Chapter 8 age 53
Victor Johansson watched the small commuter jet taxi toward the terminal with a satisfied smile on his face. After sending Joseph Coraza information about the position, he waited, hoping to hear from the colonel. When three weeks went by, he was beginning to worry, and after six, he had about given up hope. Then, one morning the package came with Coraza's resume and request for a visit. Johansson had not stopped smiling since.
It was nothing short of a miracle that he was even interested.
Joseph Coraza was, if anything, over qualified for the job. He had his choice of positions and could make twice the money consulting for half the time and both of them realized it. Johansson tried to make sure King Rupert and the Royal Officer of Personnel were aware of that fact, too.
He kept in mind that Coraza did not apply for the job and that this interview was for Joseph's benefit, and not for the Crown. It was Coraza's decision if he took the job.
Even if there were other, more well paying opportunities for Joseph, Victor thought his friend was perfect for the position. Johansson did not want to leave Genovia andthe royal familyin the hands of just anyone, and he trusted Joseph completely.
The jet taxied to a stop and Johansson pushed through the double doors to the tarmac, nodding at George the security guard who awoke when his ear protectors could no longer muffle the exhaust as the plane neared.
"Mornin' Mr. Johansson," George yawned, settling back his chair back against the concrete wall when he saw it was only an arrival that had disturbed him.
"Good morning, George."
"You meetin' a diplomat or some such?"
"No, possibly my replacement," Johansson answered, eyeing Genovia's drowsy first line of defense against any undesirables that might be on the plane.
George scratched his day's growth of beard and nodded absently. "Heard you were retirin'."
"Yes. Say, George, would you mind doing me a favor?" Johansson asked, seeing the man's eyes closing. He heard the jet's door opening and the stairs rolling into place. "Mind looking over the man I'm meeting and giving me your first impression of Colonel Coraza?"
George considered the request, weighing the inconvenience of staying awake against his lack of curiosity. Mr. Johansson was a good man, though, so George decided he'd make up for lost sleep during the cargo inspection. He nodded and let his chair fall forward to rest on all four legs. "Guess I can do that."
"Thanks, George."
Johansson turned his attention to the passengers disembarking and saw Coraza nearing the bottom of the stairs. He stepped forward.
"Welcome to Genovia, Colonel!" Johansson said, shaking his hand and reaching for the colonel's carry-on.
"Thank you," Coraza replied. "I'm officially retired now- it's Mr. Coraza or Joseph from now on."
"As you wish and congratulations upon your retirement," Johansson replied. He gestured toward the side of the terminal. "Our car is over here. I thought we'd see something of the town and have lunch before visiting the palace."
George sat up straight and with his good eye peered hard at the stranger, not wanting to miss a thing.
Coraza frowned as the odd, rumpled man wearing what appeared to be part of an official uniform sat forward in the chair and stared at him, eye narrowed, until he and Johansson had passed.
"Ah… don't worry about him," Johansson said lightly, wondering if he should have simply let George go back to sleep. "He's harmless."
"Who is he?" Coraza asked.
"Airport Security," Johansson replied, opening the passenger door for Coraza then placing the bag and briefcase on the backseat.
Before getting in, Coraza took a quick look over his shoulder toward Genovia's finest and found the man reclining against the wall, hat over his face. Coraza took a deep breath; this was not what he expected at all.
"I know what you're thinking, Joseph."
Coraza smiled and shook his head. "Victor, I doubt it."
Johansson laughed. "Remember I was the one who said there were challenges along with this job."
Coraza nodded then ate another spoonful of the thick, tasty stew. The food in Genovia was proving to be delicious. Must be the mix of cultures, he decided.
"I meant it."
Coraza took a swallow of dark German beer and helped himself to another piece of bread. Perhaps it was the cool, fresh air from the mountains that made him feel hungry.
Then again, maybe it was because he'd skipped breakfast that morning at the Helmar manor and didn't have time to grab something at the Paris terminal. Julia insisted on driving him to the airport in her new Mini and managed to get lost until he directed her back to the opposite side of the city where the airport was located.
He barely made the flight, with Julia's repeated and heartfelt pleas for forgiveness still fresh in his mind. His godchild was not only stunning in looks, but persuasively charming as well. He'd have fun teasing her about the incident in the future.
"I won't lie to you and say that the security situation here is ideal. But, I will tell you that you'll not be bored and that there isn't a more beautiful place to work in all of Europe."
"That is a consideration," Coraza said, trying hard to be positive.
