the reach and the determination of the enemies of even his limited vision. The energy elite in the Middle East, in Russia, in Central and South America, and yes, in our own corporate world of fossil-fuel interests are a powerful and determined and severely threatened cabal of interests. It is their world, their grip on humanity, their effective manipulation and deployment of radical elements worldwide that are challenged by your company’s great achievement. President Drummond challenged them with goodness and he lost. He paid with his life for his small vision, but we have not yet lost the opportunityno, not yetfor an immense change for worldwide order and stability.

  “You and your company can be active participants in the creation of that new world order or you can be passive witnesses to it. Did you all struggle to solve the problems of controlled microfusion just to sit on the sidelines when success rose and greeted you with welcoming arms?” He watched Marshall squirm in his seat, but Sylvia stared steadily back, face-to-face, eye-to-eye.

  “You asked a moment ago if you were free to leave if you so desired. The answer, Ms. Carlyle is ‘yes,’ but I ask you to stay. The secretary of state asks you to stay. The secretary of defense asks you to stay. America asks you to stay. Good peoplepatriotsall working together, with me, ask you to stay. What will you do? Will you hear me out?”

  James began to rise, offering his hand to help Sylvia up. Sylvia looked up at James and said, “It doesn’t hurt to hear the general out, James. I’m staying.”

  Marshall sighed, looked at the general then at Sylvia and sat down again. “I’m not leaving without you.”

  “I promise you, Mr. Marshall, you also will not regret staying,” Slaider said, smiling.

  “Arthur Cranshaw is a technical and entrepreneurial visionary,” Slaider continued. “No question about that. But political vision is what he lacked. Perhaps he had no choice. One can be brilliant in only so many spheres of endeavor. But that our national leadership and the leadership of the United Nations, political leaders all of themand many of them brilliantcould be so blind to the implications of controlling the laser fusion technology developed by your company still boggles my mind. This technology can be used as a wedge, an instrument for world peace. It can provide the incentive to settle disputes, to conform to new international laws and conventions, to submit to international tribunals, to punish the disturber of international tranquility, to create a new international currency. And that currency will be energy instead of coin. For the first time in the history of mankind the prosperity of every nation on earth can be assured. But the price of that assurance will be submission to a global central authority that doles out energy credits to each nation in accordance with their needs or withholds them in accordance with their disruption of international order.

  “I assure you, Ms. Carlyle, I am not mad. I am not proposing that I be established as the godhead who decides what constitutes global tranquility. No, I believe, fantastic as it may seem to you, that a united confederation of stakeholders, countries, is the perfect agent for this task. Yes, yes, I know. President Drummond was working with the UN. But he failed to see the inadequacy of that body for this new mission. He was not able to see that energy was the new coercive power in world politics—not weapons of mass destruction—that energy was the key to securing international cooperation among nations, and that the United Nations had outlived its charter. It is a hopeless throwback to old waystalk, talk, talk. The only time the United Nations ever took coercive action against a member state, no matter how horrible their offenses, was when the United States led the way. And in every case the military outcome has been only local and only partially satisfactory in resolving the initial issues. Always this has been the case.

  “President Drummond and the UN were just going to throw energy at these problems the way our Congress throws money at problems within our own country. Their mistake was going to destroy a rare moment in history, a conjunction, if you will, of favorable events that might never occur again in all of man’s tenure on this earth. Energy is not some candy you throw to the children along the parade route. You don’t achieve tranquility and stability by giving energy away simply because you know how to do the trick and it wouldn’t be fair to withhold it. No, you use that knowledge to compel peace. Not merely submission, Ms. Carlyle, but peace. It is the compelling force that has eluded man to this date. The United Nations—as it is now constituted—it is no longer the world’s last best hope for peace. It is a fraud, a delusion, an anachronism.

  “You know, the opportunity for greatness does not come often into a person’s life, Ms. Carlyle. For some it never comes. But for those lucky few, the true test of greatness is to be open to the opportunity, to recognize the opportunity for greatness when it is thrust at you and to seize it. And if you fear greatness, then you can at least to be a part of it, support it, and nurture those great happenings.

