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Our Tangled Web: Episode Three Text in any color other than black is generally a link to further information, if desired.
A Cocktail Party in Washington, DC  "Nice seeing you again, John," said Senator Carson, patting John Reynolds on the back. "But I've got to move around and mingle a little. These cocktail parties are where we do a lot of our politicking, you know." He laughed as he backed away. "Good luck," called John. Good luck for us, if you don't get re-elected in November, he thought. Oh no. He saw Walter Cartwright, the head of Unicom International, headed his way. Smile John, he said to himself. He's one of our biggest advertisers. "Hello, Walter," he said, beaming a big-advertiser smile. "Been hoping I'd run into you," said Cartwright. "Well, here I am," said John. "You've been coming down pretty hard on Dubya lately," said Cartwright. "John, I'm sure you know I get a lot of business from this administration. I've been advertising in your magazine since it began. That kind of thing doesn't go unnoticed by the Washington bloodhounds. If you keep attacking the president, I'll be seen as supporting those attacks. It'll end up costing me a fortune." "Walter, you know that I don't make up stuff about anyone, much less the president. It may look like I'm coming down hard on him, but I'm not. I'm merely reporting what he does. If reporting what he does makes him look bad, that's his fault, not mine." "Hell, I know that," John. "We all know how and what he is. Just the same, he's the one that calls the shots, and he can shut me out in a heartbeat. All the other media knows about the same things you report, but they give him a pass, smooth things over, make them look better. You know what I mean." "Of course I do. They lie or they don't report the truth, which is the same thing. I don't do that. Anyway, Walter, just about everything I publish is out there anyway, all over the Internet." "But it's only on those crackpot, conspiracy theory websites," said Cartwright. "No one pays any attention to them. You magazine is something altogether different, John. When you print something, you legitimize it. People do pay attention to you." "My policy has always been to print the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, to the best of my ability," said John. "That's why people trust me and my magazine, while they take all the others with a grain of salt." "Come on, John. Don't be stubborn about this. I would hate to have to pull my business from you" "Do what you have to do, Walter. If you have something against telling the truth and you're comfortable with lies or omissions, maybe your advertising really doesn't belong is my magazine. In fact, there could be a story in that." "You are a stubborn old fool, John Reynolds." "No fool like an old fool, they say, and I am getting old—older every day." "You keep that attitude and pretty soon you won't have any advertisers left," said Cartwright. "But I'll have my honor," said John. "While that doesn't seem to mean much to many people these days, especially in my business, it means one helluva lot to me." "With your honor and a buck, you can still get a cup of coffee in some small towns. So I've heard." "Take away the buck and I'll still have my honor. I'll still like myself," said John. "If I prostituted myself, I'd be a whore with money, but I wouldn't like myself .Sorry to lose you, Walter. It was nice doing business with you." "You'll regret this, John," said Cartwright. "You want to bet?" Cartwright walked away, shaking his head. John looked at his watch. "This shindig is coming to a end," he muttered softly. I've done my duty, he thought. I'm out of here. As he walked across the room, several people greeted him. "Hello, John." "How's it going, John?" "Hi, John. Long time no see." He was cordial, but brief, with each one. Finally, walking out onto the street, he heaved a sigh of relief. He never had liked these cocktail parties—he didn't believe anyone did--but they were an occupational necessity. Today, he liked them even less, because it made his schedule uncomfortably tight. He flagged down a taxi. " Dulles Airport," he told the driver. "Delta." He was on his way to Miami and on to Key West. Someone would pick him up there and take him home to Little Torch. Tomorrow they were going to Bock Cay.
As he sat on the plane, he used his laptop to read several articles that he had downloaded earlier that day. Then he closed the laptop and his eyes and dozed for an hour, until the stewardess tapped him on the shoulder and told him to fasten his seatbelt. *** Hillsboro Beach Benjamin and Rachel had gone to the playroom and started watching a DVD of "Three Mo' Tenors," when Geraldine joined them. When it ended, there was unanimous praise of the three black tenors. "I've never seen anything like them," said Geraldine. "I loved it. Do you know it anything more by them is available?" "I'd seen it before on PBS," said Rachel. "I knew Ben would love it. There is another video out, and  I have it on order. They were touring the country, performing as "Three Mo' Tenors," but had to change their name to "Cook, Dixon, and Young," It seems their producers were planning to franchise the name and set up a bunch of copy-cat groups. That change is probably why I didn't see this particular DVD on the site that one of the tenors has. That's where I ordered the new video, plus a few CD's. I'll let you know when I get them.""It's hard to imagine anyone imitating these three, but you never know," said Benjamin. "By the way, Geraldine, I'm glad you're going to Bock Cay with us. I think you'll love it." "What can you tell me about the government in the Bahamas?" asked Geraldine. "I should have anticipated that question from you," said