4:51 am Thursday, June 22, 1972...
Two men watched the clouds begin to gather towards them, and the serene cyan-blue skies darken into a depressing glaucous hue, from the safe confines of the library. Large stratocumulus formations blotted out much of the metallic gold of the sun, but left enough for crepuscular rays to shine through. They heard a tapping on the segmented pediments of the separate windows each gazed out and listened as it became a uniform pitter-patter.
Outside, visitors scrambled for shelter and umbrellas were hastened open as the venomous clouds spat down great pellets of water. While puddles plinked and trees bent with the stirrings of Hurricane Agnes, the men turned and left the scene to murmur like the hostile buzz of bees behind their backs.
A gilded wood chandelier, with its painted red band, cast a glow that deepened their brows as they walked over to a pair of antique armchairs and sat themselves in front of the grape-leaf swag and bellflower pendant decorated mantle. Two English silver-plate Argand lamps rested on the brown mantel and above those hung an Athenaeum portrait of George Washington.
The first man shifted uneasily in his three-button business suit and smoothed back his dark hair in a nervous gesture to reveal a childhood scar as he waited for the other to address him. There had not been a mandatory meeting of this urgent sort since 1947 and he had gone three successive nights without sleep in anticipation of it.
“Richard, you understand why this was done, do you not?”
“No, elaborate.”
“There is an item that my people want to deposit for safe keeping on your planet and with the influx of scouts that will be arriving in this region, a diversion is needed.”
“What kind of diversion?”
“A kind, do not worry.”
The second man did not go on further. His people had managed interactive arrangements between Earth and the other worlds for the last 150 years, and, by now, no explanations were required on their part. As the superior intelligence, they helped gradually usher Humans into a new technological age that saved billions of lives and Earth’s leaders did not usually pester them about their secret tactics because there was a mutual understanding of the debt owed.
Richard leaned forward from the chair to rise and went over to a low glass table that held a bottle of Usquaebach. The scotch smelled of caramel with apple and evergreen tones. Although the grain component was exceedingly prominent, it satisfied his thirst and gave a strong finishing linger which pleased him. He poured a single glass on the rocks for only himself, aware that his company did not have a taste for spirit, and came back to settle in his seat.
“I know you do not trust me after the papers were leaked, but I promise nothing important pertaining to our communications was discovered.”
The other man raised an eyebrow and shook his head in the custom of Humans to convey his sympathy, but unchanged decision on the matter. Without affirmation, the human had approved an expansion for his countries domestic intelligence gatherings, which risked exposure for the other intergalactic delegates. Then a year after he had rescinded his approval, the human allowed for the media to acquire classified information that might have contained proof of his kind’s existence and involvement. Now the overall extents to which the ordeal had to be covered, including tampering with the minds of innocent officials and fabricating evidence, was too much and new leadership was needed.
“The Kahishe was contacted and the decision then declared final. Regards were sent, but no one wants an affiliate that will slow down the mission to increase your planet’s progress. You have proven incapable of the position and new leadership will be appointed. There will be a press conference today at 3:01 pm, conduct yourself well.”
Done with his work, the other man abandoned the armchair and strolled across the multi-patterned Tabriz carpet. At the door his exit was halted by Richard’s hand on his arm, who had followed him, and the un-expectant sound of his name. Richard did not want the man to leave until he was properly prepared to handle the onslaught of reporters and news mercenaries.
“Wait, Owain! When this diversion happens, what do I tell the American people? How do I survive this?”
Owain removed the arm with a warning glance at Richard and pat out the wrinkles in the sleeve of his two-piece, single-breasted suit. Richard took a cautious step back, but held his stand for a hopeful morsel of aid that would save him from his downfall, or at least salvage his title and dignity before the delegate left for good.
“You won’t.”
The clack of his Italian shoes receding out the door was deafening.
YOU ARE READING
Schisms
ParanormalYou are not alone, you never were. They could be neighbors, they could be friends, Even family, just depends. The planet was left alone in their constant bickering, but now, some are tired, some have bigger plans, bigger scores... Ricious, head o...
