In the post cold war era of nuclear proliferation and terrorism, when the threat of nuclear annihilation is closer than it has ever been, conspiracies abound. This is a tale of one of them. In an atmosphere permeated by sex and violence, lovers try to navigate dangerous rapids in their search for fulfillment. Unfortunately for them, the time is out of joint. So, watch the deceptions, watch the betrayals and wonder whether love can endure when tested by circumstance. The story opens with Stanley Pollard, a writer for a small magazine, coming to understand the peril posed by nuclear weapons in the modern world. Apparently by chance, he becomes involved in what he imagines is a conspiracy against America. Still a vital and virile man, he loves not only his chosen career but also his brilliant and sexy girlfriend, Catherine Buis. They travel and indulge their desires as lovers do. However, all is not as it should be. Stanley is hounded by menacing signs. Violent assassinations seem to follow him and he falls upon a code indicating that an attack is about to take place. Is it all real? What should he do? The plot takes us to New York, Paris, Mont Tremblant and a bunker in New Mexico, evolving toward the inevitable end fate has prepared.
DETERRENCE
A Tale of Sex and Violence In Dangerous TimesBy Mel MonthAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2010 Mel Month
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4490-6237-8Contents
Prologue - The Cold War.................................................ixChapter 1 - On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams...........................1Chapter 2 - A Good Country..............................................9Chapter 3 - Averting Catastrophe........................................15Chapter 4 - A Deepening Mystery.........................................25Chapter 5 - The City of Love............................................33Chapter 6 - A Death in Paris............................................47Chapter 7 - Code Play...................................................59Chapter 8 - The Primitive and the Predatory.............................69Chapter 9 - Guise of Evil...............................................79Epilogue - When the MAD Bluff is Called, What Then?.....................97
Chapter One
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams
A Science Superman Reminisces
The old man limps to the couch. His favorite spot. This is where he holds court. Yes, he still gets visits but there are many hours in a day and, for the most part, he sits alone with only his memories to keep him company. The two women who take care of him and the place, an apartment on the top floor of one of the Boulevard's upper west-side hi-rises, can usually be found fussing about. But that doesn't disturb him. They go about their business and he immerses himself in thoughts of bygone days. How surprising is the clarity of distant recollections, even those as far back as a quarter of a century. Not so for the days swiftly passing, days that appear to merge one into the other with nothing to distinguish them. Ah, but the old days! Some have regret written all over them, but somehow, looking back as time passes, feelings of regret seem to have washed away and for most have been fully expunged.
This evening he's expecting a visitor. With eyes shut he listens to the soft sounds around him. How relaxed he is. Then the distinctive steps, audible even on the thick carpet, announce the caller. Edward's dense bushy eyebrows squeeze and become compact as his lids part. Quickly his searching eyes roam the room, alighting on a figure standing before him. Sitting in a semi-prone position on his leather chaise-longue, he speaks in his deep raspy voice, "Eugene! What a coincidence. I was just with you in the midst of my doze-dream and here you are. Why don't you sit on the couch opposite me while I adjust my position?"
"I think of you often, dear friend," the caller says wistfully. "I've wanted to see you for a long time. But you know how one thing or another always seems to get in the way. Then, this afternoon, I determined to do it. I've put it off too long and decided that this would be the day. My dear Edward, how have you been?"
"So, so," comes the reply. "Though I find it quite satisfying to sit here reminiscing, I never was a loner. I like the give-and-take, the point-counterpoint, and especially the provocations in a heated debate. But I shouldn't go on like that. If I know you, you have a reason for being here. So, out with it!"
"I can't fool you, can I?" Eugene responds, a wide smile appearing on his gaunt, big-boned face. "You're right, I had a reason. I'm worried about the future of our great adopted nation. It occurred to me that you might throw some light on what this new generation has wrought and particularly what our young president is up to. What do you see in your crystal ball, eh?"
"I'm flattered by your confidence in me," Edward answers. "To tell the truth, I tend not to keep up." He looks upward questioningly. "How odd! Even though everything reported is in sound bites, I still find I can't concentrate sufficiently. And the New York Times, forget it." Then his eyes brighten, a smile appears and he says in an ironic tone, "On the other hand, you know me. Even though I'm not fully cognizant of the facts, I'm not at a loss for an opinion. I fear, my dear friend, that our president, whether by design or not, is going to sell us down the river. He's going to stop the planned Eastern European anti-missile system. It's hard to understand. He seems to trust our enemies. But we know better. Agreements and treaties, they mean nothing to the communists. It's been like that for the past half century. Still, our boy wonder is ready to give away any advantage we have. We've already thrown away over twenty-five years. If we only listened to Reagan - now there was a man-president as well as a mensch - if we only heeded his warning and call to arms, we wouldn't be sitting in this awful position where bullying rogue states like Iran and North Korea can now sneeringly thumb their noses at us."
