Chapter 513: The Martian

In the ornate Banquet Hall of the White House, the air was alive with the hum of conversations and the soft clinking of glasses. Groups of elegantly dressed guests mingled, their attire as varied as their backgrounds. Among them, a cluster of young girls chatted animatedly. Elizabeth, sharing intriguing anecdotes from Hollywood, captured the attention of Obama's eldest daughter, Maria. Their discussion about the nuances of film production quickly turned into a spirited exchange, drawing in a small crowd.

Nearby, Chief of Staff Rahm leaned in to whisper to Obama. "I think I'll have a word with Martin," Obama murmured, his voice barely above the ambient noise.

His tenure might have just begun, but the political machine was already gearing up for the next term. The Coca-Cola Cult, with its extensive popular support, was a significant player in this landscape. After engaging with several top executives of Coca-Cola, it was clear to Obama that Martin wielded an influence over the cult that even the Coca-Cola Group couldn't match.

As Martin spotted Obama approaching, he turned and greeted him warmly, "Mr. President."

Obama responded with a smile, "We're all old friends here, Martin. Call me Barack."

The crowd around them subtly dispersed, giving space to this high-profile interaction. Martin had been discussing cinema with Spielberg just moments before.

Their conversation drew envious glances from onlookers. Martin's influence in Hollywood, it seemed, transcended his roles in films.

Sasha Spielberg, at nineteen, stood beside her father, her expression a mix of curiosity and slight discontent. "Martin Davis has only been in the spotlight for a few years. Why such a warm reception?"

Spielberg, ever the pragmatist, pointed to Martin's medal. "First, he earned it with bravery. Second, he leads the Coca-Cola Cult. Despite its loose structure, its influence is undeniable."

Sasha looked on, still trying to piece it together.

Spielberg's gaze drifted to Elizabeth Olsen, engaged in conversation with Maria. She was only a year older than Sasha but seemed more attuned to the dynamics of such gatherings.

Spielberg mused silently, considering Martin's potential in politics, possibly surpassing even George Clooney's attempts.

The luncheon wound down around half past one, with guests departing in a steady stream. As Martin headed out, Benjamin escorted him to the parking area, gratitude in his tone. "The brothers who missed the photo opportunity yesterday were thrilled with your signed pictures. Thank you on their behalf."

Elizabeth, overhearing this, thought to herself about Martin's expanding influence, now reaching into the White House.

Martin nodded, "I'll make sure you get invitations to the Coca-Cola Church's upcoming events in Washington."

Benjamin's face lit up with appreciation. "That'd be great!"

The monotony of the Secret Service's duties could be taxing, and the prospect of attending a Coca-Cola Church event was a welcome diversion.

As they drove away from the White House, Elizabeth shared her conversation with Maria. "She's eager to join a major Hollywood film crew for her summer internship."

Martin pondered for a moment. "Nolan's crew will soon be moving to Los Angeles and Canada for filming. I've spoken to Nolan and Warner about having her join for the experience."

"That's perfect," Elizabeth replied, "I'll bring a few peers along to the set. It'll be a good experience for them."

Martin's sincere admiration filled the air as he praised, "Liz, your performance was exceptional!"

Elizabeth, gently clinging to his arm, responded modestly, "Truly, I owe it to my sisters. They outshine me in every way. I'm still learning from them."

As Martin affectionately kissed her cheek, a playful protest came from Lily, lounging in the passenger seat. "I'm still full from lunch. Enough with the 'couple goals,' or I might just get sick!"

Martin, with a teasing glint in his eye, asked, "Should I drop you off here then?"

Ignoring his jest, Elizabeth leaned towards Lily, her voice brimming with excitement. "Hey, didn't you take a bunch of photos? Let's sift through them later and pick out some gems for your portfolio."

Lily's response was a contented smile, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Meanwhile, at the White House, in a serene and elegant lounge, Michelle pondered Maria's words before seeking out her husband. Finding him in a moment of repose, she softly broached the subject of their family.

"Martin Davis's girlfriend, Elizabeth?" Obama echoed, his interest piqued as he absorbed his wife's account. "Part of Christopher Nolan's film crew?"

"Yes, the same Nolan who directed 'The Dark Knight,' involved in a Warner Brothers' project," Michelle clarified.

Obama, recalling their eldest daughter's wish for a summer internship in film, mentioned how he had casually spoken to his chief of staff, Rahm. With Ari being a renowned entertainment agent in Hollywood, connections were within reach.

Obama made a call, then reassured Michelle, "Maria will be thrilled. Let her join the crew."

Michelle smiled, pleased. "She'll be overjoyed with your support."