"Security for the royal family needs to be overhauled- new technology, new ways of doing things. My position here is temporary- I don't even have the time to get started any changes- I've just tried to keep everything under control and running. It will take someone committed to the project from beginning to end."
He paused, wondering just how much he should tell Joseph and how much to let him find out on his own that afternoon. Honesty, however, impelled him to add, "It won't be the easiest of tasks."
"Why not? Is there not a concern?"
Johansson did not answer immediately, but called the waiter over for two more beers. The more relaxed Joseph was when he saw the Royal Security Force, the better.
He'd chosen the outdoor café sitting on the edge of the White River because it offered a spectacular view of the river, park, and mountains beyond. The food was excellent, the service casual and friendly, and the beer cold. A good impression of Genovia, George not withstanding, was essential to his plan.
"Genovia," he finally began, crossing his arms on his chest, "is an old country steeped in tradition. Change, when it comes, tends to be gradual. This gives our country a unique charm not found elsewhere in Europe, where traditions have become blurred in light of progress."
Coraza leaned back in his chair with the fresh beer and another roll, and looked at Johansson with something akin to pity.
Johansson sighed. He could not pull anything over on Coraza…nor did he really want to.
"Alright, it's like this. If you take this job, you will have to fight for every change and every improvement you make. Few will be happy, many will complain. You will have to persuade everyone, from the lowest footman to the king himself, why a change is necessary. You will very likely be the only one who understands the concept you are trying to get across."
Coraza said nothing, but looked across the river to the park.
"I don't want you to think Genovia is mired hopelessly in the past. It isn't. Their Majesties have worked tirelessly to better the country. Queen Clarisse, in particular, is passionate about improving healthcare, education, and technological services to the people. There is, however, a great deal of room for improvement."
All the cards are on the table, Johansson thought. Coraza will either fold or take up the challenge.
"I was offered a vice-presidency at CommWorld Security," Coraza said quietly, more to himself than to Victor. He turned his gaze to the old, ornate buildings that lined the other side of the narrow street.
"I'm not surprised," Johansson replied. The company was the foremost security firm in Europe.
"What is the budget and staffing like?"
Johansson sucked in his breath like a man going down for the final count. "Well, our budget is not a high priority and as for staffing… I have to call upon the local constabulary regularly to provide even minimal coverage."
"Not Airport Security?" Coraza asked, turning back to Johansson.
It nearly killed him to do so, but Johansson nodded. It was, he thought, surely the nail in the coffin. "Yes, at times."
When Coraza did not reply, Johansson signaled for the bill.
"Would you care to visit the palace now?" Johansson asked. He might as well finish giving the tour, for all the good it would do. He began thinking of a list of other men for the post. None came close to the colonel.
"Yes, of course," Coraza replied politely.
With great interest, Joseph Coraza saw his homeland for the first time in over forty years. He felt, however, no great sense of homecoming. How could he? He'd been barely eight when he and his grandmother left, going to Spain in search of his mother. They did not find her with relatives as his grandmother hoped; he later discovered she'd died years before. He'd never been back to Genovia or thought of returning.
In all his years working with Interpol and the army, he never had reason to come here. It was a quiet country, so to speak, with little political or social problems, due, in part, he would guess, to the personal interest the king and queen took in the welfare of the people.
People, he noticed, were much more willing to endure difficulties if they knew those above them cared and were working toward a solution. He saw it in action numerous times with his own men and apparently the king and queen enjoyed the support of their subjects. From what Johansson said, and Coraza saw on the drive to the palace, the sovereigns were forward thinkers; it was just taking the country a while to catch up.
While he knew basic information about the royal family, he had not gone out of his way to discover more. On the plane, he'd glanced at the tourist brochure. Its slightly out of focus back cover showed a portrait of the current king and queen- the typical oil painting. The king, dark-haired with refined features, appeared noble and dignified; the bejeweled queen, her long hair made into an ornate, out of date style, was young and elegant. Dressed in formal wear, both wore crowns and robes of office.
Genovia was a beautiful country, just as Victor said. Blue waters of the Mediterranean lapped at a rich land, perfect for agriculture. Nearby in the west and much further to the north, the green plains and hills gave way to the Alps and its wonderland of peaks and valleys blessed with snow and tourists the majority of the year. The air was cool and clean, he'd rarely seen the sky so blue and without the haze of pollution.
Still, he was mindful of the fact that there was more to a job than the location. While he never shirked a challenge in the line of duty, Coraza did not go seeking them out simply for the sake of testing himself. Overhauling a substandard organization was not how he preferred to spend his retirement.
