| Subject: Waiting...One & Two |
Author:
Enjoue`
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Date Posted: 07:19:10 03/05/01 Mon
In reply to:
Enjoue`
's message, "Waiting...by Enjoue`" on 07:14:24 03/05/01 Mon
All human power is a compound of time and patience.
--Honore de Balzac (1799 - 1850) French author
ONE
Italian Banker Dies in Tragic Accident
The headline squatted blackly at the bottom of the silent, flickering television screen. Poole glanced up from his computer, then reached abruptly for the remote control, frowning. The voice of CNN’s reporterette sprang brightly into the room in mid-sentence:
“…Governor of the Banca d’Italia and a member of the European Central Bank’s Governing Council, was killed yesterday in a tragic climbing accident in the Italian Alps. Fazio was an experienced mountaineer and was in the company of other long-time climbing partners. The incident is under investigation.”
The pretty newscaster turned cheerily to another subject and Poole silenced her with a touch on the mute button. Outside the window, low, late-day sunlight probed fiercely at the partly closed shades. Its hot fingers slid imperceptibly across his desk while he sat for several minutes, still and thoughtful. Then, turning to his computer, he tapped his way efficiently through security measures until the file he sought flashed onto the screen. He pondered the short list of names and dates.
The small snick of a turning doorknob suddenly interrupted his silent contemplation. He smiled affectionately as Judith’s slim figure slid sideways through the door, cautiously balancing two cups of tea and a handful of computer discs. She deposited these on the corner of the desk then leaned over his neatly tailored shoulder, squeezing gently as she did so. After a moment’s examination of the displayed file, she made a small sound of concern.
“Another?”
“Yes,” he replied, then added, “Antonio Fazio from Italy. He is the fourth.”
“How did you learn of it this time?”
He picked up his teacup and gestured with it in the direction of the television. “CNN,” he said wryly. “The source of some of the planet’s best intel. Even if they are unforgiveably biased in their political reporting.”
He sipped at the tea then put down the cup and selected a web browser. Within moments they were looking at the latest FOX reports and UPI breaking news. The few details being allowed to the public were readily available here and the two absorbed everything quickly as they scanned the articles.
Judith stepped aside to lean against the desk corner. She crossed her arms and studied his subdued expression with a practiced eye.
“Do you think it is time?” she asked. Her voice was low, colored by a melange of accents that made it impossible to guess her native tongue.
He tapped at the touchpad and once again the list of names and dates appeared on the screen. Lifting his cup for another sip of tea, he did not reply immediately. Behind his composed features she was well aware that his exceptional intellect was turning all possible options over and over at lightening speed. She also could see uncharacteristic hesitancy.
Judith knew her husband well.
The creeping fingers of sunlight fell off the edge of the desk, leaving Poole’s face in dimness. His refined accent did not quite cover the undertone of concern in his response.
“I don’t believe we have any other responsible option.” He looked up at her. “This has the potential to become very… disagreeable.”
She recognized the understatement. “Can you trust them?”
He reached up to pull off his glasses, rubbing tiredly at his forehead for a moment.
“Some of them. Yes. It will have to be handled discreetly.” He slowly laid his glasses on the desk then looked back at her again.
“This will put them in a difficult situation. After what they’ve been through I am not at all sure they have either the will or the resources to handle this situation.”
“But we can’t deal with this alone.”
“Absolutely we cannot,” he replied decisively. “And should they unable or unwilling….”
He did not complete the sentence, but reached out to put one hand on her neat waist and draw her nearer. Judith laid her hands on his shoulders and smiled down into his eyes, noting as always their unusual and complex shades of gray. Now, she saw foreboding there as well, and sought to bolster his confidence.
“Between you and Paul’s people, I have complete faith that an answer will be found.”
*****
TWO
“I am not convinced that this is a good idea.”
Nikita heard his voice through the crackle of static in her headset. Above, the helicopter rotors beat with a thunderous roar which had become as white noise, its unceasing presence relegated to the background of their awareness.
She leaned forward. “This is the only meeting Poole has asked for in over a year. We have to assume it’s important.”
Operations glanced irritably at her. “What makes you so convinced that his idea of what’s important will coincide with mine?”
Nikita looked into his pale eyes a moment longer, then turned her gaze out the window. They’d covered this ground already. Patience. Some things never change. He was here. That was enough.
Poole had uncovered something urgent enough that it had compelled him to request this personal meeting. She herself had no specifics about it, but she was perfectly willing to trust his judgement. It had taken a heroic effort, however, to convince Operations. In the end it had been Madeline who pushed hard enough to sway him. That and Operations’ own grudging respect for Poole.
Out the window beside him, the blue Caribbean horizon sped by, the break between sea and sky barely discernible. His eyes narrowed unpleasantly as he looked at her.
“Madeline may have cooked up this lunatic cooperation scheme between Section and Poole, but I’ve never been very happy about it.” He leaned closer. “And I’ve never been very happy about you as some kind of liaison. It was a great deal of trouble” – he emphasized the words – “to cover my absence today. If it isn’t worth it I will hold you personally responsible.”
His problem with the cooperation scheme, Nikita suspected, wasn’t so much that they collaborated with Poole, as it was that Operations wasn’t in complete control of it. All of Section was aware of an undeclared shift in the balance of power between Madeline and Operations since their return from virtual exile with Poole. Even the least perceptive among them sensed a new level of tension which exceeded even the normally charged atmosphere within Section. Overall, results had benefited procedurally and strategically from the change, but at a cost exacted in terms of the private working relationship between Section’s two leaders.