  “You asked me before not to think of you as stupid. I don’t think you are stupid at all. I recognize that as a woman and black you had many systemic disadvantages to overcome in order to attain your high position of trust within Dr. Cranshaw’s organization. I know you recognize that very great forces are a work here. Let me tell you, they are greater than you ever imagined. As you can attest by the work of the scientists at AJC Fusion, gr
eat things are not always bad. You can be a part of the goodness. The good news is about to be given to you, Ms. Carlyle, if you will only receive it.” Slaider paused, took a sip of his coffee, and gave a few moments for the Sylvia and James to try to navigate his words.

  “I apologize for the blundering way you were brought here, but you must understand from the uncertainty of conditions around you that dangers abound, and your participation is vital to America and to the world, and I do not exaggerate. As for accusations against me by the vice president—they will be answered in a court of law, and I ask for the consideration of not being condemned by accusation alone. I can only assure you from the bottom of my heart and with complete sincerity that they are false.”

  Slaider folded his hands loosely in front of him and waited for Sylvia Carlyle’s response.

  “I appreciate your leveling with me, General, and what you are telling me is not easy to absorb in a matter of only moments. I’m sure you can understand that. Are we free to go if we want to? Yes or no?”

  Slaider paused for only a fraction of a second, but it was a pause Sylvia noted for future analysis. “Yes,” he said holding her unwavering gaze with his own.

  “Okay, General, then goodbye.” She got up, taking James by the sleeve. James took a quick look at Slaider but let himself be pulled from his seat by Sylvia. Together they walked to the office door. Sylvia tried to turn the knob to open the door, but it was locked. She turned to Slaider. He reached under his desktop and pressed a button releasing the door. The door latch clicked. Opening the door wide, still holding onto Marshall’s sleeve, she walked out, the door closing with a “whoosh” behind them.

  Slaider remained seated at his desk.

  After a moment, a knock on the office door made his face twitch just slightly under the right eye. There was time for a second, louder knock as his hand once again went to the button under his desktop and the door clicked open.

  Sylvia Carlyle strode into the room and regained her seat in front of General Slaider’s desk. James Marshall followed, reluctantly, behind her. She turned to him and said, “No, James. Why don’t you go? I’ll call you later on your cell phone.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  Sylvia looked at General Slaider as she answered Marshall. “I’m sure.”

  “Okay,” he said as he turned to go out the still open door.

  “I will have a car waiting for you, Mr. Marshall. The driver will take you wherever you wish.”

  Marshall gave Sylvia a frustrated look of concern, still unsure about leaving her.

  “It’s okay, James. Really. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  Marshall turned to Slaider and declined his offer of a car and left.

  “So, General,” Sylvia began after James was departed, “let’s start again.”

  A broad smile from General Slaider followed Sylvia as she made herself comfortable in her chair. His thoughts fell to Richard III. “Was ever woman in this humor wooed? Was ever woman in this humor won?”

  90

  Special Agent Theodore London watched as James Marshall exited the building. He was surprised to see Sylvia Carlyle was not with him. As Marshall hailed a cab London did a quick assessment and decided to stay where he was. Director Brock said Carlyle was the key to Slaider. So he would stay on Carlyle. He settled back into his car seat once again. Once again he waited. An hour went by. Two hours. Finally, another military vehicle arrived at the entrance to the building. After a few moments Special Agent London saw Sylvia Carlyle emerge and immediately behind her was, to London’s astonishment, General Morgan Slaider himself. They moved quickly to the vehicle. There appeared to be no duress now, Special Agent London observed. London called for satellite surveillance of the vehicle. General Slaider returned to the building. He could always catch up with Carlyle, London thought. For now he would stay with Slaider.

  91

  It had been many years since Ranjit Lal smoked hashish. The lights in his apartment in the Secretariat building were dimmed and music from his native India was playing softly. As soon as he had entered his private quarters he had turned on the media center. Pulling his shoes off, he lay on the bed. Carefully he poured the tiny shredded leaves onto the thin cigarette paper. Slowly he rolled the paper around the loose tobacco, licked the gummed edge, and lightly twisted the ends. Leaning back against the two large pillows propped up behind him, with methodical deliberation he placed the cigarette in his mouth and lit it.

