“Yes, Mr. President, and that’s exactly why Mr. Morgan set up the trust.”
“One hundred years ago?” asked Kenneth, struggling to comprehend Morgan’s foresight.
“Yes, Mr. Lee. Mr. Morgan noted a shift in people’s mentality, we had become a want rather than need society and he could see the impact this would have in future: spend now, worry later.”
“I applaud his foresight but unfortunately, it’s such an underwhelming amount of money to deal with the problems.” As far as Jack was concerned, he had lots to be getting on with and fifty million bucks, as Kenneth had pointed out, wasn’t even a drop in the ocean.
He made to rise, but Walker continued.
“But, Mr. President I do not sit here with an underwhelming sum of money. In fact, very far from it.”
Jack looked at Kenneth before taking his seat again. Mr. Walker’s demeanor had become extremely serious.
“A billion?” asked Kenneth.
“Not even close,” replied Walker.
“One hundred billion?”
“No. I’ll give you a clue. The trust had one edict - the money had to be invested at all times, never was it to sit and just earn bank interest. Mr. Morgan was very clear, the money had to work for the future.”
“I don’t have time for games, Mr. Walker, I do have a country to run,” said Jack impatiently.
“Perhaps not, Mr. President,” teased Walker.
“Oh trust me, with a sixteen trillion dollar debt and as you so rightly pointed out, a crumbling infrastructure, never mind the increasing likelihood of a military involvement in the Middle East--”
“What would you do with eight point five trillion?” interrupted Walker.
“Are you saying that fifty million dollars in 1913 is now eight point five trillion?” asked Jack, certain he must have misheard Walker.
“I never said that,” Walker replied and watched as President King’s excitement evaporated. “I asked what you would do with eight point five trillion?”
“I must be missing something. You ask what we do with an amount of money and yet that is not the amount of money that you have?” asked Kenneth.
“Correct, but I never said fifty million had become eight point five trillion, I merely asked what you would do with that sum,” said Walker smugly, pausing briefly before adding, “I asked what you would do with that sum, as that will be your surplus!”
Two blank faces stared back at him.
“Fifty million at an average of fourteen percent compound interest over one hundred years equates to approximately twenty-four and a half trillion dollars, Mr. President.”
Kenneth and Jack turned to face each other as one, disbelief filling their faces. Silence settled momentarily as the full force of the revelation hit home.
“Did you just say twenty-four trillion?” managed Jack after a few seconds.
“Twenty-four point five and change actually, Mr. President,” confirmed Mr. Walker.
As Jack and Kenneth struggled to comprehend the enormity of the difference such a sum would make to the government, Mr. Walker began to explain the process for expenditure of the trust. Once the debt was paid down, only projects that would benefit the American infrastructure could receive funds. A board would have to be created to ensure the funds were used appropriately. He suggested Kenneth should be the president’s representative on the board and produced a list of names of people the Trust felt might best be suited. Jack noticed the name of a number of potential cabinet secretaries, including the Homeland Security Secretary. Homeland Security was responsible for the security of the nation’s critical infrastructure and the implementation of the National Infrastructure Protection Plan.
With eight point five trillion to play with, that plan is going to have to be significantly revised, thought Jack.
“Mr. Roger Young will be in contact, he is the CEO of the Trust. When he calls, could you please give him ten names from this list, Mr. President?” asked Walker.
“Mr. President?” prompted Walker when Jack didn’t respond.
Jack was startled back into the reality of the situation. He had heard Walker’s explanation of the process but was still reeling from the enormity of the task that he had faced being instantly alleviated.
“Yes, Kenneth as my representative and I’ll choose from the list,” he responded nonchalantly. A response that three years later he realized had all but ended his presidency the day it had begun.
Present day – 1
st
July 2015
American Airlines AA187
Chicago (ORD) – Beijing (PEK)
James Marshall hit the button and raised his first class bed to the seated position. They were only an hour out from Beijing and his new role as US ambassador to the People’s Republic of China was the single biggest job he’d ever undertaken. Relations were at an all time high with the Chinese and the president had made it clear he wanted it to remain that way. The newfound wealth of the US had turned the tide and the Chinese were no longer a challenge to the US’s economic might. Recent agreements over long standing issues in the Middle East with the Chinese no longer supporting Russian vetos had also led to a warming of relations.
There were ongoing discussions of an acceptance of Taiwan as an independent state, something that even a year earlier remained unthinkable. However, the Chinese had made it clear they wished to end the issue once and for all. It did nobody any good and offered them little in any event. There was even talk of pressuring North Korea to demilitarize significantly. The Chinese wished for peace, not conflict, in the region and James Marshall was the president’s man to make it happen.
Lifelong friends, they had both excelled in their fields, President Jack King in the military and James Marshall in business. When James had announced his retirement on his fifty-fifth birthday, President King had pounced; Marshall was perfect to obtain the treaties that would secure the Far East. Jack loved and trusted him like a brother. With over four hundred million dollars in the bank, all James Marshall had wanted was to enjoy life but he’d never let Jack down and he’d certainly never let his president down.
“Can I get you anything, Mr. Ambassador?” asked the stewardess, having noticed his seat moving.