Operations never hesitated to take out his frustration on those around him. Mentally, Nikita suppressed her irritation and shrugged this off as a known facet of his character. And, she had to admit, he did have to deal with another layer of upper management that was outside her scope of responsibility. Their continuing relationship with Poole was strictly and perilously outside their sphere of sanctioned operations. If Oversight ever got wise, even in its present, relatively toothless, configuration - the consequences for them all could be deadly.
Well, we’ve been there, before,Nikita thought. Bitter laughter threatened at the absurdity of being anxious about Oversight, whose threat paled in comparison to the harrowing government-backed purge they’d all managed to survive. She did not try to supress the small ironic smile that came to her lips.
Operations scowled at this, as she’d known he would, but before he could say anything further, the pilot broke into their communications to announce that they had arrived. Within moments, a new pitch to the howl of the engine confirmed his words, and they settled lightly into a clearing surrounded by tall, waving palms.
Poole was there to meet them, dapper and impeccable as always, despite the heat of the tropical mid-day. He waited at the edge of the clearing, beyond the worst of the gale created by still-moving rotors. Nikita and Operations climbed down from the helicopter and quickly scrambled clear. Behind them, the pilot lifted off as soon as they were out of the way.
“Welcome.” Poole’s greeting was short but his eyes twinkled with warmth. “Thank you for coming.”
Operations ignored the amicable tone and commented curtly, “This would have been easier over the phone.”
Poole gestured with one hand and they turned to walk the short distance to his compound. Nikita placed herself between the two men as they followed the winding, sandy path.
“How is Madeline?” Poole inquired as they walked.
Next to her, Operations let out an irritated breath and did not answer.
“She’s well,” Nikita replied. “She sends her regards and a book she thinks you would like.”
“Indeed?” Poole responded in an interested tone.
“Something by some writer from Guadeloupe, I think.” Next to her, Operations increased his pace and Nikita stretched her long legs to keep up. “It’s in French.”
“Ah, yes” said Poole with satisfaction. “The native writer she was telling me about. She knows how I love these islands. Thank you for bringing it. I hope soon that I’ll have the time to read it.” This last was said in a darker tone, and with it they arrived at the terrace. Operations dumped his bag exasperatedly into the nearest chair.
“What’s going on?”
Poole looked at him keenly and stepped closer until they were facing each other. Nikita stood quietly to the side. Madeline had warned her that a face-off between the two men was likely, and she could only wait while it played out.
Somehow, even from his shorter height, Poole managed to physically dominate the exchange. His tone was very cool as he addressed Operations.
“I am aware, sir, of the risks and difficulties you experience not only in continuing an unsanctioned association between our organizations, but specifically in coming here today. I would not have requested this meeting if it were not a matter I considered to be of grave importance.” Poole pulled back imperceptibly before continuing.
“I trust that our past affiliation will persuade you of my sincerity.”
At this subtle reminder of all that Poole had done for them in the recent past, Operations had the grace to look slightly shamefaced. He inclined his head in acknowledgement. “Of course, Mr. Poole. You know I have a high opinion of your judgement and abilities.”
This was as far as he would go toward an apology. In a more civil tone he again directed the conversation back to business.
“Why have you requested this meeting?”
Poole looked searchingly at Operations a moment longer. Then he nodded in apparent satisfaction and stepped back.
“Come with me,” he said quietly. “I’ll show you.”
Leaving behind the warm, breezy afternoon, Poole led the way through the house to the familiar work rooms at the back. It was cool and dim, smelling of the air conditioning that controlled the atmosphere in this part of the building. As they took seats Poole brought up on the computer screen the same file of names he and Judith had been looking at two days earlier. Added to the bottom of the list now was the name Antonio Fazio, and the date of his death.
“Do you recognize these names?” he asked them.
“Only the last,” said Nikita. She looked to Operations for his reaction.
“I recall the last death being reported recently,” Operations echoed, gesturing to Fazio. “The other names are only vaguely familiar.”
Poole nodded. “Then I will start at the beginning.” He pulled up another file of the same names which included short bios and photographs for each man.
“These people, over the last five years, have all died in ways that were ruled accidental. All were bank governors and representatives of their countries on the General Council of the European Central Bank. As you know, beginning in 1993 fifteen nations banded together to form the European Union. Their goal is political, economic and social cooperation. In 1999 they introduced a new single currency, the euro. Because the euro area accounts for nearly 20% of the world’s Gross Domestic Product, the effects will not be confined only to Europe. In fact, the euro is a credible currency with stable economic underpinnings and the potential to evolve into a major currency alongside the dollar.”
Poole paused here and pulled up a new list of names. “These are the current members of the General Council. They are tasked with controlling the monetary policy of the euro area, conducting foreign exchange operations, managing official foreign reserves and controlling overall operation of the payments systems. In addition, they contribute to policy-making in a host of other areas. The influence of this Council, “ Poole said emphatically, “cannot be overstated.”
“And who controls the Council?” Operations asked interestedly.
“Yes, you are beginning to see my direction,” Poole replied. “As of January 1, the Federal Republic of Germany is the President of the European Union. Coincidentally, Germany will also be holding the presidency of the Schengen, the Western European Union and the G8 economic alliance. In addition they will be overseeing general election to the European Parliament, as well as the election of the next President of the European Commission. These are huge international responsibilities.”
“Or opportunities,” Nikita noted quietly.
Poole looked at her. “Exactly.”
Movement at the door drew their attention as Judith entered the room, nodding a brief greeting to Operations and Nikita. “There has been another ,” she said quietly to Poole, handing him a sheet of paper. “Nout Wellink from the Netherlands.” She took a seat next to Nikita as Poole read through the short page of text.
“Well,” he said, looking up soberly. “It is fortunate that we have not taken more time to come together. It appears that matters are escalating.”
“Exactly what is escalating?” Operations asked, impatience touching his voice.
Poole looked at him somberly. “German domination of the civilized world.”
* * *
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