~*~
Mike had seen the White House before, but he had never taken a good look at it. In fact he had been inside the White House in the past, and not on a guided tour, either. He had been working another deal and sightseeing wasn’t part of it. It never was in those days.
The last time he had been here you could drive right by the front, but now that was all blocked off so he had walked in with the rest of the sightseers and taken a seat near the front gate. Blocking off this street had seemed to him like a “knee jerk” reaction to the acts of a few on 9-11, but now that he was here it was kind of nice. There were benches to sit on and you could take a nice long leisurely look at the White House and surrounding grounds without worrying about being run over by a car, taxi-cab, or sightseeing bus.
Still, he thought, to me it seems too much like surrender to close off this street. It is as if the government has given in to fear and isolated itself even more from the public it serves. Though the seats were nice, he would have preferred the street be open to traffic. Only because then he could say that his government did not fear its own people so much that it had to wall them off. He could say that his government and its leaders were willing to pay the ultimate price to remain free. He couldn’t say that now, and for some reason that disturbed him deeply.
“Beautiful place isn’t it?” a voice to his left stated more than asked.
He half expected to see one of the Park Police standing there when he turned. Earlier they had quizzed him quite thoroughly about why he was here. His appearance didn’t line up with what they thought it should, and that also disturbed him deeply. Yet when he turned he saw a slim man of medium height standing at the edge of the bench.
He responded, “Yes it is, but I was just thinking that it is shame they had to close off this street and hide from the people they serve.”
“Is that why they did it? I wondered about that, but then I suppose in a country this large it is necessary.”
“Maybe, but I don’t like my government hiding from anyone.”
“I see what you mean. My government doesn’t hide from its people. In my country the people are the government and no official has need to fear.”
“You’re lucky then. It used to be that way in my country, too.”
“But my country is very small and isolated. We don’t have the diverse interests and backgrounds that your citizens do. That makes a difference. Plus, we don’t mean much on the international scale of things. No one cares to harm us since it would do nothing to change world politics.”
“I suppose you have a point there. Where is this country of yours?”
“In the South Atlantic. It’s called Keykan and it’s just a small island, not too large in population. Most people have never even heard of it and frankly, we like it that way.”
“Have a seat,” Mike now offered and continued, “I’ve heard of it, but don’t know much about it. I know you are located east of Brazil and the climate is very warm. You are a sovereign nation and speak Spanish, but you seem to speak very good English.”
“You are pretty well informed at that, and as for my English, our children are taught it in school from the first day and although we use Spanish as our official language most speak English as well or better.”
“This country of yours sounds like a nice place. Might even pass for paradise.”
“Yes, it’s nice, but we have our problems, too. We are just a small fishing community. We need so much.”
“What brings you way up here to America?”
“Things we need.”
“Are you an importer?”
“No, actually I came to see your president, to see if he could help us with a problem, but he couldn’t.”
All of a sudden Mike perked up. Whoever this guy was he must be important in Keykan to get in to see the President of the United States—and he said he had a problem. Problems were getting to be his specialty and something had drawn him east. This was about as far east as you could get and still be in the United States.
When Mike didn’t respond the man continued, “Let me explain. You see I am the president of my small country and we have a problem down there that no one has been able to solve, considering our limited resources, and I hoped your president could help us. We are a fishing island and we are always losing ships and men to the violent storms and fog that frequent the area. I am afraid if we don’t soon find a way to guide our sailors home through the storms, that we will be extinct before many more years pass. Fishing is all we have and without ships and men you can’t fish.”
“I see. And our president could not help…or would not help?”
“I’m not sure, but I suspect is was ‘would not help’. As I said, we are small and don’t mean much on the international scene. Your country has a saying I believe. ‘Bigger fish to fry’ is that about right?”
“Yes, but sometimes the little fish can turn out to be the best. You being from a fishing community should know that the little fish are sometimes tastier and more worthwhile than the big fish.”
Joshua smiled and said, “Ah yes. I know what you mean. The pan-fried fish are the tastiest, but more work to clean—more work to catch, but more enjoyable during the catch.”
“Exactly. So maybe you just need to look more desirable to my president or better yet, to my country.”
“But how?”
“I’m not sure, but it might be possible to find out. I would have to see your island first hand to say for sure.”
“Could you possibly come down, talk more with me, and examine the problem? All expenses paid, of course. We are desperate.”
He smiled and said, “You must be desperate, Mr. President to so readily put your faith in someone who looks like me. Do I really look to you like someone who could help you?”
“I believe you also have another saying in your country ‘Looks can be deceiving.’”
He laughed and replied, “Yes, that’s right, Mr. President.”
“Joshua Ballinger is my name. I don’t stand on formality.”
“Okay, Joshua and my name is Mike Maltby. I’d be happy to come to your island and have a look around. I’ll pay my own way though, but I wouldn’t be opposed to you putting me up in a nice hotel at your expense. Does that sound fair enough?”
“Fair enough, Mike Maltby, and I hope you can help. I see something in your eyes that says you are sincere and something in the way you talk of your country tells me you know, and can do, and have done, more than your appearance indicates. In my country we judge people by their actions more than by their appearance.”
“Well, Joshua that’s another thing that used to be the same in my country.”
“But not now?”
“No, not now.”
“When do you think you could come down? I have a pressing feeling that our situation is getting very tenuous.”
“It will be a few days. Maybe a week or two.”
“Very well. Here is my card. Call when you know for sure.”
“Mr. President!” a voice from behind the bench yelled.
Both turned at once to see a man hastily approaching them, flanked by what had to be two security guards.
“Mr. President, are you alright? This person isn’t bothering you, is he?” the man asked, as he got closer, clearly out of breath.
The security guards were looking sharply at Mike when Joshua yelled, “No! Absolutely not! Don’t even think such a thing, Caleb. You are over protective of me. I am a man and I go where I will, when I will. I talk to whomever I want. This man is a friend of recent acquisition, but a friend still. I will not tolerate his being harassed. By anyone!” Joshua finished staring straight at the guards who were edging closer toward Mike.
At the last, everyone stopped and Joshua turned to Mike, saying calmly, “I will anxiously await your call, Mr. Maltby.”
Mike shook Joshua’s hand and watched as he walked away with Caleb and the security guards.
Mike went back to his motel room, and m
ade several phone calls to some old connections in the State Department. In short order he had lined up permission to travel to Keykan. A medical examination would be necessary and some routine shots, but there was no problem. Even with his connections though, it would be a few days before he could get all the paperwork in order.