glad you decided to attend. I hope you’ll lead up some of the discussions over the next few days.”
“I’m just here for the booze and girls,” quips the former intelligence officer.
“We’ve got plenty of booze. Not so much on the girls, though.” I shrug.
“I’ll take that one.” He gestures toward Sierra.
“Spoken for,” I let him know.
“Good for you. Get her pregnant, keep her pregnant. Make beautiful babies together. Keep them safe and far away from where we’ve been.”
I nod, thinking we have to have sex first and then I sweep away the thought quickly.
“Tomorrow morning everyone will be breaking into teams to work on defining the mission. It sounds easy, but will probably be the toughest thing we do all weekend. Everything else we work on, strategically and tactically, will come off of that.”
“What do you need me to do?”
I can’t help but smile at Daniel. We fall into step immediately, anticipating one another, the brilliance of our past just a breath away, ready to carry us into the future, our sole, or maybe soul, mission never wavering.
“I’ve got you on a team tomorrow morning with Jiro Masahiro and Alborz Ahadi,” my tone is quiet.
The Israeli smiles, “You’re really going to shake it up, aren’t you.” The former Aman, Israeli military intelligence officer, has been teamed up with a formidable Japanese tech giant and an Iranian technology minister. “There’s a lot of ego at that table. Does Ahadi know we’re teamed?”
Shaking my head, no, I add, “I somehow think in this closed environment, he will be a lot more open and reasonable. But maybe it’s just what I’m hoping. The same with Masahiro. Let me know by tomorrow night if they’re really here to work. If not, I’ll do some team shuffling and ameliorate the situation.”
“I’ll let you know.” Daniel moves back to his table, understanding too long a conversation might draw interest.
As I make my rounds at all of the tables, my excitement builds. TFV1 has been a dream of mine, a way to make a lasting impact on the world, a chance to be able to take my training and my position and weave in and out, where governments can’t, to create a global fabric that safeguards against terrorism.
After dinner, I pull together a meeting of my directs in what was once a “Situation Room” for the Johnson administration. The whole facility has amazing history, walking through the ranch-like structure, it’s hard not to imagine LBJ’s angst and stress as he dealt with civil rights movement issues and the pressures of Vietnam as it incurred the country’s growing resistance.
I take a seat in a large worn leather chair at the helm of the long table, a chair I wonder if President Johnson himself may have sat in, as we run through Saturday’s agenda. The day begins early with breakfast, then onto the opening address and goal setting for the weekend, and general questions and concerns. It is at this point where everyone will sign a formal document of participation. For the next several hours, small groups will tackle the mission. Lunch will be a working lunch within the groups and mid-afternoon we reconvene as a larger group to hammer out a unified mission. A late afternoon break, prior to dinner, with multiple on-site leisure events is planned and some presentations by companies in incubation. Dinner again will be served in the dining room, located high on a bluff with wonderful views of sunset, and then after dinner, another three hour block of work time to define strategy.
Garber is seated next to Sierra, “Ariel, how do you walk in those things?” He’s checking out her legs and feet.
“Gracefully,” she responds with a smile.
“Well, if you need a foot massage later,” he offers.
“Are you my man?”
“I definitely would be if the slave driver here didn’t have me working all night.”
There is a small army’s worth of munitions here with the staff guarding the attendees. Enough firepower to make even a diehard Texan proud. With the exception of Sierra, my entire staff is packing, as am I, as well as many of the attendees, including Daniel Mizrahi.
After the meeting, we join a small group in the bar. I’m amazed at the diversity of the crowd. No one would ever believe these people were in the same room, drinking together. Scions of industry from throughout the globe alongside political icons.
“A drink?” I ask Sierra.
She just shakes her head. “I’m working. I need to stay sharp.” She’s taking in the room, chairs covered