“A coffee would be great,” he replied restraining a yawn. “And please, it’s just James, I’m not official until I meet President Junpeng later today.”
She nodded and he knew it hadn’t made any difference. To the American Airlines crew, he was the ambassador when their president announced it, not the Chinese president.
Dzemgi Airbase
Sukhoi Development Facility
Russian Far East, 200 miles from Chinese Border
After rereading the instructions three times, Colonel Ivan Petlin made one call home to his wife. The brief call was less than thirty seconds and the content of the message, although recorded as a matter of course, was unintelligible to anyone on the base. The colonel’s wife spoke Negidal and was one of only a handful of people left in the world who spoke it fluently. He had learned enough to convey what he needed to and the tear-filled response told him she had understood him precisely.
The chief test pilot for the Russian Air Force, Colonel Petlin was the single most senior officer still flying within the military. When he spoke, all within earshot listened. When he asked for something to be done, it was done without question, spoken or unspoken. The munitions requested were part of the most recent batch delivered for testing and as such, created no concerns. The filed flight plan was standard and took in the bombing range normally used as part of any test exercise. In short, everything was as normal.
As he fired up the engines of the T-50, the Russian Air Force’s most advanced fighter, a trickle of sweat dripped from his forehead. He caught the drip and looked at it with disgust. In all his years of flying, he had never once been nervous. He pushed the throttle and the fighter jumped into the sky with ease and rocketed towards the stratosphere.
From the first time he had taken the control of a plane, Ivan Petlin had come to life. Flying was his calling and whatever plane he flew became an extension of his soul. He managed to gain speed where it wasn’t available and take turns that weren’t possible, always pushing the limits of an aircraft’s capability. He had soared through the Russian military and despite his peasant roots, he sat firmly on top of the world. After all, there weren’t many pilots at that precise moment that would be cruising at 60,000 feet.
He eased back the throttle and settled into a cruise. He had a thousand miles to cover and a schedule to keep. The flight plan he had filed would never be completed. He wondered at the stillness and peace that surrounded him, the harshness of the world below and beauty of the sky above. A tear rolled down his cheek, the enormity of his actions not lost on him. He was a highly intelligent man, which was exactly why he had been selected many years earlier. He knew it was imminent. He kept a keen eye on world events and had a feeling the plan had been instigated. Not that he had any idea what the plan was; he just knew that one day he may be called upon by his country and it was expected he would do what was asked. He hadn’t needed to think for even a second. He would absolutely do what his country needed of him.
He checked his watch, taking up station as directed, and began to circle slowly at 60,000 feet. He checked the horizon as he slowly faced due North. Nothing. Not that he expected to see anything. He had a few minutes to kill.
He felt more alive than he had ever in his life. The irony of such a thought hit him when he noticed the first glint of light on the horizon.
“
Your coffee, black and strong, Mr. Ambassador,” said the stewardess, setting a plate with a selection of biscuits alongside the steaming cup.
“Thank you,” he replied, moving in for a much needed hit of caffeine.
“Is there anything else I can--”
The stewardess’ question was never finished; the sound of muffled shouts from the cockpit had them both instantly alarmed. Being in seat 1A, James had the only seat on the plane with a view of the cockpit door. The door subsequently swung open and the captain rushed towards the ambassador; it was clear something was very wrong indeed.
“Do you speak Russian?” asked the captain, flustered.
“No,” replied James, rising from his seat.
“Does anyone speak Russian?” the captain bellowed down the length of the plane, barely containing his anguish.
Five passengers stood up. The nearest, a young and very pretty blonde was summoned forward.
“Quickly!” shouted the captain when s the girl failed to comprehend the urgency of his request.
“What’s happening?” asked James, the panic in the captain’s eyes was not a vision any passenger on an aircraft ever wanted to see.
“I’m not sure but it doesn’t look good!” he replied, leading the young blonde into the cockpit.
James followed and was stopped by the captain placing a hand on his chest.
“I’m the president’s representative. If there’s a problem, I’m going to do anything in my power to help!”
The captain thought for a second before lowering his hand.
As they walked into the flight deck, the young blonde screamed and James wished he hadn’t left his seat.
Colonel Ivan Petlin had waited until the plane was almost directly below him before he had moved. He spun and dived the 20,000 feet, pulling level with the American Airlines jet in an inch perfect maneuver of skill. The look on the pilots’ faces was priceless as he had literally appeared from nowhere just a matter of yards from them.
“You are breaching the airspace of the Russian Federation. I instruct you to turn around and return to your original location!” he barked into his radio.
He could see they were tuned into his frequency by the look of confusion on their faces. He didn’t think they would understand Russian but his orders were clear, no English, only Russian.
“We don’t understand,” came the response in English, just as he had thought.
“If you do not turn around, I will have no choice but to shoot you down!” he barked again in Russian.
The captain rushing away from his seat came as no surprise; he would be trying to find a Russian speaker.
“Turn around or be shot down!” he reiterated in Russian.
The sight of the young blonde screaming gave him his first twinge of regret.
“
Oh my god!” she managed as she stopped screaming. “He’s th-threatening to shoot us down!” she stammered breathlessly.
“Can you speak to him?” asked James, the only person that appeared capable of calm thought.
She nodded her head and the captain handed her the radio handset.