Brotherhood Beyond the Yard (The Simon Trilogy) Page 8

  The invitation was from Simon.

  Soon after they received the letter, the phones rang almost instantly, as Chase called Hank, who had just called Paolo, with Paolo agreeing to call Seymour. They all agreed to be in Chicago the following week, their universal response being, “Let’s see what Simon has dreamed up now.”

  They all recognized it must have been important for him to go to the trouble and expense.

  The intrigue was irresistible.

  —

  The members of La Fratellanza managed to find their way to the reserved conference room at the Hilton located just outside O’Hare Airport. It was February and freezing outside, but the warm air from the radiators along the windows removed the chill. Seeing one another also added to their warmth. As they embraced and ran the gamut of small talk, they waited for one more of the members. While absorbed in their conversations, the sound of the door closing echoed over the din of their chatter and abruptly caught their attention.

  The last member had arrived, and all eyes were now on Simon.

  He went around the room shaking their hands at first, followed by an embrace, all the while maintaining a serious expression, which kept the others a little on edge. After their brief exchanges, Simon asked them to be seated and, oddly, began speaking of his time in Italy during the late eighties. It was peculiar because during those years at Harvard he had never broached the subject.

  He revealed that he had taken a year off after receiving his master’s degree in psychology from UC Berkeley to travel around Europe. He eventually decided to live in Florence, Italy, primarily to learn the language he had always found so enchanting. While there he had met a young woman, equally enchanting, and one year became two, and then three.

  “You can fill in the blanks,” he invited, with a hint of a smile.

  Returning to his prior demeanor, he described his one-room apartment on Canto de Nelli overlooking the steps on the north side of the Basilica di San Lorenzo. “I mention the apartment because it was where I became fascinated by the chatter of the street hawkers outside my window, when not in the company of my paramour, of course.”

  It was on those steps that the African street vendors would gather daily to discuss various issues, anything from personal problems, to hawking their wares, to wages. Usually on top of the list was how to avoid the Carabinieri, the military police, and the Guardia di Finanza, the police who monitor the financial, drug trafficking, and immigration crimes.

  Simon explained that by the late 1980s, the Florence population was approximately four hundred thirty thousand and ten thousand of them were illegal immigrants. Most of these immigrants were Arab-speaking North Africans or French-speaking West Africans, with the majority from Senegal. While shopkeepers complained that the street vendors lured away the tourist dollars, the police attached the increase in crime to them.

  “What drew my attention to these daily gatherings was a young man who appeared to be the leader of one of the groups.” He further explained how this young man always stood on the top step, switching between Italian, French, and English as he lectured the vendors on various methods of selling while avoiding the police forces. “This man had an incredible flair about him, not only his articulate manner of speech and his brilliance but also the passion he showed. For those reasons,” Simon asserted, “I kept my sights on this young activist.”

  Admittedly, he never met him directly but in speaking with other street vendors, he was able to discover a number of intriguing facts.

  “First, he was born in Libya, and his name is Hussein Tarishi.”

  He assumed Hussein’s grasp of several languages might have been compliments of his country’s European occupiers, with Libya first gaining its independence from Italy in 1947, and then again from the United Kingdom and France in 1951. Simon also derived from a few discreet inquiries that, “In the 1980s, Hussein and his family lived in Benghazi, east of Tripoli, on the Gulf of Sidra. Interestingly, Hussein was also some sort of child prodigy the government apparently wanted to control, and most certainly wanted to keep in the country.” He said that he heard rumors that Hussein received a full scholarship to a university in exchange for working for the Libyan government.

  “Beyond that, the details were rather sketchy. Sadly, for Hussein, his family died in an aerial bombing attack in 1986. The United States launched the attack against Colonel Qaddafi, the Libyan leader. It was in retaliation for the Berlin discotheque terrorist bombing that killed two American servicemen in April of the same year.” Simon acknowledged that, without knowing the full details surrounding the bombing, he presumed Hussein had taken advantage of the opportunity to escape Libya and illegally emigrated to Italy.

  Until that moment, Simon’s speech had been slow and deliberate. Suddenly, he elevated his tone significantly, which caused the others to pay particular attention.

  “What we do know is that this young man, an illegal immigrant with no family, has all the attributes we seek.” Then, for the first time, a real smile appeared on Simon’s face, and he declared, “Hussein Tarishi could be our Chosen One.”

  Many times in the past, the group had tried to follow Simon’s words. This time, they were trying to figure out where he was heading with them. Still, after his long-winded explanation, they looked on in total bewilderment.

  “Il punto é?” Paolo blurted out. “Loosely translated, what is your point?” When agitated, Paolo often would revert to his native tongue. This time he was more than agitated.

  Simon could see the others were anxious as well, yet also curious. He believed they were connecting the dots, but sensed they were also wrestling with the reality of what he had proposed.

  “Surely you remember our shadow thesis?” he inquired with a raised brow. Being reasonably confident they would come on board, Simon ignored their apprehensive stares. He said, “Hank, I want you to fly to Florence. I’ve confirmed that Hussein is still living there.”

