Revolution (38 page)

    The obnoxious buzzing of the alarm clock pulled him from his slumber at 7 AM. Peter still felt tired and could have used another few hours of sleep, but he was wide-awake when he remembered what his responsibilities were.

   
I am meeting with the President of the United States! That’s the last thing I expected to do in my adventures! For the original mission, I expected some sneaking around and some fighting. But meeting with the President? If I hadn’t been up studying for hours last night, I wouldn’t believe it.

    Rayne didn’t want to be late for the meeting, so he got up and made a quick breakfast of cold cereal. Then, he showered and dressed in one of Getty’s expensive suits, shaved his light beard, brushed his teeth, and slicked back his hair with gel. Looking at himself in the mirror, he thought something was missing.

    Getty’s glasses
.

    Rayne retrieved the gold-rimmed glasses from the night table by the bed. They were very thin, so they hardly affected his vision. Perhaps a slight blur, but he hardly noticed it.

   
Maybe I actually need glasses and never knew it
.

    Looking in the mirror, Peter saw the gold-rimmed glasses complete the picture. He checked the time and saw it was 7:38 AM.

   
Perfect. I still have plenty of time for the meeting. According to the itinerary, the meeting is going to take place on the 118
th
floor of the Presidential Tower
.

    Checking himself again in the mirror, Rayne smoothed his slicked back hair and decided it was time to go.  

   
If I survived the Powerdrome and arena, then I should be able to make it through this meeting. I feel confident that I’ve memorized the important facts and statistics about Getty’s company. The only thing I can’t mimic is Getty’s speech and mannerisms, but the
President has never met him before, so that shouldn’t be a problem. I have to go with the flow. I have no other choice.

    Rayne left his suite and strode down the luxuriously decorated hall to the elevator. He glanced at his reflection in gold-gilded mirrors as he walked, and liked what he saw: a typical businessman of the time. Stepping onto the elevator, he pressed the button for the 118
th
floor. Peter took a deep breath as it ascended. In seconds, the elevator halted and the doors opened. Rayne was greeted by a tall, dark-haired man wearing a black suit.

    “Mr. Getty?” the man asked.

    “Yes,” Rayne replied.

    “Come this way please. The President is expecting you.”

    “Thank you.”

    Rayne followed the plain-clothes guard down the corridor to a large, expensively furnished waiting room. Another suited man sat at a high desk, like a hotel concierge, on the opposite side of the lobby next to a steel door.

    “Please check in with the President’s secretary,” the first guard instructed him.

    “Sure, no problem. Thank you,” Peter said, nodding at the guard.

    The guard returned to his post by the elevator and Rayne approached the secretary. Rayne guessed the guy was not really a secretary when he saw his broad shoulders and heavy muscles bulging under his suit jacket. Rayne was pretty sure the guy had a gun in a shoulder holster under his jacket. Still, the man played a good part. He smiled and spoke pleasantly.

    “Can I help you, sir?”

    “Yes, I’m here to see the President,” Peter said.

    “And your name, sir?”

    “Malcom Getty.”

    The guard posing as the President’s secretary punched some keys on his computer. He scrutinized the screen and then looked up at Peter’s face, studying him intently. Then, he smiled and said, “The President is waiting for you in the conference room, sir.”  

    “Thank you.”

    The guard entered a code and pushed a button on the computer keyboard, which opened the steel door beside the desk. Rayne adjusted his tie and walked toward the doorway. He entered a long, narrow corridor with twin silver steel beams running down the walls horizontally – bisecting the walls at the center. Small blinking red lights were lined up along each beam like a runway landing.

     Rayne recognized the lights from the body-scanning machine he went through at the park. Going to the end of the corridor, he took a deep breath as he approached another steel door. It looked like he was walking into a dead-end until the door rushed open with a hiss of air. Glancing above the door, he saw a closed circuit television camera in the ceiling.

   
No big surprise there.