Benjamin. "However, I don't really know much about it. As you might suspect though, corruption is relatively rampant. I've heard that everything and everyone there has a price. I just read an article about that a few hours ago. " "Pretty much like everywhere else then," said Geraldine. "Perhaps a bit more open about it," said Benjamin. "Is that good or bad?" "At least you know you can get things done," said Benjamin. "You just have to pay for them. Here, sometimes you simply cannot get things done, no matter what. There are countless instances of the government doing absolutely stupid things, and there is no way around them." "Like attacking Iraq?" "Well, that too. But I was thinking of lesser acts of stupidity, like declaring a piece of property in the middle of the desert to be a wetland and thereby prohibiting development there or shooting down construction of an important dam, because it might jeopardize some insignificant little fish that they say only lives in that one spot. Later they find that it's everywhere, all over the country and in no danger of anything except maybe overpopulation. " "Things like that don't happen in the Bahamas?" "They might, but I suspect you can arrange to get around them." "I guess all governments have something wrong with them," said Geraldine. "I thought you considered our current one perfect," said Benjamin. Geraldine was something of a political activist. She hosted a conservative website that seemed to support everything the president did, no matter how bad or stupid it was. President Bush once invited her to the White House, where he said that he was familiar with her support and thanked her for it. She had a photograph of Bush shaking her hand. A copy was in her office, and another was on her website. Rachel looked at Geraldine, wondering what she would say. She, too, thought that Geraldine was behind George Bush and his administration a thousand percent. "Of course it's not perfect," said Geraldine. "Perfection is impossible. Bush doesn't walk on water. But this administration's doing the best it can." Benjamin and Rachel looked at each other and smiled knowingly. It probably was doing the best it could, but it's goals were the wrong ones, they thought. "Thanks for letting me watch," said Geraldine, standing up. "I've got some things to get ready for tomorrow. I'll see you in the morning."  Benjamin and Rachel said goodbye to Geraldine and went out on the terrace to watch the moon rising over the ocean. "I sometimes wonder if Mother didn't fool around once and conceive Geraldine," said Benjamin. "Ben, how can you say that?" "She is so different from the rest of us. And her blind allegiance to this administration is inexplicable. I think if Bush cooked his daughters on the White House lawn and served them to passersbys, she would find some way to excuse it or rationalize it. She's as bad as that radio guy. What's his name?" "Rush Limbaugh?" "I think that's the one," said Benjamin. "If he's Republican, he's my president right or wrong and no matter how wrong, either. Tomorrow's a busy day. I hope it works out alright. By the way, I was thinking that we can make this trip a second honeymoon." "We already had a second honeymoon, and a third and I don't know how many," said Rachel. "One more honeymoon then." "We'll have Phillip along," she said. "I don't think we'll have any problems there," said Benjamin. "Harry is going with Roger. Frances Reynolds is going too. She's Phillip's age. She's the one that he sat beside on the plane. Remember?" "Of course, I do. Phillip must have been impressed. When he heard she was going, he literally begged to go with us." "She is attractive," said Ben. "Anyway, I think the young people will want to do young things in the evening, not hang around with us old folks. We will have to socialize a bit. No getting around that. Then too, I imagine that I'll want to spend a little time with Alex. I'm excited about getting together with him again." "Is your old friend's wife coming too?" "Yes. It will be interesting to see what kind of person he married. I think you can tell a lot about someone by whom they chose to spend their life with." "What will your friend think about you then, when he sees me." "He will think I'm a very lucky guy," said Benjamin. "Which I am, of course." "We are very lucky," she said, getting close to him. ***
Little Torch Key
John was having breakfast outdoors, on the patio, when Genevieve and Clark approached his table. "Good morning," said John, looking up. "Join me for breakfast?" "Sure," said Genevieve, giving her father a kiss on the cheek before sitting down. "What time are you guys leaving?" asked Clark. "They'll be picking us up around eleven, on Summerland Key. They'll call us when they get close, so we can head for the airport." "Too bad Ginny and I weren't here in time to get in on it," said Clark. "It is too bad," said John, "but don't worry. If we decide to take part in this project, there will be countless chances to go there. This is just an exploratory trip to see if we are interested. We have reserved all that was left of the whole resort where we're staying, and Harry and Steven are still having to double up." They weren't really crowded, but Clark wasn't someone he wanted along on this trip. Clark wouldn't make a good impression on the Cochrans and the Worthingtons. Hell, thought John, Clark Newcomb wouldn't make a good impression on anyone. John excused himself, saying he had to check on the headlines for his magazine. "I'm really uncomfortable not being near the Internet for a few days," he said. "With my luck, they will blow up some new building or worse, while I'm gone." He really was uncomfortable. Supposedly, there was Internet in the Peace and Plenty Inn, on Great Exuma, where they were staying, but he had heard that