Dick Cheney was surprised about how little leg room there was in the front passenger seat of a Hummer. Lots of arm room. But the right front wheel well cut off significant floor space that Cheney had to move his right knee to the left. Cheney glanced to the driver. A good three feet separated Cheney from the female Marine officer. He could not touch her if he wanted. She was wearing dark sunglasses, and she had blond hair cut to the shoulders. Marine officers were getting better looking. It made Cheney proud. She was driving on a dirt road along the southern rim of the hills that formed much of the Demilitarized Zone between North Korea and South Korea. Cheney was on the South Korean side, of course, and this was a trip he had hoped to take before his tenure as Vice President came to an end in January of 2009.
In the back seat sat Park Jin Woo.Park was 77 years old and lived in the northern suburbs of Seoul. park owned several auto dealerships throughout South Korea and was also a partner with Cheney in various real estate investments in the United States. In the year 2000, just after George W. Bush was elected President of the United States, Cheney contacted park about the possibility of buying options on land in the Civilian Control Zone, an area extending about ten miles south of the Demilitarized Zone. The DMZ itself inside the South Korean border was about 2.5 miles wide and was off limits and heavily burdened with land mines. This was also true of the Civilian Control Zone, but less so.
As the Hummer drove from village to village, Cheney noticed that all the buildings were low and made of very cheap plywood. This was purposeful, structures made to collapse easily so they could become obstructions to an invading North Korean army. The green pristine hills behind the villages had been untouched by the military standoff between north and south. Well, this was all going to change, and very soon.
Cheney remembered coming up with the idea of buying options on land in the Civilian Control Zone as well as the Demilitarized zone, land that was essentially free. No one wanted it. Back in 2000, Cheney, though the assistance of Park Jin Woo, acquired options on 125,000 acres of land, land mostly in the Civilian Control Zone, but also about 30,000 acres in the Demilitarized Zone. The beautiful green hills, replete with land mines, were starting to attract speculation. Cheney had decided to exercise his options, which meant that he would acquire his 125,000 acres for less than $200,000.
“What about the land mines?” asked Park Jin Woo in the back seat of the Hummer. The female marine officer, wearing dark sunglasses on this bright clear sky day, showed no interest in the conversation.
“Not a problem,” said Cheney. Cheney did not wish to reveal to Park Jin Woo that a small company purchased by Halliburton back in 1994 was the subcontractor that layed ninety percent of the land mines and created detailed maps of their location. Cheney estimated that the expense of removing the mines with the assistance of these maps, maps unknown to the South Korean government, would be about a million and half dollars, about a hundredth of the cost without the maps. So to Cheney, he was purchasing 125,000 acres for nearly perfect real estate a days drivbe from Seoul for 1.7 million dollars. Pocket change. The cost of a two bedroom condo in Manhattan.
Cheney surveyed the hills as the Marine officer picked up her speed since the Hummer hit pavement. Cheney smiled. Make war with Iraq for the oil. Make peace with the North Koreans for the real estate. It all makes sense.
The Ford family was against the idea. The medical profession did not think it could be done. But the Governor of Michigan signed into law the exhumation order which had the gravediggers remove Henry Ford’s body from his grave at the Ford Cemetery in Detroit. The casket was shipped to the Chemistry Department of the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor where something very secret was performed on the body of Henry Ford. The Board of Directors of the Ford Motor Company were in one of the lecture halls in the same building waiting nervously, including Henry Ford’s grandson, who was the current CEO of the Ford Motor Company.
When Henry Ford walked into the lecture hall, he appeared almost green and very frail. His hair was grey and he walked with the help of two assistants. They brought him to the podium which was off to the side. Mr. Ford grabbed the side lips of the podium to steady himself. One of the assistants positioned the microphone near Henry Ford’s mouth. The audience was in shock. How could this be? They were told that Henry Ford could be raised from the dead for only an hour, and that during that time he could probably muster some kind of speech. But the chemists and biologists who had worked on the body were as startled as the audience at how vital the old man was. Afterall, he had died back in 1947 at the age of 83, almost sixty years ago.
Old Henry Ford tapped the mike and it made a loud clack throughout the lecture hall. The Ford family, including all the cousins and great grandchildren, as well as the Board members, were all there. The old man smiled at the thundering clack he made with the tap on the mike. The audience jumped from the noise.
