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President Oliveira was irate after his address had been "preempted." Irate, in fact, barely scratched the surface in describing his mood. He was painfully aware that he may be temporarily winning the fight for military supremacy- he had superior weapons and manpower- but the war to win hearts and minds, he had been handed a resounding defeat. The inability of the Ministry of Information to halt Bret Shoemaker's broadcasts was like a slap in the face to the proud Brazilian. It was a direct attack on his machismo- his manhood and it was going to change, or somebody was going to pay, and pay dearly. He picked up his phone and spoke to his personal assistant...
"Where's Patterson?" He asked.
"I'm not sure, Sir," came the reply. "More than likely in Las Vegas."
"Then find him," Oliveira told the assistant. "Find him and get him here immediately."
"Yes, Mr. President," his assistant said. "Right away, Sir."
Patterson was at his home, a walled compound just outside Las Vegas, when Oliveira's assistant contacted him. After receiving the news that he was wanted in Geneva... he flew there straightaway, arriving early the next morning. He was met at the airport by the assistant who drove him to the President's office in the League of Nations Building. He entered to find a still irate Oliveira.
Even before any pleasantries were exchanged, the President slammed his fist on his desk and shouted: "I want this Shoemaker business stopped... Now!"
"But we can't find him, Mr. President," Patterson pleaded. "How can we arrest him when we don't know where he is?"
"What have you done so far?" Oliveira asked, calming down a bit.
"We have our best technicians on it," Patterson told him. "But the rebels have very skilled technicians of their own... They change IP addresses every few seconds- some are even here in Europe. They're impossible to trace."
"Offer rewards," Oliveira suggested. "Crack down more... Curfews, something like that."
Cracking down isn't the answer, and curfews only work in the cities where they can be enforced." Patterson knew he was taking a chance criticizing the hotheaded Oliveira. "In case you haven't noticed, Mr. President, we aren't very popular with the people and all the propaganda in the world isn't likely to change that. If you want more people on your side, you need to back off."
Oliveira's eyes narrowed: "Whose side are you on here?" He asked.
"Your's of course, Mr. President," Patterson said... He had gone this far, he might as well go all the way: "If you want to appear as a good guy, you have to act like a good guy... Lying to people isn't going to get you anywhere."
"So what do you suggest?" Oliveira asked sarcastically. "Just allow them to do whatever they want?"
"Of course not," Patterson replied. He was gaining courage now: "If you want to win hearts and minds, you have to at least create an appearance of giving them something- that way they may let their guard down some."
Oliveira thought for a moment. "I like you Patterson," he said, "you're devious. What's your plan?"
"If we give the impression of backing off a bit," Patterson began, "you might announce something in your next address- maybe allowing Shoemaker's broadcasts- they will let their guard down enough to slip a few spies into their camp."
"I can't back off of Shoemaker- he's gone too far- he's a hero," Oliveira mused. "It will have to be something else."
"OK, Sir," Patterson said. "That was just off the top of my head... We just have to look like we're throwing them a bone- maybe they won't sense there's poison inside... But the spies, I think is a good idea."
"Agreed, Oliveira said. "The spies may work than a crackdown. I'll remove the curfews- nobody obeys them anyway... maybe they'll stop shooting my helicopters down."
Oliveira had no intention whatever of decreasing his military presence, but he did need Patterson's help to find the source of Shoemaker's broadcasts. If the man couldn't manage his own country, he would have to be replaced... For that he would need the assistance of Beck who was now a resident of Geneva. He was also the leader of his faction of the Council... Although absent from the US, Beck was still in control of Council activity there. Patterson was virtually useless- a mere figurehead. If Oliveira was to stop the transmissions he would have to enlist the help of Beck.
Beck lived in a villa overlooking the lake, surrounded by a high wall and heavily guarded. If it wasn't for the fortress like atmosphere it would have been very beautiful indeed. Oliveira was escorted into Beck's study by an armed guard... Beck joined him shortly.
"Good afternoon, Mr. President," Beck greeted him warmly. "Can I offer you some refreshments- coffee, tea, a drink perhaps. How about some wine, I have an excellent Madeira?"
"Yes, thank you," Oliveira replied, "that sounds fine."
The wine was served by a valet wearing a Sig Sauer .40 in a shoulder holster under his white jacket... Beck certainly was taking no chances.
"Mr. Beck," Oliveira began after they had tasted the wine, "I need you assistance in halting those broadcasts in the United States."
"I'm not sure what I can do, Mr. President," Beck replied. 'Patterson's President now... I'm dead, for all intents and purposes."
"Even dead you have more influence than that toady Patterson," Oliveira smiled broadly. "I'm only asking that you contact your people there to see what can be done."
"Of course I'll do everything I can, Mr. President," Beck told him.
"I would deeply appreciate whatever assistance you can provide," Oliveira said gratefully. "These illegal transmissions affect us all."
"I have an engagement with with his Lordship this evening," Beck said. "I'll speak to him on your behalf."
"I would be most grateful," Oliveira replied.
His Lordship was Lord Robert Penrose, the head, so to speak of the Circle of Councils. The Councils were set up like concentric circles, growing in number but declining in power as they go out from the Primary Council in the center. The Primary Council consists of seven very powerful individuals- administrators that control Council policy. Penrose was as close to a leader as there was.
Lord Penrose could trace his family's history back to the time before the Norman Invasion of England. He epitomized the British aristocracy- his castles and homes throughout Europe were untouched during the war. He lived his life outside the public eye and was accessible to only a chosen few- Beck was one of the few.
Beck had been invited to a small gathering of the chosen... A sextravaganza of the monied and perverse elite. These soirees were legendary, celebrities and supermodels flown in from around the world as party favors for the attendees of both sexes... There were rumors that Oliveira had only heard about of human sacrifices at the get togethers... He may be the President of the world- but he was not one of the insiders.
Oliveira returned to his office more hopeful than before. If someone with Lord Penrose's influence became involved, perhaps the transmissions could be halted. He had the evening's broadcast to prepare for. Oliveira, however, wasn't the only one preparing for the evening's broadcast.
There's a seven hour time difference between Arkansas and Switzerland... So at precisely 1:00 Arkansas time, Uwe would lock onto Oliveira's satellite signal and broadcast Bret's newscast live worldwide- Beginning with "Good evening citizens of the world..." This transmission would be a dramatic variation from his usual newscast. Tonight he would broadcast a message of hope around the world- a message encouraging the world citizenry to unite against tyranny... a message that would spread like wildfire.
After the "Mickey Mouse Conspiracy" as it was called, people would tune into the beginning of Oliveira's address hoping for another interception... Tonight they would get their wish.
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