it went down a lot. Clark watched his father-in-law leave. He didn't really care about seeing the islands. He was primarily interested in gauging how big a deal it was going to be. He was anything but happy about being tied to Genevieve. If he could have afforded it, he would have divorced her. Whenever he got the chance, he spent some time with Trixie Belden, an old flame from the days when he was footloose and fancy-free. Maybe this Bock Cay thing would present a chance to get some money or something of value in his own name. It would probably have to be in Genevieve's name too, but he thought he would be able to come up with a reason to put it in his name. Fortunately, she was as gullible as they come. If the Bock Cay thing was going to be really huge, he thought, maybe he could psych himself into finding Genevieve a bit more appealing. He had to admit that he was surely living better than he had ever expected to live, except for having to put up with Genevieve. "John," said Martha, sticking her head in the door. John looked up from the computer. "What?" "They called. They should be here in thirty or forty minutes. Are you all ready?" "I just need to finish reading my e-mail. A couple of minutes. I also need to send one short e-mail. I won't be here for my "Conspiracy of the Week," so I want Fred to use one of the contingency conspiracies." As he spoke, he scanned his mail. "Oh, ho," he said. "I have to read this. Come here and read this article with me. Al and I were talking about the anthrax scare the other day, and he's dug up this Counterpunch article from 2006 that he says may answer our questions. It's question number five. Tell me when I can page-down." "Now," said Martha, when she reached the bottom of the screen. "Wow," she said, on finishing. "That's interesting." "I racked my brain about that," he said. "I knew there was something wrong with the whole anthrax scare thing, but couldn't see it. All the time, it was right there, clear as can be. I couldn't understand why the seemingly intended victims were warned in writing, enabling them to get an antidote. The few deaths were almost certainly accidental, being mail-handlers and others not meant to receive the anthrax. Obviously, those who sent the anthrax didn't intend to kill the recipients. What was their objective? To whom was the anthrax sent? Members of Congress. When? While the Patriot Act was being debated. Whoever sent the anthrax wanted the Patriot Act passed. Scare Congress. Let them come face to face with terrorism and they'll pass that bill. Once that was accomplished, the anthrax scare vanished, and it was never repeated. It served its purpose marvelously." "Wouldn't you call that a conspiracy?" asked Martha, with a grin. "I surely would, no matter who did it or why, unless one guy did it all by himself," said John, "which I doubt, seriously. It takes two or more people to have a conspiracy. Of course, barring evidence, it is also a theory. That makes it a conspiracy theory. Don't forget that gravity is a theory. We have a lot of evidence that it's there, but we don't know why or how it works, just that it does—so far. Then there's atomic theory, from which we got nuclear bombs and power plants. Nothing wrong with a good theory." "You're preaching to the choir," she said. He laughed. "Don't you think I know that." He typed in a note to Fred and switched off his computer. "Let's get going. I want to read the other reasons later, though." "So do I, but for now, everyone is waiting for us." Summerland Key They turned off US 1, ontoWest Shore and went down to Airport Drive. They parked in the small parking area and waited for the Worthington's plane. "Are you sure they can land on this short strip?" asked Martha. "It looks so short." "They seem to think they can," said Alex. "They know all about it. They have a two-engine  plane. I checked it out on the Internet. It's a Russian plane, called a Beriev BE-112. Prop driven. Seats 27. It won't be as fast as a jet, but we don't have that far to go. I don't think it will take an hour. We should fly at about 250 miles an hour." "Five will get you ten that it's a CIA plane," said John. "Not that I'm unhappy with that. I think they will use the best of equipment, even if they don't necessarily put it to good use. They didn't wait long. The Beriev BE-112 could and did land on the short strip, with room to spare. It taxied to the end of the runway and turned around. The Reynolds' driver drove out on the tarmac, close to the plane. The plane's door opened, and the stairs came down. As the Reynolds got out of the car, Benjamin climbed down and walked over to them. "Good morning," he said. "I'm Benjamin Worthington." After introductions and a few pleasantries, Benjamin said, "Let me have them put your luggage aboard." He walked toward the plane, climbed up the stairs and called some instructions. The luggage was loaded into the hold, and everyone climbed aboard. After a few minutes of introductions, Benjamin went to the cabin and told the pilot that they were ready to leave. The plane taxied to the other end of the runway and turned. The pilot told them to fasten their seatbelts. Then the plane accelerated down the runway, lifted off, and banked in a wide sweeping turn, continuing to climb. As the plane leveled off, Benjamin said, "It's about 375 miles to Bock Cay. We should be there in an hour and a half. I have two boats there to take us in to shore and to tour the islands. I also have arranged for a simple, minimal lunch, since we'll be there about lunchtime. I hope no one has any special dietary problems." It seems that no one did. They spent much of the trip getting to know each other. John and William had talked on the telephone a few times over the last forty years, but they hadn't seen each. Furthermore, as