At Tim's House
He waited for her to answer the question, but she could not. He grinned in pleasure at her sudden loss of eloquence.
“Even with four million pounds sterling, she can't do anything meaningful with her life,” he said.
“Does she have two fathers? Is it the one that was chatting that was poisoned?” He asked himself and turned off his device.
He walked to his room to take a nap. After changing to simple wear, he laid on the bed and closed his eyes but his phone ringtone would not allow him.
“Oh, my goodness!” He exclaimed and sat up.
He picked up the phone and was amazed to see the caller.
“Good evening, Your Excellency,” he greeted him.
“Good evening, Tim. Turn on your television if you are close to it.”
“It is all right, Your Excellency,” he said and complied.
He saw the Head of State of a powerful nation, Kingsland, Field Marshall Brian Foxe, boasting in his broadcast. He was threatening to wipe away a smaller and powerless nation, Oregany from the surface of the earth.
“How dare you talk when we are talking? Kingsland call the shots and you are to obey.”
Kingsland has been drilling the oil of Oregany, a small neighboring country of 1,267,000 square kilometers and a population of 28,094,403 for years. Their presence in the country had impoverished her. Presently, a new Head of State had emerged and wished that they should leave their country but they were headstrong.
“Do they want to colonize them for life?” Tim asked himself while watching.
In the end, he called back the Head of State and stated, “I have seen the broadcast, Your Excellency.”
“That is good. Did you hear what that arrogant and self-imposed Field Marshall said?”
Tim laughed inwardly because he was aware that he hated the Field Marshall with passion.
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
“Get ready to give the small country the support that they need to humiliate that idiot out of their country,” he ordered.
“I got it, Your Excellency.”
“Give me the progress report.”
“I will.”
Tim ran his hand across his head and mulled over their discussions.
“Where do I start from?” He asked himself.
Meanwhile, he saw the edited version of the jingle with Brig. Witherspoon and he was happy. Instantly, he got a message from the Brigadier.
(Thank you for your help. I saw myself in the jingle.)
He smiled after reading the message and replied.
(Consider it as nothing. Congratulations.)
(Thank you for the compliment.)
After the chat, he looked at the time and pouted.
“It's after 6 o'clock. How will I contact the Oregany Defense Minister?” He asked himself and got up.
To while away time before dinner, he decided to stroll around the courtyard. He saw George and Collins sitting in the garden probably discussing how Ella would meet his father. Before he moved further, he saw the old man and the janitor pruning the flowers.
“Wow, this is good, Old Man,” he complimented him and walked up to them.
“You are right, Young Man. I have not done this for several years.”
“I see. Be careful and don't overwork yourself.”
“I understand. Thank you for your concern.”
At Laura's House 
She had left her parents' apartment but her mother's question that hit her like a sledgehammer was still on her mind.
“What kind of business will I do with the compensation since I have no skill?”
“I may not resign. Whether they are happy with me or not, I will not resign. If they terminate my employment, I will sue them again and get more compensation,” she resolved and cheered up.
The Next Day Wednesday
With Bright's confusing attitude when she joined the bus, she was uncertain whether he was aware of any petition or not.
“Why did he not go home with his car yesterday?”
“Why was he moody?”
“Why the cheerfulness this morning?”
The questions tumbled in and out of her mind without any answers. She was quiet while Ted and Bright kept the bus lively with their funny jokes which had nothing to do with her and everyone, including the driver laughed happily. Shortly, they were at the complex.
At The President's Office
George instructed Bright to ensure that Ella met her father that day.
“I got it, Boss.”
“When she is set, my driver will take her to the patient and bring her back.”
“It is all right, Boss,” he answered and left for the canteen.
After he spoke with Ella and her Supervisor, he returned to the office. Before he could sit down, the Accountant walked in.
“Good morning, Capt. Graham,” he greeted him.
“Good morning, Secretary,” he answered and walked into George's office.
“Good morning, Captain,” George stood up and saluted him.
He saluted him too and sat down.
“What brings you so early?” George asked in astonishment.
“I got a payment alert from the Head of State of Kingsland,” he informed him.
