Think Tank

By Atty. Charles Jerome Ware

The Top Think Tank in the World takes its Research and findings a step and created its own Country.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lime Press LLC
• Release date: May 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9781954304987

Atty. Charles Jerome Ware

Atty. Charles Jerome Ware is a successful practicing award-winning Atty. Who has published more than 200 articles and books. He is the founder and the President of the William Monroe Trotter Legal and Political Research Institute.

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THINK TANK

(a novel)

By: Attorney Charles Jerome Ware

Think Tank

by Attorney Charles Jerome Ware

This book is written to provide information and motivation to readers. Its purpose isn’t to render any type of psychological, legal, or professional advice of any kind. The content is the sole opinion and expression of the author, and not necessarily that of the publisher.

Copyright © 2021 by Attorney Charles Jerome Ware

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or distributed in any form by any means, including, but not limited to, recording, photocopying, or taking screenshots of parts of the book, without prior written permission from the author or the publisher. Brief quotations for noncommercial purposes, such as book reviews, permitted by Fair Use of the U.S. Copyright Law, are allowed without written permissions, as long as such quotations do not cause damage to the book’s commercial value. For permissions, write to the publisher, whose address is stated below.

ISBN: 978-1-954304-98-7 (E-book)

ISBN: 978-1-954304-99-4 (Paperback)

Printed in the United States of America

Lime Press LLC

425 West Washington Street Suite 4

Suffolk, VA 23434 US

https://www.lime-press.com/

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

The author acknowledges the support of Linda G. Smith, Lucinda Frances Ware and Lucinda-Marie Ware.

CHAPTER ONE

Bzzzzzap.

Omni Institute ... please hold.

Bzzzzzap … Bzzzzzap.

Omni Institute ... one moment please.

Excuse me...uhh...excuse me, Ms. Sheppard, you need to sign out... please.

Deliberately and purposefully, with the look of a hungry tigress or lioness, Christie Sheppard turned. Then, with the athletic prowess and ease befitting her ballet and fashion model background, the tall and attractive blonde walked leisurely back to the receptionist’s desk.

The ebony-toned donut-shaped desk, with its recessed televideo phones, sparkled like the fourth of July with blinking red, white and blue lights, and the matching vase of color — rich black-eyed Susans. The desk surrounded — circled — the diminutive red head, whitish receptionist with the fit of a giant South American anaconda snake squeezing its next meal.

The televideo phone console was conspicuously absent of digital colored video screens. No need for the frail, intrepid receptionist to actually see who is calling, Christie thought, as she reached the busy desk.

The words casual elegance appropriately and accurately described Christie. Her expensive outfit of bleached Versace jeans, Mediterranean-blue Minoki blouse, orange Donna Karan scarf and brown Bessini loafer shoes was absolutely stunning.

I’m very sorry to bother you like this, Ms. Sheppard, but it’s very important that you sign out. Someone important, like your husband, might be looking for you, the receptionist said, without looking directly at her.

Not likely, Christie thought. He’s so busy working he doesn’t even know I’m still alive.

Bzzzzzap. The televideo phone’s ring sounded like a musical electric bug-zapper. Actually, it didn’t ring...it sang. The song seemed to change slightly with each call.

Omni Institute, the receptionist announced, Yes, one moment please. I’ll locate his secretary for you.

Bzzzzzap. ... Bzzzzzap.

Another call. And another. Bzzzzzap. The televideo phones were sounding like a group of individual voices now — humming melodies. Bzzzzzap...

Omni Institute, the receptionist repeated, No sir, Mr. Sokiro isn’t in today. He’s on travel. May I take a message for him?

Bzzzzzap. ... Bzzzzzap ... Bzzzzzap.

While the receptionist took calls, Christie glanced down the exquisitely appointed hallway leading into the sleek right quadrangle of the spectacular library building. The hallway headed away from the luxuriously comfortable waiting and lounge area, with its soft padded chairs and sofas, matching tables, warm decor and inviting ambience.

American architect Marie Hubbard, famous throughout the world, had designed the structure five years earlier. She was selected as the architect for the building after being recommended by Omni senior fellow and adviser Joseph Hiss.

About twenty yards down the hall Christie could see clearly through the impressive Venice-made glass entranceway to the Omni Institute’s high-powered central research library. Etched in large calligraphic letters on the special twelve-by-thirty feet photochemical glass entranceway are the words ‘Omni Library.’ The words were reproduced on the glass from a unique photographic film. Then, when the glass was dipped in acid, the exposed areas were eaten away, leaving the words engraved in the glass in three dimensions. It creates quite an impressive effect.

