The Hades Connection

by Gabriel S. Timar

Chapter 19

part 1 of 2

The last things George Pike remembered about his life on Earth were the suntanned, streamlined, naked body of Lynn, the report of a gun, the bullet hole in the wood paneling, and his blood on the white carpet next to the black towel.

The next thing he knows, he’s being welcomed to the Third Dimension, where he has a choice not only of afterlifes but of accommodations and a new body, as well. George signs up with Hades, Ltd., a corporation that seems to be the best of a dubious lot.

George very much enjoys being welcomed by Arabella, who is not only highly efficient but something of a race car driver. And yet she has asked one question he cannot answer: how he died. Neither he nor anyone else seems to know. Now George must meet the head of Hades, Ltd., a certain Mr. Lucifer... and prepare himself for a career as a double agent in interstellar intrigue.

For a while, nobody said anything. All of us understood Park’s distress.

“Are you satisfied, Mr. Prime Minister?” I asked politely.

He nodded. “Just tell me what you expect of me.”

“I am not looking for anything earthshaking,” I answered. “Help us organize the meeting I mentioned. Can you do it?”

“Sure,” replied Park. “How about publicity? What are we going to tell the electorate?”

Esther got into the discussion. She was obviously prompted by the motor reflexes of Ann Forrest. “I don’t think we should go public with the full story, not until we’ve had our meeting with the guys the Captain mentioned. After the first meeting we should have a better idea about our options.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you, Mademoiselle,” Park said, “but I’m worried a little. I trust Mr. Horn to a certain extent, but I’m not sure he can keep his mouth shut.”

It was funny. I sensed that Beaufort Park was trying to express his frustration with the media and that this was his first opportunity.

“I beg your pardon!” roared Mike.

“Calm down, gentlemen,” I intervened. “There’s no sense in getting emotional.”

“Emotional, my arse,” said Mike angrily, “I’d like to punch the bastard in the nose.”

“I’m at your service, Mr. Horn,” said Park with a smile.

Esther burst out laughing: “Tell me, gentlemen, do you always settle your differences with your fists?”

“No, Ma’am,” Mike replied sheepishly, “but at times it would be so nice to have a regular punch-up. I loved to hit Mr. Park for all the times he’s played hard to get and for all the ambiguous answers he’s given me. Of course, fighting him would be counterproductive, since Mr. Park is a former football star and strong as an ox. He could flatten me with one punch, and I’d be out for a couple of days.”

“Mike is not alone with his desire to get physical,” Park said quietly. “I’m ashamed to admit that I’d love to hit him and his colleagues collectively for all the wild stories they’ve circulated about me. I hope you understand the frustration of politicians regarding the media. I know I was unfair and insulting when I said I did not trust Mike. I apologize.”

Mike nodded.

“Captain, do you have any suggestions about keeping the public informed?” Park asked.

“Yes, I do,” I said. “I’ve thought about it and found the problem difficult to solve.”

”Do you want to publicize your arrival?” Park queried.

“Not exactly,” I started. “We can’t keep our arrival and the orbital decay a secret for long. No offense, Mr. Park, but the public does not trust you because they usually distrust politicians. If you had mysterious meetings with other world leaders, the media would become suspicious.

“No matter how careful we are, the story may leak rumors and wild speculations. I believe we must feed the public a few morsels of information. Mike should write a low-key, accurate account of our appearance while keeping most of the details of our conversation with Mr. Park secret for the time being. This initial report should placate the public.”

“Perhaps we should consider a complete news blackout,” said Park. “We have many weirdoes who may want to cash in on your being here. How would you protect yourself?”

“With brute force,” I replied. “Anyone trying to start a hate campaign by publishing wild stories or even coming too close to us, I will deal with personally. I can be brutal and ruthless when the survival of our people is at stake. I am prepared to kill a few hundred thousand people without a moment’s hesitation just to make a point. Mike, you should include this in your first release. Please, don’t think I’m a barbarian, but my mission is about survival, and we cannot afford to be courteous or gentle with anybody trying to sabotage it.”

I was lying of course, but I had to sound like a ruthless, macho conqueror. I don’t think I could have willingly killed anybody even with the help of the military ego of Captain von Vardy. If anyone threatened my life, though, that might change the picture, since cowards like me are capable of killing in self-defense.

“I understand,” declared Park. “Anyway, what’s next?”

“Start working on the conference call,” I said.

“It may take a day or so,” Park said. “Yamamoto is a hard man to get hold of; Holdsworth and Kamarov are easy.”

“Why don’t you call the two of them right now?” Mike asked. “Yamamoto’s input is not essential at the start, since he’s a technical advisor only. The other two are important because they are the decision-makers. The phone is here and you can just catch them both.”

“That may be, but I need time to think about it,” Park snapped, “and to discuss the matter with my advisors.”

I shook my head: “I’m afraid I cannot permit it, Mr. Park. You should not mention the subject to your advisors at this time. Too many people will know about it. A tremendous amount of money is involved in our project, and the smallest leak may start the speculators and the con-men working. Their involvement may have frightening consequences. I’d suggest calling Kamarov and Holdsworth now.”

“Besides,” Mike added, “I’m sure the Captain can immediately supply the details and information they might want. They won’t be able to stall.”

“I don’t like it,” Park said. “I know those guys. I was the roommate of Terry Holdsworth for two years at Boston College. The guy is utterly ruthless. Kamarov may be little easier to deal with; he’s a practical individual. But I’m also sure he has a mean streak. According to rumors he was a colonel in the KGB towards the end of the communist era.”

“He was,” I said, “but it doesn’t matter. You should talk to both of them at the same time.” I had an ulterior motive: if Park had time to think and talk to his advisors, he would come up with something inefficient or crooked, and that might jeopardize our chances of getting the thrusters built. “I’d suggest arranging a conference call now,” I added.

“I’m voted down.” Park smiled. “I’ll make the necessary arrangements. Would you wait for me here?”

I nodded. Park silently left the room.

* * *

“Do you trust him?” Esther asked.

“A little, but not too much,” I replied. “After all, he is a minor-league player compared to the Americans or the Russians. He may be a good one, but he is still in the minor league.”

“I trust him,” stated Esther.

“Why?”

“Woman’s intuition, I suppose.” She shrugged. “I have no logical explanation.”

Mike listened to our remarks about the trustworthy nature of Beaufort Park and smiled but didn’t say anything. Evidently he knew how reliable the Prime Minister of Canada was.

“Would you trust me a little?” Mike asked. “Taste the champagne. It’s really good.”

It did not disappoint us. The bubbly was very good.

* * *

Proceed to part 2...