“Wow! That is good. Has he ordered the weapons?”
“That is the problem. Without an order, he just paid.”
“That is weird. How do we know what he wants?”
“Or when he wants them.”
“Inform Capt. Miles so that he won't take us unawares.”
“You have a good point.”
He was about to get up when the Sales Manager walked in.
“Good morning, Capt. Abrams,” George saluted him.
“Good morning, Sgt. Young,” he returned the salute and faced the Accountant.
He greeted him and shook hands with him. Afterward, he took his seat and they waited for him to speak.
“I got a funny order,” he stated.
George furrowed his brow and asked him, “How?”
“The client said that we should not supply any weapon to any other buyer for three months.”
“Ha!” The Accountant exclaimed.
“How much is he willing to pay?” George asked.
“It's like he had paid. I wanted to confirm with Capt. Graham and was told that he is here.”
George gave the Accountant a questioning look and waited for his opinion.
“Who ordered the goods?” He asked.
“Kingsland's Head of State,” he answered and they laughed softly.
“I can understand. He has paid,” the Accountant declared.
The Sales Manager smiled dryly and asked, “When? Before or after the order?”
“It doesn't matter. We have to be proactive to avoid disappointing him,” George pointed out.
“It is all right,” they responded one after the other and left.
Instantly, George informed Tim of the other and he got a weird response.
“Don't supply anything to him, not even a knife,” he answered dismissively.
“I got it, Boss,” he replied and cut the call.
“What is wrong with the order? Has he not paid?” George thought.
He was mulling over Tim's response when he got a message from him and he read it quickly.
(Ask the Accountant to fix the funds for four months. It will yield some interest before the Field Marshall starts making trouble with us.)
George grinned a nonchalant sneer and responded.
(I got it, Boss.)
Afterward, he breathed freely and got up.
At The Gate
As Laura promised, after waiting for an acknowledgment, the lawyer felt neglected. He dressed in his complete official wear of a lawyer and was out to tell them where to shove it.
“They cannot try this with me,” he told himself when he got to the gate.
He came with the hard copy of the petition for the President to acknowledge it.
“Good morning, Officers,” he greeted them with a gloomy countenance.
“Good morning, Barrister. How may we help you?” An officer asked him.
“I wish to see the President,” he stated boldly.
The confused officer looked at him again before he looked at Cpl. Simpson who was within earshot for his reaction.
“Who does he want to see?” 
“He wished to see the President.”
“Is he expecting you, Barrister?”
“Yes, he is,” he answered curtly.
“He did not inform us,” he pointed out and observed the barrister.
He knew it was risky to contact the President without any prior notice. He dialed his intercom all the same. They waited for him to pick up the call but he did not.
Even if he drank the potion of confidence, he wouldn't dare to dial it again. 
He faced the barrister and announced, “He wasn't expecting you. Otherwise, he would have picked up the call.”
“Inform him that …”
“He is seeing all of us from his office,” the Corporal interrupted him and made clear.
He looked at the folder in his hand and was confused.
“How can I submit this to him?” He asked.
“You would have please let us know that you have a message for him.”
“I apologize. Can I see his secretary?” He requested hoping that Laura was still the secretary.
“That won't be a problem. What is your name?”
“I'm Barr. Denise Wentworth.”
“It's okay,” he said and dialed the secretary's number while the barrister waited expectantly.
Instantly, Bright picked up the call and greeted the Corporal, “Good morning, Cpl. Simpson. How may I help you?” He inquired.
“Good morning, Secretary. One Barr. Denise Wentworth has a message for the President.”
“Collect the message from him,” he ordered and cut the call.
Incidentally, the barrister could not hear him and hoped that Laura had approved his request. He took a step to walk into the complex after the call, but he was disappointed.
“Submit your message to that officer,” the Corporal said dismissively and faced the money bag's drugs which he had been studying since morning.
Nevertheless, the barrister knew that his Human Rights Advocacy stopped there.
“Okay, Officer,” he said and walked to the officer.
He acknowledged the petition and he left with a copy.
“Why didn't she want to see me?” He mumbled while walking to his car.