  “What!” Hank exclaimed.

  “Hear me out! I want you to find this young man, befriend him, and confirm that he is the perfect candidate for our mission.”

  To the others in stunned silence, Simon’s request sounded more like a command.

  Simon sensed it was necessary to remind them of the decisions they had made during their “planning sessions” at Harvard. “We all agreed that Hank would be the person to administer the assignments and training exercises, and prepare the candidate to run for the Senate and then the presidency. That is the main reason why Chicago will become our home base of operation. It is where Hank lives and works. Hank will also be the only link between La Fratellanza and the future president of the United States.” It was a crucial point he felt needed repeating. With even more emphasis, Simon said, “If this young activist truly is the Chosen One, then the game will start. If he isn’t, then we’ll find another, but eventually the game will begin for real.”

  Abruptly, the others broke their shock-induced silence. This time, in a fevered pitch they began to protest, punctuating that the “game” was never supposed to be for real. Following their eruptions, an odd queasiness settled in the pits of their stomachs as they realized Simon was serious, and surmised that he might have planned this outcome long before he ever met them.

  They now faced harsh reality.

  During those years at Harvard, he had manipulated and cajoled them into what ultimately became an intense friendship, all in preparation for the ultimate execution of his plan. They sensed their brother Simon may have taken advantage of them, and they took turns coolly expressing their resentment.

  “Our ‘shadow’ thesis was only supposed to be an intellectual diversion, remember!” barked Chase. “It was not about committing a crime!”

  Simon, not responding to Chase’s outcry, allowed the others to air their protestations. Then, after respectfully giving them sufficient time to vent, he parried their objections and resentments, and continued with his pitch. This time his voice was strong and clinical.

 
“Now, to address Chase’s overreaction and, I suspect, everyone else’s concern. What we are about to embark upon isn’t a crime. Actually, it is commonplace, at least in the world of politics.”

  Simon spoke of the politicians and about how they reinvent themselves several times over. He reminded them that the statisticians write the questions in a way to manipulate the polls, and the pollsters manipulate the numbers, which manipulate the people. He continued with how the media manipulate everything, and the capitalists who own the media manipulate them. Simon persisted with his argument, saying that congresspersons manipulate the constituents that reelect them, and special interest groups manipulate the delegates that cast the votes.

  “Ultimately, it is the people who cast their vote for the person they want in the White House,” he affirmed. In what appeared to be his ringing summation, he declared, “We can deliver on our shared belief that it’s time for a minority to lead in the White House. All La Fratellanza would do is give them that person!”

  Simon took a deep breath and then, changing tactics slightly, he began to appeal to their egos, and this time he showed a bit of compassion. He recalled why he chose them in the first place, explaining that in the beginning, he was attracted to their high level of intelligence and vast knowledge of their respective fields. However, as time went by, he said he witnessed their enormous drive to achieve, and it reinforced his opinion of them and his decision to want them as part of his group.

  “Lastly, and equally important,” he asserted, “it was the amazing bond that developed between us, and I knew then that I had made the right choices.” Reverting to his serious demeanor once again, he reminded them, “If we actually pull it off, imagine what incredible power we will have. I recall each of you relishing the thought at Harvard, when you assumed it was just a game. And every year after that, at our annual reunions we always brought up the subject of ‘What if?’”

  Simon looked directly at Hank, and said, “I remember how you wanted to shape and control the social policies for the administration using the influence you would have over the president.” Then he reminded Paolo, “You’ve always dreamed of obtaining the position as speechwriter for the president. Just think how your words could have more power than ever.” To Seymour, he pointed out, “I recall how you wanted to have exclusive rights to a documentary on the president and the opportunity to use your model for political campaigning, a model you had devised only in theory. In fact, it is an opportunity for all of us to prove our theories, not just Seymour.” He glanced at the others.

  Simon then turned his attention to Chase. “And you, my friend, with the help from the others in the group, you would have inside information as to what position the administration, the Federal Reserve, and the Treasury would take with regard to economic and fiscal policy. Chase, you always wanted to be a huge success at some major bank. Think how you could utilize that information to manage your bank’s investments.”

  Softening his approach, Simon admitted, “It is important for all of you to understand that it will take many years to execute, and along the way we may have to trigger certain events to accomplish our ultimate goal, placing a man in the Oval Office.” Finally, he maintained, “Uncle Rob will pay for all expenses and compensate you for any loss of income.”

  “Just how much money did Uncle Rob leave you?” questioned Paolo.

  “I’ve been extremely fortunate in the way I have invested the money. Does anyone else have a question?” he queried with slight annoyance.

  Receiving none, and having exhausted all arguments, Simon rested his case.

  They took a break, although the discussions continued. This time the issues were bantered about one-on-one. Three-quarters of an hour later, La Fratellanza reconvened.

  After having spent five hours in intense analysis, discussion, and debate, they agreed—with some trepidation—to let the game begin.

  The vote was unanimous.

  The game was real.

  However, there were a few caveats that surfaced from their discussions.

