Monday, April 08, 2013

Installment 11 of F. Scott Sinclair's Novel "The Walls Have Ears: A Novel of America"


Warning: If you are easily shocked with regard to contrary
points of view, conspiracy theories, offensive language,
political correctness, sex, or anything else that may offend
your sensibilities or lack of open-mindedness, or if you're a
minor (but by no means limited to the aforementioned),
please do not read this novel. It's not for you...

Note: This is a work of fiction. The events described here
are imaginary: the settings, events and characters are
fictitious, and/or are the product of the author's imagination
or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events
or locales or persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

Copyright (C) 2006 by F. Scott Sinclair. All Rights Reserved.

Scene Eleven of "The Walls Have Ears: A Novel of America"

Venezuelan President: Humberto Sanchez

The palace that ingratiated my workplace with solid
brass gleaming everywhere, and Persian rugs
beneath my stocking feet, provided all the comforts
that I’d sought all my life. And now it was time to
pay back those who’ve made this all possible: my
constituency, the poor people of Venezuela. Even
the brown leather high-backed executive chair
brought back fond memories of my military days.
As the mellow yellow marble walls began to
mesmerize my thoughts, the intercom sounded its
insistent sound of urgency. Reaching over the
deluxe leather daily planner, I pressed the intercom’s
button, and said, “Yes, Sonia... What is it?”

With a marked hesitancy in her voice, she whispered,
“A couple of friends of yours are outside. They’d
like you to accompany them to parts unknown.”

“Send them in...,” I said, knowing by her words
that the assassination team that America had sent
down to eliminate me had been neutralized.

I got up and walked towards the twin mahogany
doors to greet my heroes, but Sonia had opened
the double doors before I could get there, and says,
“President Sanchez, I’d like you to meet—“

“Let’s dispense with the formalities. I’ve worked
with these patriots for over a decade. If it wasn’t
for them, I’d have been assassinated the last time
around. Welcome gentlemen...! Please have a seat.
Sonia, provide our guests with the finest coffee and
treats you can muster up. Okay...?”

Bowing in a gracious manner, Sonia exited to find
the finest espresso coffee in the world, along with
the finest pastry known to man.

As we all admired Sonia’s derrière leaving our
presence, I said, “Don’t worry, gentlemen. You’ll
get more opportunities to checkout the merchandise.
So, you can put your tongues back in your mouths.”

Colonel Ramirez coughed, wiping his mouth and says,
“I apologize for our obvious crude behavior, Mr. President.”

With a hint of seriousness, and affection for the
male specie, I said, “Don’t bother trying to be
politically correct. I know Sonia better than anyone,
and she loves the attention. If you hadn't noticed,
my tongue was also hanging out...just like yours. Are
you ready to apologize for me also?”

“I didn’t mean—“Colonel Ramirez tried to say before
I raised my hand to silence him.

“We’ve more important things to discuss.”

Lt. Perez interrupted, and said, “What could be more
important than our feline counterparts?!”

Seeing the sparkle in his eyes, I said, “Point well-made,
Lt. Perez. But contrary to your perverted mind’s opinion,
there are other things of greater importance in this
world besides sex...!”

“True, Mr. President. But it sure beats whatever’s
in second place...!” Lt. Perez jested.

Colonel Ramirez sat down on the black leather couch,
and says, “Enough, Lt. Perez.”

I said, “Now that we’ve finished discussing what makes
the world go around, how about let’s get to the heart
of the matter before us.”

Ramirez and Perez have always enjoyed a relationship
with me that few others would dare have.

"So," Colonel Ramirez says, after taking a sip of chilled mineral water,
“do you want us to torture the Americans?”

“No pun intended, but you don’t beat around the bush,
do you?”

With a smirk on his face, he nodded.

“I’d suggest that there’s something else in that
glass other than mineral water, colonel.”

Perez quips, “Waterboarding is considered to be
a humane interrogation method according to
President Steinhart, sir.”

I could only grin at the truth of those words.
“You’re scarcely old enough to remember World
War II. And apparently King Steinhart fits that category,
if you ask me; but not because of his age.”

“His stupidity...?” Perez shot back, leaning back haughtily
on the couch next to the colonel.

“The truth hurts...,” I said, and then continued, “Because
man seems to lose sight of the fact that history repeats
itself. Why the hell they even teach history, even distorted
history...is beyond me. What good does it do to teach
history to our citizens, if we--and our governmental
counterparts around the world--fail to learn by past
mistakes? All those historical lessons only do one thing:
they make cynics, protesters, humanitarian souls,
terrorists and malcontents out of our civilized citizenry.
You don't have to look any further than me to find a
prime example of why governments should be compassionate,
and caring. Those foreigners who have ravaged our country,
our resources and placed our citizens in bondage for
their political and economic agenda, has produced a
benevolent dictator: me. And a democratically elected
socialist at that...! One who loves his people, and rightfully so..."