    Rayne wondered how many guards were monitoring the President’s office suite as he walked into a spacious conference room with a long mahogany table in the center. Office chairs were lined up in neat rows along the table. A well-dressed, middle-aged man, examining a pile of papers, sat at the end of the table. His receding black hair was slicked back like most businessmen of the time. He had a light tan as if he had returned recently from the Caribbean.

    The man looked up when Rayne entered. A wide smile stretched across his tan, good-looking face. He stood up from the table, smoothed his hair, and stretched out his hand as he walked toward Rayne. Rayne did the same and shook hands with the President.

Chapter 29

    “Malcom, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from your father,” the President said, gripping Peter’s hand firmly.

    “Likewise, Mr. President,” Peter replied, feeling a surreal calm overcoming him.  

   
This is so unreal, I feel like a character in a movie acting out a part. I will simply read the lines I think my character would say in this situation.       

    “How’s your father doing?” the President asked.

    Rayne wasn’t expecting this question, but he figured a long hesitation would look worse than blurting out a wrong answer.

    “He’s doing a little better, but he’s still not his old self,” Rayne said, hoping he was in the right ballpark.

    “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ve known your father for years. He’s a very important friend of this administration. I hope he feels better soon.”

    “Thank you, Mr. President. I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.”

    “Please, call me Ronald, Malcom.”

    Rayne was stunned into silence for a moment. He was just getting used to the idea of meeting with the President and now the President wanted him to address him by his first name as if they were best friends!

    “Please, Malcom, take a seat,” President Frump said, gesturing to the seat closest to his at the end of the table.

    “Thank you, Mr. President. You’ll forgive me if it takes me awhile to get used to calling you by your first name. I can’t help feeling it’s somewhat disrespectful because we’ve only just met,” Peter said.

    “You’re just like your father, Malcom,” President Frump said, grinning as he sat down at the head of the table. “Your father was always very polite and formal. It’s a sign of good breeding.”

    “Thank you, Mr. President,” Rayne said, taking a seat next to Frump.

    “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Malcom. Like I said before, I’ve heard so much about you from your father,” the President said, folding his hands over his paperwork while he earnestly studied Peter’s face.

    “Thank you, Mr. President. He’s told me a lot about you too. It’s good to finally meet you,” Rayne said.

    “The others should be arriving soon,” President Frump said, glancing impatiently at his watch. “I think Ms. Brenton likes to arrive fashionably late. Of course, it’s worth it when she does arrive. She’s quite a woman. Have you ever met her before?”

    “No, Mr. President. Not yet.”

    “You’ll appreciate the experience. It’s a pleasant change from meeting with old men all day. She’s been at the helm of Cryotech for eight years and she’s doing a fine job. A very fine job.”

    “I look forward to meeting her, sir.”

    “I’ll bet you do,” the President said, winking at him. “Here comes Mr. Cadell now. We might actually get this meeting started before 9 AM, if we’re lucky.”

    Rayne glanced at his watch and saw it was already 8:02 AM. He was the only one who had arrived early. He hoped he hadn’t made some kind of social elite faux pas.

    The President stood to greet the newcomer: a tall, stately, gray-haired gentleman in his early sixties wearing a $5,000 gold-pinstriped black suit.

    “Nice to see you, Jimmy,” the President said, shaking his hand.

    “Likewise, Ronny,” the older man said, giving Frump a firm handshake. He walked around the table and took the seat closest to the President across the table from Rayne.

    “We’re still waiting for Mr. Nichols and Ms. Brenton,” the President explained as the elderly gentleman placed his briefcase on the table.

    “I don’t think you gentlemen have met before,” President Frump continued. “Malcom, this is Lawrence Cadell. He’s worked with your father in the past.”

    “Nice to meet you,” Rayne said, extending his hand across the table.

    “Likewise,” Cadell replied, shaking his hand without looking up from his paperwork.

    “Lawrence, you’ve probably already realized this is Getty Sr.’s son, Malcom,” Frump said.