Eugene ponders, allowing these pessimistic words to sink in. The Princeton professor has always been this way - thinking before jumping in. And over time, this instinct to pause has served him well. It's quiet as both men await Eugene's reaction. Finally it comes. "Since I've known you, you've been rash in your judgments and I'll add, somewhat cynical. So I'll take what you've said with a grain of salt. During the eighties, many scientists, I for one, believed that deploying an advanced anti-missile system, particularly a space-based one, was too provocative and would push us dangerously close to the brink. I know. It's counter-intuitive that deploying a defensive shield is aggressive, but there it is, the strange logic of the nuclear age."
"Oh, Eugene, I must tell you this," Edward abruptly interrupts. "I saw Oppie the other day. He's staying in a building similar to mine, one just down the Boulevard. But it wasn't merely the short distance. No, it was more spontaneous. The urge to make a call on him just came to me. Perhaps I simply wanted to dip my toes in the water to check the temperature. I immediately noticed that his smoking has gotten worse, starting another before the first was done. Anyway, I was nervous, but much to my surprise, he was the perfect host. When I refused his offering of hard liquor, he asked that some lemonade be brought in." Edward suddenly stops and waves his hands in the air. "Ah, what am I going on like this for? That's not at all what surprised me. No, it was the way he spoke of our troubled relationship. He actually admitted being soft on communism in the pre-Khrushchev time. At that moment, he became a little pensive and forgave me for denouncing him as a security risk in his 1954 clearance hearing. Understandably, I was quite taken aback by his forthrightness, and while I was in this vulnerable state, he bluntly asked why I had done it. I stammered some, but I did manage to get out the honest-to-goodness truth. I said that, though I truly believed it, there was some self-interest mixed in. Believe it or not, I explained that it was as if I was removing some of the competition."
Suddenly, Gusta pushes the shoulders of the dozing old man. "Wake up! Wake up! You're getting excited. What shall I do with you? Even in your sleep, you get excited. You know it's not good for you." She wags her forefinger at him. "Look, Mister Great Scientist, it's time for warm milk and a biscuit. Today I've made them with chocolate, just the way you like them."
Stratagems Revisited
"Hilda, I'm really hungry this morning," calls out Ronnie, sitting at the head of the dining room table in his plush penthouse high up in one of the east-side Boulevard buildings. "Remember? I'm going on an outing a little later - to pay a visit to an old idol of mine."
"I'll put on another 3-minute egg, Mister President Ronald, along with some well-done toast, covered with healthy Omega-3 butter," comes the response from the adjoining kitchen. "I was glad to hear it when you mentioned it last night. Activity always lightens your mood."
In a few minutes, Ronnie is staring at the neatly prepared food in front of him, the moist, dark toast and the egg sitting in its cup, the top sliced off perfectly. For an instant, a picture of Nancy appears in his mind's eye. He's conflicted, yearning for her, yet at the same time knowing that the will of God must be fulfilled. He often thinks of her and always concludes with the rationalization, though the journey is tough, she'll be happy here. Then, the present surges back. Ronnie puts away his food slowly and carefully, enjoying every bite as is his wont, while intermittently sipping his coffee.
As Hilda cleans up, she chatters as usual. "You still have a couple of hours before two. Why don't you take a little nap in your easy chair?"
