Rise To Power

By R. W. Ekman

This story depicts the lives of a young warrior cadre who fought in battle, killed the enemy, showed no mercy, no remorse, and made life-and-death sacrifices for their country.

Then after the war, they discovered a new purpose, a better life, and by applying their skills, determination, and guts, they returned home and built an empire!

They were known as The Soaring Eagles.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 12, 2024
• ISBN: 9798890612595

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Author's Message

Author's Synopsis of The Prince

Cast of Characters

Prologue

Part I

The Awakening

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Part II

The Long Climb

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Part III

The Race for Power

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Part IV

No Holds Barred

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Part V

Wrath of Power

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Chapter 78

Chapter 79

Chapter 80

Chapter 81

Chapter 82

Chapter 83

About the Author

cover.jpg

Rise To Power

R. W. Ekman

Copyright © 2024 R. W. Ekman

All rights reserved

First Edition

NEWMAN SPRINGS PUBLISHING

320 Broad Street

Red Bank, NJ 07701

First originally published by Newman Springs Publishing 2024

Rise to Power is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed to be real. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN 979-8-89061-258-8 (Paperback)

ISBN 979-8-89061-259-5 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

To my beautiful daughter, your strength, determination, struggle, and encouraging words gave me the inspiration to write this story.

Finish your book, Dad.

Danette Christine

June 9, 1981 to September 24, 2017

The children are mankind's last hope.

They dove out of airplanes to fight on foreign soil. They killed with no mercy no remorse to defend freedom. Then…they returned and built an Empire!

They were known as The Soaring Eagles.

Author's Message

Astory is more than words on a page. A story has imagined sounds, smells, pictures, change, and people, but mostly, it should show passion and lasso the interest of the reader and make them wonder. This story depicts courage and perseverance while querying the patience and prudence of the reader.

In the spring of 1993, it was announced by CERN that the World Wide Web was free for everyone to use and develop, with no fees. This story references the internet—its launch—and the race for dominance, but it is also about specific developmental events such as the computer and support technology businesses during a twenty-year timeline, 1980–1999.

Rise to Power was written in parts and over time when significant changes occurred on a worldwide basis. It also projects these changes within its fiction and occasional reference to the real world. This evocative story depicts the lives of a group of young soldiers, who fought in battle, killed the enemy, showed no mercy, and made life and death sacrifices for their country. After Vietnam, they imagined a new purpose, a better life, and by applying their skills, determination, guts, and knowledge, they became successful businessmen, and then one rose to political power with a much different purpose in the real world.

Author's Synopsis of The Prince

At the beginning of a few selected chapters there are quotes from Niccolò Machiavelli's book The Prince. I have provided a short synopsis of Machiavelli for those who may not be familiar with his writings.

Niccolò Machiavelli was born 3 May, 1469 and died 21 June, 1527. He became an Italian diplomat, author, philosopher and historian who lived during the Renaissance. He is best known for his book The Prince which was written in 1513 at the age of 44, however, it was not published until 1532 five years after his death.

Some view Machiavelli as a teacher of evil or perhaps cruelty, others view his works as more of a philosopher and pragmatist. Machiavelli divides princedoms into those that are acquired and those that are inherited because this defines his basic premise of entitlement. He argues that the more difficult it is to acquire control over a state, the easier it is to hold on to it. His reason for this is that the fear of a new Prince is stronger than the love for a hereditary one; hence, the new Prince, who relies on the dread of punishment by his subjects will succeed, but a Prince who expects his subjects to keep their promises during a time of peril, will find that they will decline to serve as promised.

The new Prince must rely on his own virtue, but if virtue is to enable him to acquire a state, it must have a new meaning distinct from the New Testament virtue of seeking peace and being morally good. Virtue according to Machiavelli is a set of personal characteristics that a Prince must cultivate in order to be flexible and rule effectively. Machiavelli's notion of virtue requires the Prince to be concerned foremost with the art of war and to seek not merely security but also glory, for glory is a necessity. Machiavelli's view is that liberality does not aid a Prince because the recipients may not be grateful, and lavish displays necessitate taxing of the Prince's subjects, who will in turn despise him for it. Thus, a Prince should not be concerned if he is held to be stingy because this vice enables him to effectively rule. Stingy is good and it compliments his belief that it is better to be feared than loved.

Machiavelli writes that a Prince should not be concerned with being held cruel as long as the cruelty is well used. Contrarily, Machiavelli writes that one cannot call it virtue to kill one's citizens, betray one's friends, to be without faith, without mercy and without religion. Virtue, according to Machiavelli, aims to reduce the power of fortune over human affairs because fortune keeps men from relying on themselves. Machiavelli cannot simply dismiss or replace the traditional notion of moral virtue which gets its strength from the religious beliefs of ordinary people. His own virtue of mastery coexists with traditional moral virtue yet also makes use of it. A Prince who possesses the virtue of mastery can command fortune and manage people to a degree never before thought possible. It has been said that Republics need the kind of leaders that Machiavelli describes in The Prince. These Princes in a republic cannot govern in accordance with justice, because those who get what they deserve from them do not feel any obligation, nor do those who are left alone feel grateful. Thus, a Prince in a republic, will have no partisan friends unless he learns to use violence to make examples of the enemies of the republic and not of himself.

Throughout his works, Machiavelli sees politics as defined by the difference between the ancients and the moderns. The ancients are strong, the moderns weak. The moderns are weak he claims because they have been formed by Christianity, he criticizes the Roman Catholic church and Christianity itself. For Machiavelli the church is the cause of Italy's disunity; he claims the clergy is dishonest and leads people to believe that Christianity glorifies suffering and that makes the world flaccid.

In summary one could conclude that Niccolò was not a bad or evil man like many claim but in simple terms he was a stone cold pragmatist because he saw the world as arcane and unforgiving. Surprisingly, in a letter to Francesco Vettori in April 1527, only two months before his death, he wrote, I love my fatherland more than my soul. Was this a form of moribund patriotism or insanity?

