The Devlin Deception: Book One of The Devlin Quatrology (61 page)

-122-

Friday, January 7, 2028

8:30 p.m.

The Oval Office

The White House

via a 24-hour news channel

Gordon Donne, dressed in his usual casual clothing, his fringe of
hair even thinner and grayer, smiled into the camera. He looked to
be the picture of health for his age, now 68.

“Good evening, my fellow Americans, and Happy New Year.

“It's been a little over sixteen years now that I've been
working for you, and again I have good news to report.

“First, on GDP, our growth has backed off a little bit, as we
should expect as the economy has matured. We only grew by 12 percent
last year, down from the peak of 15 percent in 2025. Not bad, not
bad at all, in my opinion.

“Our revenue hit 9.4 trillion dollars last year, and our budget
for this year is only 4.3 trillion, down to nine percent of GDP, so
we're doing great on paying off our debt. It's down to 1.8 trillion
dollars, and it's looking like we'll have it down to an even one
trillion by the end of this quarter.

“Unemployment is now at 2.8 percent, slightly under the 'full
employment' level, just over three percent. So we're concerned that
inflation might be above our one percent acceptable rate, but only
slightly, in the near future.

“You have given us tremendously positive feedback on the work
and jobs that have been funded through our Sovereign Wealth Fund, and
with that fund now topping five trillion dollars in capital, we are
able to expand our funding and the returns to our investors, mostly
seniors, by a factor of 1.8 this year. So you seniors will have
almost twice as much spending money this year as you did in 2027 …
well, for those of you who chose the annual withdrawal option for
this year. And don't forget, that option is available to all of you
at any time, so feel free, okay?

“I'm going to end with that and let you all know that you can
find more information about the state of the country on our web site,
________.gov.

“So I'll now simply wish you all a very happy and prosperous
2028. Good night, all.”

-123-

Saturday, September 15, 2012

11:38 a.m.

St. Tropez, France

Pam sat in a comfortable and incredibly luxurious leather chair in
the master salon of a 39-meter yacht traveling to St. Tropez, awed
by the ship itself and its astoundingly opulent furnishings. Rona
and Joel, her trainer/advisers, reclined on a matching couch to her
right, appearing a lot less tense than Pam thought she looked …
no, KNEW she looked. After all, she was maybe about to meet, in
person, the nearly-mystical top dog, head honcho, CEO, big boss of
OP-US, OP-LATAM, OP-EUR-AS, OP-AUS and OP-AF, the man (or woman,
possibly) who apparently had the final say on whether Pam would
become a member of the inner circle at Optimum Protection. She
forgave herself for being a bit nervous.

Rona had called Pam at eight a.m. two days before and arranged to
pick her up at her condo in Bonita in three hours and told her to
pack for a six-day overseas trip and to pile all … ALL …
the rest of her things in the middle of the floor of her rented
condo. Four hours later, Rona, Joel and Pam had taken off from Fort
Myers in an OP executive jet, luxurious, but nowhere near as
luxurious as this yacht.

On the flight over the Atlantic, Rona and Joel spent the first two
hours going over Pam's stellar training and on-the-job performance
records and then broke out a celebratory bottle of champagne for
three and told Pam that they were taking her for her final
orientation, but that they'd have to blindfold her for the last two
hours of the flight and the rest of the trip.

When the jet landed at Toulon-Hyères, France, Rona carefully
led Pam off the plane to a waiting helicopter, which ferried the
three of them out to the yacht, which was far offshore, on its
way to St. Tropez. Once onboard, Rona gently removed Pam's
blindfold and led her down to the elegantly appointed salon where the
three of them now awaited the arrival of the boss, sharing more
champagne, some caviar and crackers and small plates of foie gras
with pickled pear. A huge platter of cold cuts, rolls and breads
and a refrigerator filled with soft drinks and bottled water sat
untouched and unopened on a foldout bar on one wall. An elegant bar
with high-end wines and liquors filled another wall.