Henry Ford, with his dry cracked lips that had the color of eggplant, leaned into the micorphone. His voice was raspy but bellowed with a deep pitch, stronger than one would expect from a man temporarily raised from the dead. “I am told I do not have much time. So let me keep this short and sweet. You people are idiots. Every goddamn one of you. You have no guts. You have no foresight. You have no vision. You have taken this great company that I built with every bead of sweat in my body and turned it into shit. You have let events control the company rather than the company control events. Why the fuck do my cars still run on gasoline? You are still using the internal combustion engine? That piece of shit is a hundred years old. Do you have a research and development department? Or do you assholes have stock in the oil companies? What? Oh, are you scared of the oil companies? Or are you just fucking lazy? And why the fuck did you turdheads bend over every three years and let the UAW ram anything they wanted up your asses? Don’t get me wrong. I don’t blame my workers. But you know what you jerks taught them? You taught them if they asked for it, you would give it to them. So as far as I am concerned, the UAW was smart. The UAW took care of their members. But you half-brains just sat on your fat asses and let the dividend checks come in without thinking of the future. So I am here to tell you to all go to hell. I am ashamed of what you did to this great company. I am ashamed that you people come from the same gene pool as me.”
At that moment Henry Ford started to cough. The assistants came over to help. Henry Ford pushed them away, holding his index finger up with a gesture that he had one more thing to say.
“Maybe you have one last shot at saving this great company. Maybe. But you are going to have to break some balls and piss a lot of people off and spend a lot of money to do it. Good luck. And try to make me smile when I am lying in my casket. Because recently all I’ve been doing is getting pissed off.”
With that, he turned and walked out slowly with the aide of the two assistants. Everyone in the lecture hall was silent. As silent as a Ford assembyline.
Mariane Pearl sat in the back of the candle-lit restaurant in West Los Angeles. She had walked in and was immediately ushered to a hidden table for six around a tiled partition, clearly set up for private meals and meetings. She though was sitting at the table for fifteen minutes, all alone, sipping a green tea and wondering if this was going to be one of those typical Hollywood meetings where the movie stars are late and everyone waits, sitting on their hands, having small talk simply to fill the dead space until the stars arrive. Mariane, though, had no one to try out small talk with. Alone, is what she was, very much alone since her husband, Daniel Pearl, was brutally kidnapped and murdered in Pakistan. She had written her book, A Mighty Heart: The Brave Life and Death of My Husband Danny Pearl to keep herself busy, to diminish the feeling of loneliness, an attempt to bring back Danny if just in her mind as she reconstructed her husband’s life.
Mariane was surprised when the book was immediately picked up and it sold well. She immediately became a minor celebrity, calls from agents about appearances, speeches, fund-raising events and of course movie deals. It was the call from Jennifer Aniston, a direct call, a personal call, with Jennifer on the other line, calling Mariane on Mariane’s cell phone, that was the biggest surprise. Jennifer read the book and wanted to buy the movie rights. They met on several occasions, Jennifer Aniston and Mariane Pearl, at restaurants, at Jennifer’s house, at Mariane’s house, at business offices, and all along Jennifer was very upfront about why she was interested. Jennifer Aniston wanted to play the role of Mariane Pearl in the movie based on her book.
Mariane was of course flattered. Jennifer Aniston playing her. The thought was both amusing and at times difficult to wrap her arms around. Not that Jennifer Ansiton couldn’t do it. It was just that anyone playing Mariane, particularly someone so beautiful and charismatic and famous as Jennifer Aniston, was difficult to fathom. Someone other than you playing you was like looking in a mirror and seeing someone else. Or was it like watching yourself, an act of narcissim that Mariane did not wish to grapple with. Afterall, this happened all the time. So she had decided to let it happen. Jennifer Aniston would be Mariane Pearl. At least in a movie.
Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie walked around the partition, both dressed very casually, hidden by sunglasses and scarves. Mariane was surprised to see Angelina Jolie. Mariane thought that she was simply meeting Brad Pitt.
“Sorry we’re late,” said Brad.
“It’s OK,” said Mariane.
A waiter arrived.