far as anyone else knew, they didn't know each other, which was essentially true. Discussion topics were varied, but concentrated on the Bock Cay Archipelago project, especially the philosophy that would guide the development Everyone had seen all of the photographs that were available on the Internet. They knew the names of the islands and their size in acres. Everyone seemed to be interested in the goals of the development .The discussions were amicable, although there was considerable divergence in their opinions. The Reynolds apparently hadn't given it as much thought as the others. They saw it as an investment, with the fringe benefit of providing a dream getaway. They were looking for a return on investment plus a classic island environment. William and the rest of the Cochrans, with the possible exception of Phillip who really had no say in the matter, saw an offshore financial center there. The Worthingtons weren't nearly as united as the Cochrans. Stanley liked the idea of a financial center. He also wanted a casino and possibly more gambling. Roger said nothing against the gambling and the banking, but was for keeping the prices very high, making it a very exclusive place. Benjamin and Rachel merely wanted it to be quiet, beautiful, and enjoyable. Geraldine was hoping it would be so isolated that the government would leave them alone. "Is there no way, we could get them away from the Bahamas and have our own country?" asked Geraldine. "Now you are dreaming," said Stanley. "That would make the place worth billions instantly." "Is that right, Ben?" asked Geraldine. "Indeed," said Benjamin. "How much do you think Monaco is worth? Bock Cay alone is at least three-quarters the size of Monaco, and Prime Cay is half the size of Monaco. Here in the Caribbean, with modern communication facilities, it could be a tax haven, a sanctuary, a hideout--you name it. However, if something like that were even possible, it would have been done in a lot of places." "What a dream that would be for a banker," said William. "I just want to be free," said Geraldine. "I have enough money now. I just want to own myself." "A woman after my own heart," said John. "So to speak," said Martha. "So to speak," said John. Bock Cay Archipelago  The pilot advised them that the Bock Cay Archipelago was in sight. Everyone looked out the window. Benjamin had the pilot circle a few times, while he pointed out the various islands. Since everyone had seen them on the internet, they were already familiar with the general shapes and sizes of the various islands. The plane landed off Bock Cay and taxied toward a pier on a small point. "Bock Cay is the only island with any development at all, as you know," said Benjamin. "It has a house, a reservoir, a generator for electricity, storage buildings, a recreation building, a desalination plant, and a dock. The others have no improvements at all." As the plane taxied toward the dock, two boats slowly left the dock. The boats and the  plane met about a hundred yards from the dock. The boats were patio boats, consisting of two large pontoons with a shallow hull between them. The passengers divided more or less equally and headed for shore. The plane's crew remained to clean up the plane and ready it for use. A boat would return for them.. The patio boats pulled up to the dock, and everyone got out. Benjamin suggested a brief rest stop at the house, before they looked the island over. The house was on a small bluff, with the main portion on the second floor. Its wraparound windows gave them a panoramic view of much of the island. "When everyone was upstairs together, Benjamin said, "From here you get a fairly good view of Bock Cay, the largest of the group. It has 356 acres, making it eighty percent of the size of Monaco. Tentatively, I thought this would be a good island for us, the investors, to live on with a few select friends. We could have a clubhouse in the center with a perfect communications center, satellite dishes, generators, the works—probably in a dome to make them storm proof. You can make it as exclusive as you want. By the way, I want everyone to know that Frances Reynolds is an architect, although just graduating with her Master's degree. However, her thesis is on Architectural Design for Hurricane Areas. Believe me, she can be of great help to us, if we go ahead with this venture.. "Over there is Prime Cay," continued Benjamin, pointing to another large island, "which we'll visit in a while. If you look at your map of the archipelago, you will see it has several  bays might make it the best selection for the commercial island of the group. It is half the size of Monaco, with 256 acres, but it has a lot of shoreline for the acreage. You could line the shore of the big bay with hotels and a casino. The next line in would be shops and restaurants. And, in the center, the banks and apartment buildings. Not many private homes on Prime. Real estate would be too precious. There are two low marshy areaa, which we could dig out and open to the coast, making secluded marinas, with apartments around them. We might get a lot of flack from the government about environmental stuff, but we are a long way from the city hall and I don't expect them to bug us much, especially if we win them over, if you know what I mean." Everyone laughed, knowing full well what he meant. "I keep thinking I'll wake up," said Alex. "This is the kind of place I've dreamed of all my life. I never thought I'd ever really see such a place." "Alex has been enthralled with islands since he learned how to read," said Martha. "I think a little of it has rubbed off on the rest of the family. I know it has on me." "I think islands appeal to most normal people," said Benjamin. "At least, to another island lover like me, people who don't