Tony Thistlewood
Personal information about the author is available on the “About Me” page of his website.
Website tonythistlewood.com
Fiction Demeter’s Dream The Oxford Photograph Stealing Tomorrow’s Thunder The Little Tin Box Caistor Parsons: The Gingerbread Man
Non-fiction Kings & Queens of England …and how they got there…
IN MEMORIAM
For my dear brother
Dr. John M. Thistlewood
1936 – 2017
I look forward to a great future for America...a future in which our country will match its military strength with our moral restraint, its wealth with our wisdom, its power with our purpose. President John F. Kennedy: 35th President of the United States of America.
**
No dream is too big. No challenge is too great. Nothing we want for our future is beyond our reach.
Donald J. Trump:
45th President of the United States of America.
Chapter 1
From the very minute they first met, all those years ago, she knew that he would never be out of her mind, nor she his – never – it was written.
And now their big day had arrived.
Together they had striven long and hard for this day. And they could not have been more prepared for it. Now, with God’s help, their ideas would begin to change the course of American history, and they could – no, no, must – must also drag the whole world in a new direction – the right direction, their direction. It would be a slow, frustrating process; they knew that. Yet, it had to be done; a renaissance of their beloved America was long overdue.
Ann Dias absentmindedly ran her fingers through her long, luxurious, flaxen hair as she watched her husband, Dr. Paul Z. Dias, climb into the back of the government limo – she had no idea what make of car it was; she wasn’t into cars. Paul turned towards her, smiled, and blew her a kiss. She was about to return the kiss when she realized that she was holding the laser pointer he needed for his presentation. She had picked it up from the hall table but forgotten to give it to him.
‘Wait, Albert!’ she called out to the driver and raced over to the car. She gave the pointer to Paul, and then practically ravished him with a proper, lingering kiss, much to Albert’s amusement.
Ann stood back and watched the car slowly crunch down the curved, gravel driveway. She didn’t stop waving until he was out of sight. She had had a premonition, and it frightened her although she didn't usually have any truck with such rubbish. She hadn't mentioned it to him, of course. Nothing must distract him this day.
**
Dr. Paul Z. Dias was the recently appointed Secretary of the Department of the Environment and Agriculture, a newly created department with a cherished seat in the US Cabinet. Paul sat, deep in thought, behind a large modern desk in a large modern office. The ultra-modern building that housed his new department was already colloquially known as the new “EnAg” building.
Like Ann, Paul had prayed for this day. He had to get it right; he had to keep focused; nothing must distract him – nothing.
On the desk in front of him lay his Gucci polished-leather briefcase. He checked its contents for the umpteenth time. The briefcase, a present from Ann, was in midnight blue and perfectly complemented the dark-blue suit he was wearing. He fastened the gold locks on the briefcase, glanced at the carriage clock on the desk, checked it with his Rolex, and then marched purposefully out of his office, briefcase firmly clutched in his right hand. He was not going to let anyone carry it for him today. If he heard his secretary’s good luck wishes as he passed her desk, he didn’t acknowledge them. The secretary raised an eyebrow; it was unlike her boss to be so distant. Outside his office suite, two waiting bodyguards fell into step behind him; he didn’t notice them either.
The trio crossed the grand atrium with its fifty-feet high glass pyramid, the centerpiece of the entrance to the modern building that was home to his new department. The shoes of the trio clicked in unison on the marble floor as they headed towards the glass doors and the street beyond. People stood aside to make way for them. They reached the door; it slid silently open for them as if it, too, recognized the importance of the day.
Outside, Foggy Bottom was bathed in brilliant spring sunshine. Dias paused to inhale the fresh air. One of the bodyguards raced forward to open the rear door of the waiting Tesla electric car. Dias stared inside the car, hesitated, and then, as if noticing the guard for the first time, shook his head.
‘No, I’ll walk,’ he said gruffly.
Without waiting for, or expecting, a reply, Dias set off at a brisk pace towards Pennsylvania Avenue.
The senior bodyguard looked annoyed but nevertheless indicated for the driver to follow the Honorable Paul Dias at a respectable distance.
As Dias strode along, every minute detail of his carefully researched presentation churned in his mind. Although he had endlessly rehearsed what he was going to say with Ann, even so, every possible angle, every conceivable objection, still continuously streamed through his highly intelligent brain. He was convinced that he had left nothing to chance; all bases were more than adequately covered — so why the nerves?
Without warning, Paul Dias cut down an ally into G St NW. His exasperated body guards raced up to him.
‘Sir, the Tesla can’t follow us; it’s a one-way street…’
The electric Tesla, although capable of accelerating from zero to 100 mph in six-seconds, had been whispering along some twenty yards behind them.
‘Don’t need it,’ Dias snapped and continued walking.
The guard, talking into his wristwatch, instructed the Tesla driver to go around the block and meet them in 17th St NW outside the Eisenhower Executive Office Building.
On went Dias, not seeing the George Washington University nor the substantial edifice that housed the World Bank as he pressed on towards the White House and his destiny. He was even oblivious of the stares of people who thought they knew, or at least recognized the handsome, well-dressed, blue-eyed man with the dark, wavy, gray-flecked hair. Those who wanted to say, ‘Hi’, wisely changed their minds when they set eyes on the two giant bodyguards walking determinedly either side of him, but one step back – they knew their places.
Dias had not told his bodyguards, or anyone else for that matter, that he intended to call in on the first female vice president of the United States, Peta Hopeit, to make sure that he could still rely on her crucial support. At least, that was the only reason he wanted to see her – until now. The beautiful and intelligent vice president had offices in the nineteenth century, Alfred B. Mullet designed, Eisenhower Executive Office Building that was originally built to house the Departments of State, War and Navy.
Turning into 17th St NW, Dias headed for the lights that allowed pedestrians to cross the four busy lanes of traffic to the Eisenhower Building. The pedestrian lights were red. Paul Dias, oblivious of the lights, was about to step into the traffic when a black hand pulled him back.
The bodyguards waved furiously at the Tesla, which had just turned into the street further down.
The Tesla accelerated towards the trio.
The lights changed, Dias stepped into the street and strode to the middle of the road with the two bodyguards just behind him. The Tesla was now rapidly approaching on his right; unaccountably, the driver didn’t seem to notice the lights, which were still in Dias’s favor.
The Tesla kept accelerating…Dias kept walking…a large, black hand reached out for Dias…
**
In