The Paths of Destiny
The World Turned Upside Down

September 7, 2001:

It’s difficult to believe that I’ve been employed by the SPJ for nearly a full year. In some respects, it appears I’ve been doing this forever. Other times, it appears I started only yesterday.

Nevertheless, it’s been almost a year, and I had a private interview with my Section Leader, Mike Killorn. I’ve been informed that my one-year evaluation went extremely well, and I could expect a summons to the Office of the Director on the anniversary of my Graduation to renew my Oath to the SPJ. Incidentally, this would be the only time I would be asked to renew my oath, barring extraordinary circumstances.

September 10, 2001:

The day dawned fair and clear. Since I was so close to renewing my Oath, I wasn’t on an outside assignment, but dealing with files at my desk.

I had been smiling slightly all day. The mail carrier had stopped by my desk and left a postcard, making the dawn pale in comparison.

On one side, a beautiful sunset scene.

On the other:

Sept 5th.

See you in two weeks!

Corey.

September 11, 2001:

London, England, is five hours ahead of New York. Therefore, I was already at my desk and hard at work when the news broke.

Those of us who had internet access, were surfing the web looking for more details. Televisions were wheeled into every office that didn’t have one, and every channel available throughout Europe was carrying the news of the two planes that had crashed into New York’s World Trade Center. In addition, the one that went into the Pentagon. Then there was the fourth plane, destination unknown, which came down in a field in Pennsylvania. A cheer actually went up at that news, but it was short lived.

Disaster Aid was being mobilized to assist, but not much was coming out of Headquarters because all air traffic had been halted into the US. The Stations in Washington, DC, and New York City were actively involved, though, and I followed the reports of their actions on the internal channels.

Orders came down for a total lock-down and full defensive mode. The blast doors slammed shut, trapping everyone for the duration. On the roof, the guns were uncovered. Like everyone else, I hunkered down at my desk. I knew that anyone caught out of place at this time was liable to be shot first and questioned later. The state of emergency was finally lifted around midnight.

I feel worn out after today’s numbing events. It’s staggering to think someone would be so heinous to commit such an act. I grieve for the loss of life; for all the innocent victims involved. As soon as I can, I’ll do what I can to help alleviate the pain and suffering of the victims’ families. I may have to call in some markers to do it though.

I also have to look at the possibility my own country may have been partly at fault.

We have become too complacent in our place as a world leader. Resting on our laurels of past deeds. The founding fathers of our nation would weep if they could see how decadent our country has become.

Many members of our own government seem to have their own personal agendas, and any alliances made are tenuous at best. They’re willing to do just about anything; as long as it fits within their personal agendas, and very few seem to have the voters’ well-being in mind. And those who try to do right by their voters, are ignored and barely manage to serve out their term; or they find themselves getting caught up in the currents of the political intrigue, and are swept away — to be forgotten along the way, or wind up becoming what they fought to protect their voters against. In addition, as they fight among themselves, they tend to roadblock any Executive action that might have prevented tragedies such as today’s.

My only hope, is the people I helped put into office will get off their collective rear ends, realize what they are doing, and find some way of supporting President Bush’s expected decision to act. Something I’m sure will wind up affecting the entire world. I may not agree with my President’s overall policies, hell I’m not even a Republican, but if he insists on a war, I’ll be the first one to cheer him on and support him.

In light of today’s activities, Jasmine thankfully and willingly suggested we skip our nightly ritual games of chess. Instead, she offered comforting words for me as I wept unashamedly for those brave and unwitting souls.

May they rest in peace.

September 12, 2001:

In addition to the rumors about the identities of the hijackers, a new and disturbing rumor was sweeping Headquarters today.

Charles duBois, the Senior Director, is believed dead. No details as yet were forthcoming.

Anton Greydon, Liaison to the UNO, is stuck in New York and unable to fly back to the UK.

I found out from Drayton that he’d been summoned by his Section Leader, Dara DeVere, around three this afternoon. She needed his help to set up a secure channel to the States in order to communicate with the UNO building in New York. Unfortunately, the Americans were blocking all incoming communications. Since he was American, and very good at hacking into other people’s systems, it was only natural for DeVere to call upon my friend’s services.

She took Drayton up in the security elevator, to the offices of Senior Commander James Conrad. There, my old classmate managed to get a line through to Greydon at the Liaison Office in New York. The time there was just after eleven in the morning. Greydon, after congratulating Drayton on his success, directed him to set up a secure line to someone in Shrewsbury.

Once the connection was established, DeVere asked Drayton to wait in the outer office. He didn’t know who was at Shrewsbury. However, he did say the connection was to the Parish Church of Saints Michael and John.

Intriguing. Who would we need to contact in a parish church nine miles east of the Welsh border?

September 13, 2001:

My day started out somewhat normal for me; a crap load of paperwork waiting for my attention. In lieu of all that’s happened since Tuesday, the paperwork flow had slowed down to one or two folders every couple of hours or three. Everyone was glued to the internet, or a television, waiting for more word about what everyone began calling the “9-11 Tragedy”, or “9-11” for short.

I have to confess. I was one of the guilty ones. I was just as interested as everyone else. Probably more so since the act itself occurred on my home soil. I think I can be forgiven for my lack of attentiveness to my duties.

While I was halfheartedly whittling down the stack of paperwork, Section Leader Killorn called me into his office. I had no idea why I was being summoned, but I was soon to find out.

“Parker, I know things are at sixes and sevens today, but...,” he said without preamble as he ran his hand through his hair, mussing it even further. “I just got a call from God’s Country. The new Senior Director wants to swear you in immediately.”