I hope this short synopsis has shed some light on a political philosophy which may have been the catalyst that guided Stuart Rose through his midlife development. You be the judge!

Cast of Characters

Stuart Rose, lead character

Vincent, Vinnie Laruso, aka Top

Ann Helms, aka Annie Helms-Rose, Stuart's wife

Amy LeBlanc, wife of Vinnie Laruso

Douglas Fairchild Helms, Annie's father

Lizzy Rose, Stuart's daughter

Billy Rose, Stuart's oldest son

Logan Rose, Stuart's twin son

Mason Rose, Stuart's twin son

Dorothy, the twin's nanny

Justin Helms, brother of Annie, Colorado Supreme Court justice

John Rose, Stuart's father, aka Alessandro Johnathon Rose

Alega Batrone, marketing director at MicroNet

Alexa Megalos, girlfriend of Stuart

Alexandria Megalos, mother of Alexa

Darius Megalos, father of Alexa

Julian Megalos, brother of Alexa

Mary Maldone, aka Miss Mary

Michael, Mikey Rose, Stuart's brother

Y.S. Lee, aka Leo, Korean businessman and billionaire

Liliana Alberghetti-Rose, Michael Rose's wife

Sir Nigel Ainsworth, member of parliament, chairman, MicroNet

Diana Ainsworth-Stillwell, Nigel's niece

E.W. Buddington, Sir Edwin's private lawyer

Victor Lasorda, VP and general manager, Quiddle

Jules Reichert, director of engineering, Quiddle

Blake Harrison, senior developer, MicroNet

Jacqueline Perot, CFO, Quiddle

Diana Larsson, Stuart's law-student girlfriend

Dr. Mueller, psychiatrist at Landstuhl hospital

Doktor Karl Schäfer, orthopedic specialist, Winterthur Switzerland

Klara Schäfer, orthopedic practitioner

Hans Schärer, caretaker of Lucerne home

Margarete Schärer, caretaker of Lucerne home

Carlo Candela, aka BuzzBook

Kimberly, waitress at Black Barts

Ms. Pricilla Washington, EEO compliance officer

Stepon Brazinski CEO Quiddle,

Larry Pagel, EVP and COO, Quiddle

Robert Janes, CFO, Quiddle

Sir E. Worthington Manville, senior managing director, Bank of England

Margaret, Sir Edwin Manville's assistant

Madelaine Wheatly, Stuart's executive assistant

Lorenzo Delgado, Stuart's lawyer

Luca Bianchi, Delgado's assistant

Jimmy Jimenez, aka Jimmy the Trigger

Martel Jimenez, Jimmy's brother

Kate Kasper, Vinnie's assistant and VP of sales, NY Office

Clarence, Willoughby, Stuart's driver

Abigail Willoughby, daughter of Clarence

Nancy Jennings, flight attendant

Humphrey P. Schwartz III, acting DA, Audoran

Whitney J. Dickel, Federal judge, Denver County

Sergeant Willis Friday, detective, Audoran Police

Lieutenant Robert McCready, Audoran Police

Morton Kingsfield, president, DTI

Annette Richards, Kingsfield's secretary

Lance Denison, VP and GM, LEI

Howard Hollings, general manager, DTI

Kenji Tanaka, president, American division of LEI

Hero Ito, president, Nagoya

John Dorn, IRS auditor

Robert Murphy, IRS auditor

Bernard (Bernie) Blanco, the mayor of Audoran

Barry, security guard at DTI

Marco Bianchi, bodyguard

Vito Bianchi, bodyguard

Anthony Intagliato, the Bianchi's cousin, aka The Shovel

Alphonso Wiggum, Chief of Police, Audoran

President Gregory Rush, POTUS

Mary Rush, wife of POTUS

Rich Rainy, VPOTUS

Grace King, POTUS's executive assistant

Clara Huntington, key site observer

Captain Bennington, American Airlines pilot

Sister Mary Margaret, teacher, Saint Raymond's School

Father Delbert Doyle, principal, Saint Raymond's School

Braxton Hunter, presidential campaign manager

Helen D'Angelo, campaign staffer

Horace Prichard, chief of staff

Malcom Priest, POTUS, hopeful

Yonica Pavlov, campaign staffer

Guido Lagosia, commander of the CCC

Katherine Henderson, assistant to Stuart

Nelson Fox, attorney general, AGOTUS

Heinrich Weber, terrorist

Klaus Kline, terrorist

Yonica Pavlov, campaign staffer

Guido Lagosia, CCC commander and enforcer

Katherine Henderson, assistant to Stuart as VP

Mary Ellen Hubbard-Barrett, assistant to President

Louie Lamperini, AGOTUS

Wilbur Reck, US senator

Brainerd Goolsby, the brainless ghoul of the hill

Buzz Baker, second chief of staff under the President

Will Willis, first chief of staff under the President

Jacques Lamarque, national security advisor

Sidney K. Jackson, Special Agent, Secret Service

Bruce Baxter, Special Agent, Secret Service

Donald (Don) Dahl, VPOTUS

Evelyn Radcliffe, press secretary

Max von Schüler, head of the Secret Service

Franka Massarelli, Stuart's personal assistant

Reese Le Royce, security specialist

Prologue

In the beginning a man created the World Wide Web. It has its foundation in the work that Sir Timothy Berners-Lee did in the 1980s at CERN, the European organization for nuclear research. Sir Timothy, aka TimBL, is best known as the inventor of the World Wide Web. He is a graduate of The Queen's College at Oxford in 1976 and an English engineer and computer scientist.

He had been looking for a way where physicists could share information around the world without all using the same types of hardware and software. This culminated in his 1989 paper proposing a large hypertext database with typed links. While the initial proposal failed to gain much momentum within CERN, it was later expanded by another document proposing a World Wide Web of documents, connected via hypertext links. World Wide Web was adopted as the project's name by following other previous rejected proposals, one being The Information Mesh.

