“Yes. I will announce my decision at the end of the month,” said Kalakia with great reluctance.
The various members gave quiet nods of approval. The relief on their faces was obvious.
“Alright,” said Stirner. “Now. Recession. Global investment has shrunk heavily over the last twelve months, and we need to act.”
“This is no surprise,” said Kalakia.
Kelly Larsen had given him the heads up. Kalakia had acknowledged her and the IMF’s concerns but decided that it was too early to act. He had not wanted to embolden world leaders by relieving them so easily of their burden. Some extended economic pressure would do them good and force them to adapt, and it would send a message to the over-ambitious investors who valued profit above all else.
“We need to act,” said Stirner.
“What do you suggest?” asked Kalakia.
“Lower the tribute rate. Five percent should do it. That would ease the situation, give the market some renewed confidence and flexibility.”
“It could also signal weakness on our behalf. Loosening the leash emboldens the dog,” said Kalakia.
“Why not just expand our portfolio in the affected areas like we always do? We have plenty of emerging markets we can target,” came a voice from the side.
“No,” said Boris Parkishkov, shaking his head. “We have enough projects. Any more of this and we go down the path of a planned world economy.”
“There is another option,” said Stirner. “We could funnel the money back through the governments, and they could pass it on via tax-breaks and state and federal projects.”
“That could work. We did something similar some years back.”
“What do you think?” said Stirner, looking across at Kalakia.
“Do it,” said Kalakia. “But run it by Kelly Larsen first. She can help ensure a smooth rollout.”
“Kelly Larsen? From the IMF?”
Kalakia nodded.
“She is an idealist, but a capable and useful operator,” he said.
“Fine. Is everyone in agreement?” asked Stirner.
The table responded with nods and murmurs. DeLauer was gazing into space with his arms still crossed. He checked the time on his watch and looked out of the window. Kalakia followed his gaze. Beneath was a courtyard which belonged to the museum and across was the hotel. One of the rooms had its window open, and a man was leaning over the edge with the curtain covering his body. He was holding a rifle and looking through the scope. The gun was aimed in Kalakia’s direction. Kalakia’s eyes lit up and his body lifted and began moving by itself. He reached his arms out in front of both men on either side of him and pushed back with his feet, bringing all three of them crashing to the carpet behind them along with their chairs just as the window smashed into pieces.
“Get down!” screamed Kalakia.
For a second The Council members remained frozen in shock.
“Move!” he yelled again.
Everyone scrambled from their seats, some of them ducking beneath the table, the others trying for the library. The front door opened and the security detail from the lobby came rushing through. Francois was the first to emerge from the library while drawing his pistol from his jacket. The soldier had been reawakened, noticed Kalakia. The rest of the security detail came running behind Francois with their guns drawn. Two of them came to Kalakia’s side of the table to join Francois and the rest covered the window.
“The building across!” yelled Kalakia to one of the security detail while pointing frantically to where the shot came from.
“Can’t see anyone, sir!” yelled one of the security detail over his back, his pistol pointed outside.
Kalakia rose to his feet, full of adrenaline and his mind sharp and alert, his chest heaving up and down. Francois disappeared into the lobby without waiting for instruction.
“You men stay behind and secure The Council,” yelled Kalakia while signalling at three of the security detail. “Call Igor Nagy and have him send back up. The rest come with me.”
The security detail surrounded Kalakia and they ran into the lobby as one unit.
“Security downstairs says it’s clear,” said Francois.
Kalakia nodded, and the elevator door opened. He was about to get in then stopped. As he had acted, his mind had been processing the situation. Now a voice was telling him not to get in the elevator. The window had shattered from one bullet. It was supposed to be bulletproof. Someone had replaced the pane with regular glass. Someone had positioned Kalakia on the seat which was in direct line of fire. It was an inside job. Kalakia placed a hand on Francois’ shoulder as he was about to enter the elevator. Francois froze and turned around. They locked eyes.
“The window,” said Kalakia.
Francois considered Kalakia’s words. Then he understood.
“Who?” he said with a snarl.
Kalakia had no idea. He only knew that an ambush awaited them downstairs.
“Call Igor back. We need the helicopter.”
Francois reached into his pocket and walked away to make the call. One of the security detail came rushing into the lobby.
“Stirner’s gone,” he said.
Kalakia stared at his man with disbelief. Stirner.
“Anyone else?” he asked.
“No, the rest are secure. Should we look for him?”
Kalakia thought about what could be waiting at the bottom of the emergency exit. If Igor had also been compromised, the helicopter would not be coming. There would be a shootout, and Kalakia could not afford to lose any men.
“No. Secure the library and wait for my orders.”
“Yes, sir.”
In less than ten minutes the helicopter arrived and hovered above the courtyard. A rope with a harness was dangled down.
“I’ll go first,” said Francois, holding his palm out. “To be sure.”
Kalakia nodded. The security detail reached out and claimed the rope. Francois clipped himself in and gave the line two firm pulls to indicate that he was ready. Igor had been with The League since the early days in Berlin. Kalakia had always trusted Igor, but he agreed with Francois’ precaution. He waited until the rope was dropped