The American Library Association (ALA) award-winning Omni central research library, her home away from home, is the heart of the Institute. Its brain, too. In the middle or center of the massive academic and research library, she could see the carpeted and circular wooden staircase. It rose majestically to the glass-encased second floor.

Lighted Norwegian black oak bookcases ran angularly and circuitously throughout the library. They blended appropriately with the numerous computer terminals available for complex research and more practical Institute purposes.

Soft light conducive for reading descended from long ceiling lamps. The lamps resembled exaggerated teardrops. Black teardrops.

From her vantage point looking down the hallway… as best as she could tell, Christie could see maybe twenty or so doctoral degreed research associates scattered busily throughout the first floor of the library. The group comprised an equal mixture of males and females or varied races, creeds, religions, nationalities and colors. Since it was lunchtime, they were apparently working through lunch. Not an unusual occurrence at this think-tank.

Some of them sat working at long polished teakwood tables, furiously scribbling notes and citations on long yellow pads. Probably a few lawyers in that group, she mused. Others lounged in the comfortable overstuffed leather charrs and at the smaller coffee tables around the edges of the large reading room; reviewing charts, papers and books. And, of course, there were the ever-present personal computer zealots in the group. Several of them.

In the center of the room, near the librarians’ computerized information desk, a tall research associate in a white shirt, black tie and black pants, and brown horn-rimmed eyeglasses, held his stomach and abdomen area inward with both forearms. He looked as if the particular problem he was working on had disemboweled him...or was about to do so.

Suddenly, as though the picture frame had become suspended in time, the scene stopped. Everyone, everything, in the scene froze. For a brief, almost instantaneous, moment the research associates, the librarians, everyone ... stopped what they were doing.

Christie’s view of the library activity miraculously became, almost, a still picture. Suspended animation. A still picture which could have been named Think-tank Library, beginning of the millennium, 2009.

Ms. Sheppard, the receptionist interrupted.

Wait a moment. Christie replied testily.

Robert Q. Karroll and Herb B. Sheppard came into view.

The research associates and others in the library had seen them first. Felt their presence. As Karroll and Sheppard came nearer to the reception area, Herb Sheppard spoke first.

Hi, Chris dear.

He always makes it sound like a new name, ChrisDear, she thought while smiling. They kissed.

Good afternoon, Christie, Karroll said.

Hi, Bob. Are you two staying out of trouble?

Trying to get into as much trouble as we can, they jokingly said - almost simultaneously.

We’re actually preparing the agenda for our next board meeting, Herb Sheppard continued. We’re hoping that Project Oasis can be finalized at this next meeting.

I hope so too, said Christie smiling. I’m looking forward to it. Can I assume that we’ve come to terms with that lunatic slime ball prime minister, Pencho?

I yield my response to my distinguished friend, colleague and boss, Herb said — laughing and pointing to Karroll.

Pencho’s a piece of work, for sure, answered Karroll, but I think he’s finally on board now. I certainly hope so. We can’t do this deal without him ... and I’m sick and tired of having to deal with him.

To that note, I would add — so am I, said Herb as he gave his wife another kiss on the cheek.

They spoke briefly about new developments in the project, then both men continued in the direction of their respective offices.

Good thing you were standing here, Ms. Sheppard. Pm sure your husband would have asked me where you were. Will you please sign in and out from now on? the owl-eyed receptionist pleaded.

What? Christie was again watching the curious scene in the library. It had returned to normal. The animation was no longer suspended.

Ms. Sheppard, the receptionist begged, will you please help me by signing in and out?

Sure, she said - as she walked out of the building, into the sunlight, and toward the executive cafeteria across the courtyard from the library.

The buildings on the mountainside are spectacular structures of glass, wood, steel and concrete - in that order. They curve and ebb and flow with gentle easy grace around the contours of the mountain’s face. Abundant trees, flowers and plants provide natural and exquisite camouflage for the several modern buildings. Buildings for the new millennium.

One of the buildings is a long, truly impressive structure which is welded onto part of the mountain’s sheer cliff face. There is no other structure quite like it. It is built principally of steel, partially faced with mountain stone, and of green-tinted glass. This defiantly modern-looking building houses the Institute’s executive cafeteria and main conference area.

Christie met her long-time friend Margaret Prentiss in the comfortable and sumptuous lounge area of the cafeteria. Bubbly Margaret was watching the noontime edition of an international television news program. The tanned news anchorman, wearing a tailored Botany 500 suit with a blue shirt and red tie, continued his broadcast:

"Donald McJohnnsen, president of the six million-member International Trades Labor union, today challenged government officials in Mexico to permit organized labor unions for Mexican workers.