“Just a cappucinno for me in a paper cup,” said Brad.
The waiter looked at Angelina, who shook her head in silence.
“This is Angelina. Angelina this is Mariane Pearl,” said Brad.
“Hi,” said Angelina.
“Hi,” said Mariane.
“I have some very exciting news, Mariane,” said Brad.
“Yes?” said Mariane.
“We are proceeding with the movie. Michael Winterbottom is directing. I’m producing. We are starting right away with development,” said Brad.
“Great,” said Mariane.
“A minor change. Well, actually a big change, one that helps the film enormously. Angelina is going to play you,” said Brad.
“Angelina? But I thought–” said Mariane.
“Jennifer is no longer involved. But that is OK. It is all good,” said Brad.
“But I was just talking to Jennifer, I don’t know, maybe three weeks ago. She was doing some research,” said Mariane.
“Brad, I said it would be better if–” said Angelina.
“No. It is important that you are here. Mariane, this is a crazy business. Things never proceed as originally planned. Usually things fall apart. But you are lucky. You are very lucky. Rather than fall apart, your book, Danny’s life and your life will all come together in a movie starring an actor with even better credentials. It is all good, and I promise you this will move forward and be a major motion picture,” said Brad.
“I don’t know. I feel funny about this. I feel bad,” said Mariane.
“Yes, but frankly, Mariane, you really don’t have a say in casting,” said Brad.
“Oh shut up Brad, of course she has a say,” said Angelina with a slight smile on her face. “Mariane, I have read your book several times, and it has become very important to me to become a part of this project. As you no doubt know, I have dedicated much of my life to traveling the world and to purposely involving myself in causes for the underprivileged, the poor, the sick. I have used my celebrity as best I can to help others, rather than squander it on a Hollywood lifestyle. And to me, the fact that you and Danny did not have the resources at your disposal as I do, you nevertheless still dedicated your lives to others. That astounds me, that you and Danny would give so much of yourselves when you did not have much in the way of money or wealth or command of the media. I sit here in awe of you and of your late husband, and I would consider it a privilege, indeed an honor, to play the role of your life. In fact, I hunger to do so because it is a story that must be told,” said Angelina.
Mariane was not stupid. She felt she was being played, and Angelina was playing her like a deck of cards. But quite frankly, Angelina seemed sincere. Now of course she might be simply acting. Afterall, she is an actress. But the energy between Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt disturbed the air around the table with a narcotic that almost made Mariane giddy. Maybe Mariane was being played, but she felt high from it all.
“I am very flattered that you would say all that. But I still feel uncomfortable about the Jennifer thing,” said Mariane.
“Of course you do. Anyone would. But you know the things that have happened. Jennifer no longer has any interest in the production company, Brad’s Plan B production company, that purchased the rights to your book, and to put it bluntly, and I think you know this all too well, shit happens,” said Angelina.
Mariane looked at Angelina who was returning the look. Brad had long since sat back in his chair sipping his cappuccino that was served almost immediately after he ordered it. Brad was out of the equation, at least for this meeting. Angelina’s “shit happens” remark was her way of communicating that this is the way it is, and there is nothing Mariane can do about it. Nevertheless, it almost added to the narcotic effect of the moment to watch Angelina Jolie say “shit happens.”
“Well, OK. I guess,” said Mariane.
“I knew you would understand. And you know we are going to be spending a lot of time together. I have to get to know you. I’ve got to know you to play you,” said Angelina.
Mariane could not help but think that this little meeting had already started to instruct Angelina about Mariane.
“One thing, though, Mariane, and this is very important. You must drop the Jennifer Aniston thing when asked by the media, and you must enthusiastically support the decision of casting me in the movie. If the media starts to give us bad press, then this project will fall apart. That is not a threat, it is just Hollywood for you. It sucks, but money comes and goes so fast, and everyone is skittish about everything. You understand,” said Angelina.
“Yes,” said Mariane.
“I’ve got to go. Brad,” said Angelina as she stood. “You guys talk, fill Mariane in on the timing and everything,” said Angelina to Brad. “It was great meeting you,” said Angelina as she turned and walked out into the hot Los Angeles late afternoon sun.
“You want a drink?” asked Brad Pitt.
