The Krakow Klub (11 page)

John suddenly woke up from his
self-pity
and started thinking about the possibilities.
“Maxxine, you can save the president?”

“If they do what they’ve planned, I think
that I can.”

John was thinking
now
and asked, “Could you save the president, but make it look like the
assassination was successful?”

“My analysis of their conversations leads me
to believe that they plan to use a fiery car crash to kill the
president and the White House physician. If that is what they
attempt to do, I could extract
the
president
at the last possible
instant,
and they would
very likely never know it.

“The fiery crash involving the ambulance
appears to be meant to kill the doctor as well as the
president.”

“Excellent, Maxxine, you must save the
president. And save the doctor as well. Not because he deserves it,
but because his testimony could be very valuable later. We can deal
with his treacherous ass
afterward
.”

“That shouldn’t be a
problem,
but I will need to provide a couple of bodies
for the
record
if you want the perpetrators to
think that they were successful.
They will not likely
even bother with dental records or DNA to identify the bodies. They
will want the deaths recorded and forgotten about quickly, but I
will prepare to handle the situation just in case they do.
I
will create dental records for substitution and I can alter the DNA
results with no problem.”

“Maxxine, you’re amazing. I can’t thank you
enough.”

Maxxine
cooed
her
response using her sultry voice, “Oh John, thank you so much. That
means a lot to me.”

John took note of her rejoinder
and made a mental note never to anger her.
He was well aware
of the
adage
, “Hell hath no fury like that of
a woman scorned.”

John was about to end the conversation when
Maxxine suddenly interrupted, “Oops, I almost forgot to mention the
electron bullet weapons. They tested perfectly in outer space, but
there is a problem that turned up in the testing on Earth. I am
sorry,
but I do not think that they are going
to be acceptable for use there. The problem is the density of the
atmosphere;
it causes the projectile of
electrons to be bent at unpredictable angles if fired from a
significant
distance. If the remote was very
far
away,
the projectile might hit an
unintended target.

“To fire a weapon requires that the remote be
visible.
Firing from a very short distance
would put it within the firing range of earthly
weapons.
That’s
a very
important point, John,
and I need for you to remember it.
If a remote is
visible, it can be fired at by anyone.
But, when that happens,
it may automatically go into
self-defense mode.

“John, when a remote goes into the
self-
defensive
mode, we lose control over it.
It will react automatically and destroy the attackers and all their
weapons. There isn’t any way to prevent it. I can foresee
circumstances in which that automatic self-defense mode might cause
you a serious problem. Just be aware that something very bad could
happen in just a few seconds.

“If
you
put a remote
into the position where
it could be attacked by a
very large number
of humans at one
time
, such as a military assault, it may turn out to be
disastrous. Do you understand?”

John listened carefully before answering. “I
think that I understand what you’re saying. I’ll be careful during
confrontations. But, nevertheless, I want at least a hundred
remotes near Earth
equipped
with these
electron gun weapons. They could still
be
helpful
for riot control and even certain military
actions.”

“Very well, sir. I will start the process
right away, but it will take me several days to complete the
work.”

“Maxxine, I need to sign off. I’ve got more
on my plate than I can handle at the moment. Nevertheless, contact
me immediately if anything else of importance develops.”

****

Jim Slater had become a very important person
in John Scott’s life, especially in light of the recent adventures
that they had shared. John probably had the power to stop the
Krakow
Klub,
but he wouldn’t unleash that
power without Jim Slater. He would be the man in the
shadows,
but Jim would be the front man. Jim was patient
and not prone to anger or emotional outbursts. John couldn’t say
the same for himself. Far better that he had a cool head in control
of the hand on the trigger.

Jim would have to join the effort freely.
Otherwise, it wouldn’t work. He would call Jim and invite him to
Scott Key for a visit. Jim’s life in Washington, DC, was at
somewhat of a standstill at the moment. Furthermore, ever since
that fateful meeting in the Situation Room of the White House, he
and his boss were no longer seeing eye-to-eye on much of anything.
The timing was perfect to tempt him to leave the Washington, DC,
rat race.

Then he would have to get Sylvia McDonald to
Scott Key at the same time as Jim. That would present more
difficulties and would require far more finesse. But he had a
plan,
and he had the money to make it work.
John had never been exactly poor, but having the money to do
anything he desired was a new
feeling,
and he
did enjoy it very much.

Jim and Sylvia had attended Oxford together
and were lovers there. Unfortunately, the romance faded from
neglect
and ended badly. Each went their
separate ways.

After learning about Sylvia, John had studied
her intently. She was now a highly respected professional in
London,
and he would simply find a reason to
hire her.

After consulting with Maxxine, he finalized
his plan. He decided to purchase a bullion storage facility in
London and hire Sylvia to run his operations there. The gold mining
operations had been quite successful so far, and he intended to
expand them. Maybe he would even begin mining other precious
metals. The possibilities seemed endless.

He would hire a London executive recruiting
firm to contact her for interviews.
Afterward
,
she would be offered the job and given her first assignment of
negotiating with the current owner of the bullion storage
facility.

If all went well, and it would, he would
invite her to Scott Key to discuss a long-term business
relationship. He would suggest a weeklong visit, and she would
travel first class, of course.

He authorized the executive search firm to
make her a generous
offer
and
to arrange for her to visit him in the US the
following week.

