Chapter 6
The sun was peering through the smoky room and didn't touch the men that were seated around the table in the middle of the room. It was almost as if it were gasping; trying to reach into a room where it was not wanted. This room was in a glass and steel high rise building in downtown Washington D.C.; just out of the reach of the everyday hustle and bustle and just out of reach of the sun. It was here where the shadow was allowed to walk the halls. It was here that the shadow was allowed to breathe freely the smoke that shrouded it.
There was an accounting firm that owned the building, having moved there recently within the last few years, from a previous location in a seedier part of town. In the long run, it was a good move for them; especially considering that a recent and massive drug deal, "gone bad", had violently ended in in the same building that they had left the year before. At least, that was what the media was calling it, even though each of the victims were wearing professional suits, shot to death with small caliber firearms, and no brass casings were found. The only evidence that anyone else had been in the room were tobacco ashes found in the ash tray on the table and no victim had any tobacco on them of any kind.
This was building was different though, there were no gangs here. There were no thugs, thieves or prostitutes, no drugs or violence like there was in the other part of town. There were professionals in this building. There were men and women in suits and dresses; with all sorts of degrees and ambitions. There was no hint of wrongdoing or criminality and so it was not uncommon at all to see men, older and well dressed, come and go leisurely and at random.
…No matter what "business" they had come to discuss over the years.
The men that filled this office had filled this building's offices time and time again, over the years; slightly less than twenty five men who met only when it was absolutely necessary. They had no connection in the outside world, they were never seen together, and they had absolutely no communication….except for the offices. Within their sanctum, they discussed, at length, subjects which they would fully deny and promote as absurd in the unlikely event that they were ever asked about them in public; discussing which companies should live and which ones should die. They had always felt it was their obligation to remap the country's economy since they were the most powerful and influential.
They were certainly not part of the accounting firm, they were each leaders of their own individual companies. Some were common, while other businesses were uncommon. Present were an unrelated sort, comprising of some steel magnets, some in coal and oil production, some were in charge of plastics, others in vehicle production, while others in charge of pharmaceuticals and drug labs but they all had one thing in common; these offices.
The office in question was a large conference room with a long table in the middle. There were the usual accommodations in this office for being a high rise suite with a large window view. It was getting close to dusk and the sun was hidden behind a lot of the other buildings in that part of D.C. There was tobacco smoke in the room as some took their liberty, ignoring the possibility of there being smoke detectors. After all, there shouldn't have been smoke detectors in theroom, as it was the room where he had told them to meet. It was a conference room in which he had used many times, no doubt, for meetings in the past which were very similar…and he favored the smoking of cigars.
The older man in the brown suit checked his watch for the third time. He had owned and ran his company successfully for decades and he knew what it took to be successful; tardiness was not among those qualities. He was highly annoyed at the fact that they were waiting on the man they had hired; should he not be at their beck and call? He tapped his fingers on the table in front of him as he considered the man they were waiting on. Personally, he felt that the man wasn't as good as he claimed to be; there were better choices. He certainly didn't seem to be good enough to warrant tardiness.
"I think we had better get on with this meeting, despite notable absent company. We are quickly running out of daylight and I'd rather not try to get home in the dark in this town. He doesn't make the decisions around here anyway and if he's going to be late, he might find himself looking for another job." He said confidently. This man was a middle age business men who owned a few big name steel companies that were responsible for a hefty amount of domestic production. He was stocky; broad shouldered and sported a full head of thick and wavy grey hair. His huge square jaw was almost always clenched in a grimace and his boisterous voice reflected his easy-to-follow leadership style.
As the men murmured amongst themselves in agreement, the door opened and three dark suited men with sunglasses stepped in. One of the men in sunglasses took a seat at the table with the rest of the older men while the other two stayed on either side of the door.
Suddenly, in walked the man they were meeting; a tall and thin man, suited, and smoking a cigar. He was also dressed in a dark suit and an expensive looking tie. He was thin and tall and sported a thin and neatly trimmed mustache and the light from his cigar cast a hellish glare on his black eyes.
"Well," he started in a voice slightly above a whisper, "It seems like we're all present and ready to begin".
The man in the brown suit started in first, "Yes we are and we would like to finish hastily, especially considering that we are starting late yet again. Let's dispense with the recaps, we would like to know the time schedule on the next event. When will it occur?"
The thin man adjusted his suit coat sleeves as he sat down and pulled the closest ashtray to his seat, glancing at the stocky leader, but saying nothing. He was not accustomed to being rushed.
The man in the brown suit glanced down the table with a disapproving look to another older man who was sharply dressed in a grey suit. This man's pharmaceutical company had a vast reach in practically every country in the western hemisphere and he wasn't poised to give up any territory to the competitors anytime soon. In humility, the man in the grey suit simply shrugged in reply.