“Swearing in?” I asked confused. “I already stated I would renew my oath to the SPJ just prior to 9-11. I had already made up my mind a long time ago; I'm in this for the long haul. But if it'll make the brass feel better, I’ll renew that oath for their benefit right now.”

Since I was on duty, I was already in the uniform of the day for the work environment. Of course, if the brass planned to have some kind of ceremony with them present, I’d need to change into full dress.

“New Director, Parker,” Killorn said tersely. “Bringing everyone in — from the Senior Commanders on down. And no, you don’t have time to change. Immediately means immediately.”

To say I was flabbergasted was an understatement of Biblical proportions.

I was to be sworn in as a new director? Of what?

“New Director,” I said utterly confused as I waited for my soon to be ex-Section Leader to lead me to the swearing in ceremony. “Sir, please tell me Commander Redhawk isn’t being replaced or someone else is and I’m to assume those duties.”

“What?? Good God, man, whatever... No. The new Senior Director of the United Nations Organization for Security, Peace and Justice has decided that all the personnel, from the Senior Commanders on down are to be sworn in again — in view of the extraordinary circumstances surrounding the events of 9-11. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

He was looking at me as though I were five years old. And not a particularly bright five-year-old, at that.

“Crystal, sir.” I replied.

To say I was relieved was being conservative. I wasn’t sure I had it in me to do the job my Commanders had to do, yet. Especially, now that the world was standing on its head after the events of 9-11.

I hoped that Corey was doing well in all of this and was unscathed. It was obvious someone, somewhere had ignored her warnings about that Al-Qaeda group she had mentioned to me a year ago.

Killorn took me in the security elevator to the sixth floor where the four Senior Commanders and the Senior Director have their offices. I had been up here before, of course, but never under these circumstances. And, of course, I was curious about the new Senior Director, who was apparently sworn in by video rather than in person, as is usual.

Anton Greydon, Liaison to the UNO, was still in New York. The new Senior Director, obviously, had to have been in England, or at least Europe, in order to get here so fast. I had also heard that Charles duBois may have died by his own hand, but no specifics had been released yet.

Coming toward me down the corridor was my old classmate, Frederick Drayton, with his Section Leader, Dara DeVere. He was smiling slightly.

The door at the end of the corridor slid open as we arrived and the both of us entered. I knew that Killorn would have to be there to witness my Oath, but I didn’t understand why he looked worried.

The Director’s secretary looked up as we entered. I didn’t recognize him. I did recognize the uniform he wore, however, and it wasn’t SPJ. It was Royal Air Force. He was a Captain, according to his rank insignia. He looked large, and very efficient. Capable of taking me out in a fair fight, and I knew that any fight wouldn’t be fair. In fact, contrary to regulations, he was wearing a side arm.

I realized, immediately, that sweeping changes were being made. Probably due to the very recent death of Charles duBois and, in all likelihood, the events of 9-11. The new Senior Director had a lot to do. So why was he spending time swearing in the First Years?

Before the secretary would allow us into the office, he came over and patted Killorn and me down. Then he went back to the desk and picked up the phone.

“Wing Commander?”

“Yes?” a woman’s voice answered.

“Killorn and Parker are here.”

“Send them in.”

There was currently only one female WingCo in the RAF. Due to my curiosity about the RAF following my Basic Training at RAF Uxbridge, I’d heard of her. Her name was Reese, and she tended to be a very private person.

But now I understood why everyone looked worried.

Wing Commander Reese is approximately thirty-eight years old. She’s the only daughter of Air Vice-Marshal Reese, currently the third in command of the RAF, and a power in his own right. Yes, that Air Vice-Marshal Reese. I met him back in April. By all accounts, his daughter resembles him strongly.

Rumor had it she’s a lesbian.

Well, that rumor follows every competent female officer. But Reese apparently doesn’t even have a softer side that anyone’s been able to find.

Officers hold a commission from the Sovereign which provides the legal authority for them to issue orders to subordinates. The commission is granted after successfully completing the 32-week-long Initial Officer Training course at the RAF College in Cranwell.

Reese entered IOT RAF at age seventeen, straight from high school, and stayed in for three more years, graduating with a Master’s Degree in Intelligence and Investigation, with a minor in Languages, specifically Arabic, Farsi and French. She taught two years at the US Army Language School in Monterey, California, and then vanished for fifteen years. When she surfaced about a year ago, she’d already made the rank she now holds, one of the youngest to do so. She has a reputation for being a no-nonsense administrator, who is not afraid to rock the boat, or even capsize it completely, to achieve the objective.

She didn’t currently lead a Wing, which is a subdivision of a Group or a Station. Her last posting was to RAF Gibraltar, which was, by all accounts, a mess. Rumor has it that she saw to the courts-martial of fully half the personnel. The other half resigned rather than face court-martial.

Rumor has been known to exaggerate. But even the most exaggerated rumor has a kernel of truth.

But, why was Drayton smiling after his encounter with her?

The door opened and we entered.

Wing Commander Reese, in full dress uniform, was standing in front of the desk.

She walked confidently towards me, her hand out.

She was five-foot-nine. She had military length dark brown hair, short enough to fit under a flying helmet. Her eyes were brown eyes. Medium brown tanned skin. She looked very fit while weighing around 145 lbs.

“A pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Parker. I’ve heard a great deal about you. Most of it good. These are difficult times we are living in, Parker. I hope I can count on your co-operation?”

I was only half listening. I was pre-occupied, my mind churning.

