MAN-MADE WINTERS

 “This is urgent, David” Clinton shouted across the huge mahogany table. His grey eyebrows vibrated excitedly like cat whiskers. “The repercussions could be damn serious.”

“I am very worried about the last winter,” Clinton said sadly.

“What about it?”‘Rockefeller almost shouted. “Aren’t you happy that it has blown over leaving us better than before?”

“The repercussions prickle my skin with fear as if I killed the others with my own bare hands.

“Why should you feel like that?” Rockefeller said between angry grunts. “All winters prune leaves leaving plants looking miserable like unburied corpses

“But this one was too destructive, David” Clinton held on. “, too many lives were lost. It left the land looking like the wrinkled skin of an old woman. .”

“The loss of life is always regrettable," Rockefeller took a long pull on his cigar before he resumed talking, "and the great news, however, is that, like every other winter, the aftermath of this one is a refreshing spring.”

“I wouldn’t gladly call the coming spring refreshing, “Clinton threw up a weary hand, “especially with the unsettling news from Africa,”

“What news is that? Rockefeller lifted his pupils to glare with concern into the face of his colleague. “I am told the whole sordid jungle of darkness underwent a systematic depopulation. That is definitely good news, isn’t it?”” Rockefeller said hopefully. However, he felt some inconvenient flutters of butterflies in the stomach. A premonition of danger crawled up his spine like a trail of frozen water.“

 “Unfortunately…,” Clinton was cut short.

“Unfortunately what, Bill?” Rockefeller could not wait any longer. He wiped off the sweat from his itching brow while directing a corporal glare on the former president. He was now visibly anxious; the dangling cigar was not comforting anymore. Why is Clinton so slow in elaborating on what is troubling him?

“A horde of useless eaters survived the winter,” Clinton said almost alarmingly. “The entire nation of unwanted stomachs escaped the clear out.”

“Survived the winter! How the Devil did that happen?” Rockefeller’s voice exploded shaking the soundproofed Manhattan office. “From which part of Africa did we have that kind of disaster?”He stood up and started pacing the office floor, walking to and fro like a roaring lion.

“Zambia…...” Clinton was cut short.

“Bill, do you have your facts correct ?” Rothschild swung in, he was reading from a script. “Only thirty million people survived and these were mostly Americans. A few Europeans and even fewer Asians also made it, but their combined totals don’t go beyond a thousand. There was a complete demographic wipe out everywhere else.”

“You can forget such doctored statistics, James,” Clinton hit back, “Zambia recorded a hundred percent survival, its population of seventeen million remained intact. Our performance, if we go by figures, was embarrassing in comparison.”

“That is serious, damned serious,” Rothschild groaned like a speared cow. “But how could anyone survive the wrath of a well-calculated winter like that one?”

“Dr.Brasca’s clever mind read your brains and cracked the problem almost as soon as you finished creating it,” Clinton blew his long nose in disgust. His bleary eyes remained steady- trained on his colleague to see the impact, “I pray that his skills won’t be directed against us in a revenge act.”

“And who the hell is this Dr.Brasca?” Rockefeller roared in frustration, his usual dreamy pair of eyes looked pained. “Why should the bastard kill an opportunity to rid the earth of unwanted scum?”

“He runs Choma Laboratory, a division of Tower-64,” Clinton replied tolerantly. It was clear the big guns were too proud to research on opponents.

“Can’t we do something about him?” that was from Rockefeller whose philosophy of ‘if you can’t make it steal it or buy it’ seemed the best bet for now.

“Do something like what?” Clinton was genuinely shocked, “bribe him maybe?”

“Why not?” Rockefeller was sweating profusely now. “We just have to. I have to make the big money without impediments. No one needs those baboons dancing and squealing over the little food available.”

“But you don’t need a fight with Tower-64 just now, do you?” Clinton was worried. Being a politician he knew the extent to which an intelligence organization can go in defending its critical personnel. Dr.Brasca was critical personnel.

