Godschild Covenant: Return of Nibiru Read online

Others would have judged Johnston for what he was, an unabashed and self-serving politician who had held the Senate ratification of the UNE treaty in suspense until the price was sufficient to buy his vote. For De Bono, it was simply a matter of politics as usual.

  What De Bono liked about the cagey Louisiana Senator, was that he had earned his reputation for wheeling-and-dealing and knowing when to appease his electorate with highly visible pork-barrel projects. A self-fashioned radical populist, Johnston had developed a dignified Huey Long style approach to politics with his keen sense for politics could not be denied. Yet, his greed had finally gotten the better of him even though he lacked the cleverness to realize it. However, he would, and very soon.

  With Johnston's attention diverted, De Bono flipped back the spacious arm to reveal the two large envelopes Yvette had placed there moments before they had boarded. He laid them on the seat next to him, crossed his legs and relaxed. One of De Bono's greatest assets had always been his impeccable sense of drama, timing and the patience to let events flow at a natural pace.

  Several minutes had passed as the two men sat quietly together, and Yvette's reappearance went unnoticed by Johnston as she set the table with champagne and caviar, served on chilled bone china.

  Yvette quietly poured the champagne while glancing occasionally at De Bono with a knowing smile. She yearned to personally witness what she knew would happen next, but had already resigned herself to spending the remainder of the flight chatting with the pilots. They were handsome, especially the co-pilot, so she reasoned it would not be such a terrible sacrifice after all.

  As she finished setting the table, De Bono announced in an exaggerated voice intended to capture Johnston's attention, “Thank you so, Yvette. Perhaps you might like to see if the pilots might enjoy your delicious cappuccino drinks?"

  The voice got Johnston's attention and his head snapped away from the window. “Oh my gosh; I've been so rude.” Had he blushed it would have at least seemed a bit more sincere, Yvette thought to herself. “Please forgive me, but the view is most breathtaking. Don't you agree?"

  “Of course it is,” De Bono responded graciously. “I too was equally taken on my first trip, so no apologies are needed. Now perhaps you might like to join me in some champagne and caviar.” He pointed at the small black roe on the chilled plates. “This is Beluga caviar from the Caspian Sea. It was harvested at the beginning of the spawning period when the Roe is at its best. At least I think it is. That is why I had a special refrigerator installed on this craft. It keeps the caviar between zero to four degrees Celsius at all times, so I trust you'll find this of excellent quality."

  “Well thank you, Secretary General. This is simply marvelous!"

  “You're welcome, and if there is anything else you require, please let Yvette know it now, as she intends to visit those handsome young men in the cockpit while we ramble on here.” He winked at her.

  Johnston looked up at her and had to force his eyes from searching the parts of her firm, shapely breasts exposed by the somewhat deeply cut, yet conservative business attire. “I'm just fine, Yvette. Please just go on, and do what you need to do."

  “Well then, gentlemen, I'll bid you adieu until it is time for us begin our decent.” With that, she turned and walked back up the aisle with a gentle, yet alluring slither.

  “I've got to admit something, Secretary General. It has been a long time since I've enjoyed a delicacy like this. You know, all we mostly eat on the campaign trail is rubber chicken, BBQ, road kill chili and such."

  “We all have our little sacrifices, Senator, as well as our rewards. May I suggest the optimal way to enjoy this caviar?"

  “By all means. Please."

  De Bono picked up one of the small golden spoons set next to the bone china and carefully spooned the caviar and held the spoon up. “The best way to enjoy such a delicacy, Senator, is to burst the eggs between your tongue and palate, rather than swallowing them whole.” He took a mouthful and visibly enjoyed the explosion of flavor in his mouth as the small black roe burst under the pressure of his tongue.

  The Senator followed his lead, enjoying the same delightful sensations. He had eaten caviar several times before but had never been taught not to chew it. The difference was noticeably pleasing.