Wing Commander Reese was now Senior Director.

Wing Commander Reese was the daughter of Air Vice-Marshal Reese.

Charles duBois was dead.

And a certain comment said by AVM Reese: “I will have my way, you know.”

“Parker!” Reese’s voice cracked out like a whip, pulling me out of my thoughts and I realized this wasn’t the first time she had said my name.

“I’m sorry ma’am,” I apologized as I snapped to attention. “My mind was wandering back to 9-11 when I should’ve been focused on the here and now. It won’t happen again.”

“Indeed,” she said nodding her head, satisfied the matter had passed. “I understand it’s your custom for new agents to renew their Oath at the end of their first year. I am also asking all Section Leaders and all Commanders to renew their Oaths at this time. After Section Leader Killorn has witnessed your Oath, I should like you to witness his. Are you ready?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied simply.

I took the Oath.

I had taken other oaths before, including this one a year ago, but somehow, today, and in light of recent events, the Oath was stronger, more meaningful.

The Oath I took is branded into my mind. One that I feel I’ll never be capable of betraying:

I, Robert Bixby Parker, do solemnly affirm, as a member and officer of the United Nations Organization for Security, Peace and Justice, that I will support and defend the United Nations Organization for Security, Peace and Justice against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the Senior Director of the United Nations Organization for Security, Peace and Justice and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations; that I will ensure the Security, Peace, and Justice for which I am sworn to protect and uphold shall neither be abused nor be construed for personal gain; that my duty as a member and officer of the UNO-SPJ shall be performed to the best of my ability; that no man, or organization, shall be allowed to disrupt the tenets of Security, Peace, and Justice from within, or from without, the UNO-SPJ and the Organization’s mandated realm of authority; that if action is deemed necessary, then I will do my lawful duty to report the intent of my actions to my superiors, if able, and follow the lawful commands of my superiors. In the event I am unable to communicate with my superiors, I affirm to do my duty to resolve the issue upon my own discretion and accept the consequences of said actions, regardless of the outcome. Finally, I affirm that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservations or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office upon which I am about to enter. This I declare and affirm.

Once finished, I took a glance at the Senior Director’s face.

I was taken aback.

For a moment there, I thought I saw a hint of tears glistening in her eyes. Then the moment passed and it was Killorn’s turn. When I turned to him, there was no doubt in my mind. He had a single tear slowly trickling down his face, of which he was not aware.

As requested, I stood witness while Director Reese administered the Oath.

“Thank you, Section Leader.”

He turned to leave, nodding to me to accompany him.

“Lieutenant, a moment more, if you please?”

Killorn shot me one of those looks, then left.

“Coffee?”

“Thank you, Director,” I said. “I believe a cup would be nice.”

Director Reese went to the coffee pot and poured a cup which she set on a low table in the conversation area.

“Black, if I remember correctly. Smoking lamp is lit.”

“Excuse me Director,” I said a bit confused. “When did we have the opportunity to have coffee together?”

“Well, I can see I made a lasting impression. There is one thing you can do for me... May I have your autograph?” S~ᴇaʀᴄh the (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

She reached into her briefcase and brought out a book, The Adventures of Sir Roger and Lady Jasmine Bixby, by William Anthony Nall. It was much battered and obviously well read.

“Sign it — ‘To Corey...’.”

“Son of a...,” I said nearly spilling my coffee. “My God. I didn’t recognize you in your uniform. First time I met you, you were wearing work clothes in the Lancaster and then you were in your dinner wear at Antonello’s.”

I set the cup down and did my best to clean up, much to Corey’s amusement.

“Just so you know, I managed to put two and two together some time back. But felt it prudent for you to let me know, in your own time, who you were. I met your father, by the way, at a dinner party I attended five months ago. Is he always that arrogant?”

I didn’t want to let Corey know the real reason for my lack of recognition. She already had too much on her mind with her new position. Since 9-11, like many others, I hadn’t slept well. In fact, I barely managed to get an hour of sleep each night. So hopefully, I can be forgiven for not being entirely alert and observant as I usually am.

“Yes.”

She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat opposite, legs stretched out in front of her. For a moment, she stared into the cup, and then looked across at me.

“You have some interesting ideas, Parker, especially concerning fraternization.”

A smile.

“As I believe I mentioned, I make my own rules.”

Another smile toward me as I lit up a cigarette.

“I was at Uncle Marc’s. Anton Greydon called. I thought about you, and almost turned him down. After all, I am your boss now... Then I thought about you again, and realized we would be... too busy to see each other if I didn’t take this job. This way...,” she shrugged.

“Then Anton told me my rank as Senior Director would equal that of the Chief of the Air Staff of the RAF,” impish smile. “My father’s boss...”

“I think your father was the deciding factor in your appointment to your new position,” I said.

“Explain,” she demanded, eyes flashing as she straightened up and set her coffee down on the table with an audible thump.

I told Corey about what happened that night in April. Including the request by Miss Mathers for me to be part of her security staff. I figured it might be prudent to be upfront with the woman I’d come to see as very important in my life.

“Damn him....”

She stood, paced across the room and back.

“Robert, I’d like to meet Miss Mathers. Can you arrange it for me?”

“I think I can manage that,” I said. “May I use your phone?”

She waved permission, then picked up her coffee and took a long drink.

I called up Nick Storm.

“Commander Storm I need a favor... Yes, I’m with the new Director right now... Sir, I wound up having to tell her about Miss Mathers’ birthday party and she is very interested in meeting with Miss Mathers.”