like islands seem distinctly abnormal." They trekked around Bock Cay. Several people had digital cameras and took a great many pictures. "Melvin and Bock are almost hilly," said David, snapping a picture of Melvin Cay, right across a narrow strip of water. "It looks like you could walk over to it," he said. After an hour of touring, everyone was ready to try whatever Benjamin had arranged for lunch. They had lunch outside on a covered patio, with picnic tables. There were two servers. Apparently one was the cook and the other, a waiter. Everyone was impressed, saying they were very pleasantly surprised to have such good food, under the circumstances. "This is hardly pot luck," said William. "I was expecting a wrapped sandwich or at best one of those chicken things they serve at seminars. My hat's off to you, Ben." Everyone voiced their agreement. After a twenty-minute break, they were off to Prime Cay. Here, there was no dock, and the patio boats ran up on the beach and dropped the front gates on the dry sand. Although Prime Cay was smaller than Bock Cay, they took longer to see it, because of the probable use of it. They tried to envision the row of hotels, the casino, the piers, the bobbing boats, and even the hundreds of tourists. "We could have water taxis, like they do in Fort Lauderdale, in Florida," said Harry. "As long as we are way up here at this end," said Benjamin, as they wound up their tour of Prime Cay, "we might as well see Lignum Vitae. We would probably change its name. Lignum Vitae is not very romantic sounding. It is quite different. I don't know exactly what to do with it. and I would be glad to hear suggestions." "It is a lot different," said Geraldine, looking at the very low, very flat seventy-five acre island. "It wouldn't have to stay different," said Frances. "Think of it as being already cleared for building. You can put in buildings and then landscape it. Speaking of plants, what will you do for water?" "Good question," said Benjamin. "There are a couple of options. First of all, most of the Caribbean islanders catch the rainwater and hold it in reservoirs. You aren't going to drill a well here. Since the caliber of development we are planning will need wastewater treatment. The wastewater treatment leaves the water fairly pure, and there are post wastewater treatment facilities that make it perfectly pure, for drinking. We will also need electricity. Getting fuel oil here is not going to be very cheap. Even though they cost more initially, we would do well to use fuel cells, since they use much less fuel. They also give off heat. I had thought we might use that heat to evaporate water for desalination purposes. But we might be better off using it to run a little turbine and get ten percent more electricity. Reverse osmosis seems to be the most popular method for desalination here. We can try to find ways to catch the rainwater and combine it with desalination. The details will have to be studied thoroughly." "Will you need a big water tower?" asked Frances. "I don't know. I don't think it will look very Tahitian to have a water tower sticking up in the middle of the island," said Benjamin. He was impressed with the questions this young lady was bringing up. "I was thinking that and wondering how you could hide it. That would be a nice problem to work on," said Frances. "You work on it and let me know if you think of something," said Benjamin. They returned to the house on Bock Cay and took another break, before boarding the plane and heading for Great Exuma. Georgetown, Great Exuma  It took about fifteen minutes to reach the international airport at Georgetown, once they got into the air. They found the Peace and Plenty Inn quite adequate. It seemed all the better because they were all so exhausted. After hot showers and a change of clothes, they met in the Inn's restaurant, where the menu was simple and short. Most people opted for Bahamian food, thinking that would be what the cook did best. Add a few drinks and everyone was ready to turn in early. "I don't think the young people are going out partying tonight," said Rachel, as they entered  their room. "I don't know how they could. Phillip was dragging. How do you feel, Ben?" "Maybe mellow," he said. "How should I feel on our honeymoon?" "I don't know if you should feel mellow, just yet." "Not exactly the Ritz," he said, with a sweep of his hand, "but it's clean and comfortable. For having so little to choose from on the island, I expected far less than this. There is a Four Season's here, but I thought we would like the atmosphere, and that we would get extra good service with such a large group. It has been pretty good—I'm quite pleased." "And the best is yet to come," she said, turning down the bed. ***
 The next morning, Frances went down to the restaurant for breakfast. Her grandfather was the only one of the group there. "Sleep well?" John asked her. "Like a log," she said. "I barely remember getting into bed. I woke up and lingered a bit, not wanting to get up." "I just got here myself," said John. "The waitress hasn't been here yet." As if she had heard him, a waitress appeared and took their order. She brought two cups of coffee, immediately. "I was wondering about something this morning," said Frances. "How do you feel about cheating the government? I know they do some pretty bad things to their citizens at times." "I always say that you should pay the least tax you can get away with. Some people come back at me with: 'Don't you think you should pay your fair share?' Fair share of what is very important. Fair share of the expense of killing innocent people? Fair share of Halliburton's enormous, illegal profits? I think it's analogous to going to the carnival and , afraid of having your pocket picked, you take most of your