He worked hard, outperforming his opponents. The second secret to his success was learning something the first time. Most people were fools, never learning even when life hammered their heads three times in a row.
The director dropped his right hand into a pocket, and switched on a scrambler. He felt the vibration, stronger than a cellphone. The device sent out an inaudible sound, the noise would play havoc with any bug.
Knowing the scrambler operated eased the muscles of his shoulders. The crick in his neck didn’t bother him as much now. He detested painkillers of any kind, as he believed they hindered the high performance of his unique mind.
While clearing his throat, Harold kept his head bent. He certainly wouldn’t look up at the taller General Williamson. Let the man lower his head, trying to hear the director’s words. Harold needed to talk to someone, a person he could trust to keep silent. Williamson wasn’t the best sounding board he could find, but the man could keep a secret. That was a rare gift.
Harold made a face. Benjamin Franklin had famously said, “Three can keep a secret if two of them are dead.” The best way to keep a secret was to tell no one. Most people found that impossible to do. Today, I’m like the rest of the herd.
“General,” he said, “you realize this is strictly confidential.”
Williamson seemed to strain, and it took him a moment to decipher the quiet words. “I give you my word as an officer, sir. I will tell no one anything you say to me.”
“Good, good,” Harold said. Why was this so difficult? He only did what he had to. Someone needed to make the hard choices. Someone had to recognize this stage of US history and understand that the people had turned into a frightened, less independent lot than before. That person stared out of the mirror at him every morning. He had a critical job to do. His country called upon him. I am only doing my duty.
“General Williamson, I have to say that your people have done a splendid job combing the Army and the Marines. I’ve been reading the records of some of the red-starred individuals you found. To a man, they were rabble-rousers with seditious hearts. Those that hadn’t actively… hmmm… spoken out against my administration were or are much too likely to do so at a future date.”
“I hate to say this, sir,” Williamson said. “But we also combed, as you say, the Militia personnel. We found several drafts of suspected rabble-rousers among our own people.”
“Yes, I noticed that. It surprised me.”
“One never knows where these seditious malcontents will show up.”
Harold stopped. The general halted beside him. Pinching his lower lip, the director said, “You’re the perfect man for your position. I chose wisely in elevating you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I acted rationally.” Harold resumed his slow step. “Yes, destiny has chosen us, General Williamson. We are iron men who know how to make the hard, the difficult choices. Too many people these days have soft cores. They act emotionally instead of logically. America is lucky we’re at the helm. The President used to have that iron. I think the strain of his position ate it away like acid.”
“That’s truly unfortunate, sir.”
“Yes, it is unfortunate. Yet that is reality, and I refuse to back away from what needs doing.”
The two men moved in silence for a time, taking another pass along the Rose Garden trail.
Harold glanced sidelong at Williamson. The man’s pants were perfectly creased. He knew the general put in twelve-hour and even sixteen-hour days. The general was like a machine, and Harold appreciated the man for it.
“The US 3rd Army Group waits along the Amur River,” Harold said. “The majority of its men and officers are veterans, hardened by three years of war. In one sense, they are good Americans.”
“Good, sir?” Williamson asked.
“You don’t think so?”
“Their records tell a different story, sir.”
“I understand,” Harold said. “Yet they are good soldiers, hard fighters. America needed them. They killed a lot of enemy combatants for their country.”
“You say needed, sir.”
“It heartens me that you detect such fine distinctions. Yes, needed. Once we defeat China—and we will, General, never doubt that.”
“I don’t, sir.”
Harold detected a faint hint of the man’s body odor. Didn’t the general use cologne? Well, it didn’t matter. He hadn’t chosen Williamson because of perfect hygiene.
“I know you don’t doubt,” Harold said. “Once we defeat the Pan-Asian Alliance, we’ll have to rebuild our country. I’ve noticed that people are seldom grateful to their saviors for very long. Notice what happened to Winston Churchill after he helped the British win World War II. They immediately voted him out of office, the ingrates.”
“They were foolish, sir,” Williamson said.
“Yet their actions derived from natural human nature, I’m afraid. After we win the war, we’ll have to remain in office in order to rebuild our country the right way. That means we’ll have to implement stricter Homeland Security policies among the populace.”
“We’ll do it for the good of our country, sir.”
“Yes. I knew you’d understand. It’s strange, but some of my best people are fuzzy on that issue.”
“Malcontents in our own ranks, sir?” Williamson asked.
“I’ve pondered that for some time. I don’t think that’s the answer. The fuzzy thinkers are too idealistic, living in a fantasyland of hope that the good old days will come back. Days when life was easy and everyone got handouts. You and I also have high ideals, but we’re cold realists as well. We can take our ideals and make the hard choices to ensure we come closer to reaching paradise than the mere dreamers could do.”
“I’ve never thought of it like that before, sir.”
I know you haven’t. What surprises me is that a robot like you has any heart at all. But clearly, you do. I’m glad I’ve taken the time to prime you.
Harold stroked his chin. He did it in order to look like a deep thinker. He felt the general’s scrutiny, and he believed that he could finally give Williamson his mission.
“I have a difficult task for you, General.”
Williamson straightened.
“This is something I’ve pondered for some time. It must be done, but only a trusted and loyal man can do it.”
“You can count on me, sir.”
“Even though you don’t know the assignment yet?” asked Harold.
“I am here to serve my country, sir.”
Harold took a deep breath, and he sat down on a bench along the path. He did it in a way that showed he carried a heavy burden.
“Sit, General,” Harold said, patting the bench beside him.
There wasn’t much room, but Williamson sat his narrow rear on the wood. He kept very rigid and formal.
Harold leaned closer so their arms touched. Yes, the man had an odor… Lowering his voice, he said, “You’re to go to Moscow as my personal envoy.”
He felt the general stiffen.
“You’re to deliver a message to Premier Konev. No one else must ever hear what you’re going to tell him. You must also make sure you’re not recorded.”
Williamson swallowed audibly.
He’s not as much of a robot as I thought. We all have emotions, don’t we?