“May I come along?” Nick asked.

“He wants to come along,” I told Corey.

“Yes, tell him I’ll admit him.”

I relayed the message, and hung up.

“Security is that tight,” Corey said.

She stood, went to the desk and called the large Captain in the outer office.

“Commander Storm is on his way. Admit him... Who? No. Under no circumstances will I see him.”

She hung up the phone.

“Damn him. The AVM is out there, demanding to see me.”

“Remember,” I added with a smile, “you outrank him now.”

“I do, don’t I? I’d forgotten. This just might work....”

She pondered for a second.

“I’ve been looking over your record,” she smiled, obviously a lot more relaxed than she was when I last saw her, about a year ago. “I can do that....”

She got down to business.

“You’re a trained investigator. “Charles duBois is dead. Believed to be suicide, but it’s not certain. It could have been enemy action. We have clearance to fly a team to his villa outside Paris to investigate. Pick your own people.”

I waited for her to continue.

“The main thing is, I need people I can trust. I’ve... been dropped into the middle of this, no preparation, precious little information. My time, rightly so, will be spent here learning about this Organization and what it can, and cannot, do. Stuff you learned back in Basic. There may also be some housecleaning to do, although I gather you haven’t exactly been slacking in that regard. I could have used you in Gibraltar....”

A wistful look before continuing.

“But you have to understand. There are precisely two people here, at Headquarters — that I didn’t bring with me but know for sure. I know I can trust you and Drayton.”

So that is why Drayton was smiling, I was thinking to myself.

“Who did you think was also helping me with the Lancaster?” Corey asked with an impish smile, indicating that my surprise was apparent on my face. “A good man. Everyone else is a part of the old administration and therefore suspect. They will all need to earn my trust in their own way.

“Hell, I’m taking enough of a chance trusting you two. But, Robert, you were there for me when I needed you, and that will always count for something.” A quick smile. “They haven’t brought me the inventory yet, so I can’t promise a tank, but the food they provide here is fantastic.”

She yawned.

“Corey, how much sleep have you gotten?”

“Don’t worry about it, Robert. Since the Towers, I don’t think anyone has had a lot of sleep these days. I’ll catch a couple of winks after you leave for Paris.

“By the way, what was your UNO Peacekeepers rank?”

“My rank was Commander,” I said simply. “I didn’t make any noises about my current rank because of a request by my old commander, Ted Westbury, to keep that part of my life under wraps. Not a lot of people know about my former UNO service. This was fine by me.

“In regards to my Team, I’d like to have Drayton, and a couple of the others that were with me, when we helped rescue Robyn Coyne. Namely, Lieutenants Nighthawk and James. We tend to work well together.”

“If I remember correctly, that’s the equivalent of a Lieutenant Colonel in this outfit,” Corey said with a smile. “All right, I’ll see you get it back. Now, as soon as I’ve seen Commander Storm, we’ll get the others up here, swear them in and send you on your way to Paris.”

“Corey,” I said smiling affectionately. “You’re the boss.”

“There’s something I want to show you, first. I’ve been wanting to share it with you since I got here, but it’s been entirely too busy.”

She stood, and held out her hand.

As I took her by the hand, I marveled at how soft the skin was. It brought me back to the night we first met.

Jasmine giggled in my ear as I reminisced, “You keep this up and you’ll find yourself married to her before you know it.”

It was hard for me to keep a straight face after my ethereal friend made that comment. However, the idea didn’t sound too bad to me.

Corey pulled me to her for a fast, fierce kiss that was over almost as soon as it began. Then she drew me to the long curtains that covered one wall.

She opened the curtains and gestured.

Outside, the City of London laid spread before us. The Thames, a silver ribbon, wound into the distance. To add to the splendor of the view, the sky was clear with only a few wisps of feathery clouds floating by lazily.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Almost as beautiful as you are,” I said as I looked into Corey’s shining eyes.

“I understand...”

She swayed towards me.

“That you have some...”

I felt her breath tickle my face.

“Interesting... views about fraternization.”

Her lips met mine, pressed, and parted.

The next few moments were a blur as we lost ourselves in trying to make up for a year’s worth of absence in the few minutes we had to ourselves.

A very few minutes.

Our reunion was interrupted by the ringing of Corey’s desk phone.

“Storm.” Corey pulled away. “I suppose I ought to get that.”

I watched Corey as she went to answer her phone. It was amazing to see how quickly she went from the soft, loveable person I knew, to the responsible Senior Director, within the few steps from the window to her desk.

“Reese... Yes, Captain, send him in.”

The door opened, and Commander Storm walked in. Full uniform, not a hair out of place, his eyes went first to me, still standing by the open curtains. Then he stopped smartly in front of the desk and drew himself to attention.

“Commander,” Reese said, “it has become imperative that I meet Miss Mathers. As soon as possible. Please arrange it. You may use my phone.”

“Certainly, Director.” Storm picked up the phone with a quick glance at me, dialed a number, and then entered a code.

“Storm. Someone wants to see you... As soon as possible. New Senior Director. Name of Reese.”

He winced, jerking the phone away from his ear. He attempted to talk, failed, waited some more.

Finally, Storm was able to get a word in edgewise.

“Briony, Briony, Briony. No. No, not the AVM. The daughter. Same name, definitely female.”

He shot a glance in her direction. She was standing over by the bookcase, seemingly engrossed in the book collection.

“I don’t know,” Storm went on. “But there’s some kind of flap going on, so I’d suggest... Yes. I can do that.”

He hung up the phone.

