TERRA EMPIRE: ON THE EVE OF WORLD WAR
EPISODE 61: THE FIFTY MILLION DOLLAR EFFECT
The atmosphere of Cafe Cellini at the intersection of Knockville and 43rd Street in one corner of New York City seemed quiet that afternoon. Cafe tables are not so filled with visitors, so many, there were only five or six guests who were enjoying a home-cooked breakfast like toast with homemade jam and Sicilian black coffee, or a half-cooked boiled egg with chamomile tea. The type of menu that is only suitable to be enjoyed in the morning. Maybe that's why not many people come to Cafe because the time was already showing at eleven o'clock in the afternoon, and it was the Cafe's habit to close as late as twelve o'clock.
No one wants to enjoy coffee or tea during the day, people prefer Burger King or Kenny Roger to find a more filling meal, but not for the brown-eyed man sitting in one corner of the room. He was enjoying his coffee when the man who had just entered the place approached and greeted, “Izmir Adulam?”
The cross-eyed man looked up, “What business is there looking for me?”
“Let's just put your gun, man!” the man calmed down before sitting before the cross-eyed man. “Because I also bring my security when you fuck.”
The man patted his coat, there was something under it and it was clear it was not an umbrella. The cross-eyed snorted, put the gun back in the laptop bag, and scolded loudly because the stranger disturbed his composure, “I only have five minutes because soon I have to go back to work.”
“Does that include noting the President's agenda for the next five months?”
“What is the President doing with me?”
“Because I have information that you are the person to contact if you want to get the President's schedule..” he close his body before whispering, “..let alone if this concerns fifty million dollars.”
Izmir Adulam squinted, “You're planning to kill Tramp? Many already want to do it. You better queue.”
“Indeed many would do it but only I am capable.”
“Confidence once. And how do you do it?”
“The magician won't reveal his secret, will he? Because if it is done, the action can not be called magical anymore,” the man grinned.
“Maybe you can do it. But what makes you think that I want to give you the information you want?”
“That depends on you, whether you want to be persuaded subtly or roughly.”
“Means?” Izmir.
“You gave me the information I needed, in exchange for fifty million dollars that we shared. 10-90. But if not..” the man handed me a manuscript talk mobile number, where one of them is the number belonging to Izmir Adulam, the, who informs that President Tramp is on a change of agenda to visit Machina Factory with a date corresponding to the day on which Howard Tramp was attacked***** three months ago.
Izmir Adulam understood that this man before him was a professional. If this evidence falls into the hands of the police, he will be arrested on charges of leaking state secrets. Stared back at the stranger, “I understand you mean!”
“Of course ten percent of fifty million is a considerable amount as a provision of retirement as a double agent of the Iranian government, not so Mr. Adulam?”
The cross-eyed man smiled slightly, “You know a lot about me, instead I just don't know who you are.”
“My name is Mathew Benneth. People call me Benneth The Slaughterer.”
“Yes, I heard your lunge, lord butcher. Especially when you finished off the Catalan crown prince's wife three years ago. I heard it was on her husband's orders for cheating?”
“I don't care what case befalls my client. The pay is equal, then I take.”
“And you sure you can pass Secret Service in case of Howard Tramp?”
Benneth grinned, “I managed to find you, didn't I?”
“Alright, I'm ready to help you when the offer is raised. Twenty percent.”
“Don't be too greedy! I hold your tail,” said Benneth waving the manuscript.
“How can I be sure that you will not run with my part after getting the requested information?” Adulam said in a defiant tone.
“I am a businessman, Mr. Adulam, so trust is a must. This is five thousand dollars for a down payment, I even give it for free without knowing whether your information is rotten or not.”
Adulam's hand touched the thick envelope, took it, then put it in a laptop bag, “It's nice to start working with you, Mr. Benneth!”
***
Four months since Howard Tramp appeared on CNN's live talk show, things have gotten even more chaotic for the administration. The lucrative rewards have turned out to be very attractive to many criminals, not only from abroad but also within the country. For some Tramp haters it is like the right moment to realize pent-up resentment with a more concrete form than just cursing on social media.
The attack on Howard Tramp went crazy when he learned that the amount of money the Iranian people had raised had reached half of what was promised, and this was constantly being announced by the eastern media and government oposers. The craziest is the latest attack by an elderly drifter as Howard Tramp inaugurates Amazon Mart's new shopping mall in Kentucky.
The last attack was brutal, seemingly indifferent to the safety of many people even if only the President was targeted. Secret Service officers were forced to shoot the perpetrator to death in an attempt to stop him, which unfortunately left dozens injured and seven dead in the action. A Secret Service agent named Ryan Newman was among the dead. And since then Howard Tramp no longer dare to appear in public areas.
“I still can't believe agent Newman was killed,” commented Lana when the news was broadcast again for the umpteenth time that day.
“Ryan Newman we met at Machina Factory?” jordan asked after munching on her last mouthful at lunch break.
“The photo is being aired tuh.”
Jordan turned to the TV hanging in the middle of the dining room at Pilli’s Pie. It was indeed the face of the man who had been with them when they escaped at Machina Factory, the man who also took the helicopter ride with President Tramp and Tramp Junior. He commented half in disbelief, “Gosh, it was indeed him!”
“Poor man,” Lana wiping the tip of her eye.
“Fifty million dollars that makes everyone go crazy, yes,” Jordan joking. “When will they bury Newman?”
“From the news this morning, two more days in Queens,” replied Lana. “It feels different if the victim is the person we know, yes! Even if only briefly knew him.”
“Yeah, hopefully Jack Higgins and Bill Sandford are fine,” comments Jordan.
“Not better than Allen, I guess.” Lana put her chin up and Jordan turned her head in the direction her friend pointed.
Allen and his two friends had just walked into the cafeteria room, acting like a big master as usual by telling one of his friends to bring a lunch tray because his right hand was still not off the bandage. The bully realizes Jordan's whereabouts and hastily turns to retrieve another table away from Jordan and Lana.
“Good! Now that I feel like the source of the disease,” Jordan is sloppy and Lana laughs amusedly.
“It looks like Allen is close to you, making him unable to play on the field for four months because of his hand.”
“It wasn't me who broke it!” Jordan shrugged his shoulders.
“You still wear it?” ask Lana.
“Always. Since that day. I don't know when his friends will reply me.”
“Or maybe he sent his loser friends. Alright, at least it will keep you safe.”
“Hopefully it stays the way it is,” Jordan grinned.
“I heard from his friends, Allen casts will be released today.”
“Good for him.”
“You work until what time is it today?” ask Lana.
“I am closed today because tomorrow is Thanksgiving.”
“Wah, even though I want to come to The Vinyl. I want to listen to the black disk.”
Jordan smile, “Lain times only time.”
“Yeah, next time. Just don't let the tool sell as soon as I want to listen to it.”
“That thing has been there for six years. I don't think it's going to sell in that fast time.”
“Alright! You know better! Don't forget tomorrow night to my house for Thanksgiving. Take Sally too,” Lana reminded.
“Will I try,” replied Jordan.“Although I can already guess the answer.”
***