A 1990 proposal described the concept of the Web as hypertext, which was a way to link and access information of various kinds as a web of nodes in which the user can browse at will. Potentially, hypertext provides a single user-interface to many large classes of stored information such as reports, notes, databases, computer documentation, and online systems help. He proposed the implementation of a simple scheme to incorporate several different servers of machine-stored information already available at CERN, including an analysis of the requirements for information access needs by experiments.

The document envisaged the Web as being used for a variety of purposes, such as; document registration, online help, project documentation, news schemes and so on. However, Tim Berners-Lee and Robert Cailliau, a Belgian engineer and computer scientist, had the foresight to avoid being too specific about its potential uses. In 1990, working on a computer built by NeXT, the firm Steve Jobs launched in the mid-80s, Berners-Lee developed the first Web browser software called, none other than, WorldWideWeb, WWW. By the end of that year, he had a working prototype of the Web running on a server at CERN.

Below shows what the first browser looked like running on the NeXTStep operating system. Very basic but it was a monumental achievement.

In August 1991, the World Wide Web went live to the world, but, there was no fanfare in the global press. None! In fact, most people around the world didn't even know what the Internet was. Even if they did, the revolution the Web ushered in was still but a twinkle in Tim Berners-Lee's eye. Instead, the launch was marked by way of a short post from Berners-Lee on the alt.hypertext newsgroup, which is still available to this day and shows how basic the presentation was.

The reason that the project started was it was thought that much academic information should be freely available to anyone. It aimed to allow information sharing within internationally dispersed teams and the dissemination of information by support groups. The post explained how to download the browser and suggested to users that they begin by trying Berners-Lee's first public Web page, at the following link: http://info.cern.ch/hypertext/WWW/TheProject.html. If you visit this site, you can observe that there was no graphic illustration at that time only text. Although that page is no longer available, a version is available at the later link and it was a beginner's guide to this new and future mind blowing technology. From then on, things began developing rapidly. The first image was uploaded in 1992, with Berners-Lee choosing a picture of the French parodic rock group Les Horribles Cernettes.

The actual launch was in 1993. It was announced by CERN that the World Wide Web was free for everyone to use and develop, with no fees payable, a key incentive for the transformational impact it would soon have on the world. While a number of browser applications were developed during the first two years of the Web, it was Mosaic which arguably had the most impact. It was launched in April 1993 and by the end of that year was available for Unix, the Commodore Amiga, Windows and Mac OS. The first browser to be freely available and accessible to the public, it inspired the birth of the first commercial browser, Netscape Navigator, while Mosaic's technology went on to form the basis of Microsoft's Internet Explorer.

The growth of those easy-to-use Web browsers coincided with the growth of the commercial ISP business, with companies like Compuserve bringing increasing numbers of people from outside the scientific community on to the Web; and that was the start of the Web we know today. What was initially a network of static HTML documents has become a constantly changing and evolving information organism, powered by a wide range of technologies. Now, the Web has become a part of our everyday lives, something we take for granted, a tool we access at home, on the move, on our phones and on TV. It's changed the way we communicate and has been a key factor in the way the Internet has transformed the global economy and societies around the world.

The decision of CERN to make the World Wide Web completely open and free has been perhaps its greatest gift to the world. So why write this Prologue and provide information about the Web's birth? Well, because so many people do not have some basic facts about this space age tool which they use every day and how it came to be. Even worse, some may think it was always there. For me I can clearly remember long before the Internet existed, or the Apple II; before laptop computers and cell phones. There is the possibility that you are reading this as an e-book, or ordered it online, which means you used the very same space age tool to get it, and that tool is what I have provided a few basic important facts about and hopefully for your understanding.

(Reference sources: Insider, thenextweb.com, CERN publications,

https://info.cern.ch/hypertext/WWW/TheProject.html

https://home.web.cern.ch/science/computing/birth-web,

https://thenextweb.com/,

https://home.cern/,

https://home.cern/science/computing/birth-web/short-history-web,

https://www.history.com/this-day-in-history/world-wide-web-

launches-in-public-domain

https://www.businessinsider.com)

Part I

The Awakening

The first method for estimating the intelligence of a ruler is to look at the men he has around him.

—Niccolò Machiavelli, 1469–1527

Chapter 1

~ 1980 ~

The flight from Gatwick to Denver was nonstop, on time, and full, except for first class. It was the holiday season and Stuart Rose wasn't looking forward to the weekend. He had just finished reading The Prince by Niccolò Machiavelli. He decided he needed guidance. He thought of his last two weeks abroad and sipped his drink as he glared out the window at the oncoming sunset.

A voice came over the intercom and filled his head set. Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking, we are currently at 29,000 feet and will begin our initial decent into Stapleton in about five minutes. Denver reports clear skies, temperature of 28 degrees, visibility is 100 miles, and winds are out of the west at 2 knots. On behalf of our Denver based flight crew, I would like to thank you for flying with us. If Denver is your final destination, We hope you have a very pleasant stay. If you are going onto Honolulu with us, and wish to deplane, you must remain in the Jetway because of customs regulations, we will only be on the ground for about a half hour, please make sure you have your boarding pass with you, happy holidays.

Stuart tipped his glass, took one last gulp, and glanced out the window to view the sunset. Better get another before we land he thought. Been a long flight.

Oh, miss!

Yes.

I'll have another before we land.

Of course, Black label on the rocks?

Stuart stared back out the window, obviously in deep thought.

Right, he muttered and crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat to relax.