“Director Reese, she wants me to bring you over as soon as possible.”

“We’ll go now,” Reese said. “Parker, I should like you to go with me, please.”

“Of course, Director,” I said crisply.

I felt sorry for Storm having to call Miss Mathers. Probably not as sorry as I’d feel once she discovered my involvement in the meeting arrangement. I had a feeling whatever Commander Storm went through on the phone would be a walk in the park compared to what I might be in for.

The door to the outer office opened. Director Reese walked out, followed by Commander Storm, and lastly, me.

“Corey!” Air Vice-Marshal Reese came towards us. “This lout claims you won’t see me.”

Reese stopped.

“What were my orders, Captain?” she asked crisply.

Obviously uncomfortable at being put on the spot, the Captain glanced from one to the other, so much alike and so different, and swallowed.

“Concerning the Air Vice-Marshal, Ma’am, you said you didn’t want to see him. Under any circumstances.”

“What??” exploded Air Vice-Marshal Reese, finger jabbing at her. “You listen to me, my girl. I put you in that office, and if you don’t co-operate, I’ll take you out just as easily!”

“No. You listen to me. Reese.”

Hard brown eyes met hard brown eyes.

“Part the First. My rank is Senior Director. If you fail to remember that, or continue to show disrespect, I shall make a formal complaint to my opposite number, the Chief of the Air Staff.”

A step toward the AVM.

“Part the Second. You will not come to this office, or indeed this building, unless you are expressly invited to, or at the direct orders of your superior, Air Chief Marshal Sir Norbert Stacy.”

Two more steps.

“Point the Third...”

Her voice dropped to a near-whisper. But the silence in the outer office was so absolute she could be heard clearly, as if she were shouting.

“Point the Third, if I do learn that you, by any means whatsoever, procured this position for me; I will not only resign from SPJ, I will also resign my commission in the RAF, change my name, and move. Out of England. And I am on my way now to find out if those steps are necessary. Do I make myself perfectly clear, Air Vice-Marshal Reese?”

There was a long silence.

Then the AVM took a step back, eyes wide, face pale, as if he’d seen a ghost.

“Yes... Senior Director.”

“Thank you,” Reese said almost too pleasantly as she turned to her aide. “Captain O’Halloran, please arrange an escort for the Air Vice-Marshal. He will be leaving now. Storm, Parker, you’re with me.”

She swept out.

The silence held half way to the elevators. Then Storm cleared his throat.

“As Senior Director, you have your own car. I’ll... ah... I’ll just call ahead, make sure it’s ready for you, shall I?”

Not waiting for an answer, he ducked into his office.

“Whoosh!!” Corey collapsed against the nearest wall, wiping her eyes. “Damn, that felt good!”

I glanced down the hall, back to her office.

“Don’t worry... Miles will keep him there until he’s sure I’m well on my way. Do I really have my own car? And a chauffeur?”

“I believe they’re part of the perks of being a Senior Director,” I said. “Your predecessors had their own personal vehicles and chauffeurs. Logic would dictate you would, too. I’m sure there are more benefits you’ll discover, in time.”

I looked back toward her office.

“Did you really mean it back there? About resigning and all that, I mean.”

She turned to me.

“You asked if he was always that arrogant,” she began with a whisper then stopped for a moment as if collecting her thoughts, staring at nothing.

The silence lasted for only a few seconds before she drew herself up out of her reverie.

“My name is Corey Lloyd Reese, the Second,” she began as she looked at me with those beautiful brown eyes. “He wanted a boy, to carry on the name. When Mother produced a girl — and was told she couldn’t have any more children — he named me after himself. One day, we got into a fight. He was raging on about the Family Name. To get back at him, I threatened to change my name and run away.”

Her eyes darkened.

“He thrashed me.”

Another brief silence as if she were letting it sink in.

“Yes. He’s risen as far as he can in the RAF. But third in command isn’t good enough for him. And if he can’t have the RAF, he wants the SPJ. And if he can’t have it for himself, he’ll get it for me, and control it through me. And that cannot happen, Robert.”

She gave me a determined look.

“I didn’t tell you back there. Before I agreed to take the position, I had Anton fax me a copy of the Oath before I took it, so I’d know what I was going into. I’ve taken the Oath as well, Robert. I cannot become the puppet of another, in all good conscience. No matter how well meaning he might be, and I assure you, he is not at all well-meaning... And if I can’t resign... I’ll kill myself.”

“You kill yourself,” I said mock severely, “and I’ll have to be quite cross with you.”

On a more serious note, I continued.

“Corey, let me give you some advice, as your friend. If, and I do mean if, your father had a hand in obtaining the new position for you, think of it as a blessing in disguise,” I held up my hand to forestall what she was about to say. “Hear me out, please.”

I waited before she nodded reluctantly.

“I know you may be thinking the AVM is pursuing his ambitions through you and, as you said, it may appear that you are being a puppet in all of this. However, the Oath you took when you accepted this office was designed for people like you and me. We both have what it takes to prevent people, such as your father, from pursuing his personal goals for the SPJ. Hell, you’ve seen my record. Remember that mess about a year ago with Chickering and his ilk. If so, then, you know I’m capable of upholding that Oath just as well as you.”

She looked at me expectantly waiting for me to continue.

“Your father will be able to run the SPJ through you only if you let him. Remember, I know you pretty darn well. And the Corey Reese I know would never lie down and allow someone to walk all over her. You’re too mule-stubborn to even think of allowing that.”

I took her by the shoulders to ensure she was paying attention to what I was saying.

