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Concerning Emperors – Vachel Lindsay, c. 1911

I. GOD SEND THE REGICIDE

Would that the lying rulers of the world
Were brought to block for tyrannies abhorred.
Would that the sword of Cromwell and the Lord,
The sword of Joshua and Gideon,
Hewed hip and thigh the hosts of Midian.
God send that ironside ere tomorrow's sun;
Let Gabriel and Michael with him ride.
God send the Regicide.

II. A COLLOQUIAL REPLY: TO ANY NEWSBOY

If you lay for Iago at the stage door with a brick
You have missed the moral of the play.
He will have a midnight supper with Othello and his wife.
They will chirp together and be gay.
But the things Iago stands for must go down into the dust:
Lying and suspicion and conspiracy and lust.
And I cannot hate the Kaiser (I hope you understand.)
Yet I chase the thing he stands for with a brickbat in my hand.


It was minutes before midnight, 1998. Tom Jeffords' party was in full swing at a magnificent private residence in the Hamptons, replete with a 12-piece orchestra playing Auld Lang Syne. Inside, Jeffords was magnanimously hosting one of the largest celebrations thrown for Company personnel in years. Agents were letting loose with holiday cheer, supplemented by the generous libations Jeffords had provided. Guests were dressed up in formal evening attire, awaiting the New Year countdown, celebrating with smiles, flushed cheeks, and comradery from the field and the office.

A large group of people was clustered on the second floor, just outside the study, looking down on the throngs in the main hall from above. Robert McCall was enjoying the evening with his date, Dr. Olivia Parker. He glanced across the room and saw a young male agent engaging Mickey Kostmayer in conversation, but Kostmayer was more interested in the attractive woman on his arm. McCall noticed the young man nod and grin at Kostmayer before the man picked up another glass of champagne from the waiter to deliver to Control's empty hand. The young agent's actions reminded McCall to collect two glasses of champagne for himself and his date – they didn't want to be the only one not toasting at midnight.

On the floor below them, McCall heard Jeffords' exuberant voice, "Here's to the old year," he shouted as everyone clinked their glasses. Jeffords stalked over to the grand fireplace burning near the back of the room on the main floor and smashed his glass into the fire after finishing off the champagne in it. "Ten, nine, eight," everyone shouted together, ending in a tremendous burst of applause as the clock ran twelve midnight. "And here's to the new!" Jeffords repeated his actions with a new glass of champagne.

Robert exchanged a brief kiss with his alluring date and walked over to give a pat on the back to Mickey. He continued his route around the room, wandering over to his old friend in the midst of rousing cheers of "Happy New Year" throughout the estate. "All right, I guess Kostmayer has recovered sufficiently," McCall jerked his head toward Kostmayer.

Control threw back the champagne without saying another word. They had had heated words over Kostmayer a few minutes before.

"You remember Olivia?" McCall asked, drawing his date's hand closer.

"Always a pleasure, Dr. Parker," Control inclined his head.

McCall stretched out his hand, ready to wish Control a happy New Year. Control also extended his arm to shake Robert's hand but abruptly changed the direction of his arm to reach out for Robert's shoulder, trying to steady himself as his face fell from a smile to dark seriousness.

"Control?" Robert asked as he heard Control's sharp intake of breath, felt Control leaning on him heavily, and saw him clutch his chest.

"Mickey!" Robert yelled above the cheers of the crowd downstairs. "Help me get him into the study." Mickey nodded and took Control's left arm as Robert got his right and took him into the study, lying him down on a leather couch. Control shut his eyes as his reaction became more violent, his hands jerking as shudders wracked his body. Olivia stepped in with cool authority and asked for room as she removed his bow tie and loosened his collar.

"Does it feel like there is a heavy weight on your chest?" she asked him intently. He nodded, gasping for breath, and Olivia noticed that he had broken into a heavy sweat. Taking his pulse, she could tell it was far from normal as it jumped from very quick beats to indefinitely slow ones. She yelled for someone to call an ambulance, realizing Control was most likely having a heart attack. The young agent McCall had seen hanging around earlier entered the room with a phone. He called an ambulance as Control appeared to get even worse. A moment later, Control had lost consciousness and had stopped breathing entirely, and Olivia swore under her breath. McCall was standing close enough to hear her mumble something about cardiac arrest, and she began to perform CPR on him. Tilting his head away from her and lifting his chin, she opened his airway and listened for breath. When nothing came, she double checked his unmoving chest and pinched his nose closed so that the only airway would be through his throat.