Stuart was the older and larger of two brothers who hadn't seen each other for several years. At forty-five the former college football player was a seasoned veteran of the sales game. He was a driven executive and a fast track salesman, with creditors, obligations, deals pending, a new boss, a mortgaged condo and a new BMW that he hadn't driven in two weeks. He was finished with this trip only to repack and start another. He wore a stylish navy double-breasted blazer with gold buttons and a pale blue buttoned-down shirt opened at the neck exposing a gold chain. He had packed only two additional suits this trip but had a dozen more in his closet. His over the shoulder bag was showing its mileage, and his diet had once again been put on hold. Stuart was outgoing, a talker, but diplomatic. He also had an opinion about sports, politics, religion, feminism, discrimination, the rising crime rate, and just about any subject you would care to talk about. He had just been passed over again for the sales manager's position after six years with the same company in spite of being named its top salesman the past three years in a row. He was a closer for sure. He flew first class deliberately!

A flight attendant with jet-black hair combed straight back into a ponytail, shapely tanned legs, and a tight skirt that hugged her shapely tush stood at the isle. Here's your drink, she said with a smile as she leaned over the empty isle seat allowing only a glance of tan cleavage and no ring on her left hand.

Thanks, he said as he took a sip, leaned back in his seat, and crossed his legs. I appreciate the fine service and your company during this trip, makes it a lot easier when there is someone to talk to. These long trips can be real boring.

"It's been nice talking with you too. Oh, by the way, we will start our approach in a few minutes, can I do anything else before we land?

No, thanks. By the way do you live in Denver?

Yes.

Where? he said as he took a sip, uncrossed his legs, and leaned in her direction.

Cherry Creek, she said with a smile.

Really, Cherry Creek is nice, real nice. Have you lived there long?

Two years, before that I lived in Los Angeles but was able to transfer to Denver.

Stuart thought for a second. Do you get off here, or are you onto Honolulu?

Here for tonight and tomorrow, and then Sunday night I'm on the two o'clock back to Gatwick.

Oh I see, been a flight attendant long?

Eight years, and I just started the international flights last fall, before that it was all domestic routes. But I love it, and I wouldn't consider anything else. It's the variety that keeps me in this job. London one day Paris the next.

I see.

Do you fly abroad much? she was fishing.

Lately quite often, I have been assigned to the European accounts. My big mission is to increase business. He reached into his pocket and gave her his card.

She looked at it, put it in her pocket. Really! she said as she leaned closer.

Oh, miss, a raspy elderly female voice snapped from the first row.

Sorry, I have to attend to this lady. She's been an experience the whole trip. She doesn't fly much, she said in a whisper.

Right! he said as he winked and took another sip.

She attended the elderly lady in seat 1A and occasionally glanced Stuart's way with a smile to confirm she would rather be talking to him. He looked back out the window at the sunset and began thinking again. Home again for two days, or was it home. Probably should have took that sales job in Los Angeles last month after being passed over again, but only fifteen grand raise, no better car and Los Angeles too, no thanks. He still couldn't believe that they wanted him to fly coach with 75 percent travel, and no commission structure just salary. Maybe this was typical of a Japanese company he thought to himself. Then there was the president; he really couldn't communicate that well either. Japanese too. Difficult to understand. Lance was a straight shooter though, no doubt about that, but he was one of only a few American managers. That bothered Stuart.

As the sun set behind the range, a voice that sounded like she was reading from her notes came over the intercom. Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has turned on the fasten your seat belt sign for our final decent into Denver. Please see that your seat belt is firmly fastened around you, your tray table is in an upright position, and all glasses are turned into the flight attendants. We will be arriving Denver shortly.

Stuart sat straight up and gazed out the window enjoying the final moments of the flight. The final decent was almost as if he was flying in a glider. To him the flight was smooth and forgiving. It was a beautiful sunset to be sure. He could just barely make out Pikes Peak and the shadowing front of the south range about fifty miles to his left. The shadows and a pale sky formed the horizon. Stuart took one last sip and studied the sunset. Then suddenly the Sun disappeared and the sky illuminated into a radiant pattern of orange and red bursts. The aura devoured the heavens and the topography became obscure as if it no longer deserved attention. A few seconds later a cluster of scattered white fluffy clouds to the south radiated a brilliant red from their bottoms as if they were on fire with the spirit of creation. Moments later the fluff became gray and their bottoms graduated to a soft purple and the landscape now was indiscernible against the shadows of the range. As he handed over his empty glass to a flight attendant and glanced back out the window, the once-brilliant red and orange bursts gently became gray and more distant as the horizon faded. The clouds to the south now appeared as lost drifting puffs of smoke with little purpose. The apogee of the day was over.

*****

As the 747 pulled up to the gate, Stuart glanced up and saw the flight attendant walk through the left door way looking right at him with a smile. He made lip movements and sign language. She shrugged her shoulders, smiled and indicated that she didn't understand. He raised his right hand just below his lips, made a talking motion and then pointed to her. She got the message. He grabbed his over the shoulder bag with his right hand, and his briefcase with his left and started for the door. She was standing in the door way saying goodbye to the passengers but glancing in his direction every chance she got. As he approached, he knew he wouldn't have any time to chat, his eyes in her direction he was now at the door way.

I would like to buy you dinner. I'll be at the Timbers. Join me?

She smiled. Okay, thanks for flying with us.

Stuart stepped through the door with a smile and walked up the plank, then down the stairs and through the long hallway to immigration and customs. Shouldn't be long, he thought, only a few ahead of him and three isles were open. Stuart cleared immigration and customs quickly. He picked up his bags and placed them on a cart and proceeded toward the elevator. The elevator door opened and Stuart stepped into the main concourse. Stapleton was jammed, it was 5:30 p.m. and half the world wanted to go somewhere and the other half just landed. He felt the jet lag, feet heavy, eyes straining, and brain not in sync with the body movements, but how could he be tired at 5:30 on a Friday night with only two days at home and then off again. At least they could have let him have the whole weekend he thought as he passed the bookstand and stepped into the entrance of the Timbers.

Smoking or no smoking? asked an elderly black lady in a fresh starched waitress uniform and gum soled white shoes.

Doesn't matter, Stuart replied as he pushed his cart to the side and grabbed his briefcase. Give me a table where I can keep an eye on the cart I just arrived from England.