  De Bono filled their glasses with champagne and the two men proceeded to eat caviar and drink as they idly chatted about the various rewards and punishments of public life.

  After several glasses of champagne, De Bono could see that Johnston was relaxed, at ease and glowing with light inebriation. The moment in time he sought now floated before him like a leaf in a slowly trickling stream. “So tell me, Senator, how are things going on your upcoming 2012 reelection campaign. I understand you're getting some nasty competition despite your surge in popularity as the man whose vote changed American history forever?"

  “Oh come now, Secretary General, that wouldn't be of much interest to man of your importance.” De Bono noticed that the man's natural accent had grown stronger. As was the custom of his dialect, the words softened at the edges and blurred into one another making them more difficult to deduce. Consequently, his pronunciation was no longer considered and slow for the benefit of a man who spoke European English.

  “Oh, quite the contrary, Senator. Perhaps you take me too seriously. Might I quote a line from the cinematic classic, Amadeus, when Mozart says, ‘All those old bores! People so lofty they sound as if they shit marble!’ Now senator, do you think I'm the kind of man who shits marble?"

  Both the question and the statement flabbergasted the Senator. “Uh, no Secretary General.” He nervously cleared his throat. “Uh—not at all."

  “Well then, a good fight is a good fight regardless of the stakes. Wouldn't you agree?"

  “Yes. Absolutely."

  “Well then, tell me about your reelection campaign. After all, I'm rather taken by the bravado of American political races if you didn't already know that."

  “In fairness I didn't know that Secretary General, but well ... OK. I'm not worried about the primaries. I beat the field with one hand tied behind my back on that account. No, sir; I'm a bit worried about the election itself. It seems that I'm getting a lot of heat from an upstart young gentleman by the name of Buck Weaver, who's running on the Progressive Libertarian ticket."

  “Oh I've heard of them. That new upstart political party formed from a coalition of disaffected Greens, Libertarians, Progressives and so forth. Do you really take them that seriously?"

  “Well yes, Secretary General. They've got twelve percent of the registered votes now, and they're gaining more each day. Worse yet, they've got this hotshot young political strategist by the name of Anthony Jarman running my opponent's campaign. This Jarman fellow is a real pain in the ass. I can tell you that!"

  “But what about this Buck fellow, who you'll be running against?"

  “Oh him. He's a do-gooder. He runs a tax business during the week and preaches in a few small churches on the weekends. You wouldn't believe it, but he does magic tricks while giving his sermons. Gets the whole bunch of them eating out of his hands, he does, but charisma alone ain't enough to win an election. No, sir."

  “So what is his edge?"

  “Like I told you, this Anthony Jarman fellow. He used to run campaigns for the Republicans before he switched sides, and he's damn good at it too. In one of the biggest upsets I've ever seen, he helped Senator Connie Chavez win an election in Northern California and she's a Mexican and a Republican to boot! He was a consultant on her election committee and mapped out her entire strategy. She followed it to the tee and won, even though it was a recount squeaker. Go figure I say."

  “And so now this Jarman fellow wants to unseat you?"

  “Yes, I don't like it one bit. He likes to play things cool till the general elections and then he comes at you from out of the blue. My insiders tell me he'll probably push the affinity insurance and fair trade issues at me."

  “Affinity insurance?"


  “Yeah, he wants to break the insurance monopoly and let people collectively bargain for health insurance through their clubs, churches and neighborhood associations."

  De Bono raised an eyebrow. “But wouldn't that possibly save people a lot of money, especially in difficult times like these with all the residual problems from the Al Qaeda weapons of mass destruction used on America?"

  “Sure it would, but there is a bigger picture, Secretary General. It would crater the financial markets. They depend on the large reserves the insurance companies invest from their health insurance premiums. Cut that down and you'll upset the markets for sure."

  “I'm sure that is a convincing argument for the insurance companies to fund your campaign."

  That insight caught Johnston off guard. “Uh—well, yes."