“It doesn’t make any sense at all, sir. Citizens learn
their history, but our leaders fail miserably in that regard,”
Colonel Ramirez concluded, gripping the arm of the couch
as though he was attempting to restrain himself.

“Exactly...! So what I’m proposing is going to blow
President Steinhart’s mind.”

Seeing my pregnant pause and deliberate raised
eyebrow, they both leaned forward on the edge of
the couch.

I laughed, and said, “Not literally, my friends. Only

"What do you have in mind, Mr. President?"

I caught Colonel Ramirez's drift, and said as I tapped
a pencil absentmindedly on the desk, "I want you
to make immediate arrangements to
charter at least ten 747’s.”

Thinking he’s being helpful, Lt. Perez says, “We
have that many 747’s at our disposal, sir. No need to—“

“Yes, there is...! Listen to me. Listen to everything
I’ve got to say before interrupting!”

They were both silent with their heads bent and
their eyes staring at the smoked glass coffee table.

“That’s better... The reason I want to charter them
is because our enemy, America...will have great difficulty
shooting down their own country’s planes, and the
planes of other countries.”

Perez couldn’t keep still and buts in, and says,
“Like Russian, Chinese, Japanese, Italian, French
and British airliners?”

“Good man! Now you’re getting the picture.”

“And where are we going with the prisoners?”

I took a deep breath, and said, “Don’t you have
any imagination whatsoever? The International
Criminal Court in The Hague, that’s where!”

They both looked like they’d seen an apparition
behind my desk.

“Clever,” Colonel Ramirez said. “That’s asking
for trouble, sir. Real trouble, I’m
afraid. That’s just what the Americans are
looking for: an excuse to invade us.”

I held my breath, not making eye contact at
first...then I glared directly into their eyes, and said,
“They’ve clearly violated our territory trying to
assassinate me. And we have the evidence in the
basement. Their signed confessions and their
captured bodies is all we need to establish our
innocence. And guess what? I’m planning to include
President Adolph S. Steinhart and his merry men
to the indictment as co-defendants in this case.
Yes, they’ll finally be tried before the world for
crimes against humanity in absentia.”

Excited at the prospect, Colonel Ramirez asked,
“In other words, we’re using these CIA thugs as
a springboard to justice against the Americans?”

What could I say but, “That’s the plan. What do
you think?”

Both were now leery about saying anything after
I’d admonished them earlier on.

“Well...?!” I said, trying to keep from laughing in
their faces.

“Sounds a bit tricky to me. What if this move
backfires...?” Perez finally said.

“Let’s deal with that eventuality if and when it
becomes an issue? Are you with me?”

How could they be against me? Their lives and
careers were in my hands. But they know me
better than that. I listen and only blame those
who have done wrong. Honest mistakes, accidents,
and the like, are not sufficient cause for me to
do harm to someone who’s had a streak of bad luck.

After they both looked at each other in amazement,
and at me skeptically, they finally gestured
their approval.

“Thanks,” I said, and got up and shook hands with
my fellow conspirators. As I ushered them outside,
I said, “Sonia will have the coffee and treats waiting
for you the next time we meet. How’s that...?”

They both gave shy smiles and turned, proceeding
as planned to finally rid the world of the rubbish that
was contaminating the environment. Kind of like
being the first person to make love to a virgin: it’s
a bloody job, but somebody got to do it! And I’d
prefer to be the one, of course.


A Book Review by Harrison K. of -- Karmic Rendition: A Novel of Pancho Villa Avenged - 
F. Scott's latest published novel. He hopes you enjoy it as much
as he enjoyed writing it. The following two books are available
at: bangkokbooks.com, Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble (Nook),
Sony (& Political Instincts)KoboSmashwords and other fine 
stores & affiliates.


Here are a couple of excellent previews of the following novels for your 
reading pleasure. If you like "The Walls Have Ears: A Novel 
of America"--perhaps you might enjoy these books penned 
by F. Scott. Thank you so much for your time and consideration.

Karmic Rendition: A Novel of Pancho Villa Avenged - Scott Sinclair - Google Books. 

Al-Ahram Weekly | People | Limelight: Bourne to be a classic

A tribute to the world's best thriller writer: Robert Ludlum with a
quote or two from novelist F. Scott Sinclair in the process.