Pa'an

Jag was at his desk going through Ultradata’s financial statements and auditor’s reports. Kaiser was asleep on his sheepskin doggie bed. Elexi was moping around the outer office trying to find something to please Jag, and finding very little useful to do.

All Jag had to do was familiarize himself with the information in the report. He had hired very competent attorneys and auditors for the actual preparation of the company’s annual SEC report. Exaplex sales were just beginning what promised to be a long climb, and, while it was looking good, there were production problems. Some memories had unexplained unusable sectors. Customers were returning the defective modules for refund. Cash flow was still not up to the original projections.

The fax machine in the outer office beeped and extruded a few sheets into the hopper. Elexi grabbed them and ran into Jag’s office.

“Mr. Jaeger, sir, we just got a huge order from Lockheed’s office in Bethesda.” She slid the sheets into Jag’s inbox.

Jag glanced at them, then picked them up and scanned them more closely. “That’s a half billion dollar order. I wasn’t aware that we were even bidding Lockheed.”

“Sir, we aren’t bidding them, as far as I know.”

Jag frowned. He could not get Elexi to stop calling him “sir” and bustling around trying to please him. “Call McHugh and find out if he knows anything about this.”

“Yes, sir.”

Elexi went to call the Director of Marketing and Sales while Jag picked up the sheets for a more careful reading. There was a condition attached to the order: a series of meetings between Lockheed and the CEO of Ultradata to determine warranty, terms and delivery schedules. That was not only unusual, but absurd. Jag did not follow those things closely enough to conduct the negotiations. On the bottom of the last sheet was a clue: a certain S. Hornsby was copied on the order.

“Sir, Mr. McHugh never bid Lockheed and hasn’t even been able to get them to agree to a sales meeting. He did send a spec sheet on the Exaplex to one of their engineers.”

“I see that the conditions of the sale require my personal attention down in Bethesda. Get me a flight tomorrow and I’ll call and set up the meeting. Ask McHugh to give me whatever data he has on Lockheed’s project. And tell the SEC attorneys that I approve the report.”

Jag put aside the annual report draft with a sigh of relief. A slow smile spread on his face.

It seems the good Senator Hornsby had arranged his cover.

*****

Jag stepped out of the private limousine. Lockheed’s Bethesda office was a glass cube, one of several sharing an office park with other Beltway contractors. They issued him a badge and escorted him to an office on the upper floor. A secretary offered him coffee and led him to an inner room. It took both her badge and his to unlock a padded, soundproof door. The secure room had a dozen comfortable chairs around an ordinary conference table, no windows, no telephone, a pair of easels with blank presentation pads and felt tipped pens, an oversized shredder, and a stack of burn bags marked “Top secret – for disposal only”. Senator Saxton Hornsby stood at the head of the table. When Jag came in, the door locked behind him, and only then Sax moved. He smiled, shook Jag’s hand and pulled out a seat.

Jag looked around. “Sax, you amaze me. This is well done. I didn’t know Senators had training in secure contact procedures.”

“When we travel to dangerous countries as delegates, we get trained by the CIA. Actually, we have a friend here.” Sax pushed a business card across the table. There was a name, Derek Gleaver, and a number. No affiliation or address. Jag pocketed the card.

“Might as well take off your coat and be comfortable. We have a lot to talk about. No notes, please. I bet you were better trained than me for this sort of thing. Am I right?”

Jag took off his topcoat and folded it over an empty chair, followed by his tie. He slouched comfortably in one chair and put his feet up on another. “My training covered a lot of ground. Most of what I do now is business, influence, gentler forms of coercion.”

“Not much different from politics, perhaps? But not the politics I prefer. My wife says I sleep well at night. Are you married?”

“No. Attachments are…discouraged. All I have is a small white dog.”

“A dog? Good for you.” Sax paused and looked Jag in the eye. “Are you still up for this?”

“I got over being so angry I couldn’t think straight, but yes, definitely. You?”

“Jag, I’m just a Vermont dairy farmer at heart, trying to do my job. But those bastards got my Yankee dander up. I’m moving down that road, now, and I won’t look back.”

Sax sipped his cold coffee and loosened his tie. “I’ll tell you the outlines and we can fill in the rest as we go. I’ve got a couple of hours.”

“Three weeks ago a Brit I never heard of came into my office and laid on an obligation. I’m a member of the Nuclear Regulatory Commission, and he wanted me to investigate something in that area. That fellow, Clemson, knew nothing except to set me up with MI6. Then you and I were on that flight together. I went to a meeting at Number 10 Downing and the fellows there gave me an earful. It seems that a tight cadre of private companies, all linked cleverly by overlapping ownership, now controls all the missing fissile materials in the world. Not bombs themselves, but the enriched uranium, even plutonium, that could be used to make bombs with some processing. I don’t have to tell you which countries have that processing capability, do I?”