Such a step should serve to help improve the tottering Mexican economy and decrease the severe influx of illegal Mexican immigrants into the United States, said McJohnnsen. Mexico is America’s third largest trading partner, after only Canada and Japan. That country’s anemic economy threatens the collapse of more American banks than that of any other country in the world, and its economic health seriously affects other Central American countries like the extremely poor nation of Naraguia."

Shifting to a slightly different camera angle, the news anchorman continued:

"In other news...speaking of the tiny country of Naraguia … Live for War, the magazine for mercenaries, has offered $1.5 million to any Naraguian who steals or obtains from neighboring Nicaragua and flies back to Naraguia, a Russian Mi-24 attack helicopter. According to the magazine’s spokesperson, $500,000 of the money will be given to the individual or individuals who accomplish this feat, and $1 million will go into the treasury of the Naraguian government.

The magazine has called the Russian craft the world’s most lethal attack helicopter — with a 4-barrel 20-millimeter machine gun, 32 rockets, 4 laser-guided anti-tank missiles and other offensive capabilities.

Since the Naraguians have no air force, and no military helicopter pilots, one wonders how seriously this offer can be taken.

The two women began their conversation.

Hi, Marge,

Hi Chris. How was work this morning?, the lanky brunette replied.

Busy and uneventful. Are you enjoying your visit with me?

Just fine. You know how I so enjoy the peace and quiet up here in these mountains ... even though you hate it here, Margaret said smiling.

It’s not that I hate it here, Christie said, it’s just that I get tired of the same slow pace all the time. Which is why I would much rather be where you came from, right now ... in New York City.

But I’m from Greenwich, said Margaret.

You know what I mean, Christie responded - and they both laughed at the reference to Greenwich Village in New York City, where the two former fashion models and friends once lived.

They took seats at a table on the cafeteria’s terrace, which was constructed about a thousand feet above the valley floor below, and ordered two Caesar salads with glasses of ice mint tea. Down below they could see the green trees and blue lakes of the beautiful Catoctin Valley State Forest.

Beautiful day, Christie said.

It certainly is, Margaret agreed, How’s your library information project coming along?

Pretty well. It looks like we’ll be finished on schedule. We started training the library staff this morning on how to use the new computer information system. I ran into Herb and Bob Karroll on the way out of the building. They said that Project Oasis negotiations are proceeding on schedule. I’d like to finish up this information project with the library soon because I’d love to be a part of the team on Project Oasis.

That’s wonderful news ... that project is such a worthy cause. I’m excited for you and the Institute, said Margaret.

Their salad and ice mint tea — prepared by world class chefs — arrived, so they ate.

It all seems too good to be true ... Herb, Bob and the others have worked so hard to get Project Oasis off the ground. It’s unbelievable, said Christie to her friend.

Yes ... I know how you must feel, Chris. But I’m not surprised to hear of this good development. The Institute has assembled an incredibly impressive group of individuals from around the world like you and Herb ... and the others, Margaret replied. I’m looking forward to visiting you on the project.

We’ll have great fun when you come down, Christie said, It’ll be lonely for me without you ... so, please visit.

What about Prime Minister Pencho? What are you going to do about him?, Margaret asked.

We aren’t sure yet, Marge. We probably need to play it by ear ... especially since Pencho is so slippery ..., she replied.

Mark my words ... the guy’s after money, just like every other two-bit jerk dictator, Margaret said.

I’m sure you’re right, Marge. I just hope that’s all he’s after. Money ... we can give him, as long as it’s not unreasonable. Power, though, we cannot give him ... and won’t give him, Christie replied, The man is too dangerous.

"Yeah giving him power would be like giving a child a loaded gun said Margaret.

Yes ... but short of that, we need to do what we have to do in order to make this deal happen, replied Christie.

The Institute’s come a long way since its initial organization meeting in 1999, said Margaret reminiscing.

We sure have, Christie replied, Back then we only dealt with two issues —.

But ... two very important issues, Margaret offered.

"Yes ... energy and the Y2K Christie finished her sentence.

The energy crisis was an issue that the world had been forced to deal with before ... so I wasn’t too disturbed about it. But the Y2K computer glitch problem ... quite frankly ... scared the living daylights out of me because it was so new, said Margaret, and so technically complex.

We damn near had anarchy because of the Y2K, Christie replied. And the energy crisis of ‘99 didn’t help any.

No lie, Margaret added. It took a lustrum of my life — from ‘99 to ‘04 — for me to recover from the transformational experiences of the ‘99 energy crisis and the year two thousand computer bug. From gas lines to stockpiling food ... I became exhausted.

