Updated – November 19, 1998
Fate or Free Will
Chapter 3 - Part B
October 30, 1997 – New World Order California Command Center - Director’s Office – San Francisco
Charles Debbin quietly surveyed the New World Order’s California Director’s office. Sitting back in the director’s grand leather chair, he relaxed his feet on the table.
He loved it when the Director left on business. He was in command. Power, control, too bad no one was here at the moment to abuse it on. Oh well, the Director wouldn’t be returning until the procedure on Miss Weaver had begun. All that he had to do was ensure the girl was acquired and prepped for their designs. A cakewalk, beneath him really. The rest of the time until then was all his to use. Sure there were a few reports here and there, but that’s what secretaries and minions are for.
Moving a bit in the large chair he enjoyed the feel of the soft leather against him. Pulling his feet from the tabletop, he enjoyed his reflection in the mirror surface. He was perfect: attractive, agile, cunning, brilliant, and unstoppable. Smoothing his hair back, he knew his time was coming. Sooner, not later, this would be his office, not Dylan. He just needed the opportunities to show this to the White Tower. They had to appreciate all he offered.
All this thought of power and control brought about a sudden desire in him to see if sweet Rebecca had punched in yet. She was always was fun to see and be around. Beauty, a little brains, but really his inferior. She just didn’t have the drive to be a down and out Technocrat. She would now and forever be in the lower rungs. It was a loss for the Paradigm, but it also meant she was no threat to him. In fact, it meant she was exactly what he liked, weak and vulnerable. That and beauty was all he needed in a woman.
Getting up to go check on his dear friend, he found himself halted by a beeping of the communications system. Sitting back in the leather chair again, he straightened his black Armani suit and rechecked his hair. It doesn’t hurt to always look perfect.
A large white panel of pure light formed in the air before the dark wood desk. It was quickly replaced by the face of a M.I.B. (Man In Black) field agent. Like virtually every field agent of the New World Order, Agent Reynolds, was plainly average looking. Height, weight, even the faces seemed the same to casual observation. The use of the black suits, sunglasses, and black hats only added to the powerful image of uniformity.
Apparently in a car, Reynolds curtly nodded at his superior. “Sir, I am reporting from the Weaver residence.”
Annoyed and not wanting to sit through all of the cursory information the agent had, he responded, “Yes, I hope you are since that’s where you were sent, agent. Bring the girl in so we don’t have to waste anymore resources on this Progenitor project. Do you understand?”
Noticing a twitch in the agent, he angrily asked, “You do have the girl? You aren’t bothering me with a communication as you prepare to do begin the operation, are you?”
Keeping his cool, the agent looked calmly at Debbin. “No. I am trying to inform you that the target is missing.”
Slamming his fists in the desk, he rose, clenching his teeth. “What?”
She is not here, sir, and the mother doesn’t know where she is currently.”
Coming around the table, he yelled at the image. “Damn your incompetence. Put people on the house and begin a citywide search. Include the police as needed. I will join you in the field.”
Nodding to the superior, Reynolds said, “As ordered, sir.”
Deactivating the image, Debbin fumed. Why did the incompetent have to show their true level of faults, when he had everything running so smoothly? He always had to clean up after these fools. Well, Rebecca and plans for the future would have to wait.
Marching to the grand doors of the office, he stopped. Pushing his black hair back, he tried to calm his tension and breathing a bit. Returning his standard smile to his face, he reminded himself that there was no reason to let people see his angry fervor. Everything was under control.
*****
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