Obama, in high spirits, remarked, "Martin Davis is an intriguing and knowledgeable man."

Michelle nodded in agreement, her mind already on informing their daughter and arranging Elizabeth Olsen's assistance for the internship in Los Angeles.

...

In the tranquility of their hotel room, Elizabeth, hanging up the phone, announced, "It's all set."

Martin returned, gently cupping her face in gratitude. "Thank you for your efforts, Liz."

Elizabeth, curious, inquired, "Are you heading back to Africa next?"

He nodded, "Back to the set. Nolan joked he's lost without me. I quipped that without my presence, the set loses its spark."

Elizabeth chuckled, amused, as she got ready to change. "That's an odd thing to say."

Martin, with a knowing smile, added, "Nolan's not accustomed to a quiet set. Without activity, the pressure mounts on a director."

Elizabeth burst into laughter. "He sounds like a unique director."

"Nolan's in a league of his own in Hollywood," Martin mused, a hint of admiration in his voice. "He's got a fan base as devoted as any celebrity's."

She thought about online fan debates. "Like how 'The Dark Knight' fans clashed with 'The Godfather' and 'The Shawshank Redemption' on IMDB?"

"Exactly," Martin agreed, handing her his awards for safekeeping. "I can't stay in Morocco much longer. We'll be heading back to L.A. soon. You and Lily should stay away from Africa; it's not the safest."

Elizabeth packed the awards thoughtfully. "Alright, I'll head back to L.A. and get ready for Maria."

Just then, Bruce knocked. "You've got a call."

Martin, opening the door, asked, "Who is it?"

Bruce glanced at Elizabeth, then spoke up, "The editor, Kate, about a literary adaptation. She said she found a suitable novel for you?"

Martin turned to Elizabeth. "Interested in checking out this project with me?"

She smiled, shaking her head. "Go ahead. I've got packing to do."

With a nod, Martin grabbed his coat and left with Bruce, embarking on a new venture.

Halfway through their clandestine meeting, Martin switched to the secure cell phone provided by Nicholson, a precaution ever since the harrowing Santa Monica Pier incident. He dialed Neves's number, his voice tinged with urgency.

"Looks like our fishermen friends are back in the waters," he reported, his eyes scanning the surroundings.

Neves, familiar with the coded language, responded sagely, "Remember, if the bait seems appetizing, savor it but discard the hook. Never let a fishhook spoil a private gathering. It reeks of the FBI's handiwork."

Martin, having been embroiled in similar situations with Russian operatives twice before, acknowledged Neves's advice. Neves continued, his voice a blend of confidence and caution, "Their leader is just a rung below me. Dodge their hooks, and you'll navigate smoothly. I'm planning a countermove, sending him off on an international assignment."

Reassured, Martin descended to the coffee shop next door with Bruce. There, he reunited with Kate and Rachel, their presence weaving a web of intrigue.

Rachel, spotting them, leaned towards Kate and whispered conspiratorially, "As I predicted, no girlfriend in tow. He's definitely playing a deeper game with us."

Kate, poised and calculating, inquired, "Is everything set on your end?"

Rachel, reflecting on her recent strategy meeting, suggested a patient approach. "We must tread carefully. Martin Davis isn't easily fooled. Familiarity breeds trust; let events unfold naturally."

When Martin approached, greetings were exchanged with customary handshakes. He noticed a shift in Kate and Rachel's demeanor - they had adopted an air reminiscent of Elizabeth Olsen's casual elegance. Martin mused whether their next encounter would see them channeling the styles of Angelina Jolie or Jennifer Aniston.

"Congratulations on your Presidential Medal of Freedom," Kate beamed, her sweet smile masking her calculated intent.

Rachel echoed the sentiment, her eyes scrutinizing Martin's reaction.

"Thank you," Martin replied, directing Bruce to order coffee before delving into business. "Rachel, you mentioned a promising literary project for film adaptation?"

Rachel nodded, her expression earnest. "Indeed, it has immense potential."

Her team had worked overnight, crafting an elaborate facade. Avoiding renowned authors to avert complications, they chose a moderately popular online science fiction novel, its obscurity lending to their ploy.

Rachel, once an assistant in the FBI's Hollywood liaison office, knew well the magnitude of investment needed to bring such a project to life.

Martin, ever direct, inquired, "Do you have the manuscript?"

Rachel produced a document bag from her briefcase and handed it to Martin. He eyed the hefty bundle of printed pages, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity.

"It's an online serial, unpublished as yet," Rachel clarified.

Martin opened the manuscript, his eyes landing on the title - 'The Martian'.