The crowd was instantly on their feet and cheering. Howard left the podium and returned to his newly warmed meal.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Regional Governor Roberto Jimenez was nearly comatose, thanks in large part to Ambien and Elavil. He slept so deeply that his nurse was able to check his vitals every three hours during the night without waking him. Andrew didn’t have an issue with his boss taking Ambien or Elavil; he did, however, take issue with him taking both of them at the same time right before bed. Roberto ignored his nurse’s wishes since taking the two together was the only way he could get a decent night’s sleep.
At 3 a.m., Andrew walked into the adjacent room to check on the elderly governor as scheduled. As he was placing the cuff on Roberto’s arm, Andrew caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure across the room. Startled, Andrew muffled a scream. “Remain calm, Andrew. I’m not here to hurt either of you. I want you to take a step back and keep your hands where I can see them.”
“Do you have a death wish? Do you know who this is?”
“Roberto Jimenez, regional governor and former director of the CIA.”
“Take what you want and leave.”
“Oh, Andrew, it’s not that simple. I need your help.”
“You need to leave before security makes their rounds.”
“Nice try. At the governor’s request, security never enters this room. The man obviously has trust issues. Roberto here doesn’t want anyone to know just how frail he has become and how close he is to death’s door. He’s got an image to uphold.”
“What’s this about?”
“Well, Andrew, let’s start with this: your sister’s name is Julia Massey. She’s married to Irvin and they have three children. I could tell you their ages and where they go to school, but I think you get the point.”
“How do you know that? What have you done to them?”
“Nothing, I assure you. You and Julia were born to Fredrick and Jane Bailey. Your mother is a retired real estate agent, and your father is the chief of surgery at Saint Francis. Are we clear?”
“I’m starting to get the point. I do whatever you say or they all die?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not killing anyone; I just can’t.”
“I know you don’t have that in you, given your profession. You won’t have to kill anyone.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to help me keep my family alive.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Let’s just say you’re not the only one whose family is in danger. As long as you go to Florida with your boss, everything will be just fine…for both of us.”
“I don’t know anything about Florida.”
“Please stop lying to me, Andrew. You’re leaving for Florida this morning. If you lie to me again, I will kill one of your sister’s children. Are we clear?”
Andrew began to cry. “Yes.”
“We have work to do. If you do what you’re told, I’ll be long gone before your boss wakes up.”
“Stop it! I’m awake! Jesus!” Roberto Jimenez hated waking up in the morning. He had a strict schedule to adhere to, and his nurse went to great lengths to keep him on track.
“We have a big day, Mr. Jimenez. Do you need to use the restroom?”
“What do you think? C’mon, let’s get a move on. I want to leave here in an hour.”
Andrew lifted his boss out of bed and settled him in his wheelchair. As Roberto wheeled himself into the bathroom, Andrew went about making the bed and getting his suit ready.
“Not that one! I told you I wanted the solid black one! Dammit!”
“Mr. Jimenez, this is the solid black one. If you put on your glasses, you’ll see.”
Roberto did so, but he would never admit that Andrew was right.
Once dressed and groomed, Roberto shooed Andrew from the room and opened his computer. He vigorously searched security reports in Florida and found that the evacuation of Miami and the surrounding areas had been completed. He hadn’t left the former state of California since his arrival. He was not looking forward to flying across the country to bury one of his closest friends.
Once the Leer jet rolled to a stop at the small airport on the outskirts of Miami, Roberto waited patiently as Andrew activated the wheelchair lift. Safely on the tarmac, Roberto smiled as the president of the Unified American Empire strolled up to greet him.
“Hello, old friend.”
“Mr. President, I wish this meeting were under better circumstances.”
“As do I, Roberto, as do I.”
“Is everyone here?”
“Governor Walston is due in the next ten minutes. Everyone else is at the funeral home. How was your flight?”
“Long.”
“After the services, I hope you’ll join us for dinner.”
“I’d like that.” Roberto wheeled around. “Andrew! Get your ass over here and meet the president!”
Andrew quickly exited the jet with Roberto’s bag in hand.
“Mr. President, this strapping young lad is my personal assistant, Andrew.”
Roberto never referred to Andrew as his nurse. After all, he had an image to uphold.
Simon extended his hand. “Andrew, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Mr. President, it’s an honor for me to you … I mean …”
“Shut up, Andrew. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“Roberto, that’s no way to treat this young man. Tell me, Andrew, carrying this old geezer around must give you amazing upper body strength. How much can you bench press?”
“I’m not sure, I don’t lift weights.”
“Andrew! What are you doing?”
“I’m sorry, what did …”
“Always address the president as ‘Mr. President.’ You know what? Stop talking; just quit while you’re behind. Let’s go, start pushing, let’s get this show on the road.”
Andrew quietly obeyed his boss, the stain of humiliation darkening his cheeks.
As they walked forward, the two powerful men quickly forgot about the man pushing the wheelchair. Simon didn’t seem the least bit fazed by the embarrassing exchange. “Tell me, Roberto, would you be willing to say a few words on Jim’s behalf?”
“Mr. President, I was hoping you’d ask. I do have some things I’d like to share about my dear friend.”
“Excellent. I look forward to it.”
Before the Collapse of 2027, Christ Fellowship Church on First Avenue in Miami had been newly renovated to hold an extra thousand seats, making it one of the largest churches in the former United States. The large capacity was not required during the funeral of Regional Governor James Weygandt. Just under one hundred people were in attendance, the majority of whom were extended family members of the deceased. The remainder included Supreme Commander Moody, commander of the Unified National Guard, the seven remaining regional governors of the Unified American Empire, and her president, Simon Sterling. Regional Governor James Weygandt’s coffin was draped in the official flag of the UAE.
Once the governor’s wife was seated, it was time for the president to enter the sanctuary. Much of the family found the president’s ego downright disgusting, as if he was somehow the honoree at this event. President Sterling was in the lobby waiting for his chief advisor, Stacy Reid, to cue his entrance.
“How do I look?”
“Handsome as always. I’m glad Mr. DeLuca finished your suit in time.”
“It wasn’t an option. I had him pull an all-nighter to get it finished.”
Stacy tried to look interested, but she shared the family’s antipathy toward the narcissistic president. She got the go-ahead signal from one of the ushers. “It’s time, Mr. President.”