  He inhaled deeply. Slowly, after several seconds, he let a thin stream of smoke escape his pursed lips. He closed his eyes and languorously took a breath from the cloud of exhaled smoke. Once more he exhaled, except this time it was more in the nature of a sigh. He turned and rose from his bed to lower the volume of the music. While he was up, he turned the lights in the bedroom off, leaving only the green and red indicators on his media control unit glowing in the dark. Then just the red light became his single point of focus. Slowly he slipped into sleep.

  When he awoke, the United States was in active civil war on the continent of North America. Fighting had been reported in almost all sections of the country, but particularly in Florida, Texas, California, and Colorado. Although the US Navy had been put to sea, its loyalties had not yet been made known, if indeed it had been established. European and Asian US bases were under siege by the host governments and the large US Army and Air Force presence in the Middle East sent oil prices to over four hundred dollars a barrel on the spot markets.

  The Security Council was attempting to meet in three hours. However, US Army units had surrounded the UN property, not letting anyone enter or leave the grounds. Expressions of concern and outrage were being received at UN and US State Department communications centers, when suddenly, all radio communications with the UN were jammed. The telephone lines as well as the internet cable lines had also gone dead. Cell phones were useless because all cell towers were shut down. By eight o’clock that morning, the UN was effectively isolated . . . out of touch with the rest of the world.

  The desperate UN staff struggled to restore outside communications while Lal realized how foolishly negligent the world had been. Once more, institutions became complacent and comfortable. He knew that struggling was useless, at least for the immediate future. If the military powers of the United States wished to isolate the United Nations’ infrastructure from the rest of the world it could do so. But for how long, he wondered? And why?

  Quietly, unhurriedly—what was the point of rushing—he dressed. He informed his staff of his intentions and left the Secretariat building. He walked across the courtyard, down the steps to the captain who was rapidly approaching him.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” the captain began, ‘but this area is under military protection. I’m afraid you won’t be able to leave at this time.”

  “I understand.” Lal surveyed the street and saw a surprising amount of heavy hardware, more than he would have thought necessary to fence in a diplomatic area.

  “What is your name, Captain?”

  “Captain Nicholson, sir.”

  “Do you know who I am, Captain?”

  “Yes, sir. You’re Secretary-General Lal, sir.”

  “And you realize that it is a violation of international law to interfere with a United Nations diplomat in pursuance of his functions as defined and protected by treaty with the government of the United States?”

  “I can’t really comment on that, sir. Nevertheless, I will have to ask you to honor my request that you return to the UN grounds and refrain from attempting to leave it.”

  “Request, Captain, or order?”

  “Order, sir.”

  “Who is your commanding officer, Captain?”

  “Colonel Fleetwood, sir.”

  “May I speak to him?”

  The captain turned to a cluster of men across the street. “Sergeant.”

  When the sergeant joined them at the steps to the courtyard, the captain asked him to wait with Lal while he went to find the co
lonel in charge of the men deployed around the UN headquarters. Lal watched the captain motion to a personnel carrier to pick him up. He got in and drove off, leaving the sergeant and Lal standing. Both men were silent, having nothing to say to each other.

  Ten minutes later, a military limousine pulled up next to Lal and the sergeant. The captain was in the limousine. He rolled down the window and asked the sergeant to show the secretary-general to the car door and assist him in entering. “Mr. Secretary-General, the secretary of state would like to speak with you by telescreenphone, if you please.”

  “Of course, Captain.”

  The car quickly sped off to the nearby command post.

  92

  “It’s very simple, Ranjit,” Secretary Llewellyn was saying over the vehicle telescreenphone. “We are entering a new reality. Yes, yes, I know. You’ve heard that claim before. And it has always been a hollow claim, leading only to tragedy and destruction. Yes, Ranjit, believe me, I understand how this sounds. And I understand that you are not in the business of revolutionary change. I used to think I wasn’t either.

  “But there’s no use squandering time by dwelling on what has happened. It’s up to us, the diplomats, to see that the best outcome possible results from the real situation as we now face it and not immobilize ourselves by pining for a different reality. Ranjit, you can be a part of it. In fact, we’re really counting on you being a major actor in our plan. Really, you must be, if it is to work. It’s really quite extraordinary that a military man thought this out. But military men are trained to be bold, are they not, Ranjit? So it shouldn’t be such a complete surprise. Just our diplomatic prejudice against a uniform, I suspect. But you don’t have any idea what I’m talking about, of course.