“Do you understand Russian?” he asked Lucky.
Lucky nodded and answered, “Yes, a little.”
Putin started to speak again, but Lucky interrupted him.
“Mr. President,” he said. “You had some questions that you wanted to ask me, am I correct?”
“Yes, I have questions, many of them.”
“Then may I suggest that you proceed and ask your questions?” Lucky replied.
The president was clearly taken by surprise. After perusing Lucky’s file, he felt certain that the former CIA agent would be defiant, an obstinate soldier, rather than the compliant and reasonable man standing before him . . . with a smile on his face.
“I’ll be happy to answer your questions,” Lucky repeated. “If they don’t involve my country’s security.”
Putin was still a bit stunned by his brazen attitude. How could a man like this walk into his office, offer himself almost like a sacrificial lamb, unafraid, and present such eagerness to comply with the requests of another country’s leader? Nothing made any sense. Lucky let him know that he was reading his thoughts.
“I can tell by your expression,” Lucky added, “that you’re wondering why I would agree to any of this. Well it’s simple.”
Hah,
thought Putin.
Nothing is ever that simple
.
“I’ll gladly answer your questions as long as I have your guarantee that after providing you with the answers, you will stop harassing me.”
“Mr. Campo,” Zofski interrupted. “You are in no position to demand anything.” He smirked as he said it, almost proud of himself. “You are completely in our control. Your demands mean little to us in this room. We have ways of getting you to talk and I do hope that you give me reason to prove to you.”
Zofski was full of himself, completely celebrating. It was a triumph for him, both for speaking out on behalf of the President, and for the situation at hand. Lucky was their prisoner. Jubilant and snarky would describe him, Lucky thought – the very kind of person that Lucky loved to cut off at the knees, but nevertheless, Lucky was a bit surprised at Zofski’s gall. If a man can feel at liberty to speak for his President, then that man must be quite confident of his position, meaning his hierarchy. Lucky eyed Putin.
President Putin interrupted and said, “Zofski, I think you are going a little too far.” Then he looked at Lucky and said, “Mr. Campo, I do not like to resort to extreme measures. I prefer to avoid them and keep my hands, as the President, clean. By all means, if your answers seem satisfactory, then all is well and ends here.”
Lucky looked at him. “I’ll take your word, Mr. President. Even though we are from different countries, I think that we both recognize the importance of honor. But, I must admit that I am a bit surprised that a man with your intelligence has someone like this man here, this Zofski, as you call him, working so closely with you. His words and body language tell me that he is a liar – a sociopath with no morals or values. This man has no honor.”
Zofski began to seethe with rage. He clenched his teeth. His fingers curled in anger and he leapt out of his chair and charged into Lucky, stopping right at his face as he spewed his words, growling into his eyes.
“Who are you to come into this office and insult the President and me?”
“I didn’t insult the President,” Lucky said. “I insulted you,” he added smugly.
“How dare you insult me? I hope you enjoyed it, Mr. Campo. After we are finished here, you will say hello to the interrogation room,
deep
beneath this building. I doubt very much that you will be in any position to insult me or anyone else ever again.”
“See,” Lucky said as he looked at President Putin. “This is exactly what I was talking about, Mr. President. This man is insane.”
Zofski picked up a walkie-talkie lying on the President’s desk and uttered some Russian. Lucky understood. He had alerted security and requested that two-security men report to the president’s office immediately.
President Putin’s expression was serious. “Mr. Campo, I have given you my word that no harm will come to you if I get the answers I’m looking for.”
Zofski tried to jump in, “But . . .”
“No buts. I am in charge here,” Putin said sternly. “Do not overstep your authority, Mr. Zofski. Now,” he said, turning back to Lucky, “I admire your bravery and I can see what an asset you must have been to your agency, but there is no need to insult my Chief of Staff. Mr. Campo, you are in an awkward position right now, a difficult one, on our land, in our territory.”
“As difficult and awkward as it may seem to you, Mr. President,” Lucky countered. “You are in a
more
difficult position than I. It may seem hard to believe, but it is indeed true.”