She would arrive at noon on
Monday,
and the island would be the setting for a
romantic reunion. He could even imagine that they would live
happily ever
afterward
following a fairy tale
wedding.

Somewhere along the way he must have
forgotten the
adage
about the “
best-laid
plans of mice and
men.”

“Two principles have stood
face-to-face from the beginning of
time, and
they will ever continue to
struggle. The one is the common right of humanity and the other the
divine right of kings.”
-
Abraham Lincoln

Erik
Stoellar
was one of
the richest men in the world. But he was also a man of mystery. He
had made several fortunes in his lifetime, but, unlike many, he
managed to hold on to all of his wealth and make it grow. In spite
of this enormous
wealth,
he had an insatiable
lust for power. In his mind, he was destined to rule the world.

By his
own
admission, he
was not the most brilliant businessman in the world, but he
possessed a
keen
insight into assessing other
people. He never failed to select the right person for the right
job at the right time. On top of that, he had an uncanny skill in
manipulating people. At that, he was an artist without peer.

Stoellar
was tall and
slender with a muscular build that indicated he had been an athlete
in his youth. He knew the value of
appearance,
so he always dressed impeccably in clothing custom-made for him on
Seville Row. His dark hair,
touched
by
only
a few strands of gray at the
temples, added to his
distinguished
good looks. As for his eyes, they were a steely blue, but he
usually wore aviator style sunglasses that obscured them.

Stoellar always guarded his private life
jealously. He had
dated and escorted
many
women in the
past
but had never married. He
was not willing to share his privacy with anyone. He allowed no one
to be close enough to him to cause him to second guess ordering
their death, should that situation ever arise. He would allow no
one into his life that was not expendable.

Having a family was totally out of the
question. To Erik Stoellar, people were nothing more than pawns in
the chess game of life. They were there to protect the king.
Sacrificing them at will was the purpose of the game. Stoellar was
a master at the game of chess, but he would never play an opponent
that he did not think that he could beat. He played the game of
life in the same manner, carefully selecting his opponents and
crafting a plan that would assure his victory. Winning was not the
most important thing in his life—it was the only thing. He would do
anything to win,
whatever
the game.

He currently lived in one of the most
expensive penthouses in New York
City,
but he
almost never entertained at home, preferring to use hotels and
restaurants for mandatory social events and business meetings. Even
the other residents of that exclusive address knew
little,
if anything, about their neighbor.

Stoellar had offices in many locations, as
well as New York City. But for his residence, he employed only one
full-time
assistant, Ivan Petrovich. Ivan had
been with Stoellar many years, long before his move from Europe to
New York. Petrovich had his private room at the penthouse, but he
almost never left the building, unless, of
course,
Stoellar had outside work for him to do.

Ivan had grown up in the same part of Eastern
Europe as
Stoellar,
and the two had become
fast friends while still in grade school. Stoellar was the
brains,
and Petrovich was the brawn. The man
was powerfully built and had no qualms about using his skills in
martial arts whenever the need arose. He had an oddly handsome face
that seemed to attract women of all ages. He had expensive taste in
clothes but never flaunted it. His blonde hair
was
always tied
in a neat ponytail,
and his
nails professionally manicured. Together, he and Erik Stoellar made
an
imposing
pair.

Petrovich was never without one of his
favorite weapons: a knife that he had personally commissioned in
the Ukraine. It
was exquisitely balanced
for
throwing,
and he could hit his target dead on
from impressive distances.
In addition
to his
prized knife, he was never without a small but deadly pistol that
had been made especially for him in Italy.

As Stoellar’s assistant, he followed orders
without question and was more than capable of inflicting serious
bodily harm to anyone who might offend his master. His fierce
reputation,
well known
throughout Stoellar’s
circle, insured that
no one dared cross him or
his master. It
was rumored
that the last
person many unfortunate Stoellar acquaintances ever encountered in
their life was Ivan
Petrovich
.

In addition
to
Petrovich, Stoellar allowed a cleaning lady into his domain five
mornings a week. The lady spoke
little English
and wisely didn’t care to learn. It was certainly in her best
interests to be ignorant of what went on in the penthouse. She
communicated exclusively with
Petrovich,
who
spoke her native Eastern European tongue fluently.

In return for her loyalty, and more
importantly her lack of curiosity, Stoellar provided her with a
generous salary and a small condominium. She lacked for nothing.
Nevertheless, Stoellar, being Stoellar, monitored her actions
constantly through the use of a sophisticated surveillance system
in the penthouse
and
in her condo. Her actions
never caused any concern for
him,
but he did
suspect that she was probably more than a little fond of Ivan.

Stoellar rarely attended social events and
was photographed even more rarely. He wasn’t an actual
recluse,
but he was extremely private. Even his circle of
associates knew little about the man. He enjoyed the luxuries of
life, spent freely on the finest art and antiques, bought the
fastest automobiles, and, most importantly, indulged in the latest
and greatest technologies.

There were many fantastic stories about
Stoellar and how he made his vast fortune. There were those who
swore that he inherited a huge amount of money from his father, a
German/Polish industrialist who
had been
killed
in the bombing of Berlin in World War II. Another
tale proposed that he had embezzled massive government funds from
one of the Russian satellite nations. The most bizarre theory was
that he had made millions by using his skills to rig an important
election in Illinois.