CARLOS & KATRINA

A Novel by Charles Adrian Trevino
Copyright 2006, 2019

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Chapter 31

Bet Bader leaned his head back against the smooth tiled rim of his enormous bathtub, which was as spacious as a large sauna, and closed his eyes. Whirlpooling jets of warm water soothed his tired body as he tried to forget about the stressful events of another working day. For a few moments he considered what kind of a toll his busy life was exacting on his health; it had to be having an unhealthy effect on him, even with all the creature comforts at his disposal. He occupied a place near the top of his secret, highly empowered society, a position which demanded intense, almost constant concentration on his part; he daily made decisions that taxed and worried him to the utmost extent.

Bader picked up a large, beige–colored bar of fragrant soap attached to a thick string and held it to his nose for a few seconds. Tomorrow he would be flying a third of the way around the world, attending to important political and economic matters which would affect the course of another victim–country's future; he would have to meet with it's top–ranking banking executives to re–finance a multi–billion dollar loan from the International Bank which that country had defaulted on again. The new loan would not only cover the outstanding interest payments due on the first, second and third loans, but would also provide some additional spending cash to the Bank's operatives in that nation's government. The massive expenditure didn't displease him, since it would make that debt–ridden country's politicians more tractable; if they didn't do what he wanted, they wouldn't get a lot of additional funds. And after all, the money wasn't coming from his organization, but was being siphoned off of other helplessly indebted countries through the World Monetary Fund, an apparatus created to force the wealthiest countries to invest in whatever scheme the Ushers could dream up, while simultaneously screwing themselves ever deeper into the sucking black hole of government debt.

Bader gently sniffed the aromatic soapbar as he concentrated on facts and figures in his head, relying on his remarkably accurate memory; then, his mind wandering, he slowly began to relax as a classical violin concerto softly resounded from the large overhanging speakers that hung from the ceiling high above him. The soothing sound of the string instruments was gradually lulling him into a less agitated mood.

He hadn't been enjoying his muse very long before the emergency phone sitting on its low stand next to the bath begin to ring incessently. Bader exhaled in annoyance and let it chime a few more times; then, knowing that the call was coming in on a private hot–line directly to him and was therefore of extremely high importance, he opened his eyes again and reached over to pick it up.

"Yes, what is it?" he asked in an unusually brusque voice; he really didn't want to be bothered by anything that was not of absolutely crucial consequence tonight.

"My apologies sir, but I have Eli Wolfen on the line regarding the matter in Franklinville. He says some unforeseen complications have arisen, and he's demanding to speak with you right now. Should I say that you'll call him back?"

Bader exhaled loudly, a frown spreading across his face. For a few seconds he considered turning down Wolfen's bold request –– then decided against it. He was having enough trouble with the impudent President as it was, and really didn't need any additional problems. "No, no, I'll take it. Thank you Joshua, you can put him through now." Bader picked up the remote control device next to the phone and turned down the violin concerto.

"Very good, sir. Here's Mr. Wolfen." Bader heard a click, and the President of the United Free States came on the line.

"Bader? Are you there?" The President's voice sounded worried.

"Yes Eli, this is Bet... what can I do for you?" answered Bader, trying hard to keep his tone polite.

"This thing with Murdock in Franklinville is getting troublesome... they're not surrendering, it looks like they're going to go down with the ship alright, except for the media advisor, Rossenberg..."

"Henry Rossenberg? What does he want, does he wish to turn himself in?" In spite of himself Bader reluctantly began to contemplate the annoying but secondary coup d'etat attempt and arrest; it really wasn't his gravest concern.

"Yes! Murdock has finally answered his phone, to tell us Rossenberg is coming out... and Rossenberg knows enough to be dangerous! The grounds are crawling with reporters that are still answerable to him..." Wolfen's tone was growing extremely agitated.

"Yes... but how are they a threat to us? We have every outlet of note under our complete control, Eli, there is no possibility of Rossenberg's or Murdock's or anyone else's words ever being publicly broadcast on any news station. You know that well. It doesn't matter if some minor journalists are still loyal to him... they can do nothing. So, what is your concern?" Bader was having to struggle to remain civil.

Wolfen exhaled loudly in exasperation. "Ok, alright, but now there's another problem... the High Chiefs of Staff are in emergency meeting right now, apparently there's been some dissenters in their ranks who've been asking to speak with Murdock and his conspirators... these are powerful military leaders, Bader, and there could be trouble..."

"Fire them. Immediately. And don't report it on any news stations. Is there anything else you wish to discuss, Eli?" Bader was nearing the end of his patience.

"Yes there is, Bet! The Franklinville Militia has called up its reservists, and they're heading to Murdock's right now, en masse... they're demanding to see Murdock in person. They're armed, Bet, and if we have to put them down with force it's going to put me in the doghouse with the UFS public, regardless of which way we present it over the media. This thing could blow up in our faces! It might mean my defeat in the next election..." Wolfen's voice was starting to grow angrier.

"Eli, you're not understanding me... we can explain away anything we choose to do –– we have complete control of all media outlets in the country; we merely have to dig up or fabricate some interesting stories about their leaders, broadcast them around and the public will quickly be calling for their heads. I don't know why you're getting yourself so upset over this minor matter, which will be completely taken care of by very experienced people. In fact, if it's handled correctly this event will increase your chances for re–election! And it will be handled correctly." Bader was feeling an overpowering urge to hang up on the President, but managed to keep his calm.

"So what are you telling me, Bader, exactly?" asked Wolfen. "Am I to open fire on the militia–men, gun them all down in front of the scores of witnesses that are already there? I think we're pushing a little too hard, Bet... we need to start seriously thinking about damage control!" Wolfen was almost yelling now.

Bader had reached his limit. The issue of Wolfen's re–election meant little to him, knowing as he did that he and his associates could just as easily proceed with a new administration, regardless of party; most politicians, with the exception of a few minor upstarts, obeyed orders given from a higher authority –– even if that authority never revealed itself to them. That was why the Ushers supported their electoral campaigns and placed them in their high governmental positions in the first place; because they didn't ask too many questions. It was time to end the conversation.

"Believe me, Eli, you have nothing to worry about from this matter; as I said, everything will be properly cleaned up and put away. And now, I really must attend to some other very pressing business; this little rebellion is a matter for the national security and media people from here on out, and we really should just leave it to them. Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. President?" Bader mentally congratulated himself for not using a mocking tone as he spoke the last words.

There was a stony silence on the other end for a long time before Wolfen spoke again.

"No... I can see that all of this is not too important to you, Mr. Bader. I apologize for taking up your precious time with such an inconsequential affair. You can go back to your money matters now," Wolfen replied in a sneering voice. Then the line went dead.

Bader gratefully dropped the receiver back in its place and picked up his stereo's remote control again, turning the volume back up. Then he leaned back once more and exhaled loudly, trying to re–enter his comfort zone.

"Imbecile," he muttered quietly to himself.

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Copyright 2019 by Charles Adrian Trevino.