Alone with Brad Pitt in the back of a fancy Los Angeles restaurant. This was all set up to seal the deal. The girls came to terms, and now the guy is going to make certain it all proceeds in accordance with the plan. Plan B, that is.
Katie Couric swung the door open to the penthouse suite at the Ritz Carlton Huntington Hotel in Pasadena, California. The door slammed on the wall making a very loud boom and bounced back almost hitting Sean McManus as he entered from behind. It was 7:34 PM, but the early evening sun hung over the distant Pasadena hills, cutting through the smog and the 106 degree heat. Katie through her bag down on the couch and walked up to the window looking at the palm trees that were drooping in the oven-like air. Sean McManus closed the door to the hotel room gently.
“I told you I didn’t want questions,” said Katie.
‘Of course you were going to get questions, Katie. That’s what happens when you appear at these functions,” said Sean.
“This was my idea, this Eye on America tour, not yours. I am in control of this, and I told you this would happen if we came here,” said Katie, without turning, still standing at the hotel window.
‘You have to face the media at some point, Katie,” said Sean.
“I am the fucking media. Do you get that? I don’t have to face anything,” said Katie.
“You’re pissed they asked you about what you were going to wear at your debut?” asked Sean.
“My debut? My debut? You think I am a debutante? It is not my goddamn debut. It is merely my first night in the fucking chair, OK,” said Katie.
“OK. OK,” said Sean.
“And I am going to get tired real fast if all anyone gives a shit about is what I am wearing or what makeup stylist I am using. I am becoming, in fact I am the CBS News Anchor with a capital ‘A,’ and I dictate what is news and what is not news. And my goddamn wardrobe is not news,” said Katie.
“OK. OK,” said Sean.
“And this fucking Television Critics Association whatever meeting, who the fuck are these people? Television critics? Don’t they have anything better to do? The world is blowing up and they are asking me about Dan Rather, like he matters anymore, for chrissake,” said Katie.
“You handled everything well. You didn’t lose your cool,” said Sean.
“Of course I didn’t lose my cool. I smiled through the whole thing. That’s what you are paying me for, to keep this fucking smile on my face even though I am dealing with idiots and morons. Do you know how fucking hard it is for me to keep this smile going? It is worth twenty million dollars this fucking smile, twenty mil a year, and I can turn it off anytime I want. Like right now. See. Am I smiling? Am I smiling? No. But with the camera, with the fucking lights, when it matters, I will smile. And I will keep smiling, Sean, to keep you and CBS happy,” said Katie as she turned to face Sean McManus, the President of CBS News.
“That’s good, Katie,” said Sean.
“So you better fucking do one thing, and that is keep me happy. I don’t need this shit. I have everything I want. So keep me happy, and I will keep smiling. And don’t think the two million dollar monthly paycheck is keeping me happy. That keeps me neutral. Neutral, got that,” said Katie.
“OK. OK. Got it,” said Sean.
“A bottle of champagne. Order room service. We’ll start there,” said Katie as she sat on the couch and removed her high heels.
“Yes. Of course. Of course,” said Sean.
Kenneth Lay opened his eyes. He grabbed his chest because of the thud of pain that burned like a hot bass. He was lying next to his wife Linda who was breathing heavily and in a deep sleep. Linda had been taking sleeping pills lately due to all the events in their recent lives, and the pills always seemed to do the trick. Linda slept through the night, snoring as if she was drowning out bad dreams. Kenneth turned to the digital clock that sat on the night stand to his right. It was 1:07 AM.
The thud in his chest was growing worse, but he had had these pains before. Kenneth did not tell anyone. He assumed they were stress pains. But he was dealing with it like he dealt with everything. Quietly. But somehow this was different. The pain spread to his right arm which was burning sharply. He nudged Linda, but she did not stir, nor did her deep noisy breathing break its stride. Linda Lay remained firmly in the grip of Ambien, deep in her dreamless world.
Rather than be an alarmist, something he had always eschewed, Kenneth Lay was determined to bear this momentary crisis out. This too shall pass, he thought. So much had happened in his life, so many good things, so many bad things, tough times, easy times, and soaringly brilliant times. He never fancied himself brilliant, though. Kenneth always had to work to get to the top. He used charm and social skills, combined with a sense of optimism. Kenneth learned early on that optimism was a tool that worked wonders on people. Never seem pessimistic about anything. Never betray that you had doubts about success. Indeed, this tool had metastasized into a working philosophical attitude. Kenneth believed his own optimism. It worked on everyone, including himself, and fueled him through good times and bad times.
