Chapter One – 2010
A tall black curly haired gentleman wearing a two-button Brooks Brothers custom suit crafted in Mongolian cashmere climbed slowly out of a silver stretched limousine parked in front of a historic majestic building in the Beaux-Arts tradition. The eye-catching front carried out in Portland stone, the two upper stories were embraced by an Ionic order of plain-shafted columns raised on unmolded pedestals. He took his two hundred dollar sunglasses off to get a good look at The Royal Automobile Club in Pall Mall, London. An aristocratic gentlemen club comprised of the upper class and very affluent with different political views, different interests, and different professions. Senator from Virginia, USA, Charles Mead entered the stately structure teeming with an atmosphere of distinction, poise, and extreme wealth, he seldom felt on Capitol Hill.
He was approached by a short redheaded man wearing a red jacket with a royal insignia sewn onto his left pocket just below the well-tailored lapel. “Can I be of service to you, Sir?” Each word uttered in precise timing with a sing-song Welsh accent.
“Certainly, I have a meeting with Sir Terrence Percy.” The senator said, flashing his engaging smile.
He was led to the east library on the first floor where the impressive rose garden can be viewed from the series of window treatments styled from the Edwardian days. No interior artificial light needed, the sunlight provided a natural golden sheen to the furnishings surrounding the small intimate library.
“Sir Percy, your guest from Virginia has arrived.” The polite attendant announced, then bowed to take his leave. The wealthy aristocrat CEO of The Nero Group stood up confident possessing a look of high breeding but would demonstrate some eccentricities. Revealed immediately, his attire somewhat inconsistent, his suit jacket off, his fire-engine red Baker City waistcoat did not match his more modern cut of pants, pleated with a quarter-inch cuff at the bottom. “My good man, so join us for tea. We can discuss issues at hand over the finest brew and some sweetbreads.”
After ten minutes of small talk, ‘how was your flight? Accommodations are in order not too far from here, and these two gentlemen to my right are regional directors in the states – Bruce Abernathy, and Lowell Gibbons.’ A tall slender older man wearing the same red jacket brought in a silver tray containing all they needed for their olfactory needs.
“Senator, are you familiar with The Nero Group?” Sir Percy asked, his short cropped hair white as snow glistened in the golden light. His thin lips opened to show the noticeable gap between his discolored front teeth.
“You started this corporation in 1992, services of catering, environmental cleaning, and laundering that now in 2010, the company possesses the worth value of thirty billion. You turn the public sector institutions into private sectors that employ workers, giving them a flat wage scale, very few benefits, and skirt any sign of advancement. “Senator Mead said as he brought Percy’s colleagues to a shocked expression. They thought maybe the senator’s acute candor would offend their leader.
A tension arose, then lingered for only a brief time as Sir Percy leaned back in his brown leather chair to break forth with a hearty bellowing laugh. “You have a clever sputter of insight, Senator! You have the look and honesty of a pretty black Irish bastard, but carry yourself like a bloody Royal!”
“Sir Percy, as more states passed the ‘Right To Work’ law, your take on big business coincides with a majority of our new policies put into motion since the Economic Crisis in 2008. I have reliable sources saying the Midwestern states are ripe for an empire such as yours to snatch up service sectors of hospitals, prisons, and schools. A vantage point, a strategic move exists in Central Indiana.” The thirty-nine year old very handsome Republican eloquently explained, his sapphire eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
“Why Central Indiana?” The pale middle-of-the road wannabee hip executive to the right of Sir Percy.
“The region once a prestigious hub for the Automobile Industry has been gutted when GM and Delco-Remy closed a number of assembly plants. The unemployment rate is at an all-time low, property taxes have fallen on the dwindling residents, who desperately need to stay employed.” Mead smiled, delighted in his clever rhetoric, making some visible headway.
“Can you guarantee legislature cooperation to our distinct guidelines?” Sir Percy asked, at the same time glancing down at his silver chained pocket watch attached to adjoining pockets of the waistcoat.
“Sir Percy, I was a college chum of Senator Will Morton of Indiana. He is Republican, and can be very pliable to our way of thinking. The other senator is Democrat Andrew Fischer who can be overruled by the seven district Republican Congressmen and women.” Mead concluded, very pleased with himself. He rewarded himself by greedily gorging himself on the buttery square cake-like bread.
“Bruce, you can give Senator Mead the check now.” Sir Percy said as he passed on a two million dollar check to the smiling Cheshire cat senator. “My good man, this is for your upcoming re-election campaign. Ironically, your government is embracing the King George III regime after all, a turn around. I should say, what!”
Beautifully timed, the white-haired attendant returned to clear the table with the business matters at a close. “Chester, this is for your trouble.” Sir Percy said, handing Chester a hundred dollar bill.
Taken aback, Mead was shocked and impressed at the excessive gesture. “That is the height of service. The last tip I left was to a waiter in Georgetown, a twenty. My wife and I were dining with a table of eight.”
“Free enterprise is such a gas! When you’ve got it, you can afford to be excessive.” Lowell Gibbons, a blonde youthful executive spoke for the first time.
Most men seated around the rich dark brown mahogany Queen Anne table were under the age of forty, except for Sir Percy, who celebrated his sixty-fourth birthday in February. Three Americans given over to the concept of extreme greed, thinking their stand was good for the country and the people. Sir Terrence Percy, a most historical Englishman was a distant relative of Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland, Anne Boleyn’s former suitor pre-Henry VIII. This aristocrat turned successful businessman possessed immense pride at heading an empire lording over hard working people who would do anything to keep their jobs. He firmly believed he was helping them continue in their chosen livelihood. He was in truth an egotistical tyrant with no conscience as how much he had economically abused those on the lowest part of the corporate ladder.
Unsuspecting mass of service workers in the Midwest will get snowed totally by Bruce Abernathy, dull-looking man but trained by the distinguished diabolical Sir Percy to seduce masses by his slick group of impressive words making them think they will advance, and they will eventually get a cost of living raise. More attractive, more appealing, Lowell Gibbons mirrored Abernathy in fancy delivery, and fancy deception.