The Hearts of Men ...

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The President slept fitfully, he dreamt of his father and fishing along a river in Colorado when he was just a boy. But the river didn't look familiar and his father wasn't really there, he was a shadowy form nearby who kept whispering, "Be careful, my son," in Japanese.

The sun was going down, the river looked unfamiliar, he had the unsettling thought that though he had been here before, everything was now different. In his dream he began to cry, weeping for that which was lost, never to be regained.

He came awake with a start. Sitting up he looked at his wife, fortunately his dreams hadn't awakened Hiroko, who still slept soundly. The President looked at the bedside clock, it was four in the morning. He thought of going back to sleep, then decided against it.

He got up, slipped into his bathrobe and slippers, then quietly left the bedroom. The Secret Service agent in the hallway looked startled when the President stepped out. Nakagawa put a finger to his lips, whispered, "shhh," then winked at the man. Who grinned at the leader of the free world, before nodding his head.

No doubt that man had called down to the kitchen because when the President arrived there, Bill Aspinall was there, starting a fresh pot of coffee.

"Do you ever sleep, Bill?" Nakagawa pulled up a chair at the kitchen island and sat heavily.

Aspinall grinned and said, "I could ask you the same, boss."

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Nakagawa said, "I looked it up."

"Sir?"

"The time difference between DC and Moscow, it's seven hours, not six."

Aspinall shook his head, "I guess it was all those years I spent in Germany, I just think. 'Oh, Europe, that's six hours ahead of the east coast.' Knowing full well that London is five and Moscow is seven ahead."

"Don't sweat it, you could have said, 'It's morning, they should be at work by now.' I mean, I should know the time difference as well, spent a couple of years in Germany myself."

"Neither of us is getting the rest we should be getting." Aspinall pointed out, pushing a cup of coffee over to the President.

As Nakagawa took his first sip he said, "Don't I know it?"

At a plush chalet in Switzerland, high in the Alps, another group of men were sitting around a conference room table. They were all extremely wealthy and just knew that their ideas were better than anyone else's. Lunch was finished and cigars and cognac were the next item of business.

"So Johann, what should our next move be? Perhaps we should let them grow complacent, let them think that they have managed to settle things down." Rafael de Lima slowly exhaled smoke as he took in the magnificent view.

"Ah Rafael, I had such a thought, but I think one more action is necessary, something spectacular I think."

Pierre Mallet smirked and asked, "What could be more spectacular than a nuclear explosion which killed four warships at sea?"

Johann Obrecht smiled, took a long pull on his cigar, then said, "Perhaps a nuclear explosion which kills an entire city."

Aziz Haghighi nearly choked on his cognac, recovered and asked, "Is such a thing possible? I know we have the finances, but can we get the device?"

Elihu Baum smiled and said, "I may have a source."

"Well then gentlemen, shall we make a plan?" Tahara Yoshimatsu nodded at the others, "We need to start somewhere."

"I suppose I should go and get dressed, what's on the agenda for today?" Nakagawa finished his coffee and stood up.

"You actually have a press conference scheduled for 1:00 PM Eastern." Aspinall checked his phone, "Yup, one in the afternoon."

"Here at the White House?"

"Yes, it's time you talked to the press, live and in color. So to speak."

Nakagawa frowned, "If I must, I must, but don't tell me I have to like it."

"I would never do that, Mr. President." Aspinall grinned when he said that.

"You're an evil bastard, Bill."

"That I am, Sir, that I am."

Each of the seven men had taken three slips of paper and written the name of a city on each slip. The slips of paper were then placed in a ceramic vase which might have been worth more than the chalet itself.

"Remember gentlemen, you can't write down the same city more than once, no matter how much you dislike that city." Baum had said at the start with a chuckle, looking at Haghighi. Baum himself would have written 'Tehran' on all three of his slips. As he knew Haghighi would have written 'Tel Aviv' on his.

"I would also say, 'No picking a city in Japan,' we've already had our turn." Tahara had said.

That produced a laugh from all of the men.

"Who shall do the honors?" Obrecht asked, placing the vase on a low table in the sitting area.

"I know!" Mallet picked up the house phone and said, "We need a maid in the sitting room."

Minutes later a very attractive native of Switzerland came in, "Gentlemen, you called for a maid?"

"Yes, my dear, if you would be so kind, please reach into that vase," he pointed at the low table, "and draw from it a single slip of paper."

Fiona Stahler smiled and said, "My pleasure, Herr Tahara."

She went to the table and slid her hand into the vase. She made sure she only drew a single slip then pulled her hand out, handing the slip of paper to Herr Obrecht, the man she thought was the leader of this group.

"Thank you, my dear, that will be all."

When Fräulein Stahler had gone, Obrecht opened the paper and read the name to himself. He said nothing at first, he wondered if he should tell them one of the names he had written down, but they might want to see the name for themselves. So he simply placed the slip of paper on the table.

"A good choice, see for yourselves, now we must make it happen."

Each of the seven looked at the name written on the paper, only one had a pang of regret when he read the name, but that had passed. Individual lives were of no consequence in the grand scheme of what they were trying to accomplish, why should a single city matter at all?

A fire was built in the fireplace and Haghighi emptied the vase into the flames. Obrecht handed him the last slip of paper and Haghighi glanced at it one more time before consigning it to the fire. Much as the city itself would be consigned to nuclear fire.

A pity, he thought, I would have liked to walk along the Seine one more time ...