His father laughed. “You are a fool.”
“Who will take my place as Great Successor?”
“One of your brothers will assume the role.”
“You’re making a mistake. I’m not incompetent. Quite the contrary, I am my father’s son.”
“If you were my son, your judgment would be far better.”
“And what is yours, Father? You continue to prod the south, threatening war, causing nothing but discontent. You spend all of our money on weapons and bombs, while the people starve. You constantly threaten the Americans with disaster, yet never do a thing to assert yourself. And why? Because you can never allow our soldiers to invade the south. Once there, they would see how well fed the people are. How good they live. They’ll realize immediately the lies you have told them. You forget, Father. I have seen the world. I know the truth. So what are you, but a paper tiger.”
“I am the leader of this nation.”
“Which means nothing outside this nation. I was educated far from here, at your insistence. I know what the world thinks of us. We are laughed at—thought of as idiots. We are regarded like naughty children who require discipline. You say I have brought disgrace to you. What disgrace have you brought to us all?”
“I see that my decision is the right one. Your brothers would never speak to me like this. One of them will be worthy.”
He felt empowered, not afraid to say, “They will be you. Another paper tiger, threatening everyone, doing nothing, being laughed at. That is your legacy, Father. It will not be mine.”
“You are a dreamer. You have been all your life. You stay lost in your self-centered world. Your mother was the same. Neither of you will ever accomplish a thing.”
“My mother taught me to actually do something. That is why she lives in Russia. She could no longer take your insults and indiscretions. Her marriage meant something to her. So she acted. Now one of your bastards will rule? Fitting. Some say you were a bastard child, too.”
Anger flooded his father’s face. “You and I will never speak again. Do not come in my sight.”
“That will be my pleasure. But I want you to remember something.”
He stared hard into his father’s eyes.
“I am no paper tiger.”
He reread the scene and liked the approach, though it was not entirely accurate as to the real confrontation with his father after the Tokyo Disney incident. He’d actually been beaten, his father watching as underlings pummeled him. And as he lay on the floor with broken ribs and blood gushing from his nose, his father had coldly told him that he would be disinherited.
He’d said nothing then.
No challenge at all.
This version of history was much better, and since his father was long dead no one of importance existed to contradict him. One day, when the people read of his exploits—and they would—history would note that greatness had been his destiny from the start.
The door opened and Hana entered.
He’d instructed her on how to lure Malone into Larks’ room, then hide beneath the bed and wait for him to draw close. The American would do as he predicted, of that he was certain. Understanding human nature was another of his passions.
“He’s down,” she said. “But first he searched for the satchel.”
Searching told him something. He had no idea who the American was working for or why he was interested in Larks. But on the off chance that he might be here for the U.S. government, he’d opted not to kill him. That would only bring more attention, which was the last thing he wanted. The better way was to slow Malone down, complicate his life, and being found with a dead man would accomplish both.
“His clothes were damp and smelled,” she said.
“Any idea why?”
She shook her head.
“Mr. Malone will be unconscious a few hours,” he said. “Time for us to get some rest and prepare ourselves.” He motioned to the laptop. “First, though, I have something for you to read. Some details between myself and your grandfather. It’s important you know exactly what happened between us. I think you will find it enlightening.”
TWELVE
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA,
Plaintiff-Appellee
v.
ANAN WAYNE HOWELL,
Defendant-Appellant.
No. 12-2367
United States Court of Appeals Eleventh Circuit.
Anan Wayne Howell has not filed a tax return in nearly two decades. An indictment charged him with four counts of willfully failing to file tax returns in violation of 26 U.S.C. §7203. Howell was present at the start of the trial, but voluntarily absented himself from the rest of the proceedings, eventually fleeing the trial court’s jurisdiction. A jury in the United States District Court, Middle District of Alabama, convicted him, in absentia, and he was sentenced to three years in prison and a fine of $12,000.