Certainly, sir, please follow me, she said as she led him just around the corner and to the only vacant window table. I'll put the cart behind the register with me. It'll be safe there, so don't you worry none, just relax.

Thank you, I appreciate that, Stuart replied.

Don't understand why the management is so strict about carts in this restaurant any ways, after all its an airport! Not the Ritz, she said as she handed him a menu.

Coffee?

Ah, I think I'll have iced tea with lemon, and I'll wait a few minutes before I order, I'm expecting someone.

I'll have someone get your tea shortly, she said as she poured him a glass of ice water and returned to the front by the register and moved his cart by the register for safe keeping.

Stuart glanced out the window and stared at the planes lined up at the gates in the dark. Must be a better way to make a living he thought as he sipped his ice water. Seventy-five grand just doesn't cut it anymore, especially with no decent commission structure, probably should have taken that job in Los Angeles. He turned and scanned the noisy restaurant. It was busy. A lot of tourists.

*****

About fifteen minutes passed, and he decided to order.

She's a no show, he mumbled to himself with a disgusted look on his face. But no big deal he thought, he didn't really need any company tonight anyway, and she probably didn't either. After all, it was after midnight in London.

He motioned for the waitress and placed the menu back down on the table.

What can I get you, sir? a waitress said in a soft voice with an Asian accent.

I'll have the filet, medium, baked potato with sour cream, no butter, and the tossed salad with ranch. I'll skip the desert.

She bowed her head. Thank you, sir, more tea?

Please.

A few minutes passed. Stuart reached in his briefcase and pulled out a bulky mobile phone and called his number. The number rang twice, no answer, on the third ring a beep sounded, This is Stuart Rose. I'm unable to come to the phone right now, but please leave a message when you hear the beep, and I will return your call just as soon as I can. During the message, he entered his code. Beep. Hi, Stu, it's me, call me when you get in, chow! Valerie, he said in a low tone and with a surprised look on his face. Wonder what the hell she wants.

Beep. How'd you cut the deal with Fairchild? We sure needed that account, call me!

Beep. Oh, Stu, ah, I forgot, there's been a change of plans for your next trip on Sunday, call me!

Beep. Hi, Stuart, this is Lance Denison with Logic International (LEI) in Los Angeles. After your visit last month, we've had a new development and would like you to discuss another option, so please give me a call soon. My number again is area three-ten, five, five, five, nine thousand, extension two hundred. It's Friday afternoon, about 2:00 p.m. Denver time. Thanks again, I'll look forward to your call.

The waitress brought Stuart his filet and set it on the table.

Famished, Stuart began to eat quickly and glance around the busy restaurant. He noticed that there must have been some kind of chartered ski group in town from overseas, mostly West German's and French, he thought, from the sound of the mixed languages. Probably going to Telluride or Crested Butte. Aspen and Vale too close and expensive. Breckenridge? Na, too close for a plane ride. He continued to eat his dinner and listened to the mixed rowdy crowd as they drank and partied waiting for their next flight to the slopes.

*****

Stuart looked at his watch; it was 6:30 p.m., and the filet was a fair dinner for airport food considering he picked at the plane food during the last ten hours, too much sodium, he didn't need it. It was now obvious that she was a no show. Well, no matter, he thought, he needed a good night's sleep, better call Sam in the morning and see what that brings. Interesting about LA, and what they have in store after more than a month, he wondered.

Stuart paid the check, then pushed his cart out of the restaurant and took the elevator down to the lower arrival deck. He then grabbed his bags and walked over to the bus stop and caught the shuttle bus to the long term parking area.

Where to, sir? a black bus driver asked as he adjusted the radio station that was already playing sole music.

B2 please.

We may be getting some snow tonight or tomorrow, been away on business long? the black driver asked politely as he glanced in the rear mirror at Stuart.

Not in the mood for conversation, Stuart just sat in the empty bus directly behind the driver staring into the dark wondering what was in store for the next day. He couldn't wait to get to the condo, turn on Larry King Live and mix another drink, relax and then maybe crash.

After a bit of silence, he said, Well, good for skiing, I guess, my cars at B2, and fumbled through his briefcase for his key ring.

Right, the bus driver mumbled as he turned the radio up and drove toward the long-term parking lot.

A few moments of silence passed again while Stuart listened to the music and glanced uncaring at a newspaper that was left on the seat next to him. B2! the bus driver yowled into the microphone as he turned up the radio and danced his way to the door as if he intended to help Stuart with his bags.

Thanks, but I gottem.

Hey, you take care now, the bus driver yowled again as he stepped back and slid into his seat tapping his hand on the steering wheel to the beat of the music. Stuart slowly stepped off the bus, thanked the driver and stood in a blank stare looking for his car below the B2 sign. As the driver drove off, the radio playing the sole harmonica sound of Jimmy Reed began to fade away in the dimly lit parking lot.

I know it's here somewhere, Stuart mumbled to himself. With his over-the-shoulder bag on his right shoulder, briefcase in his right hand, and checked-through bag in his left, he started looking. Cars were parked in every available space. He could feel a cold breeze starting to blow the debris about the parking lot as he walked back and forth, back and forth. About three minutes passed. There was an eerie feeling about now, and the silence started to bother him. He started to break out in a sweat and mumbled, CRS or what, but there was no one to hear his frustration. Shit, he blurted out loud as he walked for the third time between the B2 and B3 signs, but there was no one to hear his frustration. I know I parked under B2, he muttered again just has he passed the B3 sign. The cold breeze graduated to a cold wind, and it was blowing right in his face. He could feel his hands and face becoming chilled. He looked around, there was no one. The parking lot was starting to give him the creeps. He tightened both fists around his bag and briefcase, bowed his head to avoid the cold wind, then turned around and proceeded back to B3 again.

