SUED FOR PEACE (The Kurtherian Gambit Book 11) (12 page)

“Didn’t you know?
 
I’m completely heterosexual,” George started, but had to stop when Cynthia spit wine out unexpectedly as she was taking a sip.
 
He quickly provided her his napkin and she was able to sop up most of the wine without making too much of a mess.

“I’m sorry,” George started while smiling, “I hadn’t meant to catch you unawares.”
 

Cynthia dropped the sodden napkin on a tray and set her wine next to it, “I should remember that you enjoy twisting the words.” She turned to him and smiled, “Ok, I’ll show you my,” she paused and lifted an eyebrow, George kept quiet, “cards.”

“Damn”
 
He murmured as she smiled.

“If you will show me your…”
 
He raised an eyebrow to her.
 
She rolled her eyes and finished, “Cards.”

He put up two fingers a little space between the two of them, “So close.”

“I bet you were a spot of trouble in school, Mr. Bernard.”
 
She asked him.

He winked, “So, I’m Mr. Bernard now?”
 
He flicked off some imaginary lint off of his shoulder, “I’ll try not to be such a cad for the rest of the evening.”

“Why is that?” Cynthia asked, “I rather like cad’s, they are so honest in what they want.”

“What if I admitted I only wanted you for your knowledge, wisdom, and guidance?” George asked her.

She pursed her lips and leaned towards him, “Then I would wonder why my body was always in second place?”

“Could it be that your greatest,” George leaned to the side and acted like he was trying to see around her to her back, “assets,” he leaned back to look at her, “aren’t displayed appropriately?”

Cynthia put a hand to her mouth and chuckled, “For a devious son-of-a-bitch, you can still be quite charming.”
 

“I try.”

“Yes, I know.
 
That’s why I was waiting for you at the end of the line.”
 
She winked at him.

George raised his eyebrows, the stalker got snared in the web. He needed to up his game. Or, considering that he wanted to be right here anyway, maybe he should pat himself on the back for accomplishing the mission. For twenty minutes, he and Cynthia talked around every subject but the reason they had come to this meeting.
 

The battle with TQB Enterprises.

When the time came, the main participants, twenty-four in all, sat around the table in no particular order.
 
The issue of who sat at the end and had the most important seat was solved two centuries ago. You had a vote; you had the ability to call a vote.
 
The rest of your power laid outside of this room most of the time, or perhaps inside the room if you considered your relationships.
 
Take, for example, Terence Whitesbridge, who easily commanded two-thirds of the onlookers this evening.

After two small issues had been discussed, Terence stood.
 
“Now, for the main reason we have all joined this evening in Paris.”
 
He nodded to both sides of the table, “What we care to do about TQB and our efforts to either acquire their companies, their technology or both.”
 
He looked down at the table and lifted a folder.
 
Opening it, he pulled out a piece of vellum with some writing on it. “I have spoken with many of you tonight, and if I have not then, please forgive me for failing to speak with you yet.”
 

George wanted to snort. Terence had made sure to speak to those he needed, neither Cynthia nor he was needed at the moment.

Terence continued, “I have been approached, as have some of you, by an interested third party not associated with our group.
 
Further, they have all sought to see if we would be willing to forego any material business relationships with TQB if they would provide suitable purchases to offset anything TQB might be acquiring from us.”
 
Terence waited for the chuckles to die down.
 
However they did it, TQB knew who was after them and certainly did their best not to engage in any material business with any of their companies.

Those
bastards
.

“So, I have talked with a couple of you who have received similar advances, and we understand that our potential suitor is none other than the government of China.
 
Oh, they were pretty good at trying to use cut-outs, but they need to step up their game a little,” he smiled to everyone.
 

George leaned over, “Is it only me, or do you want to punch his teeth out, too?”
 

Cynthia turned towards him, a twinkle in her eye to whisper, “No, a swift knee to his jewels for me.
 
Pompous Ass!”

Before she turned back, George asked, “Did you get approached?
 
I did not.”
 
She nodded that she had and then leaned back up to listen.

“Now, we have one of the nation-states getting involved with TQB, which will probably focus their attention away from whatever we choose to do, and away from retribution based on past perceived slights our group might have been guilty of.”

“Not only a pompous ass,” Cynthia whispered, “But delusional also!” George thought her eyes might light up if she got just a little more angry.

“So, we have two paths to follow at this juncture.
 
We can take this opportunity that China is going to provide and place our tail firmly between our legs and go home.”
 
Terence waited for the appropriate amount of grumbling to occur before continuing. “Or, we can use China as a way to hide our next attack.
 
I’m not for letting China get the spoils of the war we started!”
 

George looked around in shock as at least eight men, and two women jumped up to push against the idea of letting China take the spoils of their efforts against TQB.

Cynthia shook her head as she watched the people around the table before she tapped George on the shoulder.
 
He turned, the surprise evident on his face at what he was also witnessing.
 
“George, we have two options here.”
 
He nodded that he was listening.
 
While she was speaking softly, she didn’t need to.
 
The yelling and boisterous comments that Terence was only encouraging hid anything they needed to say. “We can go back to my place and roll around on my bed for at least a day or two before we don’t get sex again.” He raised an eyebrow in surprise at her comment before she continued, “Not much sex in prison … or you can stay here and the only wood you will ever get again is going to be the coffin they bury you in.”