  De Bono waved his hand in the hand in the air to show that it was a not a matter of importance for him. “Now what is this fair trade issue? Is this position similar to free trade?"

  “The two things are completely unrelated if you ask me. Free trade is what we presently have; it works great for America and the industrialized nations of the world. However, this Progressive Libertarian fair trade thing is a totally unrealistic plank. In essence, they're saying that goods imported from abroad must be subject to local labor laws of the importers. In other words, sweatshop workers in third world nations should get a minimum wage and safe working conditions just like the consumers who buy their goods in America. It is just plain dumb if you ask me."

  “Well I could see how that would fly in the face of exploitation,” De Bono noted with a wry smirk. “However, I do believe you're right. It is just one of those things that sounds good but usually ends up creating a terrible mess."

  “Exactly Secretary General. In the end, I think the voters will do what they always do—vote with their wallets; and paying twice as much for a hair dryer or go-to-meeting Sunday shirts just won't cut it at the polls."

  De Bono studied Johnston carefully. The man was now slightly agitated and focused on the precise issue he needed to use as leverage. “This Jarman fellow certainly is a troublemaker,” he said as he refilled the Senator's champagne glass. “Not only for you, but oddly enough, for me as well."

  The words took a moment to sink in, but Johnston finally caught them as he took hold of his glass. “Excuse me Secretary General. Did you say that Jarman is a trouble maker for you too?"

  “Yes I did, Senator and that is precisely why you are going to resign from the Senate next week for health reasons."

  Johnston lurched forward against the table. “What!"

  “You heard me.” De Bono said calmly. He then reached into the armrest compartment, drew out the thicker of the two large clasp envelopes, and pushed it across the rich red-colored wood of the Merbau table. “Open it,” he commanded in a firm voice.

  Johnston immediately recognized the stamped seal of the Senate Ethics Committee on the envelope. “What is this?"

  De Bono retrieved the envelope, opened it and dumped the contents on the table before Johnston. “Digital prints of you in the Bahamas, Senator, bank records and so forth."

  “How did you get this?” Johnston hissed.

  “That doesn't concern you. All that concerns you is that Senator Chavez, who won an election thanks to the political genius of Anthony Jarman, has always opposed ratification of the UNE treaty. Further, she is using her seat on the committee to secretly investigate you and as you Americans like to say, she's ‘got the goods on you.’”

  Visibly shaken, Johnston began thumbing the digital prints and certified document copies with trembling hands.

  “Senator, we paid you an exorbitant amount of money for your vote and one of the conditions was that you would not do anything to jeopardize the ratification of the treaty."

  In fact, Johnston could have asked for three times as much in bribe money at the time and would have gotten it without hesitation.

  “Thanks to your blunder, Senator Chavez is going to take you apart piece by piece in the hopes of forcing the Senate to abrogate the treaty on the basis of fraud.” He pounded his fist on the table; “she has enough here to implicate the UNE as well, you greedy fool."

  “But, but..."

  “But nothing. The minute you stepped off the plane in the Bahamas to stash your ill-gotten gains into your own offshore corporation, your beloved Internal Revenue Service was there, clicking pictures of you every step of the way."

  Johnston pushed the documents and pictures apart to reveal images of him with his Bahamian bankers and lawyers along with several damning documents signed in his own hand. He had survived many scandals but there would be no weaseling out of this one. At best, his political career was finished. At worst—the possibilities were too dark to consider. He dropped his head into his hands and moaned, “I'm done for it. Oh Lordy, I'm done for it."

  De Bono leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “Senator, I have no qualms with avoiding tax collectors and wives. As I recall, the State of Louisiana still adheres to Napoleonic community property laws, so no doubt you didn't want to ever have the risk of sharing this particularly sizable nest egg with your wife in the event of a divorce.” He leaned forward and picked up his glass. “After all, one cannot be a successful capitalist unless he knows how to stick his hands in the pockets of others."

  “I've done a terribly foolish thing and now I'm going to pay for it."

