Napoleon Bonaparte
PROLOGUE
THE LAST DAY
IT HAD TAKEN MORE TIME that he had originally planned to find the right spot—close enough to view his target, far enough away not to be seen. Actually, he had gotten a little lost while walking through the woods from his car, parked on a nearby country road. But now he was where he wanted to be, standing at the top of a mostly-barren hill, overlooking the valley below. A little more time was needed to find the growth of bushes that now surrounded him with protection. After breaking off a couple of branches from a shrub that had blocked his view, he squatted down into a comfortable position and looked out onto the scene before him.
What he saw from his hilly perch, starting approximately one hundred feet from the bottom of the hill, was a huge expanse of green lawn. The whole of that grassy area, which included shade trees of various sizes, was encircled by a paved road. A number of cars were parked along the side of the road as well as in a large parking lot in the distance. Gathered in the middle were several hundred men, women and children, most grouped into clusters of activity. To the right was a large outdoor pool, complete with water slide and diving board, where maybe thirty or so people were swimming.
Nearby, just outside the decorative fence surrounding the pool, were another thirty or forty people sunning themselves on blankets spread out on the lawn. To the left of the pool he saw a building that was labeled, ‘Snack Shack,’ with about ten people, mostly children, standing in line, presumably to buy a soda or ice cream. Next to that shed-like building was a playground complete with teeter-totters, swings and slides where several dozen children were running around, giggling and laughing as they played. A few yards from there were two tennis courts. Both were occupied. Easily seen was the next grouping of people, a large crowd surrounding two volleyball courts. The courts, each numbered, were busy with teams of players actively trying to score points. The largest crowd of viewers, numbering more than fifty people, was at Court One. Their excited cheering—the hoots and hollers and an occasional round of applause—could be heard even up on the hill.
Knowing that his time was limited, the onlooker reminded himself of his mission. Reaching into a small leather case, he grabbed a pair of binoculars and brought them to his eyes, moving them so that they were concentrated on the volleyball courts. With a little adjusting of the focus, he could clearly see the players up close. His attention was drawn to Court One where a team of young men were obviously enjoying their game. That they were winning was evident by the smiles on their faces, the slaps of victory given each other when they scored and, of course, by the cheers coming from the people—their fans—on the sidelines. Moving the dial on the binoculars to a new setting brought an even closer view of the young men on Court One. Especially, one young man. The tall, lean, tan one with the mop of blond hair.
As the observer on the hill followed the swift, almost faultless movements of the tanned young athlete, he saw how utterly accomplished this player was at his sport. Although not totally responsible for the high score now posted, it was easy to see that this player was a major reason for the team’s success so far. He was, without a doubt, the best performer on the court. His body moved with a proficiency and elegance that demonstrated a skill level far beyond most athletes his age. With his long arms and large hands, he seemed to be more than capable of controlling, even dominating, the ball. Outstanding were his jumps at the net where, with almost every attempt, he was able to spring upward and spike the ball down onto the other side with such force that it left the opponents wondering what just happened. In addition to the talent, this young man had the body of a truly gifted athlete—well-defined chest, muscled arms, trim torso, ripped abs, and toned legs—an athlete that any coach looking for a key player would be attracted to. That, along with his handsome face, sun-bleached hair and affable smile, would make him attractive to most any person. Especially, appealing to the girls.
As the spectator on the hill continued to focus on Court One, his thoughts about the young athlete became divided, split between what was happening now and what would be happening later. As he did so he slowly became aware of some subtle changes that were taking place in his own body. There was a little tingling here, a little tension there, until, finally, numerous sensations were coursing throughout his body. They were pleasing, yet disturbing, the product of a multitude of stirrings coming from somewhere deep within, in the primal core of his being.
After awhile, the onlooker closed his eyes, a natural response that helped him focus on—and savor—this most intimate occurrence. Like a kaleidoscope, where colors move and blend into a visually stimulating splendor, so these sensations moved about his body, each one mixing with the others in a way that climaxed over time, finally causing a sudden rush of exhilaration that ended in a gasp for breath.
Within seconds, the witness blinked his eyes open. He now felt as if he was coming out of a dream-like state. It took a few moments to bring his concentration back to the present. With his mind now clearer, he automatically analyzed what had just happened. While he recognized that the feelings just experienced were not often felt, he knew that, once they were present, it was as if all sense of time and place was lost; like he was carried off to another world, one in which all of his fantasies were lived out without guilt or shame. Or consequences. But as much as he liked these sensations at the time, there was a part of him that found them disturbing. Even repulsive.
Like in previous times, there now came the aftermath. The viewer hiding in the bushes began to feel clamminess in his skin and nausea in his stomach. That was followed by a familiar acrid taste that began at the back of his tongue and spread throughout the whole of his mouth. It wasn’t long until he felt like he was about to vomit. Quickly, he reached into his pocket for some chewing gum, popping two sticks of a cinnamon brand into his mouth. Almost immediately, the intensity of the spicy flavor overshadowed the acidy salivary fluids and settled the queasiness of his stomach.
Now feeling better, the voyeur on the hill looked at his watch. It was almost noon. Realizing that he had overstayed his clandestine visit to this place, he began to swear silently to himself. However, not wanting to wallow in self-deprecation, his thoughts soon went to the next step in his plan. Knowing he needed to act quickly if he was to keep on schedule, he placed the binoculars back into the case and hooked the strap over his shoulder. He then stood up, carefully extracted himself from his camouflaged perch and started his walk back to the road. His only challenge was finding the hole he had cut in the wire fence. Fortunately, he found it with little trouble, finally ending up on the road, near his awaiting car. His thoughts were now focused on what he needed to do—what he had to do—to the young athlete who had been the focal point of his attention over the last many minutes. With the binocular case now bumping on his hip, he hurried—almost ran—as he approached his car knowing that what he had to do must be done within the next hour.
TWO WEEKS EARLIER
SATURDAY
WEEK ONE
DAY 1
IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL, WARM SUMMER evening in London. The air was fresh and the sky seemed unusually clear for this time of year. Chen Xong Wu smiled as he looked out over Hyde Park, a glorious green expanse located just across the street from his hotel. Nine stories above the street, Chen stood at the edge of the balcony with his hands on the railing, viewing the park and the skyline of the city beyond. It was a stunning sight, especially when seen from the Terrace Suite at the Hotel Dorchester.
Being a discriminating man, Chen usually chose smaller hotels when visiting large cities. But this was London. This was different. Here, at the larger Dorchester, he found the romantic design and pleasing character of this prestigious hotel reminiscent of the glory, glamour and romance of some of the older luxury hotels of Hong Kong. So, when in London, the Dorchester, with its ambiance and highly efficient service staff, was the favored abode for Chen, one that provided him with comfort and solace as well as many good memories. An added factor for Chen’s choice of this hotel was that the Dorchester was the preferred gathering place for the movers and shakers of England’s business world, as well as prominent members of British society, the