The President shook his head, as if to say that Lucky was crazy, and looked around the room, checking to see if he was missing something. There were no visible threats in the room. Zofski looked at the two armed men who had answered his call, now standing in each corner at the back of the room. Putin reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a piece of paper. He scanned it as if trying to determine what to do with it.
“Ask your questions, Mr. President,” Lucky said. “I really have other things to do and want to finish here and return to my home and prepare for my next vacation. I love vacations; can never get enough of them and have only . . .”
“Ha,” chortled Zofski. “The only vacation you will be taking is one that does not involve ‘sightseeing,’ as you Americans say.”
“Zofski,” yelled Putin. “I am ordering you to be silent!”
Zofski was furious – furious at the president and furious at Lucky. He looked at Lucky and glared at him as if sending a message. Lucky gave a little grin, angering him further. The two were now playing this little game with each other – the battle of the stares; quite humorous actually, thought Oleg.
The Russian president settled on his first question and asked, “I have seen the tape of you disappearing. How do you do this? What is this trick?”
“No trick, Mr. President. I can disappear
if
the circumstances are favorable.”
“Can you disappear now?”
“No.”
Zofski bolted out of his chair and faced the President. “Mr. President, can’t you see that this man is lying? He should be tortured until he reveals the truth!”
Lucky looked at Zofski, smiled, and spoke in a calm voice, asking, “And who might be doing the torturing, Mr. Zofski? Would that be you, by any chance?”
He looked at Lucky defiantly and sneered. “It would give me great pleasure to wipe the smile off of your smug face as you scream and plead for mercy.”
Lucky waved him off as if to say that he’d had enough of his foolishness. He turned back to Putin. “Mr. President, I speak the truth regarding my time travels. I cannot just choose where I want to travel. Most of it is purely by accident and it is fairly treacherous, as I never know where I will end up and what I might see. There are atrocities in every time period, some that are rather difficult to stomach, but . . . I do have other powers that may interest you. If you will, then allow me to demonstrate some real magic right here in this room.”
Zofski huffed, “Oh, please do. This I cannot wait to see.”
“Would you like that, Mr. President?” Lucky asked, ignoring Zofski’s comment.
“Mr. Campo, that is the purpose, the reason for our interest in you. Please do. Is there anything that you need from us in order to, uh, perform . . . this
magic
?” he asked. It was obvious that Putin was completely skeptical.
“Not really,” Lucky answered. “See, that’s what’s great about what I do. I don’t really have to carry many things like the other magicians do. They have to have a rabbit, a hat, some cards, a big trunk, a saw, a beautiful lady . . .”
“Mr. President,” Zofski said. “This man is making a mockery of you, me, this office. Allow me to have him removed immediately and taken for real questioning. Let’s see his magic get him out of the basement . . .”
“Zofski,” Lucky said. “You are really getting on my nerves. Actually, you’re making me mad and I don’t like getting mad. Getting mad makes my blood pressure go up and my doctor told me not to do that, not to let my blood pressure go up. He told me to avoid those things that might make it go up. Now, you are one of those ‘things’ that is making my blood pressure increase. I don’t like that. I don’t like you.” Lucky then turned back toward the President, and said, “As I was saying before your rude little minion over here decided to interrupt again, as for my magic, I can show you right here. For example, if I just point my finger at Mr. Zofski, here, I can make him fall into a sleep.”
Zofski laughed that uncomfortable laugh that said, “This is ridiculous, but it makes me skittish anyway.”
“Let me demonstrate if for you, Mr. President.” Lucky pointed his finger at Zofski. Zofski crossed his arms in defiance and then immediately fell to the floor, seemingly unconscious. Lucky, walked over, grabbed his legs, and dragged him over to the chair that he previously occupied, draped his body face down over the seat of the chair, and dragged the chair against the wall, out of the way. Lucky looked over at Oleg and couldn’t help but catch the slight glimmer of a smile that he was trying hard to conceal.
“Mr. Zofski is much better company when he has nothing to say, don’t you agree, Mr. President?” Lucky asked. Oleg could no longer restrain himself. He let out a nice hearty laugh. Putin looked up at him, but showed no emotion.