Suddenly he heard an engine start behind him, it sounded like a van or maybe a truck. It kept idling but he could hear no movement. He decided not to turn around and look. He started to walk faster. He could hear it still idling. The sweat was now dripping off his nose and down the middle of his chest. His back felt cold and clammy and he could feel his legs becoming weak. His sixth sense told him there may be trouble ahead. He walked faster. The luggage was now becoming a burden as his arms were beginning to tighten up and the over the shoulder bag kept slipping of his shoulder at the rapid pace. He heard an engine race four or five times, then an idle continued. He could still hear it. What or who was it, and what did they want? Then suddenly he glanced over his shoulder and back at an angle with his head bowed he could see the BMW hidden directly under the B3 sign behind a Ford F350. It was about fifty or sixty feet away. He heard the engine roar again. He began running.

Damn cowboys and their trucks, he mumbled with a sign of relief as he approached his pride and joy. He grabbed his keys and pressed his remote control to dismantle the alarm system. Three chirps sounded. That meant the system was activated some time during the past two-week period. Stuart opened the trunk, threw in his bags and briefcase, slammed the trunk, and ran around to opened the door. He fumbled with his keys as his hand shook. He finally opened the door, sat down, and slammed the door. He immediately pressed the auto lock, started the engine, and drove off with the rear tires squealing. He looked in his rearview mirror. Nothing. Everything seemed okay, he thought. He reached to turn on the radio but noticed a pair of headlights in his rearview mirror as he proceeded toward the exit. Then suddenly without notice there was another pair of headlights dead ahead of him. He panicked. The head lights straight ahead seemed to stop at the intersection of the lane for ‘B' stalls and the lane outbound toward the exit area. His palms were starting to sweat, then suddenly the headlights dead ahead flashed their lights on and off. He was approaching very fast. No way he was going to slow down. He stepped on the gas and glanced at the digital dash. 30 mph. The lights flashed again. He didn't slow down. Suddenly he noticed the pair of headlights in his rearview mirror again as he sped by the parked cars in lane B. The lights in front became closer. There was enough room to go around them but it would be tight. He eased on the brake as if to indicate he was going to stop. Then suddenly as he approached the parked headlights, he slammed the gas pedal to the floor and sped around the parked car in the B lane with the back of his BMW fishtailing as he made a sharp right turn toward the main exit. The well-lit exit area was in his view. He looked in his rearview mirror. Nothing. He took a deep breath and glanced at the digital dash again. 50 mph. He pressed firmly on the breaks and skidded up to one of several automatic exit gates. He pressed the auto window button and crammed in his prepaid ticket. As the gate went up he pressed the gas pedal to the floor and headed toward the dimly lit main road which leads into I-70. He could now see I-70 about five or six hundred yards in the distance. He saw the green light in the distance. It turned yellow, and then red just as the BMW approached the intersection. He did not stop but looked ahead and both ways. The BMW made a series of turns and then proceeded up the on ramp toward I-70. As he made his approach, the traffic was heavy and fast, but safe. The BMW was now just another car going nowhere. He reached and turned on the radio as the BMW melted into traffic. Leaning back in his seat, Stuart took a deep breath and wiped his forehead and neck with a handkerchief as he noticed a sign indicating I-225 One Mile.

Chapter 2

The last hangover had to have been at least eight, maybe nine, months ago when he lost the Philips account. What a nightmare that was. Ten million a year in sales down the tubes because some asshole decided that piece parts made in Mexico would be a better deal. He knew he was going to have a rough day when his left eye wouldn't open all the way. He strained to sit up at the edge of the bed and glanced at the clock with his right. 6:22 a.m. and he didn't even set the alarm.

He slowly got out of bed and limped toward the bathroom leaning against each wall in order to assure he would not fall flat on his face. He looked in the mirror with his left eye partially open. Shit, even my hair hurts, he mumbled.

His once fashionable dark hair with a hint of gray around his temples stood straight out in every direction. The dark circles under his blood shot pale blue eyes were an indication that he was not only in need of some immediate medical attention, but he was also showing his age. The travel, booze, and stress was getting to him in the worst way. His nose was dry and caked so crispy he could hardly breath. He would have preferred to breathe through his mouth but his throat felt like he had been stranded in some desert with only radiator water or cactus juice to drink. He had a piercing pain that started in the middle of his forehead and graduated to a steady throb all the way back to the base of his skull. His neck felt like it should be in a cast to keep him from turning his head and putting any additional stress on his eyeballs. There was no doubt about it, he had to have nourishment immediately.

Stuart slowly and gently brushed his teeth with toothpaste and warm water. Some of it dribbled off his chin. He didn't care. He reached into the sink, without bending over, and cupped his right hand to bring fresh cool water to his face. The thought of blood rushing to his head was unbearable. Most of the water dribbled from his shaking right hand onto his chest as he leaned on his left hand to maintain his balance. The water seemed to help, but the battle to get to the icebox was the next immediate thought on his mind. Gaining momentum, he staggered carefully and quietly toward the kitchen. He did not dare turn on the fluorescent light and relied only on the twenty-five-watt bulb that illuminated the inside of the refrigerator. Leaning on the door with his right elbow he slowly reached for the half gallon of milk that he vaguely remembered buying at the Quickway on his way home last night. The milk soothed his throat and felt cool to his stomach. He took another gulp, closed the door and made his way to a bar stool just off the kitchen. He just sat there sipping the milk out of the carton and staring at the shadows as he reached for the aspirin that lay in a flat candy dish with a variety of vitamins and assorted energy supplements. After a moment or two, he thought it may be a good idea to try and swallow a few of the other.

*****

About twenty minutes had passed and Stuart was able to grab only a quick warm shower, he decided it would be better to wait on the shave. Partially dressed he made his way to the living room and turned on the TV.

The weather will take a turn for the worst today and tonight with a slight chance of flurries today, and increasing possibility of heavy snow in the foothills. Mountains are currently experiencing heavy snow and Breckenridge reports at least four inches of new snow since midnight. The high today in Denver should be about thirty degrees, with intermittent sunshine. Lows tonight will be in the low teens in the mountains and low to midtwenties for the foothills and greater Denver area. Now back to the seven o'clock report.

