The Krakow Klub (27 page)

Jim and Sylvia
entered the
dining room and took their seats
across from each other.

The conversation during lunch was somewhat
tense at first, but ever so gradually, the tempo picked up and a
bit of cheerfulness could be detected. However, Sylvia spent most
of her time talking to
Julia,
and Jim spent
most of his time talking to John.

The icy chill was still in the air between
Jim and Sylvia.

John Scott was somewhat restrained, but
inwardly, ever so slowly, felt that things were going to work out.
“Just be optimistic and don’t rock the boat,” he thought to
himself.

Jim watched Sylvia furtively and was totally
impressed by this poised young woman who looked as if she could be
running a multimillion dollar corporation with ease. At Oxford, she
had been carefree and spontaneous. He wondered if those qualities
were still there, hidden somewhere deep down inside of her.

From across the table, Sylvia glanced at Jim
when she thought that he wasn’t looking. He was still as handsome
as ever and now memories of their times together came flooding back
to her.

Julia watched them all with great interest,
but especially John.
“Oh John,” she whispered,
“you are such a brilliant man in many ways.
Unfortunately, understanding women is not one of them.”

Mister T, from the serving area, observed the
biologicals consuming their meals. He analyzed their body language
that indicated
a lot of
tensions
. He noted the tiny gestures that revealed
stress. Interestingly, he also detected slight changes in the tones
of their voices that further confirmed a nervous state.

“Humans are truly fascinating and unique.
Their emotions seem to be the primary forces ruling their lives.
How interesting. I’ll have to consult with Maxxine as to how to
deal with unexpected volatile situations like this that might arise
in the future.”

****

Erik Stoellar
was not a patient
person by any measure
. He had ordered the newly sworn-in
president of the United States, Henry Wilkinson, to nominate Carla
Montrose as the next vice president. However, he knew of her
extreme unpopularity among her peers and fully expected that they
would reject her. But, as usual, he had a more devious means of
handling the situation.

First, they would present a candidate that
was even surer of rejection than Carla Montrose. The sacrificial
lamb happened to be Ernest Metcalf, a doddering old representative
from
Chicago,
who had been elected for more
terms than anyone could remember. After all these years, he had
come to believe that he was entitled to his congressional status
and acted accordingly. He was hardly qualified to be a
representative, much less the vice president. Besides that, he
could hardly wheeze his way down the halls due to his advanced COPD
that resulted from years of smoking. However, the old crook was
more than flattered and so delusional that he even began to make
plans for decorating his new office at the White House.

To no one’s surprise, other than Metcalf’s,
his name was soundly rejected. Then, the proverbial shot was heard
round the
world:
Wilkinson countered by
offering Carla Montrose as vice president.
That
presented
an almost impossible dilemma. In these high stakes
games; Congress hardly ever rejected a second candidate even if it
happened to be Carla. Besides, she had enough unsavory information
in her files to blackmail most of them. What could they do? There
was only one answer. Do nothing! The nomination ended in a
deadlock, just as Stoellar had expected. The Senate narrowly
approved by a vote of 51 to 49. The House opposed by a narrow
margin.

Montrose always produced a bit of mixed
feelings for Stoellar. On one hand, she fascinated him with her
never-ending
schemes and plots. On the other
hand, she was his trained puppet, but sometimes, her aggressive and
abrasive personality was almost too much for him to tolerate.

She had made so many enemies among her peers
that Stoellar sometimes wondered at his wisdom of allowing her to
achieve her ambition to be president. Surely, he could have
mentored someone else who would have, at least, been reasonably
civil to her colleagues.

Usually, he had no problem getting publicity
through the left wing media for his minions, but Carla had offended
so many of them that she got very few glowing articles lauding her
political skills. The few she did get were all within her small
home congressional district.

Stoellar thought to himself,
The only
people who loved her were the voters in her home state. She was a
master of manipulation and charmed them effortlessly. Why couldn’t
the bitch use some of that charm on her fellow congressmen?

Stoellar clenched his
jaw;
unfortunately, he needed
her
for now. She would serve her purpose, but he vowed to get rid of
her sooner or later. Preferably sooner rather than later.

Even though it was
mid-
afternoon on Sunday, Stoellar picked up his private
cell phone and made a selection from the address book. It was a
line directly to the president of the United States. No one else in
the world had that number and when it rang, the president knew who
was calling and would always take the call in complete privacy.

This president was clearly uncomfortable in
his new position. He had never
expected
or
wanted the highest office in the land. He thought that he would be
spending his career in Washington, DC, following Stoellar’s orders
for this project or that project. Nothing controversial. He could
garner votes and influence others easily. So far, his life as a
politician had been a comfortable journey through the halls of
Washington, DC,
where
he had found it easy to
take the politically expedient solution to whatever issues
arose.

He’d worked for Stoellar and his group for
years,
but it had been a relatively painless
experience. They told him how to vote, what laws to propose or
support, and in return, he had received substantial increases in
his Swiss bank account. Large sums
of money
for political campaigns were always available to him.

Now, Wilkinson had the distinct,
an
d chilling, feeling that he was being thrust
into a position that he was totally
unprepared to
handle
. It
had
never been part of his
bargain and certainly not his goal. He had just wanted to be a
senator and serve his time in Washington, DC, until he could retire
and reap the endless benefits afforded to him. He had never wanted
to be vice president, much less the president.

