From Here To Eternity: The Road to Redemption, The Second Step
Part 1
All disclaimers can be found in Part 0
***
The large conference room was dark, shades drawn against a bright afternoon sky in Washington, D.C. Eight leather chairs surrounded a long mahogany table polished to mirror like finish that reflected the images of two unlit, hanging chandeliers. Beautifully polished teak paneling lined the walls where paintings of historic sea battles hung suspended on thick, gold rope. A small brass light fixture above each one spot lighted its individual painting. This was a room any of the various gentlemen's clubs that still existed in the city would love to have for themselves.
The door opened letting in a shaft of light that was soon extinguished as the eight men filed into the room and shut the door. Seven of the men took chairs around the table, leaving the chair at the head unoccupied. The eighth man flipped a wall switch and light blazed throughout the room as the chandeliers came to life sending light reflecting off of highly polished wood. He then took his seat at the head of the table. He pulled a leather cigar case from an inside pocket of his custom made suit and placed it on the table in front of him, then he pulled a slim, silver cigarette lighter and cigar clipper from his pants pocket and placed them next to the cigar case.
Seven men watched as he extracted a long, fragrant cigar from the case and clipped the end which he then he rolled between his fingers as he lit it with the lighter. Finished he leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over his knee, blowing out a large, blue cloud of cigar smoke and watching it as it slowly drifted to the ceiling.
As soon as the smoke disappated, he aimed coal black eyes at the man sitting immediately to his left. "Well Jergens, why are we here?"
The man identified as Jergens was smallish in stature being only 5'7" tall and weighing at the most 150 lbs. He had shocking red hair, pale green eyes that were surrounded by a mass of pale skin covered with freckles. A large, bulbous nose was laced with small red lines earned through many years of drinking and his lips were small and bow shaped. When parted they exposed the yellowed teeth of a heavy smoker. His hands shook on the table top and he automatically reached into his jacket pocket to take out a package of Marlboro reds and a book of matches. He shook a cigarette out of the pack and lit it, quickly inhaling the acrid smoke in short, sharp, gasps. The smoke seemed to calm him as his hands lost their uncontrollable shaking when half the cigarette was consumed.
"It's Makepeace," he finally answered. "O'Neill finally agreed to meet with him yesterday. The guard we're paying to keep an eye on him called me after the meeting. He said that up until then Makepeace had been nervous, pacing his cell constantly but that after meeting with O'Neill he seemed to relax."
"Do we know what was said?" asked the man with the cigar.
Jergens shook his head in the negative taking several more puffs on his cigarette before extinguishing it in the crystal ashtray in front of him. "No. He couldn't hear. He said he didn't want to stand too close because he didn't want to appear like he was trying to hear them."
"We're paying this man too much money if he couldn't figure out a way to eavesdrop on the conversation without arousing any suspicion," the cigar smoker stated turning to face the men on the right side of the table. "Crater, what do you suggest? You've known Makepeace the longest. What did he have to say to Colonel O'Neill?"
All heads turned to the giant of a man identified as Crater. Standing at 6'7" tall with the muscular build of a professional line backer, he looked out of place in this room full of business men. Dark, wire like hair cut short in a buzz cut crowned his head while deep-set grey eyes that flashed steel peered out under a heavy brow ridge covered with thick, bushy eyebrows that almost joined as one just above his nose. A good, strong mouth filled with small, white straight teeth sat above an equally strong chin. Women who saw him described him as dangerous, but that didn't stop them from continually trying to get his attention. Those that did, regretted it later.
"If you recall, I warned you about trying to turn Robert," answered Crater in a voice that matched his appearance. "Unlike your pet politician Kinsey and his toad Maybourne, Robert has a conscience. A very active one. I'm sure that after a year in prison, he's beginning to regret his involvement."
"Do you think he's a threat?" asked cigar smoker.
"I always did." Crater's answer was tinged with venom aimed at those who had approved the recruitment of Makepeace. Those men cringed inwardly at the implied threat behind the words. All except the man at the head of the table. He just smiled.
Seeing the ash on his cigar was over an inch in length, he carefully knocked it off into his ash try. While he was doing this, Jergens lit another cigarette.
"Well then. We need to do something to remedy this little problem. Jergens," he said.
"Yes, sir."
"That guard we're paying. He's about to earn a bonus although he doesn't really deserve it since he couldn't determine what was said between our two colonels."
"Yes, sir."
"I don't think I need to spell it out for you, do I?" the cigar smoker asked sweetly.
Jergens nervously squashed his second cigarette out next to the first. "No, sir. It'll be done today."
"Good," he responded. "Since that was the only reason for our meeting here today, all of you can go back to doing whatever it is you do that you think is so important," he added dismissing the seven men with the wave of his cigar.
Jergens was the first out the door while Crater brought up the rear. Just before shutting the door behind him, he turned back to the room and the man still seated at the head of the table. "He'll fail, you know."
"I know. I've been waiting for him to do so."
Crater shrugged and left leaving the cigar smoker to his thoughts.