“The SPJ needs someone like you manning the helm. Someone to clear out the weeds in what could be a beautiful garden, flourishing in the dead of winter. It needs a strong leader who is willing to follow her own rules to ensure its survival. Especially now with the world standing on its head after 9-11.”

I paused for a breath.

“Not only that, you have a few good people within the SPJ who can be of great help to you. You already know about Fred Drayton and me. Nick Storm’s another. Believe it or not, the woman you are about to meet, is one of your predecessors and a legend around here, and I’ve found her to be one of the staunchest allies you could have. Even if she is no longer a member of this outfit.”

I pointed toward her office.

“And the way you handled your father in there, is proof of what I was just saying. You took a very large step to show not only him, but also those of us who witnessed it, that you have earned the right to take over as Senior Director. That you, and not he, are in charge of this group and that you are no longer the little girl he once knew who could be bullied into doing whatever daddy wanted.”

I pointed my finger at her chest for emphasis.

“And I am going to tell you this right now, Corey Lloyd Reese, the Second,” I said, allowing a touch of harshness to enter my voice. “You allow yourself to have the AVM dictate how you live your life, how to run the SPJ. If you think of resigning, or even mention within my hearing killing yourself because you’re too afraid to accept the challenge of running the SPJ the way it’s supposed to be run, then I will lose all the respect I have for the person I thought was stronger than that. I will tender my resignation right there on the spot. Because I refuse to work for someone who would take the coward’s way out of a difficult situation. Even if it means losing the person I’ve grown to care for as I have for you.”

Saying that last bit was the hardest thing I had ever done to someone I cared for. And it was one hell of a gamble as well.

But I meant what I said.

In the short time I’ve known Corey, I had come to admire and respect her for her resolve to do what she felt was ethically necessary to get the job done. But the way she was acting when Storm left us, was not the woman I had grown to know and care for deeply. I had to find some way to snap her out of what I observed to be self-degradation. I just hoped my gamble paid off.

“On a lighter note, though,” I said to soften the blow I am sure I had dealt her, “I’ve taken to adding a couple of dollops to my coffee since last we met.”

“A couple of dollops of what?” she asked. “Spine? Because if that’s so — then, yes, I’ll start taking my coffee that way, too.”

She paused for a moment.

“Thank you, Robert. It’s the first time I’ve ever stood up to him — and won. It’s also the only thing he understands — superior force. I never had it before. But now I do.”

She straightened. Her head came up, and her shoulders came back, and I watched the transition again from Corey to Reese. Then she smiled a brilliant smile that transformed her whole face.

“In olden days, the King used to keep a jester around. His job was — what today we would call — to speak truth to power. He would tell the truth — sometimes in a jest, sometimes in an admonition. He had this special role because the King would be surrounded by yes men, people whose vested interests were in keeping the King ignorant, and the King needed at least one person around who would not be afraid to tell the absolute truth at all times. Will you be my jester, Robert?”

She held up her hand.

“No, don’t answer — yet. Think it over. You’ll be my personal assistant, at my side at all times. Whatever I do, you’ll share in. And it will be your responsibility to — to keep me honest, on track. To tell me when a course of action is ill-advised, or just plain wrong. You’ll go everywhere I go, attend any meeting I attend, meet any person I meet. And — I don’t want you to hold back. If necessary, you’ll interrupt me to get my attention, even if you are the lowest ranked person in the room — and most of the time, you will be.”

She paused for a moment to let what she was offering me to set in.

“Go to Paris. Investigate the death of Charles duBois — and give me your answer when you get back.”

I had known about the concept of speak the truth to power. Having an interest in Medieval History, it gave me access to many of the cultural varieties and similarities. Including the various policies within the Royal Court. Many nations throughout time have had some variation of the concept.

The Sioux Nation of the American Indian tribes called them Contraries. Even if there was a blood feud between the tribes, a Contrary, in conjunction with the women and children, were never harmed.

Some Royal Courts would see the jester as a soothsayer and would often follow the advice of the jester. Even today, some cultures still make use of the jester concept.

What Corey suggested was a tempting prospect. The benefit, of course, would be spending practically every working hour with Corey. The down side, eventually this could put a major strain on our still budding relationship and take it to a point where it could never be repaired. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that. However, I decided I’d take her up on the suggestion to think about it.

She looked around.

“I wonder where Storm went.”

As if on cue, his office door opened and he stepped out — then stopped.

“Oh. I thought...”

“That the coast was clear?” Corey smiled. “If I do have a car, Commander, I don’t know where it is, or what it looks like. So, I’ve just been waiting here — patiently — for you to return and guide me.”

“Yes. I called Transportation — it’ll be waiting for us downstairs. I’ll show you where.”

“There is so much I don’t know, Commander.”

She fell into step beside him.

“Small, elementary things like where the coffee creamer is kept in my office. Large things, like whether I have a car at my disposal — and where it is kept. I haven’t even toured this building yet, never mind found out how many buildings we own, lease, or control world-wide. Since I’ve been here, I have spent my entire time in that suite of rooms, having meals delivered, and having a whole parade of people — most of whom want something from me — show up. Including the AVM.”

We reached the elevator and Storm selected the down button.

“Your Miss Mathers is a former Senior Director. I’m hoping she’ll — overlook my antecedents enough to give me the help I need,” she said as the doors opened.