McCall stood there, feeling as if he could do nothing, and he motioned to Kostmayer to guard the door and make sure no one else came in – there were already too many people in the room. The main crowd still didn't know what had happened, but McCall didn't want anyone to panic or overrun the room.

Olivia performed mouth-to-mouth, exhaling two large breaths and checking the carotid artery on the side of his neck for a pulse. Feeling none, she quickly waved at a young female agent who was standing nearby to help. The young woman kneeled at Control's chest and laced her hands over one another. She positioned them just above the base of his breastbone while locking her arms in a straight position. She looked up at Olivia, waiting for a signal.

"Go!" Olivia commanded.

The young woman shifted her weight onto her hands, watching Control's chest depress about two inches. She counted slowly to five pressing down hard with each count. Olivia again tried to breathe life into Control's warm body, to no avail. "Again." The procedure kept going on until the paramedics arrived.

Luckily, an ambulance was close by and a few minutes later, it had arrived. The crowd was finally alerted to a problem. They cleared the area to the stairs relatively quickly, letting the paramedics pass. In the meantime, McCall and Kostmayer cleared the study of bystanders, but as the paramedics were bounding up the stairs, Robert quickly pulled back Control's tuxedo jacket and pulled out Control's Beretta 92 Compact L Type M, a pistol hidden in a shoulder holster, placing it inside his own jacket.

Olivia noted McCall's actions but did not pause as she shouted to the arriving paramedics, "Cardiac arrest. The patient's heart and breathing has stopped. He's not responding to cardiopulmonary resuscitation. I need a defibrillator." The two paramedics glanced at each other. One ran back to the ambulance to get it and the other took over from the young agent doing chest depressions. Olivia unbuttoned Control's black vest and white shirt, ripping aside his black suspenders to allow ample access to his chest. She nodded toward the paramedic holding the defibrillator. The gel had already been smeared over the surface; so she rubbed them together waiting for the paramedics nod. He did so, and she jolted his chest. Control's body reacted violently, but his heart would not respond. "Come on," she gritted her teeth and rubbed the electro-shock equipment pads together again, setting the level of energy set higher, but to no avail – his heart refused to start again.

"Ma'am, please step aside," the other paramedic had returned as chest compressions continued. "We've got to transport him to the hospital immediately."

Olivia turned to the paramedic sharply, "I'm a physician."

"Thank you," he said curtly, "we'll get it from here."

"He's flat line," she heard the other paramedic say, as he finished putting in an IV. The two paramedics exchanged telling glances as they continued to work.

The paramedics lifted Control onto a gurney and loaded him into the ambulance. "I'll ride with him," McCall stated, solemnly, but the paramedics informed him that they had another patient in the ambulance and could not take any passengers.

As they swung the ambulance doors slammed shut, everyone present could hear the EMT say, "I'm calling it . . . . Ed – morgue entrance."

The room stood motionless for a moment, in complete shock. Mickey shook his head – there was nothing more they could do. Before McCall left, he noticed Control's bow tie lying on the floor next to the couch. He picked it up gently and gingerly placed it in his pocket.

The New Year had started, the last year of the millennium. McCall gazed listlessly into the distance. Surely, this couldn't be happening. What the hell had just happened? He stood in the doorway in silence. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, until out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a young woman bounding up the stairs, two at a time.

"What happened?" she said, breathlessly.

McCall couldn't bring himself to answer, so she glanced at Olivia, who had fury written all over her face. "They shouldn't have stopped, even if he was flat lined," she looked at her watch, frowning at the time.

"Stopped what? What do you mean flat lined?"

Mickey grabbed the young woman and gently spun her around, "It's Control. He's . . . he's dead. Heart attack."

The woman gasped, her hazel eyes growing wideand her face losing some of its color. She closed her eyes as her head sank back. "Four days," McCall heard her mumble as she placed her face in her hands.

McCall turned to leave, but the woman stopped him with a hand. "You're Robert McCall?"

"Yes," he said, warily.

"We need to talk," she said, clipping her words in a staccato fashion, allowing them to carry a sense of urgency and authority.

McCall shook his head, "Now isn't a good time . . . ." his voice trailed off as he noticed the woman digging furiously through her pockets. She slapped an envelope against his chest.

"I've a note for you – from Control."