“So you see, Mr. President,” Lucky continued. “Contrary to what your buddy here thinks,” he said pointing to Zofski, “it is
you
who is in danger from me and not
me
from you. But let’s not concern ourselves with that because I did not come here with the intention of harming anyone. I allowed Oleg to bring me to you, after he insisted and only after he, um, captured me, of course, and for that, I have to give the man credit,” he said as he nodded to Oleg. Oleg smiled. He had no idea why Lucky did that, but he was appreciative. “Now, onto your other questions. I really want to complete this little mission, as I would like to make it home in time for dinner. Somewhere there’s a nice steak with my name on it.”
Putin put up his hand to cut him off and said, “And you can do this to someone else, a different person if I were to call him into this office?”
“Yes, please call anyone you like.” Putin picked up his phone and asked his secretary to come in.A few seconds later, the door opened and a petite, blue eyed, quite attractive, blond young woman entered the room and he asked her to stand still.
The President looked at Lucky and said, “All right. Do it again. Point your finger at her.”
Lucky smiled at the woman said, “Sorry,” lifted his hand in her direction, and pointed his finger at her and, plop, she collapsed where she stood. Gingerly, he picked her up and lay her down on the floor next to the wall. Just about that time, Zofski opened his eyes, lifted his head, appeared bewildered for a second or two, and asked, “What happened?” No one answered him. The President, still seated behind his desk, was not sure if he should continue with his questions or not. This secret, this magic of Lucky’s had him perplexed – perplexed and pissed. Why hadn’t the men of the KGB developed this technology or this magic?
“Mr. President, you asked me another question and now I would like to answer it.”
“Yes, do,” Putin said. “Please explain how you can disappear in the middle of a field, vanish into the air.”
Lucky explained how he stepped into time portals and proceeded to once again emphasize how none of it mattered, as his gift, the result of a head injury, served no benefit to the military, other governments, other countries, or covert operations. And . . . just so you know,” he added, “it is quite dangerous to others. You see, only I can travel freely. Only I. All others who may have the bright idea of following me or attempting it will meet certain doom, and that . . . is no bluff, as we say in poker.”
Zofski was still looking around the room, half hearing what Lucky had said. He jumped up and demanded, “What happened? Why do I have no memory of things? How did I get into that chair?”
“Sit down,” Putin ordered. “And I would advise you to remain silent. The man here, the one you insulted, has provided proof of his ‘magic.’ You, on the other hand, have no magic, so until you have some, I suggest you sit there and say nothing, absolutely nothing.”
Zofski’s face turned red. How dare someone speak to him like that, even the President of Russia? He was as important, if not more so, than the man behind the desk, he thought.
Lucky concluded with, “I cannot teleport. I cannot choose to disappear whenever I want and be gone like that,” he said as he snapped his fingers. “A person that can disappear on demand, whenever he wants, now that person and that person’s psyche or techno or magic powers, now those could certainly be of interest to others and yes, perhaps be used in some warped fashion for intelligence or have military implications, but not the ability that I have. It is far too limiting.”
Lucky wasn’t quite sure if President Putin was convinced or not. By all accounts, he was an intelligent man and perhaps he was grappling with whether any of what Lucky said was true. Putin moved on to his next question.
“I understand that you have a unique system of travel, outside of your special doors . . .”
“Portals,” Lucky corrected.
“Outside of your portals,” Putin repeated.
“Well, yes, Mr. President, I do have a carefully designed and operational propulsion system, but I will not tell you anything about that. I don’t think I’m even going to tell this to my own government. But I have taken the liberty of demonstrating the spacecraft to your KGB Chief, Mr. Oleg Karpov.”
The Russian president looked at Oleg. Oleg nodded slightly as if to acknowledge that what Lucky was saying was true.
“And I am sure that he,” Lucky continued, “will provide you a complete report on all that he has seen and experienced. In fact, it is my desire to allow him to accompany me on a longer flight where he will see firsthand how our ship functions. So now that I have voluntarily answered your questions, if there is nothing further to discuss, I would appreciate Mr. Karpov escorting me safely outside of the building. But, before I go, I would like your gentleman’s word that you will call off your men, that I no longer be considered someone on your capture list, and that the entire KGB is notified immediately that your agency no longer has any need for my presence or assistance.”