It occurred to me, while we were in the elevator, that former Security and Policing Section Leader, Donald Chickering, may have been very paranoid or nosey enough to have every area possible bugged with hidden security cameras and listening devices. Given what he and the other Section Leaders we apprehended were involved with — popularly known as the “Chickering Affair” within SPJ circles — I wouldn’t have put it past Chickering to implement such a thing. The advantage for someone in his former position could’ve given him the means to blackmail anyone he chose — who didn’t subscribe to his point of view in regards to the whole Communism mess — to go along with his plans.

This troubled me. Especially if the Senior Director’s office was invaded by such means. It was obvious to me that what had transpired between Corey and me could lead to some rather embarrassing moments and compromise the integrity of Corey’s newfound position.

“Commander Storm,” I said. “Back when Chickering was head of the Security and Policing Section, based on what we know of him now, do you think he might’ve had cause to install any kind of monitoring devices throughout the building?”

I hoped Corey would get the gist of what I was implying.

“That would’ve taken a massive rebuilding — or at least, maintenance — project,” Storm said. “Chickering wouldn’t have had the authority to order something of that nature. Why do you ask?”

“Oh just an idle thought,” I said with a “We need to talk later” look at Corey.

We reached the basement by this point.

“This is the third sub-basement,” Storm said, taking on the role of tour guide. “There are two above us, and one more below. The fourth sub-basement contains hardened bomb shelters, capable of withstanding a small nuclear explosion. In fact, the entire building has been hardened to withstand practically anything short of a direct hit.”

I recognized the car that awaited us. I rode in to Hampshire.

“The car we’ll be using is right over there. It is usually reserved for visiting VIPs. Director duBois’ car has been impounded pending the investigation into his death.”

“I have an experienced investigator primed to look into that,” Reese said easily. “In fact, he’ll be leaving as soon as we get back from this meeting.”

“The Commanders and Section Leaders keep their personal vehicles down here, as well,” Storm went on. “There’s Ricky Vallance’s Porsche — this one is mine.”

He laid a gentle hand on a Rolls Royce Grey Ghost, circa 1905.

“Beautiful,” Corey breathed.

“I’ll... let you see her, someday,” Storm said, surprising himself.

Corey flashed that brilliant smile again.

“I’d like that,” she said simply.

Storm checked his watch.

“We’d better hurry. Miss Mathers hates to be kept waiting.”

He led the way to the car, opened the rear door for the Senior Director, and then motioned for me to get in beside him.

The car started up the long series of ramps to the outside world. Once we were on the way, Storm glanced at me.

“What did you tell her? And why?”

I glanced into the back seat. The security window was up. Corey was looking around, examining everything. Then she looked directly at me, and one eyed closed in an unmistakable wink.

Hoping this meant what I thought it did I explained the situation to Storm.

“After the Senior Director had sworn Section Leader Killorn and me in, she wished to speak with me,” I began simply. “We’d met awhile back when I was still in Basic at Uxbridge. I had come across an old Lancaster in one of the fields near there, during one of my weekends off, and went to look at it. That’s when I met the Senior Director.

“We spent time working on getting the electrical stuff into working order. She’d given me her first name and told me a little about herself while we worked. Not long after that, she had to leave and we kept in infrequent touch.

“Working on the Lanc renewed my interest in the RAF; I had found out about a Wing Commander Reese and learned some interesting things about the only female WingCo in the RAF. When Miss Briony had her party that’s when I thought I had put two and two together on my newfound friend.

“To be honest, Commander, I didn’t recognize my friend in the Senior Director until she brought out one of my books and asked for my autograph. Not long after, she mentioned her father, and that’s when I told her my suspicion that he might’ve been responsible for her new position. When the Senior Director asked the basis of my suspicion, I told her about my favor to Miss Mathers.”

When I was done, I promptly shut my mouth. Judging from the set of Storm’s jaw as I related my story, he definitely was in no mood for tea and crumpets. Double the fact I’d also have to deal with Miss Mathers soon, I felt like one of the poor sods that had been thrown to the lion’s den.

Finally, Storm gave a terse, “I see,” and kept quiet until we were almost at our destination.

“Parker,” he said so suddenly after the long silence that I jumped. “I’m not entirely sure what the exact nature of your relationship with the Senior Director is. It seems there may be more to your story than you want to admit to me. That’s your business.”

He raised a hand to stop me from saying anything.

“Regardless, just remember she is your boss now. Don’t let your personal feelings get in the way of doing your duty. I learned that a long time ago. Friends are friends. But business is business.

“After giving it some thought, had I been in your situation, I probably would have done the same as you. Hell, son, I have and I was just as green in the Organization as you are now. Let’s see how this plays out when we get there. Though as you are well aware, Briony may not be as understanding about it as I am right now.”

With that last said, we arrived at the house on Eaton Square and mounted the steps. As we arrived at the top step, the door was opened smoothly by Roberts.

He bowed his head slightly.

“Please come in and wait, Commander, while I see if she is ready to receive you.”

He went to the drawing room, knocked, and entered.

Five long minutes later, he returned.

“You may go in now, Commander.”

Storm led the way. Miss Mathers was standing by the fireplace, waiting. Despite her lack of height, she looked imposing, queenly.

“Miss Mathers,” Storm said. “May I introduce Wing Commander Corey Lloyd Reese, Senior Director of the United Nations Organization for Security, Peace and Justice?

“Director Reese, this is Miss Briony Mathers.”

“Commander,” Reese said, eyes focused on Miss Mathers. “It is my understanding that correct etiquette calls for the person of higher rank to be introduced first. Surely — as Director Emeritus, Miss Mathers merits that courtesy.”

A brief smile flashed across Briony’s face. She came forward, her hand out.