“No. Please go on.”

“Do you know anything about this?”

“Those directors and owners are all members of the Order. I’ve met one or two of them, that’s all.” Jag was mentally beating himself for not putting the pieces together earlier. But then, curiosity was not conducive to long life in the Order.”

“Hardly a revelation, but it confirms what they told me. Anyhow, I flew back to D.C. and tried to follow up. I called Pellorini in Defense, and he refused to meet me. I collared Decker, Homeland Security, in his lair, and he stonewalled me. He was very nervous and seemed like he was under a lot of pressure.”

“Hmm. I never heard their names used, but obviously someone got to Pellorini and Decker. I’ll remember those names now.”

“Good, you do that. Then, when I threatened Decker with an NRC investigation, I got a ‘cease and desist” letter from the head of the NRC within the hour. That was their mistake. It tipped the issue for me.”

Jag simply nodded and added a few more points to the character of the man across the table.

“Jag, I was at a dead stop until you called. That business with the necklace was nice, by the way. I figured if you knew how to do that, I could work with you. But understand, I still have immunity as a Senator. I can have this whole thing fall into a cocked hat and still get re-elected next term. You, my friend, are now an open target for both sides. I can only do so much, and that is probably not enough to protect you. On the other hand, if it turns out that this Order still owns your sorry ass and you turn that way again, be sure I know where to find you.”

Jag was grimly aware of the situation. “I know the game. I’ll give you something you can use, but, again, you’d be better off to wait.”

“I’m listening.”

“The man I call Mentor lives, as far as I know, on a large motor yacht usually moored near Quay D’Ouchy, Lausanne, Switzerland. The name of the yacht is “Dominar III”. The man is a cripple, and pretty old. All my orders come from him. I don’t know his real name, or where else he may live. He summons me. I visit him on his yacht, he never comes to me.”

“He is also a trainer of upper echelon Order members. I’m told I was being trained to reach the top ranks one day.”

“Most of the lower level people, especially the girls, are put through a process using drugs and operant conditioning. It works – they are always eager and loyal. They don’t do that at my level. It impairs the higher faculties, I’m told.” Jag hoped that was true.

“Although I was never privy to the larger strategies, I do know that the Order believes they are the logical inheritors of a world that will soon have a lot fewer people in it. The main use of the remaining people will be to serve the inheritors in one way or another. The power, wealth and resources behind the Order are beyond calculation.”

“They encourage me to use the wealth. I got this ten thousand dollar topcoat, and this twenty thousand dollar watch. The money is just a drop in the bucket. They buy you with these things.” Jag suddenly viewed his coat and his watch with disgust.

Sax raised an eyebrow. “So, you’re giving up a lot to go against these people. Maybe even your life. Good thing I never got used to riches back on the farm.”

Sax got up and began to pace. “Hmm. Let’s do a little planning. We can use this room again, maybe once more. The guy on the card I gave you will help, but he can’t be exposed.”

“Jag, my feeling is that you are the most valuable piece of the puzzle right now. If you take my advice, you’ll stay low profile, keep the watch and the coat and whatever, play nicey nice to this Mentor fellow, and let me work to find an opening move. But look, you don’t work for me. Do you have a better idea?”

Jag thought for a few minutes. “Sax, I look forward to the day when I can take care of Mentor, personally. It’s going to be hard. But I think you’re right. I need to gather a few recruits to our side, but quietly. Let’s establish a way to communicate and go on about our business.”

“Agreed. I’ll make your name known to Dr. Hapgood at D.O.E. He’s a friend. And remember this name – Grant Gupta from MI6. He’s the fellow I met in London.”

“Sax, hold on a minute. I just remembered something. I don’t know how it fits in…My secretary was conditioned, probably at the order of Mentor, when I was traveling. When I came back, I discovered that she was a friend of our late AI, Aura. Not only that, but she was in touch with the ET’s, including an ET AI called Zovoarcnor. Aura is gone for good, as far as I know, at my hand, under orders from Mentor. But Mentor knows about Aura and Zovoarcnor and wants to make sure that door is closed. Make any sense to you?”

Sax frowned, “Not really. Hell, I didn’t know an AI would have human friends. There was that patent office fiasco…I don’t know what to make of that business. I’ve got my hands full right here on this ball of dirt. Sure would be nice to have an AI on our side, though. Sorry about your secretary. I’ll make sure she stays out of the loop.”

Sax rubbed his temples, ran his access card through the reader, and rapped on the door. As it opened, he said, for the possible audience, “I’ll get in touch with you regarding the Exaplex contract.”

The door opened and he was gone. Jag waited ten minutes, then rapped on the door and called his limousine driver.