money and put it in your shoe with your credit cards and ID—just leave a few dollars in your wallet. A pickpocket steals your wallet. Should you feel guilty because he didn't get all your money? I say no. What makes you ask that?" "Yesterday, everyone was talking about how nice it would be to make the Bock Cay Archipelago an independent country. They said it couldn't be done. Maybe it could be done, but it would be cheating the Bahamian government. I just wondered how you would feel about that." "And a little child shall lead them," said John. "Only you aren't a child any longer. Maybe compared to me, you are. Let's think about this a minute. Let's consider the claim the Bahamas have on the Bock Cay Archipelago. Why is it theirs? Because they say it is. When you get right down to it, what gives any government anywhere a claim to the land of its citizens? It is always the same. The Bock Cay Archipelago was part of the deal when the British gave them their independence. The British said it was theirs, because they wanted it, and they had a strong navy to back up their words If we took it because we had a strong navy, we would have as good a claim as the British had. If we took it because we were smarter, isn't that just as good, or even better than being stronger. We would be stronger where it counted most. So let's hear your idea." "What if, a long time ago, a pirate, probably a privateer, say, Sir Francis Drake or whoever, for services rendered the British Crown, was given the Bock Cay Archipelago as a reward, with it specified that Britain relinquished all claims and so forth. making it a separate nation, for him, his heirs, etc.--whatever it takes to make it come out legal. What if while we were building on Bock or Prime, we strike some massive stone chamber and inside are the documents with the signature of the British King and the great seal, etcetera. Of course, we would have to have another copy slipped into the British archives, and maybe the Bahamian archives, if there are any. Would these documents hold up now and make Bock Cay a nation and us the owners?" John thought about it. "My maternal grandmother was a Drake," he said. "We could even be related to Sir Francis. It would take a lot of doing. It might work. You'd have to have some highly expert help—help that you could trust or buy or both. Good lord, Frances, that's some idea." "Do you think we should mention it to the others?" "Well, I can imagine the Worthington's getting wind of this. Of course, if anyone could get it done, it would be Stanley Worthington. He has more connections and less scruples than just about anyone. Like they said, it would make the islands worth billions. No, I don't think you should mention it until we make the deal, if we do, and I think we probably will. Okay." "Okay." "We wouldn't want to give them the idea and have them decide to keep it for themselves, would we?" "No. We wouldn't. I'm sure we like billions as well as the next guy. I know I do." She smiled broadly. "You and me both," said John, "to use a colloquial expression. It sounds pedantic to say you and I in that phrase, even if it is correct. Silly isn't it?" William Cochran entered the restaurant and walked toward them. They went back to small talk. After everyone had breakfast, they returned to the Bock Cay Archipelago to see the other islands. Only two were of any significance. Neighbor Cay was a small, eleven-acre isle off Prime Cay. "When I saw Neighbor Cay on the map, it reminded me of those little fish-shaped crackers," said Alex. "What would you do with eleven acres?" "I have no idea," said Benjamin. "I'm sure we'll think of something." Melvin Cay was another story. It had seventy acres and was very appropriate for development, being long and narrow, with a ridge along it's centerline. "Melvin is choice," said Benjamin. "If we decide not to use Bock for ourselves and our friends, perhaps because of its size and value, we could use Melvin for that. With that high ridge running down the center, the lots on either side of the ridge would be fairly isolated. Seventy acres is nothing to sneeze at." They took a cruise around all the islands, taking many more pictures as they went, and then headed back to the plane and on to the Inn for a rest before dinner. Georgetown, Great Exuma Dinner was a long affair, as they discussed the project at length. Everyone was positive about it. There was little doubt of its viability. The people in the banquet room were themselves able to make it a success. The Reynolds may have had less money,than the Worthingtons or the Cochrans, but they had enough to swing the deal by themselves, if need be, and Reynolds Publishing could certainly put the development on the map. They came up with a range that the cash investment needed would fall into. Once they reached a certain point, there would be cash flow, and they could sustain growth without adding capital. They would keep much of everything, but would have to bring others in to make it viable. Other businesses would be needed, such as well known hotel chains, restaurants, chic shops, food stores, and even, admitted William, other banks. "What do the rest of you think about keeping our identities secret," said David Cochran. "The Bahamas is a well-known tax haven. Just being here is practically a red flag. This project may cause a lot more scrutiny than we care for." "I get along with the current administration," said Stanley. "Sure, they are rotten to the core, but we understand each other, and we work together fairly well. Even so, I know enough to be wary of them. You never know when they will turn on you. If they are in trouble, they immediately look for someone to take the rap. The elections are upon us, and who knows what that will bring. While those in the know expect little to