detected the scent of lavender as she waded through the energetic crowd toward a small stage in the center of the room.
“Congresswoman Smith?”
A familiar-looking woman with short brown hair waved her to a nearby table.
“I thought that was you.” She spoke with an Australian accent and extended a hand in greeting. “Abigail Brown from the World Bank.”
“Of course, Madame Prime Minister. We met at the International Disaster Relief conference at the UN last year.” Loren felt slightly embarrassed for not recognizing the former Australian prime minister, who now served as CEO of the World Bank.
“Please, call me Abby. You did a splendid job in raising aid for the displaced in Bangladesh after that terrible monsoon flooding.”
“It’s never enough. And there’s always another disaster waiting in the wings, it seems.” Loren motioned toward the stage. “Have you attended the seminar here before?”
“This is my first time, but I’ve been looking forward to it.”
“I met Mrs. McKee just a few weeks ago,” Loren said. “I wasn’t aware she was so well connected.”
“Quite so. Her husband’s environmental products have been put to good use around the world, and she has been an integral part of the success. And she works tirelessly to promote women into positions of leadership. I heard through the grapevine she even lobbied for my nomination to the World Bank, yet I barely know her.”
“Did you know her husband?”
“I’m afraid not. Frasier McKee died several years ago. He was apparently quite a brilliant man.” Brown looked across the room, then held a hand in front of her mouth. “He was also a notorious womanizer. Rumors are, he was about to divorce Evanna to marry his Colombian mistress just before he died.”
“Is that why men aren’t welcomed to the conference?” Loren grinned.
Brown nodded, then rubbed her temples and squinted. “I do wish they would tone down the light show. It’s making me dizzy.”
“I feel the same way,” Loren said. “I thought it was the champagne.”
Unknown to the guests, the flickering colored lights were more than just ambiance. Special bulbs emitted pure shades of violet, pink, and magenta, frequencies known to have a calming and submissive effect. Near the light fixtures, aerosol jets dispersed a fine mist containing chamomile, patchouli, and lavender oils that added to the effect.
The psychological inducements didn’t end there. The champagne and water glasses offered to each guest were laced with trace amounts of mescaline and scopolamine. The combined effects were designed to create an altered state in the guests, maximizing their sense of receptiveness and suggestibility. It was the groundwork for something approaching mass hypnosis.
The lights dimmed as an orchestral march was piped through the hall. The women fell silent as a spotlight illumined the stage and Evanna McKee strode into its beam. She wore a tailored white linen business suit accented by a heavy gold necklace and earrings. With her hair pulled back into a bun, and a perfect application of makeup giving her face a flawless glow, she appeared equal parts CEO and aged beauty queen.
The crowd erupted in a fury of applause.
“Ladies, friends, leaders of the world,” she said, “I welcome you to McKee Manor. We meet again in the cause of sisterhood and the fight for a new global order. I stand before you with the promise that with your help, we will bring meaningful and lasting change to the world, a world in which women will take their rightful place at the forefront of power.”
She spoke with the confident, authoritative voice of a practiced politician. And as with a charismatic politician at a rally, the crowd cheered her every phrase.
“Today,” she said, “we are facing a crisis of global leadership. For decades, for centuries, and for millennia, we have seen nothing on this earth but wars, conflict, famine, and disease. Despite the advances in knowledge and technology, we are still burdened by the same calamities. The world today is more corrupt and dangerous than ever. This has been brought about by a crisis in leadership—a crisis of male leadership.”
Shouts of support pierced the room, and McKee smiled.
“It is our role, our responsibility, dare I say our destiny, to take control of the failed institutions we hold dear, and to lead them to a better place. As women, we have been oppressed and devalued too long. It is our turn to right the wrongs of the past. It is our turn to banish mistrust, arrogance, and the provincial thinking that has shackled our society. It is our turn to lead the world to