Stuart mentally tuned out the TV as he opened the drapes to get a glimpse of the weather for himself. It was overcast and there were some light flurries but they were not sticking to the ground. He thought it was about time that he attempted a shave, get dressed, and prepare for Saturday.

*****

Howard Hallings was a stern man. In his own mind, he deserved everything he had worked so hard for over the past twenty years. He eulogized work and ignored his family on a regular basis, especially when a deal was pending. His sole motivation was the close. To him it was better than sex. It was 7:25 a.m. Saturday morning and Howard had already been pouring over reports at the office for about an hour. He leaned forward and turned on his lap top 286 computer and then reached for his calculator. Sales were somewhat up but finance was saying that accounts receivable were past due as a general trend. He pulled up the potential Fairchild account. He wondered how Stuart was able to negotiate twenty-five thousand pieces a month at the net thirty price. He didn't even remember pulling off that kind of a deal himself. That meant that if everything went okay with the Fairchild deal it should generate about ten million this next fiscal year. He sat there and stared at the numbers, then began to become extremely excited and blurted out, Fucking outstanding!

He had to call Stuart right now. Howard picked up the phone and set the receiver on his shoulder and punched one of twenty programmed select buttons. There were a series of rings.

Stuart Rose, what can I do for you? He sniffed as he picked up the cordless phone in the bathroom.

Stu, Howard here! Sorry to bother you so early in the morning, but I've been going over the Fairchild account. I can't believe it, you really scored big time. Twenty-five thousand pieces at net thirty. How the hell did you do that? There was a short pause.

Ah, Howard, it's 7:30, and I'm just barely mobile. Jet lag, you know. Besides, last night was a long night, and to top it all off, I had car trouble going home from the airport. I didn't get in until about 2:00 a.m.

This is fantastic, you know the old man is going to have an orgasm when he finds this out. Especially after the close you made on the West Coast last month.

Ah, Howard, can I call you back I was just stepping into the shower when you called?

Stu, do you know how important this is. I got to have some details as soon as possible. Why don't you drop by the office in the next hour or so.

Ah, well, I thought I had today off since I was leaving tomorrow for the East Coast to talk to the Koreans.

It can't wait, Stu. Howard's voice was firm!

Right, no problem. What an asshole, he thought has he shook his head. Give me a couple of hours, and I'll be in the office, okay?

Can you make it before ten?

Well, I'll be there, but I have to get something to eat and check out my car first.

Okay.

Right, talk at you, Howard!

*****

The cold air felt good as Stuart drove toward the Denver Technological Center with the windows partially open and the heater off. There was hardly any traffic. The flurries had stopped and the Sun was trying to peak through the scattered clouds. He glanced at the dash. 10:23. The stop at IHOP for breakfast was smart thinking. It helped clear his head which was starting to feel better. He kept wondering why Howard wanted a meeting on Saturday especially since he was going to the East Coast tomorrow afternoon to try and close a deal with Gingsung International. He was probably going to get a lecture about the Koreans. What could Howard possibly tell him about the Koreans that he already didn't know. Besides, Koreans don't like Jews, anyway, and the feeling is mutual. Hallings didn't sound Jewish, but he said his mother's maiden name was Stein, and his father's was Goldberg before he changed it. Why would Howard's dad change his name, anyway, he wondered. If you're a Jew, you're a Jew, so what. New York has a lot of Jews. Especially Long Island where Howard's family lives. Maybe Howard thinks he has some insight into the Jersey side, Gingsung's located in Fort Lee and has a plant just outside of Morristown. Interesting, he thought, most of the Japanese are on the West Coast, and the Koreans are on the East Coast three thousand miles away.

Stuart pulled into the parking lot and parked in his spot just outside the main entrance. He walked up to the double doors. They were locked. He reached for his keys, unlocked the door, then locked it and walked into the lobby main lobby. No one was there. He walked to the elevator, stepped in and punched the button for the fifth floor. As he stepped out, he noticed that not a sole was there and the lights were off. He walked past the fifth floor reception area and down the long aisle between the office cubicles and a row of offices on the left. Howard's door was open, and the lights were on. He peaked his head around the corner, and tapped on the door.

Howard?

Come in, Stu. Ah, sit down. I'll be with you in a second. I want to make this last entry and…file it…there!

He pressed two keys simultaneously on the keyboard. He took his spectacles off, rubbed his bald head, and leaned back in his chair.

So tell me about the Fairchild deal, Stu.

He was playing with his lap top again Stuart thought as he sat down. What's to tell? Gibbins is a typical Englishman who likes his brew at teatime. I made it a point to go the pub with him every afternoon I was there. Hell, John and I practically became friends. He even bought me dinner at St. James the first night.

You stayed at St. James?

Of course! It's a good image. Just around the corner from the palace. Buckingham, you know! he said with an English mimic as he crossed his legs and leaned back in the large overstuffed chair in front of Howard's desk.

Damn it, Stu, that's a five-star hotel, must be two, three hundred a day minimum.

Wrong! He hated it when Howard called him Stu. He paused for a minute. I stayed on the sixth floor. Six twenty, I think. Small room, no view. It was only eighty-five pounds.

Let's see. Howard reached for his calculator.

Eighty-five pounds…is…about.

Howard, it's a hundred thirty-six bucks! Stuart snapped.

Exchange rate is a buck sixty-one now. Besides, the company got off cheap.

Why the hell do you have to stay in Westminster, anyway. Fairchild must be ten miles from there, he said as he rubbed his bald head again and wiped his sweaty forehead with a hanky.

Twelve, to be exact, and cab fare runs about fifteen quid. By the way, fifteen quid is twenty-five bucks. Besides, I was only in London for three days. No big deal.

Okay, you don't have to be a smart-ass. Howard continued to wipe his forehead and neck.

