The door was opened with a swish across the deep pile carpet, and the President entered, unannounced, and apparently relaxed.
‘Good afternoon Mr President.’
Uncotto’s wry smile accompanied his response, ‘Thank you, and good afternoon to you Mr President, I like your accommodation.’
‘Yes so do I, it is rather formal for my tastes, but it definitely does the job on impressing people. Did it work?’
President Robert T Hill was a good six feet seven tall, one of the tallest men to hold the office, his broad shoulders and solid frame as intimidating as his aircraft.
Uncotto kept his composure, ‘Yes, very much so, I was just thinking with the responsibility you have, how do you sleep? I have trouble often.’
‘I don’t really, maybe five hours a night. Where do you think all the grey hair comes from?’
‘Good point sir.’
Uncotto paused, standing nervously by the edge of the walnut table, the President sensed the apprehension and gestured for him to sit.
‘Please sit, Alexander, I can call you that?’
‘Yes of course you can Mr President.’
‘Call me Robert, no need for formality. I just needed to discuss some issues with you, but not over the phone, just privately, discreetly.’
Uncotto sat, a little uneasy at the President’s last comment, ‘What issues would they be?’
‘Well I’ve always been a straight shooter; it’s about the development of your country. You were in the U.N. two weeks ago outlining your plans.’
‘Yes, and I met with your Energy and Development department, as well as Arthur Jarrett.’
‘Yes that is what I want to discuss with you. As far as the United States is officially concerned, the meetings you had in New York never happened, and I would appreciate it if your records reflected this.’
‘I am confused Robert, you want me to ignore these meetings, or erase them from our notes?’
‘Both please, I am having those meetings with you now, so the previous ones never happened it would be more convenient for our governments.’
‘I see. I understand it would be more convenient for your government, so what are you proposing today?’
‘There have been certain events, and people within my administration have been implicated in these events. I cannot say what they are, but just let me state that they involve you and your country’s development.’
‘I see, would this have anything to do with the unpublished assassination attempt on your soil?’
‘It may have.’
‘I was surprised when all that appeared in the newspapers was that it was a security training exercise.‘
‘I was advised that it would not be publicly acceptable for you to appear threatened during this fragile time in your presidential term.’
‘I think that was a favourable assumption, but I would have appreciated discussing it first.’
‘I apologise for that, I did not want to risk exposure of other events.’
‘And would it be concerning the activities of Mr Arthur ‘Cody’ Jarrett?’
‘I cannot confirm or deny any involvement.’
‘I think we understand each other perfectly Robert, please continue without further interruption from me.’
‘Thank you Alexander. I will meet all your requests for funding and support with the infrastructure of your country. The development of energy resources jointly, to benefit your developing nation, and the needs of the United States in the future. ’
‘That is very generous of you sir, the details can be worked out later with our subordinates?’
‘Yes they can, on condition that you agree to certain conditions.’
‘I presumed you would have some. What are they?’
‘That all the meetings in New York never happened, you never met Cody Jarrett, and Chui Enzi was never carrying out any official work for you. Also any information on any activities of Mr Enzi or any other operatives you, or members of your security team may have encountered are handed over to me for destruction.’
Uncotto waited for additional conditions from President Hill, but none were forthcoming. Satisfied that he could speak without upsetting the formidable man he accepted.
‘That is perfectly agreeable Robert, I would be delighted to work with you to develop my nation. Once everything is confirmed and ratified in writing, you will have my full cooperation.’
‘And the events I mentioned never occurred?’
‘What events Robert?’
‘Excellent.’
The two men shook hands, not for a photo opportunity but an expression of trust and mutual agreement, the original intention for the gesture.
‘May I ask what has happened to Mr Jarrett?’
‘He has resigned his position due to ill health.’
‘How unfortunate, I hope he will recover to enjoy his retirement?’
‘I am sure he will. Would you like some dinner? I have an excellent chef.’
‘A delightful idea Robert.’
The two political leaders moved back down the aircraft to the dining room, and were joined by their aides and assistants to discuss the finer points over a sumptuous meal.
By the evening Uncotto was flying onto Washington D.C. to meet officially with the official International Development team that would be assisting him in the future.
FORTY NINE
Cody Jarrett had not told his wife about the press release that was already prepared. Nor the ill health that he did not have, before he submitted his letter of resignation. He paced on his carpet as always, attempting to decide what action to take, glancing up at the clock, eleven am, she would not be back from her Pilates class before the announcement, he hoped she would not hear it in the car.
Normally when a man of his status and experience resigned or retired there was a list of companies falling over themselves to enlist his assistance and advice, for a substantial salary. He should have been consulting and advising every day, but he had no jobs in the pipeline. He knew why, the word was out, the Washington party faithful had probably trashed his reputation already. No emails or texts, nothing traceable, just a discreet whisper to destroy job prospects was all it took. Of course he understood this should not last forever, just until the farce of his tenure was forgotten, which would be shortly after the next election. He could take a few years off and use the money he had already accumulated from advising The Consortium.
He sat in his office and kicked off his black ostrich shoes, removed his socks, and buried his calloused feet in the deep freshly shampooed shag pile. He unlocked his desk, trusting his wife not to nose around, but the people she employed to clean the apartment were screened, but not known personally to him. He logged into his main offshore account. He had a healthy heart, but he thought it would stop when he saw the balance in his account, forty-seven dollars! It should be in the millions, where had it gone?
He checked the transactions and found no record of the numerous cash deposits or withdrawals, nothing was there. He checked the other accounts he had scattered around the shadowy banking institutions of the world, and found the same, nothing but a few dollars. He could not understand it, he called the number for his Consortium contact, it went to voicemail.