“Thank you. A pleasure to meet you, Wing Commander.”

Reese took the offered hand. “Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice.”

“Please, sit down,” Miss Mathers said, herself taking a seat. “What did you want to see me about?”

“Thank you.”

Reese took a moment to order her thoughts.

“My father is Air Vice-Marshal Corey Lloyd Reese, currently third in command of the Royal Air Force. He was — at Headquarters today, and gave me to understand that he had arranged for this office to come to me. He also said if I did not co-operate with him, he could have me removed just as easily.”

Miss Mathers’ lips were a hard line in her face.

“What did you tell him?” she asked coldly.

“I threw him out,” Corey said frankly. “I told him not to come back without an invitation, or a direct order from his superior.”

Almost, Miss Mathers smiled.

“What do you need from me?”

“Your help, Miss Mathers. If my father did arrange for me to get this job, I feel I need to know that.”

“Why?”

“Because if he arranged it, he will feel that I owe him. And he will attempt to influence my decisions. If I know that ahead of time, I will be able to guard against it.”

“If you are constantly second-guessing your decisions,” Miss Mathers said, “you will become ineffective. Have you given any thought to resigning?”

“Yes, I have,” Reese replied. “In fact, that was my first reaction. Then I... thought it over, on the way here. If I resign, I may as well hand the SPJ over to my father on a silver platter. I can stand up to him. I can — and I will. The next person he puts in might not be able to. I haven’t been here long, Miss Mathers. Before I agreed to take the position I had Anton fax me a copy of the Oath, so I would know ahead of time what I was agreeing to.”

She leaned forward in her chair.

“Miss Mathers, I am — and have always been — passionately in favor of, and supportive of, the UNO. I really believe I can be good for — and do some good for — the SPJ. Will you help me? Will you give me the information I need, the information I cannot get anywhere else, so I can do the best job possible?”

I had been standing beside the door, doing my best imitation of a fly on the wall throughout the preceding. After introducing the two Directors, Storm had faded back to stand on the opposite side of the door. Oh, I was under no illusion that these two powerful women had forgotten our presence. Nor was I wrong as Miss Mathers looked in our direction.

“Ring for Roberts, please, Nick. And — both of you — please sit down. Corey — may I call you Corey?”

“Please do.”

“Corey, I’ve known your father for a long, long time. I’ve known you, too. But it has been many years since I last saw you. I am glad to see what a fine young woman you have grown into. You don’t remember me, my dear. Nor do I expect you to.”

The door opened.

“You rang, Madame?”

“Yes, Roberts. The tray, please.”

“Certainly, Madame.”

As Roberts turned to leave, I caught the faint flicker of a smile.

“Your father came to us and demanded the position you now hold — for himself. Anton and I discussed it — and unanimously agreed he would be an extremely poor choice. Your father is arrogant — and this job you hold calls for a great deal of tact. Firm tact, but tact nonetheless. And so we selected Mr. duBois. The matter should have ended there, for another twenty years. By then, neither Anton nor I should be in a position to care,” Miss Mathers smiled briefly.

“Then came the events of September 11, and the death of Mr. duBois. Incidentally, who are you... no. It’s none of my business.”

“My best investigator,” Corey said promptly. “He’s already been briefed. When I get back from this meeting, I’ll brief his team and then send them out.”

“Thank you, my dear. The habits of twenty years are hard to break.”

She waited when Roberts brought in the tray and handed a round of tea and coffee.

“To continue, then. The matter was closed, or so we thought. However, when he came to my birthday dinner last April, Mr. duBois appeared ill. And your father renewed his campaign for the job. Both Anton and I told him we were unalterably opposed, and he... left.”

“I see,” Corey said.

“Anton wasn’t able to consult with me after he learned that Mr. duBois had died. Well, there was no reason why he should... When Nick told me that Reese was the new Senior Director, I... assumed he had acted unilaterally. Then I assumed that he had installed you, when I learned of your true identity.”

Miss Mathers lowered her head in thought for a moment before continuing.

“I’m not sure why I agreed to see you, my dear. I didn’t want to spoil the memory I had of the bright young child I knew so many years ago.”

She gave Corey a fond smile.

“But while I was waiting for you to arrive, Anton called. I was on the phone with him when you got here. And he told me that he had already selected you as his contingency candidate, that he had investigated you thoroughly, and was satisfied that you were the right person for the job.”

She leaned forward.

“So... will you forgive an old woman her silly games?”

“Nothing to forgive,” Reese said briskly, standing. “Miss Mathers, thank you. I should like to see you again, if I may. But for now, I have an investigation to get under way.”

“Then I won’t keep you.” Miss Mathers stood as well. “But please, come again.”

“Thank you. I shall.” Reese turned. “Parker.”

“Yes, Ma’am?” I was already standing.

“Give me those names again, Captain O’Halloran will have them waiting for you by the time we get back.”

“Drayton, Nighthawk, Doc James.”

“Thank you. I’ll call from the car — I had one just like it at my last posting...”

The titans had met. Thankfully, no animals, whether they were of the underwater, avian, or mammalian variety, were harmed during the filming of this scene. I was relieved to hear it had been Anton Greydon, and not AVM Reese, who had been responsible for placing Corey as Senior Director of the SPJ. Moreover, of the four of us in the room, Miss Mathers did not know of my involvement in the events that led to the meeting. At least she didn’t yet. Knowing Briony Mathers for the person she is, I’m sure I may have to face that one day when that particular marker is called.

For now, though, the world as I saw it was a little closer to getting back on its feet.

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