It took until Saturday, Oct. 23 that the group that used to be known as The Five Couples met at a small conference room in a major hotel in Cleveland. Since Amir now had two wives, it was no longer a collection of couples. There was some staff there to take notes and search for data. I was present because I had so much to tell.
The hotel was told that it was a meeting was called Channeling Better Corporate Governance and Government Regulation to Enhance Profits: Year 4. The only clue that something was not on the level was the number of security officers present to protect the participants. I certainly did not want to do anything to attract attention. I was the star infiltrator into the enemy camp. I did not want my picture in the newspaper for any reason at all. I wore a uniform of junior level staff person. When I was not in a meeting room, I ran around bringing coffee and doing errands for the “big shots.” Of course, I loved playing the role of a minor player.
Deb and I primarily walked through what happened in the last four chapters. I did notice that my mom Jane was listening to me a lot closer to me more than she had done over the previous six weeks. My mom Mary was beaming with pride, and my dad Amir was showing grave concern. In retrospect, we had kept him in the dark on some of the things I had been through during that period.
I did throw in a dramatic re-enactment of what happened in judge Dunaway's courtroom. I had Amir play the judge, I just gave Jane and Amir the script. I had my X-minus clothing under my cloak, so when I flipped it to the ground and aggressively yelled “Justice be damned, for justice we be fucked!” I caught my audience by surprise. I also played the tape of me being inspected before I could get into the Three Eagles feeding center. My mother Mary played the interrogator. It was clear that these great billionaires had no idea what was being said in the X-minus dialect. I had to translate each sentence into standard English. My fluency and ability to respond naturally to the rapid fire interrogation surprised everyone. My mother Jane smiled and exclaimed, “You don't have to reveal all my secrets!” when I explained that I had described her as the lowest kind of street prostitute.
The key parts of my evidence showed how the staff of the Three Eagles feeding center was sponsoring and directing the violence that was tearing about the great cities of the middle of the revived United States. It was essential that everyone present knew what we knew and why we knew it.
The crux of the discussion concerned how to respond to the information that Charles Mitchell, who facilitated Jane's education, and provided management support services to “the product launch,” seemed like the last person we would ever expect to be disrupting the existing social order. Everyone present said how proud he was to help the project and help end slavery. What was his deal?
There was a long, winding and somewhat repetitive argument about motives. When Charles Mitchell gave money to support Three Eagles Catering, did he think it was a charity? Did he know what he was doing? Could a lower level staff person have made the financial transfers? Is he going senile? How can we arrange for him to reveal his true motivations?
At a certain point, I was getting tired of the endless discussions about motivations and what to do. I asked for the floor. I said, “When you knew General Lloyd Warren was up to no good, you had no worries about motivation. In 36 hours you had him nailed. I have not worked with Mr. Mitchell like the rest of you. Why not blitz him like you did General Warren? In my opinion, the one thing you want to do is to take over Three Eagles Catering. Don't you want to take over the X-minus food sources and unplug all the propaganda? Let's put a stop to the death trains bringing rioters from city to city. I say, ‘To heck with Mr. Mitchell's feelings.’ Let's go in like gangbusters and use him willingly or unwillingly to take over the management of the evil catering company that is the source of all our troubles.”
My reference to an “evil catering company” had this collection of billionaires laughing, but they certainly got my point. It is all way too late to worry about which crimes have been committed by whom. It was time to put an end to the violence.
I decided to tune out the discussions for a bit. I think they finally decided to summon Charles Mitchell to our meeting. Warren Ohio was only 60 miles away. By special train or by car it was less than two hours away. If he declined, then everyone would go treat him like the rogue general and after him with everything they could muster.
Deb got the honors of calling Charles on the phone. Deb just said, “He is delighted to be invited. He will be here as soon as he can. There was not any hint of nervousness when I asked him to come.” I was glad I could move the group to a more productive point of view.
This whole thing was quite a circus. I have to say that Deb and I had kept the rest of our group in the dark about this investigation. The whole sweep of the previous six weeks was breathtaking. I was proud of Rose for her willingness to change her identity, to starve herself, and plunge in headfirst to swim with the vilest portions of the X-minus manipulators.