***
continued in part 2
Part 1
All disclaimers can be found in Part 0
***
The large conference room was dark, shades drawn against a bright afternoon sky in Washington, D.C. Eight leather chairs surrounded a long mahogany table polished to mirror like finish that reflected the images of two unlit, hanging chandeliers. Beautifully polished teak paneling lined the walls where paintings of historic sea battles hung suspended on thick, gold rope. A small brass light fixture above each one spot lighted its individual painting. This was a room any of the various gentlemen's clubs that still existed in the city would love to have for themselves.
The door opened letting in a shaft of light that was soon extinguished as the eight men filed into the room and shut the door. Seven of the men took chairs around the table, leaving the chair at the head unoccupied. The eighth man flipped a wall switch and light blazed throughout the room as the chandeliers came to life sending light reflecting off of highly polished wood. He then took his seat at the head of the table. He pulled a leather cigar case from an inside pocket of his custom made suit and placed it on the table in front of him, then he pulled a slim, silver cigarette lighter and cigar clipper from his pants pocket and placed them next to the cigar case.
Seven men watched as he extracted a long, fragrant cigar from the case and clipped the end which he then he rolled between his fingers as he lit it with the lighter. Finished he leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over his knee, blowing out a large, blue cloud of cigar smoke and watching it as it slowly drifted to the ceiling.
As soon as the smoke disappated, he aimed coal black eyes at the man sitting immediately to his left. "Well Jergens, why are we here?"
The man identified as Jergens was smallish in stature being only 5'7" tall and weighing at the most 150 lbs. He had shocking red hair, pale green eyes that were surrounded by a mass of pale skin covered with freckles. A large, bulbous nose was laced with small red lines earned through many years of drinking and his lips were small and bow shaped. When parted they exposed the yellowed teeth of a heavy smoker. His hands shook on the table top and he automatically reached into his jacket pocket to take out a package of Marlboro reds and a book of matches. He shook a cigarette out of the pack and lit it, quickly inhaling the acrid smoke in short, sharp, gasps. The smoke seemed to calm him as his hands lost their uncontrollable shaking when half the cigarette was consumed.
"It's Makepeace," he finally answered. "O'Neill finally agreed to meet with him yesterday. The guard we're paying to keep an eye on him called me after the meeting. He said that up until then Makepeace had been nervous, pacing his cell constantly but that after meeting with O'Neill he seemed to relax."
"Do we know what was said?" asked the man with the cigar.
Jergens shook his head in the negative taking several more puffs on his cigarette before extinguishing it in the crystal ashtray in front of him. "No. He couldn't hear. He said he didn't want to stand too close because he didn't want to appear like he was trying to hear them."
"We're paying this man too much money if he couldn't figure out a way to eavesdrop on the conversation without arousing any suspicion," the cigar smoker stated turning to face the men on the right side of the table. "Crater, what do you suggest? You've known Makepeace the longest. What did he have to say to Colonel O'Neill?"
All heads turned to the giant of a man identified as Crater. Standing at 6'7" tall with the muscular build of a professional line backer, he looked out of place in this room full of business men. Dark, wire like hair cut short in a buzz cut crowned his head while deep-set grey eyes that flashed steel peered out under a heavy brow ridge covered with thick, bushy eyebrows that almost joined as one just above his nose. A good, strong mouth filled with small, white straight teeth sat above an equally strong chin. Women who saw him described him as dangerous, but that didn't stop them from continually trying to get his attention. Those that did, regretted it later.
"If you recall, I warned you about trying to turn Robert," answered Crater in a voice that matched his appearance. "Unlike your pet politician Kinsey and his toad Maybourne, Robert has a conscience. A very active one. I'm sure that after a year in prison, he's beginning to regret his involvement."
"Do you think he's a threat?" asked cigar smoker.
"I always did." Crater's answer was tinged with venom aimed at those who had approved the recruitment of Makepeace. Those men cringed inwardly at the implied threat behind the words. All except the man at the head of the table. He just smiled.
Seeing the ash on his cigar was over an inch in length, he carefully knocked it off into his ash try. While he was doing this, Jergens lit another cigarette.
"Well then. We need to do something to remedy this little problem. Jergens," he said.
"Yes, sir."
"That guard we're paying. He's about to earn a bonus although he doesn't really deserve it since he couldn't determine what was said between our two colonels."
"Yes, sir."
"I don't think I need to spell it out for you, do I?" the cigar smoker asked sweetly.
Jergens nervously squashed his second cigarette out next to the first. "No, sir. It'll be done today."
"Good," he responded. "Since that was the only reason for our meeting here today, all of you can go back to doing whatever it is you do that you think is so important," he added dismissing the seven men with the wave of his cigar.
Jergens was the first out the door while Crater brought up the rear. Just before shutting the door behind him, he turned back to the room and the man still seated at the head of the table. "He'll fail, you know."
"I know. I've been waiting for him to do so."
Crater shrugged and left leaving the cigar smoker to his thoughts.
***
continued in part 2