The smoking man took a long drag on his cigar and exhaled thoughtfully through his nose as he stared at the man in the brown suit with a disapproving look. There was never a need to say anything that wasn't thought through to the fullest.
"The event is on schedule actually and should coincide nicely with the President's State of the Union address so there will be little to no media coverage," he said at last.
The brown suited man looked down the table again to the grey suited man whose facial expression didn't change except for his raised eyebrows in a tone that reflected his being impressed at the answer.
"Do we have any evidence that it is going without a hitch?" the brown suited man said gruffly in response.
The man at the end of the table, still shrouded by the lack of lighting from the front door, tilted his head slightly in response and the subtle familiarity of the question. The men dressed in black suits with shades still haunted the door as though they were guard dogs, hands folded in front of them and staring straight ahead.
"Of course we do," the shadowed man answered, "I have a contact in the country, and he tells me that there will be a window of opportunity which will be perfect for our operation."
The shadow man turned his head towards the black suited associate who had seated himself at the table who pressed a few buttons in front of him on a panel embedded in the table. A projector began to rise from the center of the table, pointed towards the wall at the back of the room.
"Mr. R," The shadowed man whispered, "The map, please."
The man at the table stuck a flash drive in the port at the table and pressed a few more buttons and a satellite captured, detailed, map appeared in the light of the projector. Everyone in the room turned to view it and it was easily viewable since the sun had already set and the room was only lit by the small lamps that ran above the middle of the table.
The map had Romania in the middle and the Ukraine was looming above it, the small country of Moldova was compressed in between them, separated by mountains. There was a small star right on the border of Moldova and Romania closer to the Ukrainian border towards the north. The shadow man cleared his throat and stood to face the seated men.
"As you can see, the focus of the next event in our plan is scheduled to take place in Romania."
The grey suited man interrupted, "What? Why Romania? They are a fairly stable country considering the neighbors to the east. That will draw too much attention."
The man, almost completely shrouded in darkness now that he had stood out of the range of the lamps above the table, said nothing until he had completed a puff on his cigar.
"Romania is the most viable option for our operation. Moldova, being a former Soviet satellite state, contains a base; hidden in the northern border among the hills and mountains. This base actually contains the material that we are after and in greater quantities than estimated. I'm sure you've all noticed the political unrest that has been happening in Moldova these last few years that has caused a renewed interest in the previously dormant country."
However, these men were accustomed to reading the business and stock pages of the newspaper and they had no interest in the musings of the small and insignificant so they were unaware of the happenings, much to chagrin of the shadow man.
Calmly, the shadowed man continued, "There has been unrest since Muslim extremist groups have moved in. Many analysts believe this is so they can convert some of the rebel forces to "their side", either way, they are clashing with the government and there are rumors that the government might be handed over to them soon."
The map zoomed in on the star as the man continued.
"As Mr. R zooms in on the location, you will notice that this base's proximity is close to the Romanian border. This is where a strike team will be waiting to acquire the material and the technology we're after, whenever the government begins to lose control of the civil unrest that will occur before the revolution."
"You speak as though you know this civil unrest is sure to happen" The thin, pharmaceutical man in the grey suit spoke suddenly and in a hoarse and frightened tone, looking up with an ashen color in his face.
The shadowed man's black, shark like eyes turned slowly over to the man in the grey suit and a sickly smile crept over his face.
"Well," the man in the brown suit interrupted, "I'm not totally convinced that it will. That is an awful lot of faith to place on something as volatile as the destabilization of an entire country. The UN will most likely get involved and the whole thing will crumble. Did you think that one out?"
A slow puff on the cigar, "I don't think that is likely."
The man in the brown suit was leaning on the table towards the shadowed end, clearly irritated. "And does this ambiguous team of yours have the equipment necessary to handle the material? Are they able to transport "weapons grade" Plutonium around without raising red flags all over the place? Can they even get out of the country unnoticed?"
"Of course," another slow puff, "I know that you all have doubts, but you all know full well that we will need this material so that we will have a contingency plan. Besides, the money that you gentlemen have invested was well spent to ensure that this plan will succeed.
The brown suited man leaned back a little in his chair as he considered the reply. There had been a large amount of money invested. Each man at the table had invested so much to the cigar smoker to make this plan work. If it worked, they all stood to make a return that would guarantee them for life and boost their companies into eternal economic empires for the most part…all in one swoop.
Yet, the man in the brown suit didn't claw his way to the top on faith alone, it was through gambling only when he knew he would win.
"You had better make sure of it. We cannot afford for this operation to go south. How certain is the destabilization of Moldova," he asked, "Can you give us a timeframe?"