    “Yes, I’ve heard about you from your father,” Cadell said, absently, still without looking at Rayne. He opened his briefcase and took out some folders.

    There was a quick hiss of air as the conference room door rushed open. Two people walked through the doorway. The man on the left was tall and relatively young, in his mid-thirties, wearing a thousand dollar gray suit. Rayne ignored this gentleman in favor of his companion. The woman striding confidently into the room beside him was a knockout. The President hadn’t been joking. It was difficult to tell her age. She could have been in her late twenties or late-thirties. The lush curves of her breasts and hips were tantalizing under her conservative gray business suit. Her face was beautiful: high cheekbones and graceful curves. Her blonde hair was tied back, but this did nothing to diminish her overall beauty. Peter thought she was absolutely stunning.

    Peter hesitated a moment as the President and business leader, Cadell, stood from the table. After an awkward moment, he followed their lead and stood staring at the approaching beauty with wide eyes.

    “Didn’t I tell you, Malcom?” the President whispered in Rayne’s ear.

    “Yes, you did,” Peter replied, absently.

    Rayne stared in awe as the voluptuous businesswoman glided gracefully toward the conference table like a model walking a runway. She approached the President and shook his hand.

    “How are you Ronald?” she asked.

    “Very good, Nicole. And you?” Frump replied.

    “Very good, thank you.”

    Rayne watched, entranced, as she gracefully disengaged her slim hand from the President’s large, tanned hand. Circling lithely around to the other side of the table, she shook hands with Lawrence Cadell and sat beside him. Apparently, this was the cue for everyone to sit. This time, Rayne didn’t hesitate and sat down with the others. Even with the gorgeous distraction, he was still a fast learner. His fixation on the female newcomer caused him to barely notice the other businessman sitting next to him. The businessman had to tap him on the shoulder to bring his gaze away from her.

    “Hello, I’m Douglas Lydon, of Lydon Industries,” the young man said, offering his hand.

    “Nice to meet you,” Rayne replied, tearing his gaze away from the businesswoman’s gorgeous face, with difficulty. “I’m Malcom Getty,” he added, shaking Lydon’s hand without looking at him.

    “Good morning, gentlemen and lady,” the President stated from his position at the head of the conference table. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet with all of you again. As you can see, Getty Senior’s son, Malcom, will be sitting in for him for this year’s meeting. Getty Sr. has been having some health problems, but we hope he will recover quickly,” the President said, nodding solemnly at the fake Malcom.

    “Thank you, Mr. President,” Rayne said, nodding back.

    “Now on to business,” the President said. “We are reaching a critical point in our nation’s technological progress. I have brought you all here to form an unprecedented alliance. Most of you are familiar with the other businessmen and woman sitting at this table. You are the leaders of the most advanced high tech firms in the country. You are also the most direct beneficiaries of the recent trillion dollar technology bailout.” President Frump paused dramatically and stared briefly at each individual around the table before introducing them. “We have Lawrence Cadell of the Oriontech Corporation,” he gestured and nodded at the older businessman. “Nicole Brenton of Cryotech International……..Douglas Lydon of Lydon Technologies……..and Malcom Getty of Cryogen Inc.”

    The President gave them a moment of reflection before continuing his speech.

    “Each of your firms has highly lucrative contracts with this administration. All of you are doing an excellent job. Our Body Bank Laboratory is an unprecedented success. The prototype lab is ready to be expanded nationwide.”

    Rayne was listening intently to the President, but from time to time, he would steal a glance at Nicole Brenton. Sometimes during the speech, he saw her raising her left eyebrow. At other times, her forehead creased into an annoyed, yet still beautiful, frown. At other times, she seemed impassive as she stared at the President without emotion.