The idea appeals and soon Ronnie is resting with his legs outstretched atop a leather hassock. He feels good, looking forward to the visit arranged the previous week. He tries to reconstruct why he wanted it. He remembers looking at the bushy-eyed Teller. That was in 1983, just before his March speech. He spared no effort in composing that one. In listening to the scientist, he worked on how to translate what he heard into words he was comfortable with when suddenly, it came to him. He would challenge American scientists to devise an anti-missile system to protect America. Sure, it would take a decade or even two, but that was okay because the process would produce spin-off rewards along the way. So, even if America didn't get a full shield against a full-scale Soviet attack, it surely would get one that would protect against mishaps or would perhaps discourage proliferation. Yes, that was the right policy and right for the speech. In the end it didn't matter whether Teller was exaggerating or not. The important thing was that he would be issuing a challenge to American science and getting an R&D program started for some kind of shield. How proud he was of that insight. Then, one night well after his March speech, something amazing happened. He turned in for the night. Nancy hadn't yet retired, so he was alone in bed, feeling proud and comfortably relaxed. Then, as happens when in a calm self-congratulatory state, his mind began to free associate. And lo! Another insight! He imagined Jack Kennedy pulling together his 1962 space speech. Yes, of course! He also challenged American scientists, which in his case was to find a way to take a man to the moon and return him safely. We choose to go to the moon, he said. We choose to go to the moon in this decade, not because it is easy, but because it is hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win. Yes, a commendable goal. But the important point was that even if they didn't succeed in a decade, they would surely give America a strong forward push in the missile race with the Soviets. He remembers thinking at the moment he fell off to sleep: Ha! That's the same idea as mine. Later Ronnie wondered whether Kennedy was really thinking that way back in 1960. On its face, he was entering the space race in response to Sputnik flying into Earth-orbit in 1957. What Ronnie wanted to know was if Kennedy was also thinking of the "missile-gap". In other words, was the space race also a cover for the arms race? And so, that day last week, Ronnie found himself lazing about, his mind wandering. He wondered about Kennedy's intentions. Were they really similar to his? Did they also have a Machiavellian edge? Why don't you ask Jack? he heard from some inner recess of his mind. Yes, that's it. Why not ask Jack himself? And the visit was set up.
Opening his eyes, Ronnie looks at his wristwatch. It's a quarter to two, time to start on his ten-minute stroll. "Hilda, it's time for me to go."
"Have a nice time, Mister President," Hilda responds.
Ronnie steps into the elevator, virtually flies down the sixty stories, walks into the bright sunlight and starts his stroll down the Boulevard. Automatically, he pulls a pair of sunglasses from his inside jacket pocket and rests them on his nose. Quite a figure he cuts, his aviator shades against his masculine windswept face, his straight back, his chest held high and his sure-footed strides. If you didn't know better, you might guess he's a movie star. He's eager and confident as he prepares to meet a man who, in his brief life as President, stood firm in the face of the grizzly Russian bear. That, recalling specifically the Cuban Missile Crisis, made Ronnie proud to be an American. Like Kennedy, his political life was born in the Cold War, and any President, whether he was Democrat or Republican, who stood up for freedom was worthy of his admiration. If he had known before the 1960 election what sort of fiber Kennedy was made of, he might not have been so sure in his support of Nixon, Eisenhower's two-term Vice-President. Although in the end Ronnie was always, first and foremost, a pragmatist, he knew by the late fifties that the Republican Party was his future.
Stopping suddenly he turns left and gazes between buildings into the horizon, marveling at the firmament, its vastness and its beauty. He could just about make out the edge of the full moon. Coming to his mind is Kennedy's exhortation of September sixty-two. In this decade, he had said. And then he recalls that July day in 1969. He was sitting in front of a large TV screen in the Governor's Sacramento mansion. He can see himself watching Neil Armstrong exiting Apollo 11's Lunar Excursion Module and stepping onto the moon's surface, saying, That's one small step for man (sic), one giant leap for mankind. Riveted by the sights and sounds of the transmission, he can still hear Walter Cronkite proclaiming America's godly achievement and see Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin doing their now famous Moonwalk as the Stars and Stripes shimmers brilliantly from a perch on the sandy surface. He feels a shiver run through him. What power has man! What greatness! And how bold was Kennedy to ask of America what at the time seemed all but impossible!
Continuing on his way, Ronnie steps up his pace. Soon he arrives at a building, its spacious lawn filled with statues of Greek and Roman heroes. After ascending some, he finds himself standing at the entrance to the Kennedy suite. He's still for a time. In an instant of melodrama, he hears the wispy voices of a choir of angels in song. Listen Ronnie, listen:
Now say it out with pride and joy That once there was a fleeting wisp of glory Called Camelot Where once it never rained till after sundown By Eight A.M. the morning fog had flown Don't let it be forgot That once there was a spot For one brief shining moment that was known As Camelot
When the door opens, there in her glorious beauty is Jackie. For an instant, Nancy again appears to him and a feeling of yearning passes through his being. "How good of you to come by. Jack will be especially pleased." It's that inimitable deceptively girlish voice, innocent, vulnerable and so appealing. As he enters, Ronnie catches a glimpse of a wall of photos of the many men and women and the sights and scenes that shaped the mythical Kennedy moment. However, this brief reverie passes when, suddenly, the door shuts.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from DETERRENCEby Mel Month Copyright © 2010 by Mel Month. Excerpted by permission.
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