But, despite the serious doubts about the job, he would see the day through for the sake of his friendship with Victor.
"How do you communicate with each other?" Coraza asked as they walked unhurriedly down the hall that led to the 'official' side of the palace.
Earlier, Johansson showed him the security room. It was a former storage area that still conveniently housed the palace supply of toilet paper and cleaning products. In addition, it boasted an older model computer with dial up Internet access, three phone lines- one down at the moment, a metal gun cabinet that held three rifles and a flak vest, and a couch that had seen its better days many years ago.
The coffee pot, however, was new.
One at the front door, the other at the back, he met two agents of the agents on duty; both were within two years of retiring. Victor did not introduce him to any others; Coraza wondered where they were.
"Telephone- we have wireless here in the capitol and coverage will be expanding nationwide over the course of the coming eighteen months. It is not ideal for use during official functions, but serves, for the most part, adequately."
Johansson laughed. He had nothing to hide, now. He was certain Coraza would not seriously consider the position; whatever had possessed him to offer it? "Normally, when there's a message to deliver, we simply track each other down on foot."
"What coverage do you provide?"
"At present, we provide a guard for the king when he leaves the palace and recently we've begun providing the same for the queen. The grounds require a guard at the gate, front and back doors, and someone to make rounds periodically. This is in addition to the agent accompanying Their Majesties. We also manage security concerns for visiting royals or heads of state." Johansson stopped at a doorway and faced Coraza. He took a deep breath. "To do all this, we have five men."
"Five?" This was far worse than he thought.
"Yes, six, including myself. I'm sure you see why it is necessary to use outside manning." He began walking again. "You know, in a way, I'm actually rather proud of how much we've managed to do with so little resources. Here, let me show you the throne room."
Coraza said nothing. He would decline the position.
"Something's come up- there's a pressing matter of security for the minister from Switzerland's visit tomorrow, and I have to see to, Joseph. I am sorry." Victor led the way from the ballroom to an anteroom nearby.
"No need to apologize," Coraza replied, "I understand."
"Thank you. I trust you'll be comfortable here- this shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes- just a couple of phone calls," Johansson explained then left, leaving Joseph by himself.
Coraza did not mind; he welcomed a moment to gather his thoughts.It had been a day of surprises and, he had to admit, disappointments. He'd almost felt at home here, in Genovia.Now he would have to give serious consideration to the offers in Paris and London, or even Brussels. But, that could wait until later. He looked around the room.
Filled with sunshine, it overlooked the garden and had the feel of outdoors to it. Antique Botanical prints and porcelain flowers lent bright spots of color to the cream and yellow décor. Ferns basked by the windows.
Throughout the royal residence, fresh flowers, tasteful art- not modern, he noted- and fine furniture gave the palace an understated elegance. It was something he rarely saw in the old buildings of Europe. Most were decorated and gilded to excess. He found the palace had a comfortable feel about it.
In the garden, hundreds of roses were in full bloom and the sight drew him to the window. Not one normally to care about gardens and plants, he nevertheless found himself wanting to take a stroll along its paths. The fragrance among the blooms must be heavenly.
He turned quickly as a door opened.
"I'm sorry," the woman said, coming into the room. Her voice carried a light, English accent. She glanced around. "I was looking for one of the aides."
"I am waiting for Mr. Johansson," Coraza explained, trying not to stare at the woman. She was lovely. "While enjoying the view of the garden."
The woman smiled and walked to where he stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back.
"Yes, it is beautiful this time of the year," she replied, satisfaction infusing her words. "It took a great deal of work to make it so."
Coraza cast a quick glance at her as she admired the blossoms ofred, pink, yellow, white, and all shades in between. About his own age, a couple of inches shorter than he, her hair was fair and cut in a short, feminine style. Her features delicate, she needed little makeup to enhance her beauty.
He wondered who she was. Dressed in a conservative skirt and jacket, she wore low heels, and little jewelry.
One of the staff, he decided, perhaps the queen's own secretary.
"I imagine it also took a great deal of planning," he said, turning his attention back to the garden. The thought of staying in Genovia suddenly held significantly more appeal than five minutes earlier. "The colors blend well. It would make for a restful place to walk."
The woman blushed prettily. "Thank you. I designed it and think the garden very peaceful, particularly in the evening."
"An artist in flowers," he said softly, turning his gaze back to her.
Her blush deepened and she looked away, her lips curving in a delighted smile.