“I will not rest until those cursed blacks have vanished completely like all the other Neanderthals we did in,” Rockefeller said, his face puckered in a mirthless snarl. “Africa and South America are now my farmlands where I will grow the food to feed the whole world from now onwards. What other reason would be there for freezing the earth with that kind of winter?”

“But the danger from Tower-64 is intolerably great, David,” Clinton winked his fiery pupils in a serious warning, “once they know it’s you behind this winter, be sure that you will be on their radar and that is not fun at all.”

“Radar! I fear no nigger either here or out there on the antheap of vandalism,” it was Rothschild grinding his teeth in anger. He was a man of action, used to having his way all the time.

“Tower-64 are not ordinary niggers…,” Clinton turned around sharply as the door slammed shut.

It was Tony Blair who had entered the office. He was breathing heavily and his eyes danced like a cornered rat. He quickly shot out a hand to reach for some bourbon scotch. He said ruefully; “Somehow I feel it was very lucky of me to have survived the catastrophe when all my friends were wiped out.”

“The feeling is the same with me here,” Clinton agreed with his fellow politician. “Never in the history of mankind have so many painful deaths occurred within such a short time.”

“Have you forgotten the Black Death?” Rothschild interjected. “The mass killing of over two hundred million people because they were no longer necessary.”

 “But I want to deal with Brasca?” Rockefeller waved a skinny hand to steer the discussion back into the lane where he wanted it.

“Why can’t we throw a huge party?” Rothschild suggested, “Invite him to the dance and then see if he cannot be persuaded to behave himself.”

“Brilliant James,” David Rockefeller was cracking his brains on this proposal; “and probably find him an Arab woman. Mossad has been squealing about Tower-64 agents losing their marbles every time they see an Arab skirt.”

“Arab girls are plenty,” Rothschild put in. "Finding one cannot be a problem."

“What do we call this celebration? Rockefeller swung back. “The Great Survival Dance, maybe?”

“No David! Let’s call it SPRING DANCE…,” Rothschild looked at the clouds flying past his open window. “Surviving the winter makes plants sprout new leaves, believe me, the survivors of that severe winter must be feeling the same.’

“Ya! Ya! That is a great idea James,” Rockefeller agreed with his friend. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

“You! Clinton and Blair,” Rothschild addressed the two former heads of state like someone addressing high school captains, “being seasoned politicians, you will organize this dance. You do it the way you did the campaigns that won you those rigged elections.”

“And you, of course, will be whipping your two cows to move the cart faster, right?”Tony was not happy to be used as a cutting edge for these murderous industrial magnates.

“You are either in with us or out,” Rockefeller spoke dangling his cigar threateningly. “But remember, a retired politician can only go down, never up.”

“Where is the venue for the Spring Dance, James?” Tony Blair asked. He had assumed the picture of a truly broken man. “Bill, let’s go and start the preparations.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………

"What is the plan, David?” Rothschild asked. They had remained just the two of them.

“While everyone is dancing like excited baboons,” he halted temporarily to puff a cigar, “I hope to unleash a little winter, James. This will be specific to deal with the Zambian question.”

“Why can’t we just fumigate the big maggot himself during the dance?”

“I want to clear out the whole bunch, not just one.”

“That is the point David,” Rothschild was getting worried about his friend’s sanity. “Just how do you hope to wipe out these maggots when they defied your efforts the last time?

“I am sorry that I did not tell you, James,” Rockefeller said looking truly repentant. “I have a small arsenal that might just change the situation.”

“And what is that arsenal?”

“My boys stole five kilos of Helium from the Wuhan laboratory...”

“But we have tones of Helium here David,” Rothschild wondered. “What is so special about that insignificant number of kilos?”

“I have the results to prove that this one is different,” Rockefeller twisted his eyes into devilish slits and spoke almost in whispers. “The Chinese stole it from the sun.”

“No wonder the winter was so severe,” Rothschild whistled softly. “I have always wondered about the rapid degradation of temperatures.”

“And that winter took only one point five kilos,” Rockefeller was now flipping through some channels on the huge flat-screen TV. “The doctor will be here enjoying himself while I freeze his countrymen back to the ice age with the remaining kilos of helium.”