    “I am ready to renew your government contracts for next year,” the President continued, pausing to look at each member of his small audience. “But I need a favor from each of you. In order for your contracts to be renewed, I need you each to make a commitment,” President Frump paused again to lock eyes with each person around the table. “This administration will have the legacy of introducing technological advances on a scale never before seen in human history. I offer you all a chance to share in that legacy. I’ve met with the Government Entrepreneurial Division and they agree that what I propose is possible and potentially very lucrative. At the present time, your companies have built successful medical technologies undreamed of by people in the past,” he paused. His voice turned somber. “But we’ve reached an impasse, a point of stagnation,” Frump paused again and began, more cheerfully, “In order to move beyond this impasse, this administration is going to create a new department; the Government Technology Division or GTD. The GTD is going to be a unique, government-run corporation in the business of making profits. I want each of you to sit on its Board of Directors.” President Frump paused again to let the information sink in.

    Rayne wasn’t sure how to react, so he maintained a calm facade. He glanced over at Ms. Brenton and saw she was wearing her patented beautiful frown. Her image was juxtaposed with Cadell who was smiling widely. He glanced to his right and saw Lydon also had an avaricious grin spread across his face.

    “As members of the Technology Division’s Board of Directors, you are each entitled to 20% of the profits earned by the GTD Corporation,” the President said. “The remaining 20% of the profits will go directly to the government’s Executive Branch. Each of us will hold an equal 20% share of the GTD’s stock options.”

    Rayne wasn’t sure if it was possible, but he actually saw the smile widen on Cadell’s face until he looked like a gray-haired Cheshire Cat. Glancing right, he saw Lydon grinning and leaning forward as if he expected a pile of money to fall onto the table in front of him. Only Ms. Brenton wore a frown. Rayne decided to remain impassive. He noticed Ms. Brenton glance, disdainfully, at Cadell and Lydon. Then, she looked directly at him. He met her gaze briefly and looked back at the President. Her expression of disdain softened when it fell on him. She looked like she wasn’t sure what to make of him.

    “The GTD has the potential to earn unprecedented profits,” President Frump continued. “But it will take a high level of commitment from each of you to do so. I am going to put the government’s top research scientists to work in the GTD. I expect each of you to do the same. The innovative part of the equation is that I want everyone working together. I want Cryotech researchers working side-by side with Cryogen researchers and Lydon Technologies working alongside Oriontech. This will be the most innovative research team ever gathered in human history. It will ensure this administration a legacy unmatched by any American President,” the President said, pausing again before continuing, “I would appreciate any feedback you could offer.”

    The table was silent for a moment as each member of the conference met eyes with the other members. Rayne kept his face impassive as Cadell and Lydon looked anxiously around the table to gauge the others’ reactions. Ms. Brenton maintained the small crease between her eyebrows.

    “I like the idea,” Cadell spoke first, with authority. “Of course, I’ll need my lawyers to examine the contract before I sign,” he added. “I will also need assurances that the government will not intervene in any of the activities of the Oriontech Corporation. I want that entity to be separate and independent from the government’s new Technological Division.

    “That’s a good point,” Frump replied. “My team has already drafted up a contract that has that provision written in bold print. Your current businesses are your own. All profits earned by your companies are your own. The only share the government will have of your companies’ profits are from taxes,” Frump added, smiling.

    Rayne smiled back because he thought it was appropriate.

    The President continued, “The only commitment we ask for is the cooperation of your top research scientists. Government money will provide all the necessary research facilities. There will be no capital investment commitment from any of you. All investments in the GTD will be initiated by the government. The only thing I ask for is your leadership.”

    “So basically, what you’re saying is you want to pick our brains,” Ms. Brenton interjected.

    “That’s an interesting way of putting it,” The President said, smiling charmingly at her.

    “You’re basically putting us on the Board of Directors so we will contribute our business’s intellectual property to the new government corporation,” Brenton said.

    “Yes, Ms. Brenton. That is the only commitment we ask for,” the President agreed.

    “Are we going to have the choice of what intellectual property we invest in the GTD and what intellectual property we will maintain the exclusive rights to?