Read The Rapture: In The Twinkling Of An Eye for Free Online

staff.”
    President Vasile had come out from around his enormous ebony desk that appeared as if it had grown where it stood and had rested there for centuries. He sat across from Fortunato at a small round table, the shape a recurring motif of the men themselves.
    “I was unaware,” Vasile said, “that members of the lower house had echipi, let alone chiefs of the same.”
    Fortunato smiled, trying to soften the bite of his words. “You well know that Dr. Carpathia is much more than a politician. Indeed his influence is wide and varied.”
    “Dr. Carpathia? Oh yes, the adjunct professorships. I am quite aware of the fellows outside interests and influence.”
    “He is anything but a lad, Mr. President, despite his youth.”
    “So you say.”
    “Have you ever experienced Dr. Carpathia’s opposition to one of your initiatives?” Fortunato said, writing on his small notepad all the while, clearly piquing Vasile’s interest.
    “Of course I have. What do you mean? He has spoken often and loudly in opposition to our defense initiatives, despite his connections with the military schools. His associations with them and then his insipid pandering to the public with his peacemongering make garish his aim to unseat me someday.”
    “Someday?” Fortunato said dismissively, still writing. By now Vasile was leaning to see what he had written. But when Fortunato finished, he turned the paper upright and slid it across to the president.
    Are you aware that Dr. Carpathia is a partner of Jonathan btonaqai’s? He has been aware of and signed off on every transaction. Every transaction.
    Fortunato fought to suppress a grin when Vasile blanched and cleared his throat. The older man checked his watch, stood, and buttoned his suit coat. “What is your schedule like, Mr. Fortunato? I would like to treat you to my favorite bduturd alcoolicd.”
    Fortunato, resolutely ignoring protocol by remaining seated though the president was standing, said, “I am not big on liquor, sir, but I will sample a taste if you insist. I assume, if it is your favorite, that you have a selection here.”
    Vasile glared at him. “I have a special place I like to go.”
    “Oh, I am fine right here,” Leon said, which caused Vasile to grab his pen and scribble on the paper:
    IN5TALATIE ELECTKICA! PRIVATE!
    Fortunato had known, of course, that the wiring in the presidential offices was bugged and that any serious discussion of this nature would have to take place elsewhere. “Very well,” he said, rising and donning his overcoat.
    Vasile told his secretary to cancel his appointments and have the securitie bring a car around and reserve a table at Cdruta§. He added that he wanted to be left alone with Fortunato, which Leon took to mean that the securitate would remain close but not close enough to listen in.
    Interesting choice, The Waggoner. Leon, who had lied about his impartiality toward liquor, knew the place well. It was a hole in the wall less than two miles from the capitol, and the patrons had been trained to leave the president to his cups, should they see him there.
    Leon loved the pomp and circumstance that surrounded a brief jaunt by car with the president. Citizens milled about on the street, hoping for such an occurrence and a glimpse of the man they had seen on state television for years. When they crowded the vehicle, the secret police held them back, and soon Vasile and Fortunato were on their way to the cafenea.
    Knowing it would take a moment for the securitate to get the president from the vehicle to his favorite booth, Leon leaped out as soon as they stopped and rushed in, asking the manager if he was aware Vasile was coming.
    “Of course. We are prepared.”
    “I will be joining him,” Leon said, pressing a large bill in the man’s palm. “What is the president’s favorite drink?”
    “A Russian vodka.”
    “Clear?”
    “Yes.”
    “Make mine water, regardless of what I say. Cuprinde?”
    “I understand.”
    Within