Kenneth’s father, Omer Lay, was the supreme optimist. Omer Lay had hundreds of jobs in his life, hundreds of startup ideas, hundreds of notions of who he was and what he should be. Omer even thought of himself as a preacher, and even garnered small audiences in the dozens of towns that he and his family resided. Indeed, Omer and his wife, Ruth, moved often, always trying to find a new life because the present one never seemed to work out.
But as Kenneth Lay struggled with the pain in his arm on the bed in the Colorado Rockies next to his wife, he thought that his father’s incessant search for something new and better was a mark of optimism, not of despair. Though his father eventually saw himself as a failure; because in truth, nothing ever did work out for Omer. But with Kenneth, things were a bit different. Kenneth kept moving too, but from one success to another.
Notwithstanding the pain in his chest and arm, Kenneth smiled at the thought of his first oil job with the Humble Oil and Refining Company. The name ‘humble’ amused Kenneth. His starting salary was $13,000 per year, an amount he could spend in a day on frivolous things his later years. But his time at Humble had given him a family. It was at Humble that he married his college girlfriend, Judith Ayers. And with Judith, Kenneth had two children, Mark and Elizabeth.
Kenneth thought of Mark and Elizabeth and how he had left their mother for another woman, Linda, who was lying dead to the world next to him in this mountain retreat. Kenneth Lay felt a pain in his stomach. It was unrelated to the pain in his chest and arm. It was an emotional pain. The pain of loss, of regret, of having hurt his children. He hurt his two and only children twice. First, when he left their mother. And second, now, with the predicament he was in. A criminal conviction and he was now waiting his sentence. Kenneth knew he was going to prison, and he thought of Mark and Elizabeth coming to visit him. He would be seeing his children in prison.
Kenneth’s face started to contort with the thought of how he had hurt Judith, of how he had hurt his children. Afterall, he had hurt them all because of one thing: success. With his success came a lack of attention to Judith and family. When the money started pouring in, Kenneth Lay felt on some level that he wanted something more in his personal life. That he wanted a woman that could satisfy his new-found sense of himself. And he left Judith and the kids with optimism that everything would work out. Judith would find a new life. The kids would understand. Everyone would be optimistic.
And it did. And they were. Didn’t it? Weren’t they? Linda was smart and beautiful, and at the moment snoring. Kenneth Lay started to cry. The pain in his chest was worse than it had ever been, and now both arms were getting very stiff with shooting sharp pains, like someone was squeezing his biceps and twisting his arms in an Indian wrist burn. Judith might not have been as beautiful as Linda, but she fell in love with Kenneth when he was a nobody. Kenneth thought of that. He kept thinking of that, of Judith, of having left her, and he kept hearing the snoring Linda next to him. The thoughts of Judith, the memories of Judith mixed up with the heavy wet breathing was clashing together in his brain. He wanted the noise to stop so he could think of Judith, so he could dream of Judith, or those times back at the Humble Oil and Refining Company.
With each deep noisy breath that Linda took, Kenneth Lay’s chest and arm pains got worse. But he felt he would get through the night if he could only keep his mind focused on Judith. He would call her in the morning. He wanted to speak to her. He wanted to touch her again. Focus. Focus on the memory. Kenneth struggled with trying to focus. But the pain kept getting worse, and his wife’s snoring kept getting louder and louder and louder. He thought he started to feel rain and see lightening. The thunder was Linda, but he tried to turn it into a thunderstorm memory he had with Judith, once when they were on a lake in a row boat. The row boat. Think of the row boat and the lake and Judith.
And then it came. The explosion of pain that made Kenneth Lay’s left hand grab Linda so tight it woke her. But Kenneth did not notice that Linda had awoken. All he could think about was his left hand grabbing the side of the row boat, the boat shaking in the thunderstorm and Kenneth telling Judith that everything was going to be alright. Everything was going to be alright. That they would make it to shore. Kenneth smiled. Judith smiled. And the thunderstorm was over.
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