Even Herb and I did a run on our banking accounts ... to become more liquid, said Christie. We took a hundred and fifty thousand dollars out of our accounts and kept it in fire-proof safes and safety deposit boxes. We also bought the ‘Y2K Survival Bible’ and used it to order bulk foods and other supplies, kerosene lamps and solar-powered water pumps. Herb went so far as to buy a battery-powered car. It was absolutely awful.

The rise in unemployment due to the drop in business sales and production was frightening too. Because of the oil shortage and the Y2K problems, businesses suffered a twenty-seven percent decrease in sales ... which naturally caused a drop in production, Margaret added.

Plus ... fifteen percent of businesses around the world outright failed, Christie added.

Yep . . too many people and businesses mistakenly believed the year-two thousand problem would only affect their personal computers. It was clearly a lot broader than that, Margaret said.

After their meal they agreed to a shopping trip down to Washington, DC in the late afternoon. An Omni commuter helicopter could fly them down to the nation’s capitol, about a hundred miles southeast, in less than a half-hour. They would meet at helipad 2 at four-thirty. It was now one-thirty in the afternoon.

As she returned to the headquarters and library building, Christie was greeted again by the perky receptionist.

Good afternoon, Ms. Sheppard, don’t forget to sign in, she gushed.

Thanks. I won’t.

Bzzzzzap... The televideo phone sang its song.

Good afternoon. Omni Institute. May I help you, please?, the receptionist answered. Yes, Operator, I will place your call on Code 1 to Mr. Karroll. One moment please.

Momentarily forgetting to sign in, Christie immediately took notice of the call to Institute chairman Bob Karroll.

A Code 1 televideo phone call meant the caller was a head of state. Most likely the President of the United States. Code 1 status would automatically place the call on a leakproof, bug-proof direct line to Karroll’s office. Only Karroll, by pushing the correct three-digit number on his personal televideo phone, could connect this call with the caller. When the caller and the receiver of the call were in direct communication, a green light on both televideo phones would shine throughout their discussion. Verifying the confidentiality of their conversation.

CHAPTER TWO

-OMNI, MARYLAND — APRIL 26TH, 2009 —

Schuuuuu!

The intercom buzzed with authority: steady, consistent, commanding.

It’s the President of the United States, sir, Bob Karroll’s secretary said, with no overt sign of emotion or excitement.

The televideo phone came on.

The President’s color image came into Karroll’s field of vision on the screen. His face was ashen gray. He wore a white button-down shirt, but no tie or suit jacket. His wide suspenders surged with his broad, heavy chest. The red suspenders were appropriate, Karroll thought. Probably because they seemed to be mountain climber suspenders, and the President was calling from his nearby mountain retreat. Also, the President’s shirt was white like snow … mountain peak white. His hair, however, was jet black; similar to the color of the frames of his eyeglasses. Hair dye, Karroll thought again.

Bob?

Yes, Mr. President.

I’m calling you about three matters I need your help on.

Why, of course, how can I help?

Well, first of all, I’m thinking of nominating Jim Belton to the chairmanship of the International Trade Commission, and I’d like your opinion on it. I don’t think he’d have any trouble getting confirmed by the Senate, the President continued, "I need a diplomatic but forceful agency head over there to deal with all the dumping going on in the U.S. by these poorer countries?

Much of the work that the United States International Trade Commission, or ITC, does involves enforcement of the nation’s antidumping law. The law was created to stop the sale of manufactured goods and other commodities in the U.S. at prices lower than the prices or values of commodities in the countries of their origins. Under the law, the ITC can impose special custom duties or taxes, amounting to billions of dollars, on the culpable foreign manufacturers which attempt to import goods into this country for less than their fair value if an industry in the U.S. is or may be materially injured. An effective business weapon.

Even though developing countries tended to do more dumping of their products than industrialized nations, they were increasingly filing antidumping cases against the U.S. and other western nations. The President was fed up with their shenanigans and he wanted a counter assault against the primary culprits ... Mexico, Brazil, Indonesia and South Africa. The current chairman of the ITC was a hold-over from the previous wimpy administration. Although the agency head position was not ordinarily a priority appointment to make for the President, the agency’s lack of resolve to retaliate against the dumping offenders made it imperative that the President choose his own head. The ITC had shown up on the Chief Executive’s political radar screen. There had to be a change.

According to recent ITC and World Trade Organization (WTO) reports, the four developing nations had initiated more dumping cases against industrialized countries than any other members of the WTO. And the main target was