You know how the old man is about expenses. Christ, if he found out that you stayed at St. James Court, he'd have a stroke. And probably cancel your bonus on top of it!

Stuart stood up, raised his right hand slightly, and pointed it toward Howard. Bonus! Now that's a subject that needs discussion.

Howard leaned forward. What do you mean?

Well, seems to me, if I close a ten-million-dollar deal for three years and with another three on an option contract, I should get more than a lousy five grand. Hell, that's peanuts, Howard. It computes out to about four hundredths of a percent.

We've had this discussion before, Stu, and you know the rules, damn it, so let's don't go into it. Besides, you're getting seventy-five grand a year salary, a new BMW or whatever every two years, and a nice expense account. You ought to know that, hell, you stayed at St. James. He threw his hands up in the air, stood up, and began pacing the floor between his seven-foot-long mahogany desk and credenza with no pictures of his family and award after award hanging above it between his framed college degree from Princeton.

And besides all of that, the company made the maximum contribution to your 401K last year and will probably do it again. That's another nine grand or so. What the hell do you want, for Christ sakes. Besides, and let me remind you again, the five grand is every year, so you really are getting fifteen and maybe thirty if the option is picked up. So let's start adding it up, Stu. Seventy-five, plus nine, plus five, plus three for the LA deal, and another two for the Dallas deal, and maybe three for the Koreans. That's?

Stuart stood up and looked Howard right in the eye. Ninety-seven grand. But I can't spend nine, and you can't speculate on the Koreans. It's not a done deal yet! So it's really eighty-five.

No, it's really ninety-seven. Don't you understand. The nine is your pension, and as far the Koreans, I can count it.

Pension, hell, I'm only forty-five. I can't touch it until I'm sixty-five, anyway.

Fifty-nine and a half, Stu.

Howard, I'll probably be dead by then, anyway.

You may very well be considering your lifestyle. You know, Stu, there's more to life than money. Look at yourself, your single, er, divorced, got a closet full of clothes, a condo, BMW, women every night of the week. And the booze. That's another subject. You got to get off the booze. You look like you have been out on an all-night drunk, and don't give me that bullshit about jet lag. I travelled the circuit for ten years and never took a drink. I don't drink and maybe that's the difference between you and me. I've tried not let it be an issue as long as you sold. You're a good closer, Stu, and a good-looking son of a bitch with a hell of a lot of talent. And that's all I got to say. He sat back down in his overstuffed chair behind the large mahogany desk and took a deep breath. He was pissed!

Stuart sat back down, lowered his voice, and leaned forward. Is that why you promoted Jim Sorensen instead of me?

Howard lowered his voice, relaxed a bit, then leaned forward. Ah, no, Stu, it's not. Jim is not as good a salesman as you, but he has some good management skills. Hell, you trained him. You know he would rather be planning product and marketing strategy than selling. Besides, he didn't get that big a raise, anyway, you will probably make about the same this year, anyway.

He's supposed to be my boss, but he's really not, is that it? Howard sat back in his chair and crossed his legs. I told Jim that he and the sales force were a team. And as far as he was concerned, you reported to him, but had a dotted line directly to me because of the number of deals you are currently trying to close, and he had no experience with. He didn't have a problem with that, besides, he has a lot of respect for you. And you know what? The first thing out of his mouth when I congratulated him was ‘I thought Stu was going to get it.' So that's the long and short of it, Stu. Just one other thing. I know you're looking. I'm not stupid. It doesn't bother me, and I don't expect you to come in here and tell either. But remember this, you got a job here for life, you know how the old man is. Hell, he treats you like a son. I'm fifty-seven years old and will probably retire in three years. Maybe move back to Long Island. If you keep your nose clean, you may have a shot at my job. The problem with the GM position here is you get it from all directions. You have to wear a lot of hats. Hardly any travel, and I know that may not appeal to you.

Stuart had a surprised and skeptical look on his face. How could I possibly be considered for the general manager when Jim will be sales manager then? Excuse me, but am I missing something here?

Yes you are, Stu. These new accounts mean everything to us. You know our new product lines are now becoming the core business. We need you in the field. We need a closer! Besides, between you and me, I talked to the old man last night after we got the final word on the Fairchild account. I stuck my neck out and asked him if we could do something extra for you. But you know how he is with his policies. I don't think he'll bend. He's from the old school, you know—hell, so am I, but maybe he will, just maybe. One other thing, Stu, I told him I thought you may be looking. He was surprised but not mad. He said you had a lot of talent and could probably go anywhere. He said he would think about it.

Oh! Stuart just sat there is amazement. Was this Howard really talking here?

Ah. I don't know what to say.

You don't have to say anything. By the way, after you fly to Jersey, in coach, to talk to the Koreans, take a week off. I can at least do that as GM. Besides, you earned it.

With that he reached in his top desk drawer and handed Stu a check for thirty-nine hundred dollars and some change. This is for the Fairchild close, sorry it couldn't be more. The taxes, you know.

Right! Ah, I turned down a job in LA last month. Just thought you should know. I wasn't looking, actually. It was the account, believe it or not. Seems LEI must have really been impressed. Nothing like impressing a customer, huh.

Howard leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, and stroked his bald head. Wish I had a dollar for every offer I got from customers. Or the competition, for that matter! But I stuck it out! Been here twenty-one years next month! Could have made a lot more money but couldn't leave Denver, kids in school, their friends, our friends, cabin in Breckenridge, you know.

I know, I had a family once. But Valerie decided she needed more space. So what do you do? Stuart shook his head and looked down at the floor. Can't believe she left me for that thirty-year-old programmer, especially when Billy was only eight years old.

You got a raw deal, Stu, I know that. Why the hell do you think I put up with all your mood swings. My guess is it was the travel. Right?

Stuart looked up. "Basically that was it, never home, didn't really know my own kids. Especially Billy. It was a little different with Lizzy she came first, but that's water over the bridge I