change, those pulling the strings don't always get the expected results. Obviously, there is little honor among the people they put in high places, or they wouldn't put them there. Sometimes, they turn on their mentors. Besides, things are pretty chaotic right now.. I can see advantages in keeping our involvement secret. I can't see a single advantage at this time in making it public. Unfortunately, I don't know if secrecy is really possible any more." Neither could anyone else see any advantage in making public their connection with the project. Their involvement would be hidden, if possible. There would be three equal shares. The three patriarchs shook on it and drafted a short preliminary agreement. Each would send a copy to his attorney by email. "If yoiu don't mind telling me, who are you supporting in the election, John? Barr?" asked Stanley, standing and stretching his legs a little. "I'm not particularly enamored with any of them," said John. "I believe Chuck Baldwin is probably the pick of the litter." This brought loud chuckles from Stanley and William. "Come on, John," said Stanley. "Be serious. You know that you are going to end up with either McCain or Obama. Isn't it sensible to just pick the most tolerable of the two?" "That is a popular view," said John, "propagated, I'm sure, by those behind the Demopublican throne. Look where the country has gone, following that philosophy. Let's apply that same doctrine to your own personal world and see how sensible it is. Suppose kidnappers carry off all your sons and daughters. The kidnappers contact you and say they will release all but one, and that one will be executed. To show that their heart is in the right place, they are going to let you choose the one to be executed. Since you know that losing one of your children is inevitable, isn't it sensible to just pick the least tolerable child?" "That is an obscene situation, John," said Stanley. "So is the one all Americans face every four years," said John. "You see, getting to choose is not the only criteria that is important. What you get to choose from is important, too. Besides, someone once said that a slave is no less a slave merely because he periodically gets to choose a new master." "Over the years, Stanley and I have tried to avoid political discussions, since they can get pretty passionate at times," said William. "There is little or no chance of either one of us converting the other, so the only thing we accomplish is bitterness and resentment, which is counterproductive. I suggest that we extend that practice to the three of us." "That is probably a good idea," said John. "Before we leave the arena, I'd like a little clarification. You are both in the upper finacial echelon, and I would think that you would both be completely in favor of being free to do as you please with your money and to keep as much as you want of it for yourself. That would put you in support of pillar of classical conservatism. At the same time, I sense that both of you feel strongly about your personal freedom. That would put you in favor of a classical liberal position. If that is the case, it seems that you would have a problem choosing between parties, but it also seems you would agree more often than you would disagree, when it comes to policies. Is there something wrong with my thinking?" "I see what you mean," said Stanley, apparently thinking hard. "When you put it that way, it does sound a bit contradictory. Maybe you have it right about what we want for ourselves. Maybe it is just for ourselves that we want that. I'm sure Mister Conservative, but I want to do as I please. I think everyone favors pretty much absolute freedom for themselves. They just don't favor it for the rest of the people. When people vote, they really vote for their freedom and against everyone else's freedom. Probably, every Conservative wants the government to force people to do what he thinks they should do, as opposed to allowing them the freedom to do as they please. That must be it. I want to do as I please, and I want others to do as I please too. Hell, most of the infighting is because one group is trying to force the other group to bend to their wishes. How about you, William? Does that make sense to you?" "I'm thinking about it," said William. "You are right about what we want for ourselves, John. I have always been a liberal Democrat, even before I had any idea what the term meant. Yes, I do want to do as I please, and I want others to do as I please, but isn't that true of everyone? Doesn't that apply to you, John?" "Paradoxically, I have to say, yes and no," said John. "I want to do as I please, and I want everyone else to do as they please. Technically, you could say that by wanting everyone else to do as they please, I am wanting them to do as I want them to do. You have to admit, though, that it isn't the same for me to want you to spend your money as I see fit as it is for me to want you to spend it as you see fit. Thanks for answering my question. From here on out, I'll try to keep politics to a minimum. Given my involvement with The Vantage Point, that is almost like a skunk trying not to stink." Everyone was amused by his analogy. *** After the three attorneys consulted on the agreement and made some minor changes, John, William, and Stanley signed the preliminary agreement—the agreement to contract. The final and more comples agreement would be hammered out among the attorneys. John called his attorney, to make sure the preliminary agreement was ironclad,. then he called Stanley and William and asked them to meet with him and Frances. "Tell them your idea, Frances," said John. "Let's see what they think of it." Frances repeated what she has suggested to John the previous day. "Since I told my grandfather about it, I also thought