Read an Excerpt
Carl knew the pickup would not be long in coming. The small paper bag he'd
dropped into a trashcan just inside the park entrance would be buried by other
contributions if someone did not get to it quickly. Keeping an eye on the
package while appearing not to do so, Carl strolled around the periphery of the
park until finally she came. It was a woman in her early thirties with a dark
blue scarf wrapped loosely around her head. The scarf failed to hide the lovely
black hair that flowed softly down her well-shaped back. Nor did it mask the
beauty of her face, a Latin beauty that reminded Carl too much of Nicola.
Without making a thing of it, she reached in, grabbed the bag then walked away,
to where, a suddenly guilt-ridden Carl did not want to know. He had already gone
too far, and there was a plane waiting to take him to Peru.
As he moved resolutely on, Carl failed to notice the modestly-dressed man
sitting quietly on a bench at the north end of the park, the side opposite the
girl and the package that was now hers. There was concern on his heavily-tanned
face as he watched the young CIA officer exit the park then disappear down a
crowded street.
Read a Sample Chapter
The White House; January 20th
<P>
With one mildly arthritic hand, President of the United States, William
Andrews Morrison, about to add "Former" to that title, gathered his
slightly-too-long hair and pulled it away from his collar. His massive,
pure-white eyebrows dipped as he thought of how often the press had poked fun at
this life-long habit.
<P>
No complaints. Appearance had carried him a long way: hair as white and as
full as his eyebrows, a tall, slim frame that reminded people of Lincoln, and a
deep, resonant voice that impressed even if it no longer convinced. Now in his
early seventies, he had given the public what they wanted to see in a leader,
and even now few could deny the impression of oneness between the man and the
office he occupied.
<P>
Alone in the quiet of the Oval Office, Morrison's eyes, alert
and darting, were a sharp contrast to the image he had painfully cultivated over
the last year, that of a tired old man welcoming the relative obscurity that
would soon be his. It had not required any degree of genius to recognize early
on that he would not be re-elected. Could not be, considering how much of the
voting public was alarmed by his unending demands, sacrifice to be piled upon
sacrifice.
<P>
Idiots!
<P>
It also had not required genius to recognize that civilization and even
mankind itself was on a slippery road to disaster, that a new world order would
be needed if either were to survive.
<P>
One that will not require the blessing of my 'loyal'
public!
<P>
Soon the depressing ceremony would begin, a ceremony laced with gaiety
and false promise. Within the hour his successor would arrive at the front
portico and together they would drive down Pennsylvania Avenue to that
now-distasteful place where he would be forced to accept, with just enough smile
on his wrinkled face to mask the terrible anguish that clung so heavily to his
soul, the loss of the most powerful office in the world. God, how he loathed
giving those undeserving bastards even so temporary a reprieve!
<P>
But it was necessary. It was important to continue the deception if
what was to follow had any hope of succeeding. The public had to be convinced
that the one who had made those disturbing predictions about mankind's future,
had come to his senses. They had to believe he was now willing, even anxious, to
withdraw from their lives and trouble their collective conscience no more.
<P>
Let the games begin!
<P>
Morrison lit an old briar pipe and sank into the stuffed chair his successor
had chosen to replace one of Morrison's own. Inside the well-insulated office,
the only sound reaching his ears was the ticking of an ancient grandfather
clock, the one item of furniture sure to be retained by the room's new occupant.
Each stroke announced the end of a moment in time, his time. Even so, he felt
only pride. There was purpose in what he was doing, real purpose.
