The Tonight Show
The music had stopped, the clapping subsided, and the venerable host walked out to face the live audience. It was time for the opening monologue where nothing was off limits. For the next fifteen minutes, every public figure, politician, movie star and world leader was fair game. As usual, the live audience was well primed.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the host began, “as you know I usually use this segment to poke fun at our elected officials, especially the President of the United States. What can I say? I have an irreverent streak.
“But this evening I don’t have a prepared monologue. The times are too extraordinary and the mood of the world is for the first time that I can remember in my lifetime, optimistic. I sat in my office all day thinking about what to say this evening. And, if you can believe this, for the first time in my life I couldn’t find the right words. There are times when words fail to describe the significance of an event. One such time was December 7, 1941. Another was November, 22, 1963, the day John F. Kennedy was assassinated. And another, September 11.
“Then there was the other night. As I watched the speech by President Roswell Pierce I knew that day would rank right up there as one of the most important days in the history of the United States and the world.
“I have made fun of President Pierce for the past two years not because I dislike the man but because it’s my job. But tonight I’m not going to poke fun at anyone.
“As you know it was easy to get Bill Clinton on the show. But President Roswell Clayton Pierce has proven much more elusive. Since I can’t get the man himself I’ve got his alter ego instead.” Reaching into his suit coat pocket the famous host of the Tonight Show pulled out a small tin cup and held it up for the audience and the nation to see.
Slowly he walked over to his desk and began to gently tap the little tin cup up and down. As if on cue the audience clapped, keeping measured time with the sounds coming from the tin cup ringing out from the desk up on the stage.
Looking into the camera his words rang out clearly. “Well done, Mr. President. Well done.”
Beirut, two weeks later
Rue Bliss, once ravaged by decades of civil war, was once again paved smooth and brightly lit. Boisterous crowds made their way towards the many restaurants, dodging the taxis and shiny new cars.
“It’s lovely to see this ancient city booming again, isn’t it Helmut?”
“I only wish our coffers were as robust and full of life. I fear we won’t see the robust sales of weapons and explosives we had hoped for since our plan was discovered.” Helmut Hofer stepped up onto the sidewalk, quickly following his friend and lifelong partner.
“Then it is good that we have many plans.” Mohammed al Nagib, his large girth draped in a long white kaftan walked leisurely down the street. His long black cane tapped rhythmically. Amber worry beads clicked as his fingers moved them back and forth. He nodded as several elderly men greeted him in passing.
“But why come back here to Beirut?” Herr Hofer looked around nervously. “I’m a little uncomfortable being out in the open like this. Especially after what happened to Jorge in Brazil.”
“We are perfectly safe in this city, my friend. I’m not normally one to brag but I practically own this town. At least all the important and most expensive properties. Not to mention influential government officials.”
“And we do own a bank here as well.” His Swiss companion relaxed a little. “So what’s the big surprise? What have you got planned?”
They continued down the street. Ten thirty and another night of vibrant social activity was about to begin in the city once known as the Paris of the Middle East. At the bottom of the street, the cliffs of Ras Beirut overlooked the dark Mediterranean. A small restaurant stood at the very edge. Red and yellow bougainvillea flowers covered a rooftop terrace.
“The place looks empty. Are you sure it’s open?”
“Of course it’s open. For us that is. I own this little gem. Some of the best mezzas and seafood in all of Beirut. I bought it in the late 60’s. There was an unexplained explosion that destroyed the former cafe and the old man who owned it didn’t have the heart or the money to rebuild. It’s been an excellent investment as well as a very private meeting place.” Mohammad al Nagib laughed. “And the irony is so perfect.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing. Just a private moment. Now to quench your curiosity we are having dinner tonight with one of my best placed informers. A top person in the NSA. I’ve done numerous favors for him over the years. And of course he has reciprocated.”
“I never cease to be amazed at your capabilities, my friend.” The Swiss banker began to feel more confident with each step. “I assume you have another plan that will continue to increase our profits?”
“The best and boldest yet. Now I am starving and since we have the entire restaurant and staff to ourselves tonight I suggest we quicken the pace. Our guest is undoubtedly waiting inside. And we are right on time.”
Parked cars lined both sides of the busy street. Traffic honked at numerous groups of people crossing and entering the many upscale restaurants lining Rue Bliss. Several new Mercedes taxis stopped to let off diners for the evening. Mohammad al Nagib and Helmut Hofer negotiated a break in the traffic and briskly stepped up onto the sidewalk in front of the quiet, brilliantly lit restaurant. A blue neon sign glowed over the large double doors. Restaurant Bliss.
An apt name thought Mohammad al Nagib. He stopped in front of the door. “Now where is the doorman? He should be outside waiting for us.” Annoyed he grabbed the ornate brass handle and tugged. “Damn thing must be stuck.” He jerked at the handle.
The blast shook the tables of a dozen nearby restaurants. The empty Restaurant Bliss erupted. Mohammad al Nagib and Helmut Hofer were instantly incinerated. The very spot where Samir Hussein died 35 years earlier.
Two blocks away Karl van Ness sat in a parked car and placed an international call on his secure mobile phone.
The End
About the Author
John R. Childress is a senior executive with over 35 years experience building and running an international consulting firm and also consulting and coaching CEOs and senior leadership teams. Born in the mountains of Oregon, raised on the California coast and educated at Harvard, John brings a penetrating insight, creative solutions and sense of humor to his work.
After deciding that a Ph. D. in marine ecology wasn’t his best path, John co-founded, in 1978, a groundbreaking leadership consulting firm with Dr. Larry E. Senn. By 2000 The Senn-Delaney Leadership Consulting Group had grown significantly with offices in Los Angeles, New York and London, over 100 consultants and a Blue Chip list of clients. John and Larry pioneered much of the early work on corporate culture and the technology for culture change.
In 2000 John retired to the south of France to write novels and “stop travelling for a while”. After two novels and a new daughter, John and his family moved to London where he coaches senior executives, works with global clients on special projects and continues to write novels and business books. John is also active in a music charity for young musicians, www.youngvirtuosi.com.
You can find out more about John’s life, work and novels at his website: www.johnrchildress.com. You can reach him through email at: john@johnrchildress. com.