Ten minutes later, the sound of a larger helicopter was followed by
the arrival in the salon of ten other members of Pam's class: Peter
and Patty, the Sweet Peas, from Leipzig, Germany; Anja and Anna-Lena,
the Cutesy Twins, from Munich, Germany; Paul and Evelyn, the Bikers,
from Staten Island, USA; Vito and Danuta, the Kuzzins, from
Heraklion, Crete; and Mikhael and Corinna, the Movers, from Sydney,
Australia.

Another helo trip brought Molly, Melissa and Denise, the MMD
Triplets, whose accent was Scottish, but who were actually from the
northernmost part of England; Eileen, Elynn and Eden, the Triple-E's,
from Capetown, South Africa; Kee-Kee and Mimi, the Grinners, from
Naples, Florida; and Terry, Mary and Carolyn, the Merry Spinsters,
from Orlando, Florida.

A third arrival brought Judy and Steve, the Survivors, from Atlanta,
Georgia; Tanya and Oliver, the Players, from Lugano, Switzerland;
Dixie and Wheeler, the Baptists, from near Nashville, Tennessee;
Barbara and Kim, the Gigglers, also from Bonita Springs, Florida; and
Jean and Tom, the Golfers, from Prescott, Arizona.

Last came Claire and Solange, the Tiny Prancers, from Brandon,
Mississippi; Gavril and Magdalena, the Vampire Hunters, from Covasna,
Romania; Nancy and Richard, the Readers, from Naples, Florida; Trish
and Chuck, the Investors, from Hanover, Pennsylvania; and Keith and
Lin, the Builders, from Elkhart, Indiana.

Ten minutes later, all of the mentor/trainers came through the salon
doors, and the conversations and congratulations began.

Pam mingled with all of her classmates, gravitating naturally to the
ones she'd formed the closest relationships with a year earlier,
especially Barbara and Kim, Jean and Tom and Kee-Kee and Mimi.

As the volume of voices increased in direct proportion to the
decrease in the quantity of food and drink on the foldout bars, an
older woman and two beautiful young women entered from opposite ends
of the room, the former carrying a long-range .50-caliber sniper
rifle with a laser scope, which she raised in the air with an
attention-grabbing, raspy, “May I have your attention,
everyone?”

The voices in the room all went silent and everyone turned to see who
had spoken.

“As all of you know, I'm Sharon, the Sniper, and I would like
to congratulate each and every one of you on completing your initial
orientation and screening last fall and the advanced courses and
seminars which some of you elected to take. For those of you who
elected the sniper course, a special congratulations; you all passed.
And if you have had the opportunity to actually perform assignments
over the past year, congratulations; you all did very well on those.

“And for those of you who took my seminar on assassination
psychology and motivation, I know you all have a much deeper
understanding of those threats and how to deal with them, both
reactively and pre-emptively.

“Now, behind you, let me introduce Jill and Carie, the Mimosa
twins, our undercover surveillance experts, who will be giving a
seminar on their specialty in October.”

The entire crowd spun 180 degrees to observe the newcomers. Pam
looked at them and said to herself, “I knew it; pros.”
She shook her fingers at them, smiling, and they responded in kind,
but with somewhat more knowing smiles and broad winks, which Terry,
Mary and Carolyn, the Merry Spinsters, misinterpreted as meant for
them; the three glanced at each other and smiled lasciviously.

“Now,” Sharon continued in her raspy, smoky voice, “I
know all of you have been looking forward to meeting our ultimate
boss, but I'm afraid that only a select few of you will have that
honor today. In fact, that select few is only one person.

“However, the boss has prepared a message for you all, and if
you would turn your attention back toward me, and this screen --”
at which point a wooden panel descended, revealing a huge wall-sized
TV screen “-- here it is.” She stepped to the screen and
pressed a button in the lower right-hand corner, which brought the
screen to life, showing a live but pixellated, unrecognizable figure,
speaking with an electronically filtered voice, also unrecognizable.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let me begin by welcoming all of you to
Optimum Protection, unequivocally the world's foremost private
security company.

“I am very proud of you all for getting this far, and you all
now have a job, and a career if you want to make it that, at whatever
level of participation you choose, from occasional observer as a
freelancer to the intense day-to-day stress of close-up bodyguarding,
as well as in the security consulting and other services we offer to
our clients.