She was the landscape designer, Coraza thought, pleased. There was an invitation for him to stay the night in Genovia, should he wish to get to know the country better. Perhaps he would take Victor up on the offer.
He wondered if the woman was free for dinner. He would ask.
They stood in comfortable silence for a moment until, searching for a way to continue the conversation; he noticed an electronic device and a battery in her hand.
"Are you having difficulty?" Coraza asked, nodding to them.
She laughed. "I'm afraid I'm better at flowers than modern devices. I'm simply no good at these things."
"Might I help?" he offered, holding out his hand, stepping closer. He was so close he could smell her perfume, a light floral scent. She gave him the gadget and he deftly removed the cover and slipped the battery in the slot, pressing to seat it.
"Thank you," she said, embarrassed at how simple the problem had been. "I was told it would make keeping track of appointments easier, however I think a diary would be less trouble."
"I would be pleased to show you how to use it and hear more about your plans for the garden," he said, sliding the back cover in place. He hoped she would take him up on his offer. He held the Palm Pilot out to her and she reached for it. "Perhaps tonight we could meet and have-"
Their hands touched, resting on each other, and she quickly lifted her gaze to his. For a long moment, neither of them moved or breathed.
He could not look away... he did not want to.
Her eyes were soft brown, her skin delicate like that of a perfect rose, her lips appealing. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her and it was all Coraza could do not to reach for her.
He let his hand drop to his side, lest he did just that.
His only option now, he knew without a doubt, was to stay in Genovia.
The touch of his hand unsettled her nearly as much as the blue of his eyes. She stared, unable to speak, her thoughts racing.
Who was he?
Normally, she would have never stayed in the room talking with a stranger, but there was something about him that kept her from leaving, something that made her want to stay. She felt she knew him, yet she was certain she'd never met him before.
Tanned, or perhaps dark complexioned, he was handsome. He wore a beard- no, was it called a goatee? - and a small, gold earring in his left ear. A bit taller than she, he stood straight, almost as if at attention. His clothes fit him well, a black suit, gray shirt, and patterned sapphiretie, all of a superior make.
Still, it was his eyes that were most remarkable. In them, she thought she could see flecks of green…and even gold.
The air became thicker and she drew a breath, an unfamiliar sensation in her chest.
"Terribly sorry about that!" Victor called, bursting into the room, closely followed by King Rupert. "Oh, I see you have already met."
She quickly stepped back, as did the man.
"I'm afraid I've been remiss in my manners," she managed to say, shaking her head slightly.
Victor smiled broadly. "King Rupert, Queen Clarisse, I'm pleased to present Mr. Joseph Coraza."
She saw emotions cross the man's face- shock…dismay?
"Ah, yes! You're here about the security position- splendid!" Rupert said, coming to stand by his wife. "Retired recently from the British Army, did you not? Congratulations, Colonel. An impressive career, I've been told."
Clarisse listened as the men talked, her hand on her chest. Her heart was pounding.
What was wrong with her?
"…won't we, my dear?" Rupert said. Everyone was waiting for her answer.
Clarisse looked at her husband, at a loss. "I'm sorry, I didn't…"
"I said we will be pleased if Mr. Coraza accepts the position, won't we?"
"Yes…yes, of course." Clarisse looked back to Coraza and found him watching her, his features expressionless. Her heartbeat began to quicken once more and she blurted the first thing that came to mind. "You have worked as a security guard before?"
The corner of his mouth lifted a fraction. "No, not per se, Your Majesty, but I've some knowledge in that area."
Johansson chuckled at Joseph's unassuming description of his career. "Mr. Coraza is one of Europe's foremost experts on security matters, Your Majesty. I would even go far as to say he's the best there is."
The door opened and a man stepped inside and stood quietly, waiting. King Rupert glanced his way and nodded.
"Must run- Parliament will be convening soon. Thank you for coming to Genovia, Colonel." Rupert turned to leave. "If there's anything the palace can do to help in your decision, please don't hesitate to tell Victor."
With Rupert gone, the two men faced her. It would be rude of them simply to leave.
Clarisse forced herself to smile normally. She hesitated in offering her hand, then told herself not to be silly. She was merely…. nervous, caught off-guard.
"Thank you for the kind observations about my garden," she said, giving him her hand. "It was a pleasure, Mr. Coraza."
He gently took it and lifted her hand to his lips.
The odd feeling in her chest came back and she felt his breath on her fingers, warm and soft.
"Joseph, Your Majesty. Please call me Joseph."
I hope you enjoyed Different Worlds.
Worlds Apart is next.
Thanks for your kind reviews!
Luc