Once he was completely alone, he answered the
call. “Erik, good to hear from you. I wanted to discuss the VP
nomination with you. Congress
seems hopelessly
deadlocked and will never approve
Montrose. Maybe you can
come up with another candidate. She’s just too much of a political
risk. Surely you can
…
”

Stoellar
displayed his
impatience
and interrupted the president.
“Wilkinson, I asked you to nominate Montrose for
a
reason. She is crucial to something important. Forget
Congress. This deadlock is unacceptable.

“I’ve discussed the issue with constitutional
experts and here’s what you’re going to do.
At
exactly twelve noon tomorrow, you are to call a press conference.
You will announce that due to the highly contentious legislative
gridlock caused by the opposition party, of course, you’re going to
appoint Carla Montrose to the office of vice president by executive
order.”

Wilkinson was stunned. “You know, as well as
I do, that the Supreme Court will overrule such an order in a
heartbeat.”

Stoellar almost yelled, “The Supreme Court
can’t decide to take a shit in less than two weeks! We need a
strong vice president, and we need one now. Issue the damn order at
noon tomorrow, and Carla
can be sworn
in
immediately
after that
.”

“But none of the Supreme Court justices will
be willing to swear her in.”

“Now
listen,
Henry, we
do not have to have a Supreme Court justice do the honors. Remember
LBJ was sworn in by a federal district judge. We will arrange for a
cooperative federal judge to be available to swear Carla in as soon
as you’ve made your announcement. Remember where you
are—Washington, DC. In that
town,
it may be
easy to block something from happening, but once it has happened,
things change. The tendency is to try to fix what has already
been done
; reversing something seldom
happens.”

“But even her
own
party
doesn’t want Carla as vice president.”

“Dammit, Wilkinson, I’ve been getting some
substantiated rumors about possible terrorist activities. The
chatter has increased over the last few days. You may not like
Carla—hell man, who does? But you’re going to need a tough VP with
balls of steel if we do experience terrorist attacks. I’ve said my
last word on this issue, so please, just get on with it.”

Raising his voice and adding as much chill as
possible, Stoellar continued, “Henry, I repeat, it is
necessary
that you appoint Carla tomorrow at noon. She
will be sworn in before Congress comes back from lunch.”

Changing his voice to one of authority,
menacing authority, Stoellar, added, “Henry, we are not making a
suggestion here. You must do this. You have no other option.”

With that, Stoellar ended the call abruptly.
Wilkinson was terrified. How had he gotten into this mess? More
importantly, how could he get out?

Years ago, he’d made a deal with
Stoellar,
and that deal had made him rich and successful
and among the Washington, DC, political elite. Now, it was time to
pay the devil his due.

Oh God! How he needed a drink. His hands were
shaking,
and his mouth was dry. The nearest
liquor cabinet was in the residential
quarters,
and he made his way there so quickly that the
Secret Service
agents
assigned
to guard him almost had to run to keep up with
him.

Back in his New York penthouse, Erik Stoellar
swore under his breath at the incompetent fool that he had placed
in the White House.
Oh well, at least it is going to be
temporary.

Then, he picked up another phone and made a
second call.

After several rings, the phone was answered
by General
Llewellyn
(Lew) McGowan, commanding
general of ARRCOM.

“General, are you in a position to talk?”

“No, but I will be in short order.” Then
speaking to someone else, Stoellar heard him say, “Gentlemen, you
must excuse me for a moment; this is official business.”

About one minute later, he said, “Okay, we
can talk now.”

Stoellar began, “Operation Plato is being put
into operation. You know what to do, but until about noon on
Tuesday, all movements must be discreet and not attract any undue
public attention.”

“I understand completely.”

Returning to his golfing foursome, McGowan
said, “Gentlemen, Sorry but duty calls. I’ll need to take the cart
back to the clubhouse. I will have someone bring it back to you. In
the meantime, Colonel Bruce, if you’ll just take your golf bag out
of my cart, I’ll be on my way. Again, sorry for the inconvenience.
And, by the way, I’m
canceling
my bets for the
day. See you later.”

The foursome was made up of all military
officers, so such an interruption wasn’t alarming or even
interesting. They waved goodbye and prepared to continue their
game.

Stoellar had one more call to make. He
punched in a number and waited for eight rings and then ended the
call.
That was
an agreed upon signal within
the organization. He would get a return call within minutes.

He walked over to the bar and poured a glass
of brandy, one of his more pleasant vices. Then, he crossed over to
the windows of his penthouse that looked down over Central Park.
The place never ceased to interest him. Today, a pleasant Sunday
afternoon, meant that the park would be teeming with activity.
Stoellar smiled to himself as he imagined the people down there,
going about their lives without a clue as to what fate had in store
for them soon,
very
soon.

Ignorance is bliss. How very true
. His
thoughts were interrupted by his telephone.

On the other end of the line was Number
Eleven. Eleven was the quintessential
professional,
and one of her
well-trained
agents would play an important role in the
very near future. At any rate, the situation gave him a legitimate
reason to be calling her.

Number Eleven was his favorite and certainly
the most trusted of his associates. She was younger than the others
but far more lethal than all of them put together. In fact, her
danger was what made her quite attractive to
Stoellar,
and he often fantasized about expanding their
relationship beyond business. In fact, a little bondage game might
just be in order one of these days. He smiled to himself. He
shivered in anticipation at the thought of Number Eleven dressed in
black leather and brandishing a whip.

“Eleven, your man, Lt. Colonel Collins must
be ready to move ASAP. You’ve already briefed him on his
responsibilities in preparing for our guests at location Omega. I
want you to make certain that everything is perfect. There cannot
be anything to make our guests suspicious. I trust you to take care
of this in your usual professional manner.”