“Some of you are ex-military or ex-intelligence operatives,
from many, many countries, and while we value your skills deeply,
there may be times when we serve clients whose interests oppose those
of your native countries, and may disgust or outrage you, but you
will have no obligation to work for those clients if you choose not
to.

“The only thing we insist on from you is absolute
confidentiality, not about O-P … feel free to tell your
spouses, friends and anyone else you want that you work for us …
but absolute confidentiality about specific missions and clients.
Feel free also to discuss the non-sensitive parts of the training
you've had; your trainers have let you know which parts fit that
category. But I would ask that you only discuss the training in
generalities. Word to the wise, okay?

“Also, any press or media inquiries must be referred to our
central office … you all know how to reach them … and
you are all forbidden from making any media appearances or giving any
interviews yourselves about O-P. But if you're invited to appear on
any shows or give interviews for any other reasons, feel free. Just
keep O-P out of the mix. And be alert to devious invitations and
what we call 'gotcha' interviews. Some so-called journalists are
just trying to get at you for a feather in their cap and career
advancement. Avoid them like the plague. Another word to the wise.

“With that, welcome once again to Optimum Protection. Now give
yourselves a round of applause and enjoy the party. Goodbye.”

Sharon pressed another button and the screen went blank, as the room
erupted in applause and cheers, after which it buzzed with
speculation as to who the one chosen to meet the boss might be, each
one hoping and fearing he or she would be the one.

Pam immediately zeroed in on the Mimosa Twins and plowed her way
through the crowd to them, smiling and shaking her fingers at them.
When they saw her coming, they reciprocated with the smile and the
finger-waving, which led without comment to high fives between Pam
and each of the twins.

“I knew you were pros.”

“We know,” the twins said in unison.

“You knew I knew?”

“We knew you knew. We wanted you to know, but we didn't want
you to know we knew you knew,” said Jill.

“You wanted me to know, but you didn't want me to know you knew
I knew or to know you wanted me to know?”

“Both.”

“What?”

“We wanted you to know, but we didn't want you to know we knew
you knew or wanted you to know.”

“Wait. What? You wanted me to know, but you didn't want me to
know you knew I knew and you didn't want me to know you wanted me to
know or to know you knew I knew?”

Carie said, “Right. All three.”

“What three?”

“We wanted you to know; that's one. We didn't want you to know
we wanted you to know; that's two. And we didn't want you to know we
knew you knew; that's three. But that was then.”

“And now?”

“Now we know you knew and we know you know we knew you knew and
we know you know we wanted you to know, and it's okay with us if you
know we knew you knew and wanted you to know.”

“Right; all four of those,” Jill added.

“All four?”

“Right.”

“Oh, okay.” Pam gave up and shrugged. “Why?”

“Because now you're in; then you weren't in, you were out. But
we were okay if you could make it in. And you have. Bravo.”

“Oh … okay.”

“In fact, we were the ones who recommended you.”

“Jill, I'm not sure she should know that.”

“Well, now she knows. And she knows we --”

“Hold it, girls; no more knowing who knew what when, okay?

“Why did you recommend me?”

“'Cause your tradecraft was good. And because he had no idea
you were testing him until that gorilla head popped up.”

“You were there for – oh, right. Right. Do you know he
called you the ditzy chicks?”

“No; you did.”

“I did?”

“Yup; he just called us ditzy. Which was what we were trying
to seem to be. But I kinda like 'ditzy chicks'; maybe we'll change
our nickname.

“No, Jillybean; that would be too obvious.”

“And 'Mimosa Twins' isn't obvious, CB?”

“Not as obvious as 'ditzy chicks,' JB.”

“Well, I like it.”

“I don't.”

“Guys, guys, settle down. Guess I just need to say thanks.”

“For what?”

“For recommending me; guess that's what got me here.”

“No; that was the helicopter.”

“Geez, JB.”

“And the executive jet before that.”

Pam could only nod.

“And Rona and Joel probably picked you up, right?”

“Right. But I meant that your recomm- --”

“Gotcha, Pam. I was just pulling your leg, practicing ditzy.”

Pam smiled and pointed her index finger at Jill. “Got me; you
do do a good ditzy.”