“You don’t think TQB is going to focus on China?”
 
He asked.

She turned to look at the people there and made a face, “These idiots keep thinking that TQB is another company, one they can manipulate.” She turned to look at him, “They are a force focused on the future and will destroy whatever is in their way.
 
I’d rather be safe, even if that means prison, rather than with these idiots.”
 

As she stood up and started for the door she heard George move his chair to follow her.
 

“Cynthia, where are you going?” she heard Terence call from behind her.
 
She turned around and smiled to the people there who had quieted down to hear what she had to say.

“Terence, and my esteemed idiots who are following Terence, I’m going home to get laid.
 
I plan on having as much sex and human comfort as I can afford in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours before the government comes for me.
 
I’m thankful the headsman's ax isn’t used in this day and age.
 
I’m also leaving behind,” she noticed George coming up to her, “twenty-two dead people still talking.
 
You have not taken the measure of your enemy.
 
If you try to do anything with TQB again, she is going to pull the gloves off, and I doubt there will be anything but a bloody spot on the ground when she is done with you all.”

Cynthia turned around and nodded to George, who was holding the door open for her.

George was about to follow when Terence called out, “George, you too?
 
What, is she swaying your opinion with a piece of tail?”

George smiled, “I’d rather her piece of tail, than yours Terence. I was never good at kissing ass, and it doesn’t seem you need another to kiss yours, anyway.”

With his last comment, George let the door close behind him.

United Nations - New York City, NY - USA

Zhou Song’s lips compressed together minutely.
 
It was the most expression he allowed on his face to register the displeasure he was feeling.

He had been working for over a week to get a consensus worked out for a strong decision or memorandum against TQB Enterprises on behalf of the world as put forth by China, a leader in the United Nations.

To only be pushed back.
 

Certainly by the powerful countries who figured China was up to something (true), but also by many of the unaligned countries who failed to believe that China would honor their agreements (partially true).
 
China would certainly honor the specific aspects of the agreements, but not the spirit of the agreement.
 

Inside the fine print was a fair amount of ifs, buts and thens.
 
Plenty of legal language which allowed China to drag their feet should they acquire any of the new technology.

Unfortunately, China’s history over the last twenty years of either stealing technology, borrowing technology, or requiring trading partners to share technology (which they then stole) was catching up to them.

Right when the best technology was being flaunted in their face.

Zhou Song locked his black leather briefcase and nodded to his translator.
 
Not that she was needed.
 
He spoke six languages besides three specific to China.
 
The only one which foreign services knew about was English.
 
So, he often played dumb when around those of other countries just in case they would slip up and say something in his presence.

She packed up her items as he slid behind her and continued out of the meeting room.
 
He nodded to the Representative from Uganda, who he was meeting for dinner next Thursday night and took a left.
 
In a couple of minutes, he had slipped into his limousine and was whisked out to his residence at the Waldorf Astoria.
 
The hotel was now owned by a Chinese-owned Insurance company.
 
The United States, who had previously had all of their UN Representatives stay at the famed location since Herbert Hoover, had moved suggesting that perhaps the government of China was behind the purchase.

Pity that, Zhou Song thought.

The car came up to the front of the hotel, and his door was opened.
 
He kept his briefcase with him and stepped through the entryway to head to a set of special elevators that didn’t work for the general populace.
 
He placed his fob on the front and stepped inside.
 
Hitting the button for his level, he considered what he needed to do to manipulate the contingent from Central Africa to start another block.
 
His country had provided substantial investment, not all of the money going into the projects, but that was how Africa worked.

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open.
 
Zhou Song walked to his room and nodded to the two security guards who walked this floor.
 
He stepped inside his rooms and placed the briefcase on the table to the right.
 
The same place he sat it every night as he walked into his bedroom to change.
 
He came out in a pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt.
 
He rolled up his sleeves as he walked into his kitchen.

Zhou Song preferred to cook to center himself as he thought.
 
It was relaxing.
 
Cooking was something he had been doing since his early teenage years.
 

This room had been modified for him, to allow him this exercise.
 
Otherwise, the chef on site was sufficient for those nights he needed to work through his time of meditation.

He stepped into his kitchen and stopped.

He turned to his left to look out of his kitchen into his small living room and beyond to the balcony outside.
 
He turned to his right and stepped out of his kitchen to look into his office.

It was empty.

He didn’t feel anything amiss in the room, so he walked over to the door and opened it.
 
First looking left, then right to see one of the guards, “Mùqián y
ǐ
jìnrù biérén w
ǒ
de fángji
ā
n?”
 
The guard shook his head no, “Y
ǒ
u méiy
ǒ
u rén zài zhè y
ī
céng?” Again, the guard shook his head in the negative.
 

Song closed the door and walked back into his kitchen.
 
He placed his hand on the large loaf of bread and pulled the pin out of the loaf and grabbed the sheet of paper.

The message was written in six languages, all in languages he knew and that other people were not supposed to know he was fluent with.

“It is only the enlightened ruler and the wise general who will use the highest intelligence of the army for the purposes of spying, and thereby achieve great results.”

Song put down the letter.
 
The quote, one of Sun Tzu’s, was a maxim in his country.
 
He looked around his apartment and considered what he needed to do next, and his shoulders slumped.