This question prompted a little more reaction of those at the table including a man in a three piece suit and a man with a sweater vest, both who chimed in their desire to hear some results. These men were leaders in their world but in this world they seemed as sheep to the man at the end of the table. They were like lambs being led to pasture in the spring; ever at the heels of the shepherd, bleating and begging and crying out for attention. They were like sheep in the eyes of the cigar smoking man, precious and vulnerable little sheep. They were not leaders with a spine in these offices; instead they were like children, worried about dates and schedules. The cigar smoking man peered at them through the smoke, one after the other as they argued amongst themselves. They were sheep indeed and there was no shepherd at the table to assure them from the wolf…whoever that wolf might be.
"I cannot give a date of its completion", said the tall man at last, silencing the room, "I can only assure you that the destabilization has already begun."
"Did you hear that on the news?" The man in the three piece suit asked.
"I have a contact", the smoking man whispered as he shook the ashes of his cigar into the tray with a sickly and taunting smile, "One that assures me that the destabilization has begun because he is greatly involved in the details. Likewise, I have a contact in Moldova; who is doing the job required there."
"Who?" the brown suited man sneered, "Is it a "dime a dozen" reporter, like most of you lobbyists have?"
"Someone in the government actually," the tall man replied, darting his eyes at the brown suited man. He took another drag on the cigar, "I don't entrust the media with anything."
"Speaking of which," said the man in the three piece suit, "What if the media catches wind of this; what then?"
The tall man relaxed and sat back down in his chair, "What if? It matters not to our plans. If things begin to go poorly and we garner more attention than we should, there is a U.S. embassy that I have in play which will be targeted and it will direct the media's attention from Moldova."
The room was as still as a morgue. No one had mentioned anything about attacking a U.S. embassy.
"You go too far," the man in the grey suit said, "That will most certainly attract too much attention."
"Not necessarily," the smoking man replied, "Don't underestimate the current political toxin of enduring a religious zealot's attack on American soil and never down play the passion of the media to protect the political powers that be from that stigma."
"Do you think they will?" asked the brown suited man, suddenly intrigued.
"Of course they will," the shadow man said with a small smile, "There are plenty of independent filmmakers out there to blame for incendiary and provocative speech. Our tracks will go unnoticed."
The tension dropped as though there was a collective sigh of relief.
"Well," the brown suited man started as he looked around the room, "I think everyone just wanted some assurance that our investment is being spent wisely and I think it would be wise of you to include us in the planning process a little bit. We use you because we like the way you work; including us might help strengthen that."
The smoking man pursed his lips and rolled his eyes to the corner to stare more effectively at the brown suited man.
"That would almost certain compromise our security" he said in a very harsh tone, "You gentlemen are not planners you are stockbrokers and nothing more. It is your job to make sure that the money stays in place and you will reap the rewards of your labor. Leave the planning to me and everything will go as it is supposed to."
"Well it seems like me that leaving the master plan in the hands of one man is a security risk." The brown suited man said with a gleam in his eye.
The smoking man read the challenge in the tone of the man in the brown suit. These men were climbers of the totem pole and were excellent at scheming and plotting but there is quite a difference between thinking you are a mastermind and being one.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees with the introduction of the challenge, but the shadow man responded by leaning back in his chair and took a heavy drag on his cigar, illuminating his dark eyes ever so briefly.
He said nothing.
The room stayed an uncomfortable tone of silence.
He said nothing, still.
The man in the brown suit began to sweat around the top of his hair line as he struggled to maintain eye contact with the smoking man during the awkward silence.
"Do you think you have been treated unfairly?" was the long and drawn out response.
Every head in the room impulsively turned to the challenger.
"No," came his mouse like reply, "of course not, I just worry about information control".
"Really?" said the shadow man will a full smile, "I find that hard to believe with policies that allowed for your personal accountant to be involved in such heinous dealings as I've read in the paper."
The brown suited man tensed up at the public humiliation, "Mr. Watkins must have hid that for years. I never knew and there were never any signs of embezzlement or using that money to push drugs until his murder. Even though, I'm also not totally convinced that he was involved with gangs, I had no idea he was double crossing me; I never look at the books."
"Well," the shadow man said, standing, "All the more reason for you and your colleagues to stay out of the drawing room and leave the designs to me. As for the rest of you, if any of you care to put your employees on the front page of the local news, I would appreciate advanced warning."
The rest of the men began to gather their coats as Mr. R shut the projector down.
As the men filed out, a stockbroker struck up a conversation with another about being fearful of the walk to the parking garage considering the hour and lamenting not having a chauffeur available.
"What?" the other older man responded, "What are you afraid of, the devil?"
They both chuckled as they filed out of the room and turned off the lights leaving the man standing at the end of the table, slowly puffing on his smoldering cigar, completely drowned in the darkness; an eerie smile on his face.