  “Foolish; no. I'd like to think of it as an incredibly naove blunder. Had you been wise, you would have had your attorney hire a lawyer in Liechtenstein, who would have then hired a lawyer in the Bahamas to set up your corporation and in turn issue bearer stocks to a blind trust you controlled. Now that would have been the smart way to do it. But no, you had to trump up a political junket with the clever notion it would mask your efforts to personally see that things were done properly."

  Johnston leaned back in his seat and pushed his head against the headrest. “So what's next?"

  “There is where you are most fortunate, Senator. Politics is indeed an odious profession, no doubt because it rewards unforgivable blunders with advancement."

  Johnston had been in politics long enough to know when he was drowning and more importantly, when someone was throwing him a lifeline. “I take it you're about to make me an offer I cannot refuse,” he said with a resigned voice.

  “Make no mistake, Senator. I'm not a Godfather. I am the leader of the free world, but let me be very specific. As the Romans used to say, ‘either you're for me or against me,’ and this is your one and only chance to decide. If you let this opportunity slip by, you will no doubt meet an untimely and unfortunate end and not necessarily by my hands, if you understand my meaning."

  Johnston studied De Bono carefully. It was obvious. He still had something of value to offer. If not, someone would have already found him dead in his own bed from some mysterious and sudden affliction. “And if I am for you? What does that mean?"

  De Bono kept a straight face even though he was relishing this moment like an angler bringing in a large fish on a lightweight line. “From this day forward, Senator, you will serve me with unquestioning loyalty for the remainder of your natural life. If you do this, you will be rewarded with power and wealth beyond your limited imagination.” He leaned forward to accentuate his point, “but be advised, this commitment comes in the form of a bloodline oath. Betray it and you and your entire bloodline will cease to exist."

  “I take it I'll not have a few days to consider this decision."

  “You're already trying my patience,” De Bono replied with an icy stare.

  The now weary senator looked at the documents spread out before him again, then turned his head to gaze out the window at the blue Pacific Ocean below. Perhaps somewhere down there would be a cruise ship filled with carefree vacationers. Common people who had worked hard, saved their money and bargained as hard as they could for cabin upgrades, while those with true money and power relaxed in the spacious suites on the decks a
bove them. Given his current predicament, a part of him deeply wished that he was swabbing the decks of his imaginary ocean liner, yet another part knew that this was a fate of his own making and that there were no other options. The realization was sobering and the last vestige of the champagne blur faded away.

  He turned to face De Bono. “As we say in America, ‘in for a dime, in for a dollar. I accept your offer."

  De Bono rewarded him with a satisfied smile. “You've made a wise choice Senator. We'll prepare a resignation statement for you to deliver next week. You will claim that you've been become afflicted with a rare disease and that you will be leaving for Geneva to undergo a radical new treatment not as yet approved by your Food and Drug Administration.” He waved his hand across the documents spread across the table. “Then, it will be a simple matter for us makes all of this unpleasant business go away once and for all. After all, you'll be a dead horse politically speaking after your resignation, albeit an immensely popular one. Even if Senator Chavez wishes to pursue this Senate Ethics committee, we can stop her most handily."

  “A dead horse pretty much sums it up. But more to the point, what will I really be doing in Geneva?"

  “We will be preparing you for a new and more appropriate role; one with considerably more power and prestige—not to mention money. That is all you need to know about that for now."

  Johnston nodded and took a deep breath. “Then may I ask you a personal question?"

  The question piqued De Bono's interest, “I do not see why not."

  “Are you a religious man?"

  “How odd you should ask that question. As I recall, the only time you go to church is when the media is there to cover you. But yes, I am in a manner of speaking."

  “Of what faith my I ask?"

  “This is indeed personal, but I see no harm in answering as you will come to understand this in much greater detail later on. I am a Rosicrucian."

  “You mean the Illuminati?” Johnston ventured.

  “In answer to your query—yes,” De Bono answered without showing a hint of emotion.