Ultimate Power by Arno Joubert Page A

he willing to invest?"
    "Forty million."
    Grenard whistled. "That'll buy him a chunk of airtime, maybe some dialogue as well."
    "He's a multi-billionaire. Textiles, crude oil, jewelry, that kind of thing."
    "What did he do?"
    Sonti laughed. "He was caught smuggling rhino horn in Kenya."
    "Dumb asshole."
    "Okay,I want the man to be lily-white once you're done. Vietnam is a third world country, his parent were killed in the war, he was brought up in poverty and he knew no other way, you know, that kind of bullshit. You do it best."
    "The guilt and shame treatment?"
    Sonti chuckled. "Exactly."
    "I'll make him look like driven snow. Should I bring the rhino horn angle into the movie as well?"
    "I don't see how you can. It's a sensitive subject at the moment."
    "Oh, you haven't met my script writers. They can make deforestation look like the right thing to do."
    "Okay, do it then. But run the final product by me first, I want to make sure we don't step on the wrong toes."
    "No problem." He disconnected the call then punched a number into his phone. It rang half-a-dozen times.
    "Lance, you know what time it is?" a tired sounding voice answered.
    "Wes, there's been a slight change of plans."

Silence permeated the temporary Operation Centre in the Presidential Palace. People watched the drama unfold on the television screen. A frowning news reporter stood in front of the camera, chaos in the background as mop up crews tried to extract the living or dead from the rubble of the Eiffel Tower.
    The picture switched to an anchor at a news desk, the screen then divided into four. The top left contained an image of the wreckage of the Eiffel Tower, top right was the crumbled remains of the Statue of Liberty in New York harbor. Bottom left the Kremlin was smoking and to the right of it was a crumbling tower in Seoul, thick clouds of smoke billowing from inside.
    Bruce paced around the room, a phone cradled in his shoulder. He watched his tablet as the plane carrying Alexa, Neil and Latorre closed in on the red blip.  
    Bruce disconnected the call and faced the room. "Okay people, I've received news that a third plane has been hijacked in Luanda, Angola."
    "Shit, I need a drink," the President of France said. "Follow me, Bruce."
    "But I—“
    "Follow me," she ordered   and strode out of the room.

President Rue removed two tumblers from the drinks cabinet and poured them each a stiff drink. She walked to Bruce and handed him one. He smiled a silent thanks and flopped down into the sofa.
    “What the hell is happening, Colonel?” the President asked, her arms folded, swirling the alcohol in the tumbler.
    He closed his eyes and massaged his temple with his thumb and forefinger. “A global attack of massive proportions.”
    “Why?”
    “I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.”
    President Rue strode to her desk and opened a drawer. “I think this may have something to do with it. I received it a week ago.” She pulled out a black envelope with golden letters embossed in front, then walked over and handed it to Bruce.
    “What is it?”
    She shrugged . “At first it I thought it was a joke, since what has happened I’m not sure anymore.”
    The words Madam President were written in front. He turned it around. From GREEFF was written at the back. He opened the enveloped and slipped out a single sheet of paper. He unfolded it and read.
    Dear Madam President,
    For the past century, the so-called first world countries have made it their mission to rape and pillage the earth, extracting whatever riches they could and leaving the destitute to deal with the consequences of the destruction they had caused.
    As a concerned citizen of the world, I have decided to put a stop to this, once and for all. Within the next week, you will face the collective wrath of the disenfranchised and downtrodden and you will be forced to take our demands seriously.
    You, and only you, are able to stop the devastation that is about to happen. The pain that