  They all agreed to start the game, but if along the way anyone wanted to withdraw, for any reason, that person would have the opportunity to state his reservations. The group members would then recast their votes and at least three members of the group would have to vote to continue, or they would all walk away. In any event, confidentiality would always be preserved.

  The basic ground rules were accepted, but naturally, Simon had some specific thoughts of his own. First, he handed each of them a flash drive attached to a key chain with the initials LF. “You must use the flash drive to store any and all information, including your e-mails. Any information, as it relates to La Fratellanza, must not be transcribed on a hard drive. All transmissions must be sent and received on computers located in Internet cafés. You should never use the computers in your homes and workplaces.”

  Simon explained he had already set up an untraceable Web site with e-mail accounts for each of them. They would find their individual e-mail addresses inscribed on the back of their flash drive. He further instructed, “When you first insert the flash drive into the USB port on a computer, it will automatically connect to the Web site. The password is Fratellanza, the same password we used in our computer lab at Harvard.” He stressed that communications must be limited to e-mail only, with one exception.

  Then Simon presented each of them with a pager. He demonstrated that when any brother activated the pager with the special code LF, the pager sent a signal displaying the code to the other four, indicating a meeting was automatically set for one week from the day of the page—same time and same place.

  “We will only assemble when it is necessary to take the next step or to change a step in our strategy. When it is important to gather, I will send airline tickets to your personal P.O. boxes, which you should arrange to set up as soon as you return home.”

  He then asked Hank to rent an office on the South Side, a place to hold their strategy meetings. “It should be out of the way and in an obscure location. Sign a five-year lease under the name of Simon Ventures, Inc., and I will arrange for a wire transfer to the management company on a quarterly basis.”

  Simon cautioned that they were never to enter the building together and should always protect its whereabouts. He restated his reasons for choosing Chicago as their home base, saying it was because it would also become the Chosen One’s base of operation while under the tutelage of Hank.

  “Also, I believe the political machine in Chicago will prove to be most useful to us.”

  —

  La Fratellanza had a lot to think about, at least three of them, as they boarded their respective planes to return home. Hank headed to North Lake Shore Drive to prepare for his trip to Italy.

  Simon understood entirely what the other members hadn’t yet comprehended, the full impact of the project they were about to launch, but he felt he could resolve any issues that might arise as time went by.

  Without a doubt, four members of the group fully comprehended that the commitment would be great, and hopefully within their control. However, they had yet to grasp the fact that their careers had become only a means to an end. It was no longer a game, but an affair that would dominate their lives, taking precedence over everything.

  As they were leaving the Hilton, they each remembered how Simon’s ideas had insidiously crept into their theses, but never imagined those ideas would ever creep into their everyday lives. Later, they would rationalize that his thoughts had also undoubtedly crept into their subconscious.

  —

  Simon returned to San Francisco to resume his consulting career, or so the others thought. From his home, he would conduct many of the activities for La Fratellanza, an effort that commenced immediately.

  Chase arrived home to comfort his wife, who was concerned with his abrupt departure, and told her it was simply a business trip to Chicago. He explained that one of the bank branches had a serious problem while attempting to install a new computer a
ccounting system. He wasn’t happy with his deception, but knew there would be many more such trips. So he paved the way to make it clear that periodically he would have to travel for business to various locations. Then, making a passing comment, he mentioned his new pager was a way for the branch managers to contact him directly. In hopes that there would be no further questioning on the subject, he resumed his position as CFO for the National Depositors Trust Bank in New York, and waited for the pager to vibrate.

  Paolo returned to his empty apartment in Georgetown, knowing that the next day he would finish writing speeches for a junior senator he didn’t respect. After which, he would begin to write speeches for a junior senator he didn’t know, La Fratellanza’s Chosen One. Simon had “hypothetically” laid out in the “shadow” thesis that 2004 would be the year their candidate would be elected senator, and Paolo had already predetermined the pulse of the people. He could use much of what he had concluded in his thesis, although some tweaking had to take place. Paolo decided there was no need to sit by idly waiting for the pager. He would begin the political speeches immediately.

  Seymour had recently married. His loving, trusting wife simply accepted that he was on an excursion to research a documentary he had been contemplating. Truly, she was a wife perfect for him in every way, including her total lack of interest in his work. He felt blessed. Over the past few years, Seymour had expanded his company, MediaLynx, to include over 130 highly competent employees. This allowed him to be less hands-on, other than to grant final approval for all new projects. The timing was perfect for him to take on The Brotherhood’s ambitious new project. Seymour decided to spend his time tossing around ideas for different mantras in his head, searching for the best brand for the new senator-in-waiting, while he waited for his marching orders.

  Hank gladly accepted his mission. His love life was in the off position for the moment, and he had no partner to mislead, for which he was thankful. He wasn’t sure how Chase and Seymour were dealing with their women, but he was glad he wasn’t facing that predicament. The Chestnut Foundation he established was self-sufficient. His primary function was to stand ready to settle the legal disputes that continually plagued his organization. At that moment, the usual attacks from various sources happened to be in a relatively calm state. The timing was ideal.