that it might be convenient if the King of England committed England to protect the tiny sovereign nation, were it to be attacked." Stanley and William sat silent and stone-faced. "Well," said John. "I'm thinking," said Stanley. "It sounds good. In fact, it sounds so good, I can't believe it. She's right in saying that it would take a lot of doing, but if it worked--" "If it worked, we'd be on top of the world," said William, excitedly. "Not just the money, but our own country. We don't need any more money, Stanley. We love making it, but we don't need it. We're at the point that we don't have a lot of dreams to fulfill, but having your own sovereign nation, bigger than Monaco. There's a dream for you." "Imagine no one able to tell you what to do," said Stanley. "Of course, there is the UN trying to tell everyone what to do. We are wise enough to stay out of their way, and find out who to buy there, or who to set up to lose his job or worse. It might not be all the money we could make in a lot of other ways, but the idea that we just rake it in and don't have to hide it or launder it. I love it. Like you say, it's a goal worth aiming for. Ben will be good at getting it implemented. Who have you got to put on it, William?" "I think Simon might be good, but we'll all chip in on this," said William. "What about you, John?" "It would have to be Alex," said John. "Like you, we'll all put our two cents in." "Hold on a minute. Let's rethink this," said Stanley. "This little caper requires a lot of secrecy—super secrecy. I'm sure I have a lot more experience along these lines than any of us. I have a lot of contacts, a whole lot. I can do it without attracting any attention too. Why don't you leave it to me, and if I need help, I'll come to you. Furthermore, the less people that know about it, the less chance there is of a leak. It's going to be expensive. I can't say how much. I'll front the money, and you can settle with me later. I'll keep you posted every step of the way, as it moves along." Everyone agreed with that. Stanley would be the only one who would tell anything to anyone outside the room, with the exception of Benjamin, Simon, and Alex, and Stanley would reveal no more than was necessary. "Unfortunately," said Stanley, "the person that forges the documents, and the ones that slip copies into the national archinves will know the truth. I will have to be extremely careful there. There will have to be some form of insurance that they keep their mouths shut. Furthermore, we have to keep it from most of our families, but that way, everyone else could even pass a lie detector test, if asked about it. They can't make a slip, if they don't know about it. We'll keep it all on a need to know basis. When we dig up those documents, they'll all be as amazed as the Bahamian government will be. And, boy oh boy, will they be amazed. This is such an adventure for me. It's been a long, long time since I was so excited about anything. And you, Frances, are one damned sharp young lady. I can't wait to see the buildings you design for us. Something tells me that they are going to be great. Phillip, my grandson is about your age. Check him out. I'd damned sure like to add you to my family." Frances blushed, but said nothing. "Ben, Simon and Alex can get together and get moving on the project," said Stanley. "We'll be well along, probably, by the time we discover the documents," said William. "I'd hope so," said Stanley. "This won't happen overnight. The hardest part won't be planting the documents. The hardest part will be making sure the documents will pass all the tests you know the governments are going to put them through. You have to realize that I could find out that it is impossible, but I seriously doubt that. At any rate, we don't want to goof up like the Israelis and their necon cronies did with the fake Niger yellowcake uranium documents. They couldn't have been checked by our government, which means that our government was in on the fraud. Otherwise, they would have gone over those documents with all the equipment they had. They were false on their face—obvious to an almost casual observer. The guy who was supposed to have signed them had been out of office for a couple of years. Duh. The documents we find are going to be analyzed in every way imaginable and some ways we can't imagine. After this, we shouldn't ever mention our documents. We'll give them a code name that would never be connected with it. How about we refer to it as a Par 3 golf course. I'll tell you what kind of progress I'm making on the Par 3 golf course. Unless we decide to put in a par3 golf course, in which case we'll change the name. Okay?" "When the Par 3 golf course opens, people will probably have to know who is involved in the project," said William. "That's true," said Stanley. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. In a way, it will tend to make it look even less like we planted the stuff. If we knew it was going to come out, we wouldn't have hidden our connection at first. We'll say we hid it so the price wouldn't go up on the work we contracted. If they knew who it was, they would charge us more." Things were settled. The next morning they headed back to the mainland. The following Monday, Benjamin, Alex and Simon would get together. They would start things rolling. There would be a lot of discussion about what to do. After the initial flurry of activity, they would meet at least once a week, almost certainly on the Internet, and discuss the progress and settle differences and difficulties. In a few weeks, they should know what they have in mind to do and be ready to start doing it. While this was going on, Stanley would be arranging for the Par 3 golf course. To be continued  |
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