“If there’s one thing I’ve learned during my sixty-plus years on this earth, it’s that you can’t trust stupid.”
—Russian President Mikhail Putilov
Putilov sat in his office at his big, sprawling, polished oak desk, reading his daily intelligence briefing, when an encrypted Skype call rang on his computer. He turned on his Skype phone and both Kamal ad-Din and Ambassador Waheed appeared on his computer screen.
“My friends,” Putilov said with a beaming smile, “how nice to hear from you.”
“Everything is going as planned,” Prince Waheed said. “Raza and her associates have landed in New York, and ‘Operation UN’ is about to commence.”
“Excellent,” Putilov said. “I also see you have taken the time to dispose of a few loose ends.”
“I thought you’d appreciate the job we did on Jowett,” Raza said.
“A work of art,” Putilov said. “I just got a digital link to it. It made my polonium-210 assassinations look amateurish by comparison.”
“We didn’t tell Tower about our plans for Jowett,” Kamal said.
“We were under the impression he liked Jowett,” Waheed said.
“Tower’s an idiot,” Putilov said with disgust.
“It didn’t matter what Tower wanted,” Waheed said. “Jowett had to go.”
“Absolutely,” Raza said. “Jowett almost single-handedly provoked the Arab Spring riots that toppled Mubarak and Qaddafi.”
“I was running the Dresden KGB offices when the Berlin Wall came down,” Putilov said, “and we were nearly overrun by rampaging mobs, screaming ‘Revolution!’ You’ll never know how much I hate uprisings like the ones that fool Jowett incited in the Mideast.”
“Those insurrections could have spread to our Saudi Kingdom,” Ambassador Waheed said.
“Even worse, another drought is about to hit your region,” Putilov pointed out, “and Jowett’s famine derivatives would have made the cost of grain soar—just as they did before Arab Spring. We couldn’t afford to have that whole area go up in flames. This time the mob uprisings might very well have spread to your esteemed Saudi Kingdom—even Mother Russia.”
“Jowett was a lunging live wire in our region, wayward and dangerous,” Ambassador Waheed agreed. “His man-made famines had the potential to destroy all of us.”
“Fahad performed admirably,” Raza said. “It would have been a perfect op, if he hadn’t missed that Meredith woman.”
“He said he couldn’t get a clear shot,” Ambassador Waheed explained.
“And he’s never failed us before,” Kamal said.
“I guess there’s a first time for everything,” Waheed said.
“That had to be a disappointment for Tower as well,” Putilov said. “Jules Meredith has spent the last decade all but crucifying him.”
“Yes,” Waheed said, “but Tower did not hear about Fahad’s missed shot from us. As per our discussions, we kept Tower out of the loop.”
“Tower talks like he’s a tough guy,” Putilov said, “but I always thought he was soft.”
“And stupid,” Kamal said.
“Which is a major problem,” Putilov said. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned during my sixty-plus years on this earth, it’s that you can’t trust stupid.”
“Agreed,” Ambassador Waheed said. “Stupidity is always the most deplorable of all human follies.”
“But everything else is well on your end, Raza?” Putilov asked.
“Fahad is bringing the package to the chopper,” Raza said. “It’s heavy but cylindrical in shape. We’ll be rolling it down a steel ramp with a hydraulic lift and then onto the top of the UN tower. We’ll have a timer set, but we can also trigger it with a radio detonator as well.”
“The ambassadors to the United Nations will have to expropriate our offshore wealth in the Afterlife,” Waheed said, laughing.
“I take it you won’t be joining them for a vote on the Anti-Inequality Resolution?” Raza asked Ambassador Waheed.
Waheed roared with hilarity, and his friends joined in the mirth.
“Those UN agitators,” Putilov said, “will have a hot time in the Big Apple tonight.”
“A very hot time,” Prince Waheed agreed.