Paris in May. D. Grey

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      “Pardon me, boss,” said his secretary as she opened his office door. “Your two o’clock has arrived.”

      Philip straightened his tie, put on his “captain of industry” face, and invited representatives from the National Security Apparatus into his office.

      “This is Special Agent McKay, and I am Special Agent Sanchez.” The agents each shook Philip’s hand.

      Philip immediately noticed little things about the two men that sent his mind racing. There was no time to dwell on the differences, but his eyes landed on the surface attributes like the surface tension of water causes a drop to rest on an absorbent material before it is drawn in. Sanchez had thick black stylishly cut hair on a frame of maybe five feet and ten inches. An average build with a dark suit tailored large enough to conceal a pistol made him look like a white-collar professional. When he spoke, he sounded as if he had spent time at boarding school and with deliberate, controlled decision makers. He was clearly not a field operative.

      McKay struck a different impression. A ruddy Irish redhead with an athletic build and a suit that looked slightly rumpled, like he had worn it several times since the last cleaning, McKay had hands like a blue-collar hard hat. He clearly had not spent much time honing a polished look and was quite comfortable being who he was—a tough guy who was no stranger to using intimidation.

      Phillip thought, The two were there to send a signal. Good cop-bad cop. ‘We can do it easy or we can do it the hard way’ was the message.

      “Thank you for meeting with us,” said Sanchez. There was a short-lived attempt at small talk to establish camaraderie, but they soon got down to the purpose of their visit.

      “It’s no secret to us that you are planning to extend your business into other parts of the world,” said Sanchez.

      Philip nodded.

      “We think we can help in ways that you might appreciate,” continued Sanchez. “We have assets in places that could help business negotiations move more smoothly than they otherwise might. I’m sure we could help you save considerable time and money.”

      McKay leaned almost imperceptibly toward Phillip and said in a slightly hushed but assuring tone, as if he wanted to say something that he wanted to keep secret. “We know people in a number of countries who can ease the cost and difficulty of doing business.” He then gave Phillip a knowing wink and smile.

      Sanchez picked up the thread. “You will be going places and talking to people that we might not have access to. Some are actors who want to talk to us but can’t for fear of reprisal. Others are people willing to work for our security efforts but who need a communications conduit.”

      “This would be a quid pro quo, Mr. Hickman. And it would be more than beneficial for you, with very little effort required on your part. It would also give you the opportunity to talk to important business operatives working on the world stage whose interests are similar to ours,” said McKay.

      Agent McKay then made a quick search of his pockets, eventually reaching into his sagging jacket pocket, and retrieved a plain white business card with only a phone number. “If you are interested in talking further, call this number and someone will be in touch with you. Interested or not, this meeting did not happen, and no part of what has been said should be shared with a single person. The NSA will completely disavow ever talking to you. Do you understand, Mr. Hickman?”

      Although Philip Hickman had never been approached by the Feds in the past, he knew intuitively that what was being offered was a chance at success that might allow him to avoid the time-consuming drudgery of normal business negotiations. All he had to do was carry information back to his government from areas of the world where he was doing business. It seemed to him to be quite patriotic, and it also played into the fantasy that most men have: that of being a spy. How could he refuse the offer? It could possibly put him and the company on the front page of Business Week.

      “I have one question,” said Philip, “Would my family ever need to be protected?”

      Sanchez looked at him as if surprised and said, “Yes, but I can’t imagine the need would ever arise. What we are asking you is not a page torn from a John Le Carré novel. This is not the movies, Mr. Hickman. It’s more like sharing gossip before the newspapers get it. Some of that gossip could bolster the strength and stability of our government. However, if there is even the smallest possibility of a threat to you or your family during or after an association with us, your family will be protected at all costs. The NSA always stands ready to protect real patriots.”

      “Thank you for your time, Mr. Hickman,” McKay said. “Good luck with your company.”

      “I hope we will be hearing from you,” Sanchez said.

      As the men left, Philip leaned back in his chair in disbelief and contemplated the number on the white card. Having the government function as a shadow partner during negotiations with the target markets would be a great asset. It might even open interesting cultural doors that would allow him to play in the same places as international political and financial elites.

      2

      Are you beyond Influence?

      1980s

      Dr. David Walton stood in front of his class at Flemington University trying to illuminate the relative difference between free will and determinism. Looking around the audience, he noticed Jason Wynn seemed to be deep in thought and might be a reasonable candidate to engage.

      “Jason,” he asked, “Do you think the decisions you make are free from outside influence?”

      “Yes, I do!” Jason answered emphatically.

      “Well, in that case,” retorted Dr. Walton, “could you give us an example of a choice or decision you’ve made in the last week that was made independently of anything else in your experience?”

      With some hesitation, Jason answered, “I decided to get up this morning and come to this eight o’clock class, even though I was tired and hungry and still am. That is an example of exercising my free will.”

      “You might have been tired and hungry, Jason, but your history with this class significantly influenced your coming here today. Yes, you might have willed yourself to overcome your being tired and hungry, but coming here was controlled, if you will, by your experience. So your choice to come to class was not entirely free,” answered Dr. Walton.

      With that, the small class burst into an animated analysis of the issue that ended with Dr. Walton working out an argument using a biblical analysis.

      “Thou shall not kill, steal, commit adultery, or covet thy neighbor’s stuff, etcetera. These commandments are the bedrock of every civilized code, and if each of us violated them, anarchy would ensue. Under these conditions, civilization could not persist. So we live with the commandments, internalize them, and when we do, they become our conscience. We live with them and they become our moral law. We live with them and they become our civil law, and we even hire men and women with guns to make sure we follow them. We must have a regulating force or…”

      “Do we have free will?” he tentatively concluded. “Heavens no!”

      And with that, the class ended and filed out in lively conversation. Gathering his papers and with СКАЧАТЬ