Berta cleared her throat, and before anyone could say one word, the doors to the cabin opened, and Eliza Pendleton joined them, hurrying as she made her way inside. She didn’t make eye contact with any of them. Instead, she took her seat. Her smile was tight when she said...
“Sorry for my tardiness.”
Woodrow said...
“No apologies necessary. Rest--slow down...catch your breath.”
Woodrow was well into his nineties; rest, and moving slow were probably the only speeds his body responded to.
Berta excessively sighed. Breaking with protocol, she spoke, and her English accent grated their ears so badly that Morpheus wanted her to stop talking--but she didn't.
“Tardy again. We are here for a common good. I flew halfway around the world yet, I arrived hours before you. This meeting is important--but you don’t seem to understand that.”
Morpheus could not abide self important people and neither did Woodrow. For all intense and purposes, Eliza was a nobody. She didn’t own a global anything and her financial wealth couldn’t fund a country or pay off its national debt. Eliza was here seated at this table because Morpheus had insisted. During the past two years, their political plans had been spiraling down the crapper and Eliza had been employed to plug the hole. And it had worked for a while, but their crisis manager couldn’t adequately do her job because she had not been in the know, therefore she’d been working with one free hand while her other hand had been tied behind her back. Morpheus had expressed how valuable she would be to them, mainly because even though Eliza didn’t bring a certain brand of status to the table, she did have something that most of them didn’t have. Secrets; and in this circle, that made her just as valuable as any of them.
Woodrow liked Eliza, and he smartly smiled at her, giving her a slow nod of his approval.
In a weak voice, he brought their meeting to order.
“Now that we are all in attendance, I would like to suggest that we discuss our most urgent topic without delay.”
Woodrow didn’t have to name the topic he’d been referring to because they all knew and they noticed that his eyes steered clear of Morpheus. Woodrow said...
“The floor is open for discussion of the matter concerning Tollin Pettier and Governor Andrew Wilcox. As you all know, besides those of us seated here, there are only a handful of people who are aware of the governors political goals--and even though these people are being led to believe that these aspirations are the governor’s and the governor’s alone; this is by design, and they will never know that we in fact are the embodiment of that aspiration. In due time--and after we have set the stage, the governor will reveal to the rest of the country that he is placing his bid to run in the next presidential election. Now...we all know that there are many things that must occur, here as well as abroad. The stabilization of the global market, crude oil production and then there is the European bank issue to consider. In every endeavor, secrecy is the key--and that brings me to the purpose of this meeting. Tollin Pettier’s death is gaining momentum in the Press as are the deaths of Alicia Holly Bradford and Dashiell Wrightly. At this time--we do not need nor do we want Governor Andrew Wilcox, or his family in the media. This problem has been compounded by three untimely murders and the fact that one of the victims just so happened to have mowed down the niece of Governor Wilcox. The connection is weak, but even though up to now, Andrew has not been named in the murders; his association is thinly veiled. Until now, we have done what we could using our influences to keep Andrew from becoming a suspect--but we need the media circus to die down. We need the TV news to stop repeating their names. George--where do we stand on that issue?”
The question had been put to George due to his media contacts. George shook his head while saying...
“The major networks have tried to push the story to the back burners, but the bloggers won’t let it rest. When the independent buzz gets out of hand, I don’t have many options; and believe me when I say that these bloggers are getting their message out. They’ve been relentless--and not all the buzz concerns Tollin. Some of the sites are talking about gun violence and the murder of the call girl--Holly. There’s also a little chatter about Amy’s mother and her generous donation to an inner city charity sponsored by a Samaritan woman. Not much is being said about Dash--on that front, we’ve pretty much got that covered. But I can’t say the same about Marisela Pettier; she’s talking to whomever will listen to her. And so far, that amounts to every national TV news network, cable networks and the radio outlets as well. So--at this point, suppressing the story will only make matters worse. This story has taken on a life of its own, and at this point these families and the bloggers have forced my hand.”
Woodrow looked at Vincent, the owner of Global Satellites, when he said...
“Vincent...were you able to do anything on your end?”
“Very little. When we shut down one site, within hours, they were up and running, using another IP address. This is a cat and mouse game--and right now, they seem to be winning. The only answer is to shut down the entire grid--and I can’t do that.”
“I agree” Woodrow said... “That’s sure to feed the conspiracy nuts.”
Morpheus smirked because most times the conspiracy theories weren’t theories at all; except for a few missing details, these people came close to knowing the entire truth.
Berta gesticulated, pointing her finger when she said...
“Now that she’s here--let’s ask her what she thinks, given that Morpheus insisted we invite her to join our group.”
Woodrow was the oldest of them, and whenever a member spoke out of turn, he felt that it was his duty to renew order.
He shifted in his seat, turning to face Berta.
“Friend...let us begin again. But this time, we will proceed in an orderly manner.”
While pointing at Berta, he said....
“Berta...you may have the floor.”
Without hesitating, Berta went for the jugular...
“Andrew Wilcox’s nomination is in jeopardy.” She pointed her finger at Eliza while saying... “And she is partly to blame. I may not live in this country but as you all have said...there is a bigger picture, and your next president will be in that portrait. Well...I agree, but I do not see any way out of this. Nearly everyday your newspapers or your TV news is talking about the sister of Andrew Wilcox and the mysterious way that Tollin Pettier took his life. They are talking about Andrew for all the wrong reasons and soon, they will make the connection, and where will we be then? Eliza was supposed to fix this--and she hasn’t. I’ve said my peace and now I want to change my vote. I vote no confidence.”
George sat as still as a statue, when he echoed her refrain...
“As for Andrew Wilcox--I too change my vote. I vote, no confidence.”
Vincent said...
“Are you serious? Do you know how long it took to find Andrew? Do you know how long it took to vet him and to ensure that he’d be willing to fully participate--without question?”
Woodrow said...
“Calm, calm my friends. We are evolved beings; far above any government. We see the world as it truly is. Our vantage point gives us a clearer view than most.”
He looked at the two recanters when he said...
“Now is not the time for doubt. We have chosen our man--and we will stand by him--until the decision is no longer a prudent consideration.”
“But why not consider ending our association now? How can we move forward with Andrew?” George directed his question at Woodrow.
The older man said...
“We will do it because we can.”
Berta shouted...
"But we didn’t agree to this.”
Berta had been referring to the murders. She continued.
“We all agreed that Andrew was our man, but we didn’t agree to sanction actions that we as a group did not pre-approve. We did not give him permission to pay for Tollin to be murdered. If he did that--imagine what he’ll do, when he’s in the White House.”