Chapter 43
A person dressed in a black wetsuit, the
hood showing only the eyes, was pointing a gun at Michael. In the dim twilight,
the voice said, “You don’t understand anything. Things are not what they seem.
This dead Arab will be very useful to us. Even if he wasn’t able to kill the
President he will be the pretext for a nuclear war against the Arab world.”
Michael was about to faint again. His mind was cloudy. The words
of the person in black, like a Death-like figure, bounced around his brain with
an echo, as if they were in a large basilica.
“Basilicas.” The thought floated through the wounded man’s mind.
“The medieval cathedrals built by master masons… Why does he keep talking? Why
doesn’t he just shoot and be done with it? I am so tired.”
But the black-dressed person had more to say.
“It is the
end of the oil-based civilization. The alternative energy one is about to
begin. We needed something big, like the killing of the President who was fighting
for the overthrow of the oil-based society. We screwed them all. We will make
tons of money.”
A creepy laughter made even more so because of the
crackling metallic sound of the robot-like voice followed.
“But it’s too late for you,” said in ending the
black-dressed executioner. “Business is business. Nothing personal. It’s your
turn now.”
Michel closed his eyes and saw his father smiling at him.
Then there was a rush of overlapping faces, places, war scenes… Olivia… he
didn’t care anymore about anything.
“Go ahead, shoot and then go fuck yourself,” he said with
his last remaining strength.
Two clear shots rang out. No silencer had been used.
The black-dressed person fell to the ground with a moan.
Tom Genisio, Michael’s sidekick, came out of the shadows. He had been looking
for Michael ever since hell had broken loose.
Tom ran to Michael who pointed at his wounded leg. Tom took
off his tie and tied it tightly above Michael’s knee to reduce the bleeding.
Then he helped Michael to his feet.
Meanwhile other members of Michael’s team, having heard the
shots, had arrived at their side.
Before being placed on the stretcher Michael turned to Tom Genisio,
“Wait – shine a light here…”
He bent over the black dressed body withering in pain on
the side of the pool and tore of the hood.
Rachel’s flaming red hair tumbled out. Around her neck she had
an electronic larynx. A trickle of blood was coming out of her mouth and ran
into the red of her lipstick.
She couldn’t talk, from her mouth came a death
rattle. Her green eyes had a look of terror, pain, agony and despair.
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Chapter 44
Smith & Smith law firm in the Reagan
Building in the nation’s capital.
The boss and his associates were watching the latest news
about the attempt on the President’s life on three TV screens. There were eyewitness
accounts and close ups of the round drone being shown by FBI agents.
Breaking news on the discovery of the Arab’s body: “The
news that the attempt on the President was orchestrated and carried out by an
Arab is causing outbreaks in the U.S. What you are seeing now is the
destruction of stores and agencies owned or managed by Arab Americans. There is
increasing fear throughout the country despite the fact that the White House
had stated that there is no information on any possible Fareh Habib
affiliations with Islamic extremists. Habib was known in international
intelligence circles as a hired killer. Any hypothesis of links to Al Qaeda or ISIS for
the moment has not been confirmed in any way. The President is well and will shortly
hold a press conference. White House sources say he will soon resume his
nationwide visits.”
Eyewitness accounts then followed.
A woman in tears said, “We didn’t know what was happening. We saw secret service agents throw themselves on the President and push him to the floor. We couldn’t understand why. Then there was that small black sphere that entered the room and was bouncing around – like a game, an ill-conceived prank. Then it started launching missiles and there was total confusion. I threw myself to the floor. My friend Ruth who was next to me was hit on the head by a block of cement. I think one also landed on one of the President’s bodyguards. It seemed to last an eternity or at least until that damn flying sphere was stopped by the secret service or somehow fell… I don’t know. I knew the President’s coming to town would provoke a terrorist attack… Six people dead and lots of wounded among those attending the meeting with the President. He should have stayed in Washington.”
The intercom interrupted the TV watching. The secretary
announced the arrival of two FBI agents.
They burst through the door. “Mr. Paul
Kidman, senior partner of Smith & Smith?”
“That’s me,” said the boss in an authoritative, icy tone of voice.
“This is an order for your arrest and that of your
collaborators for an attempt on the life of the President.”
“There must be a mistake.”
“You are a well-known attorney and now you will have to prove
it. You will have to explain your relationship with the now deceased attorney
Rachel O’Hara who answered directly to you even though officially she was
senior vice president of a lobbying firm. You will have to explain how and why
you hired a hit man to eliminate persons who interfered with your plans.”
“Basically,” said the other FBI agent with a self-satisfied
sneer, “we are very interested and want to hear from you. For the moment, turn
around and put your hands behind your back. Anything you say will be used
against you. You have the right to an attorney of your choice. Do you have
anyone in mind?”
Mr. Paul Kidman and his four close collaborators were led
out in handcuffs. They passed by the showy secretary who could hardly hide her
dismay because after all she kind of liked that son of a bitch of Paul Kidman,
assuming someone could have feelings for such an icy man.
But then, leaving
aside passion or supposed affection, she was going to lose her salary. She’d
also be losing the bonus she got when the boss, overwhelmed by stress or
perhaps wishing to tamper down any possible feelings of remorse, would call her
into his office and she would kneel down and give him oral sex while he
remained seated at his desk. He gave her $200 each time.
Now what?
_________________________________________________________________
Chapter 45
Meeting of the Garibaldi Lodge. The
occasion was the installation ceremony for the Worshipful Master, Senior and Junior Wardens and other Lodge
officers.
The master of installation read to the Worshipful Master his duties
and responsibilities for his one-year mandate. The master of ceremonies moved
to the center of the Lodge and upon raising his golden baton and turning to the
west, south and east announced that the new Worshipful Master had been
unanimously elected. Then the installation ceremonies for the other dignitaries
and officials followed.
Once the ritual was over, the Worshipful Master who was
sitting in the Orient stood up and delivered his opening speech.
“Brothers,” he said, “we have come through a bad moment.
The international situation has reached a point of no return and there is danger
of a nuclear conflagration that could kill billions of people. Unfortunately
our ancient Order has shown that it is vulnerable. We have been infiltrated
because we did not pay more attention to the profane world. Insane so-called
Masonic offshoots that in reality were corrupt entities have polluted our
organization and we have been accused of matters for which we are blameless.
We must be careful. We must operate openly in the world and
consolidate our image with transparent action. We have nothing to hide. We are
an active part of this society, one the Founding Fathers imbued with their deep
moral convictions. We must rediscover ‘the fundamentals’ of our existence. We
must move among the ‘profane world’ and let it know us. We must be a true model
of behavior – everyone in his own niche as a professional, family father,
husband as educator. We must help rebuild the ideals that were at the basis of
the miracle of faith and collective energy that resulted in the birth of our
beloved nation: The United States of America.”
The meeting ended with the closing ritual. The Worshipful
Master banged his gavel.
Then he took hold of his cane and visibly limping he
descended from the Orient podium.
He was greeted by the loud applause of the
many Brothers in attendance.
They gathered around him and congratulated the
newly elected Worshipful Master: Michael Bardi.
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