“Great plan,” Rothschild was forced to admit the ingenuity of the scheme. “The spring dance is just a diversionary tactic, right?”

“Yes, to make sure the doctor comes…...” he gulped the scotch as he watched his friend leave.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

Meanwhile at Tower-64

“Signs indicate that the severe winter was man-made,” Colonel Kawambwa started. He was Tower-64’s excellent troubleshooter. Currently, he was assigned to investigate the severe winter which killed had six billion people, devastated the earth and left rotting corpses strewn everywhere.

“Tell us more,” General Chima prodded his man to reveal more. “You didn’t call us here to speculate or hallucinate.”

“We have traced samples of the helium stolen from Wuhan a few months just before the catastrophe,” Colonel Kawambwa.

“Traced them to who?”

“To a Manhattan office in the United States of America .”

“It was rumored Rockefeller stole that helium,” Ms. Wina came in. She was bitter. Six of her family members perished in the catastrophe. They were in the UK for a holiday.

“It is possible especially if you remember the man's evident contempt for large populations.”

“Do we let this fat pig get away with the murder of millions just like that,” Mr. Nzala exploded in an outburst. He had also lost the entire family to the severe winter. Madam Nzala had taken the young ones on a shopping trip in Dubai. “We are all looking up to Tower-64 to do something.”

“We can’t use Tower-64 resources to prosecute private vende…...” Colonel Kazoka tried to gauge the mood. He was cut short by General Chima.

“Killing billions of innocent people makes Rockefeller my business-private, personal call it whatever you may. I just have to have his head on a platter. I….,” the roar of approval from all the members in the room endorsed his plan. His word, whether correct or wrong, was after all a command. Tower -64 would be thrown into the ring to make sure Rockefeller paid dearly for his crimes; alleged or committed.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………….....................................The afternoon was cloudless, leaving a steel blue sky. The sun was scalding on the skin branding it as a pressing iron. Rockefeller sat in his office with lights dimmed to near darkness. His heart was pumping, fear permeating his skin like a doctor’s hypodermic syringe. Bill Clinton had informed him that the dreaded Tower-64 commandoes were spotted training in the Caribbean nation of Cuba. The reasons for there presence were not clear.

His vulnerability became obvious when his reclusive house on Rhode Island was razed to the ground by a powerful bomb.No arrests were made.

Later, four of his sixteen personal bodyguards resigned citing pressure of imminent danger. That evening all the remaining bodyguards, whether at work or resting at home, were wiped out in a series of coordinated killings. The writing on the wall stared at him.

“Why did I do it?”He wailed as he saw his end fast approaching.”Why? Why did I do the damn thing?”

His oval face shrunk in and the long lips trembled violently. He broke his leg running for the tunnel when the door opened.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" He wailed in surrender. " please don’t kill me please don’t, I am sorry…”

“It is me, David,” Rothschild was walking towards the empty chair near the table. His throat was dry. The bourbon scotch he gulped like water was useless. The throat was dry, not from lack of water but because of fear. “I didn’t know these baboons had the technology to reach us this fast.”

A huge explosion rocked the Manhattan building. The door swung open and in walked Colonel Munaumba waving a BK-47 automatic about.

“How is the Spring Dance, Rockefeller?” he asked while beaming his mirthless smile

Rothschild tried to fight but an alert commando threw him to the carpet with a well-executed taekwondo kick. Rockefeller was now wailing freely like a bitch at a child’s funeral.

“Shhhhhhh!”The colonel whispered. “The noise you are making may upset your neighbors.

The commandoes frisked the two men and locked them in the office. The hissing sound of helium from Rockefeller's cabin escorted the intruders as they left the office. As the office temperatures dropped to subzero, the two faces turned chalk white.”

“I told Rockefeller to be careful with these Zambians,” Clinton commented sourly after seeing the news flash about his friends.

“I will never forget his insults,” Tony Blair said, “but what I miss most is the Spring Dance.”