Sadina Rice, the only woman in attendance, stood up. Immediately, appreciative whistles sounded from around the room, including one from Cheney. She was an African-American beauty, with full breasts and long, slender legs. She wore a Department of Homeland Security uniform, consisting of a bright blue, tight-fitting jacket and skirt, along with a white blouse. Her skin was the color of milk chocolate. She wore her medium-length, loose-curl, black hair in a stylish, contemporary coiffure.
Sadina Rice looked around the room, confidently making eye contact with her peers gathered there, having overcome the nervousness she had felt only moments before. She was driven by a strong desire to attain power and influence within the government and private sectors.
“You may not all know of Ms. Rice,” explained Bush, “however, she has been a valued advisor to me for the last eighteen months. Although she’s only twenty-eight, she’s being considered seriously to fill the office of secretary of defense, currently vacant due to the unfortunate heart attack suffered by the previous appointee.”
Rice sat down again, and despite her youth radiated authority and competence out to the gathered crowd. Her family, descended from the same lineage as that of the famous 21st-century female politician, had been, of course, commercially and politically involved with the Bushes and the Cheneys for the previous seventy years. Negon Bush, Beem Cheney and Sadina Rice all wanted to lead America’s military and economic domination of the globe, and in the process, as private citizens, earn billions of dollars through their own privately-owned corporations.
Bush said, “And now, please give your attention to Special Agent Rice.”
All eyes were now on Sadina Rice, who began speaking into her microphone. “Thank you, Mr. President. And thank you all,” Rice looked around the room, “for coming and for your undivided attention. I don’t need to remind you that what you’re about to hear is top secret. Repeating it to anyone is treason and punishable by death. Operation Smoke Out will take place next Wednesday, four days from now, at precisely eight o’clock in the evening. One of the president’s clones will enter the Dark Temple, a well-known sex club located on Level XXX—” Rice paused for a few seconds, interrupted by whispered commentaries that ran through the room.
“Ahem,” Rice cleared her throat and resumed, “President Bush has never, himself, of course, personally visited this establishment.”
Bush smiled, staring at the ceiling and recalling his most recent visit to the Dark Temple, only two nights before.
Rice continued, “Based on information gathered during extensive intelligence operations carried out over the last twelve months, we are quite certain that an assassination attempt on the president will take place in the Dark Temple on Wednesday night. The terrorists will think that they’ve killed the real president, and soon after that will call their revolutionaries to arms. That’s when we’ll arrest or kill the as yet unknown terrorists, including their leader, Cloud Base.”
Rice took a few seconds to look around the room, confidence gushing from her countenance – it was a clever plan that she had devised herself and she was proud of it. All eyes were still on her; her listeners were completely mesmerized.
“We will have total control of all media in the city. Most, if not all, revolutionary cells will hit the streets and be eliminated without the public’s knowledge. We’ll simply attribute any violence to gang wars. You’re to arrest anyone helping the terrorists as well. If we work together and maintain excellent communication, Operation Smoke Out will be executed to a high rate of success. Thank you for your time. I now present you the general of the army, our commanding officer of the four hundred thousand Defenders of the Light who will be fighting on Wednesday night, five-star General Beem Cheney.” Rice turned and nodded to Cheney, sat a few places away from her.
Cheney looked solemnly around the room and bellowed into the microphone on the table in front of him, in a loud, authoritative voice, “Soldiers!” Bush tilted his head and sniffed at the air, smelling bourbon. “Not a word to anyone outside this room! Not one word! I will personally execute as a traitor anyone that violates this order!” he slammed his open hand on the table and began to stand up.
Rising, Cheney swayed noticeably to the right. Bush looked at him and giggled under his breath. The general of the army continued, without using his microphone. “Defenders of the Light! You are the Elite Republican Guard. We will give these sub-human socialists the ass-kicking of their lives! Show no mercy!” Cheney grinned maniacally, sat down and nodded to Rice.
Sadina Rice continued from her chair, “Gentlemen, the complete battle plan is posted on the military’s restricted access network,” she informed them. “Feel free to contact me for any further explanations or clarifications. Our final meeting will be held here on Wednesday morning, at eleven thirty sharp. See you all then.”
The gathered officers and officials spoke among themselves and then slowly filed out of the conference room. Cheney said goodbye to Bush and, after a long morning, headed off to a five-star hotel for a prearranged love tryst with a twenty year old intern. Cheney had become even more of a womanizer since his wife’s death five years earlier.
Bush turned to Rice. “Nice job, sexy Sadie,” he complimented, brushing his fingers along the hemline of her skirt. “Why don’t you come and have a late lunch with me at my art museum in a few hours?”
“Actually, sir, I’m quite busy,” she refused him.
“Sadina, really, that was not a request.”