The Zondon: Terrorists and Aliens (an International Suspense Thriller)

by RobCharters

  'No. You listen to me,' said the doctor in a tone Les had never heard from him before. 'I've seen the results from your last few exams. They've been going downward. The next one must go up, not down.'

  'Now, wait a minute! You can't just...'

  'I can do what I want. Listen to me.'

  It was the way he said, 'listen to me', that stopped Les in mid sentence.

  'Are you listening?'

  'Yes sir.'

  'I have spent many times more on you than your father ever could, but I'm not afraid to cut you off just like that.' He gestured graphically with his hand. 'Then where will you be? Listen to me. With half a year left before you could get your masters degree and secure a future, you will be left in the cold, a drop-out, with nowhere to go but to your unemployed father, who can't even feed you let alone send you, your brother or your sister to school.'

  'Unemployed?'

  'Yes. Unemployed. Nothing is beyond my power.'

  He paused, and let it sink in. Then he said, 'Now, get your coat and come with me. You will see, first hand, what I can do.'

  Les got his coat.

  They walked out into the cold evening air, down a footpath that led to the street and were met by a Rolls Royce that had been moving along slowly towards them. It came to a stop in front of them just as they reached the curb. The driver got out and opened the passenger door for them and the doctor motioned for Len to get in first. He got in behind. They sat in silence as the limousine rolled along Botanic Avenue, through Shaftsbury Square, past Europa Hotel, then off towards West Belfast. Finally, they stopped at a pub.

  Les thought he remembered this being a Loyalist area. It had that flavour about it. They went inside.

  'Is Mr. Gromley in yet?' he asked the bartender, who motioned towards the stairs.

  They went up and found a private dining room where a well dressed gentleman, somewhat older than Les, was waiting for them.

  'Thomas Gromley,' began the doctor. 'Meet my young friend, Les Armstrong, a promising chap who should go a long way if he plays his cards right. He is now where you once were.'

  They sat down, and soon food was brought up, and then began what looked like would be a good old time among old friends. Les began to wonder what it was the doctor had intended to show him. This seemed no more than a social event.

  'So, Thomas,' said Nicolai, as he was finishing the last few bites of his gammon steak. 'You've decided to branch out on your own. Your prospects seem promising, yes?

  'I should say so,' said Gromley, confidently.

  He looked the picture of success. Les thought that if he could one day look like that, and exude the aura of confidence Gromley did, he could definitely say he had made it in life.

  'You've learned a lot from your Uncle Nicolai. Show young Lester what you can do.'

  'Oh! Come on, Doc!'

  'No, I mean it. Do something to his head. Show him what you can do.'

  After a pause, Gromley began to smirk, and then fixed his gaze on Les.

  Almost immediately, Les' mind began filling with strange thoughts -- strange and filthy thoughts. They came, as though a flood gate were being slowly opened wider and wider as they poured forth with ever increasing strength. After a while, Les was holding on to his seat to prevent himself from slipping down under the table to do something extremely unthinkable -- an act he had heard of other types doing but always made him sick to even think about. Soon, he was sweating.

  Gromley was grinning at him mockingly. 'Well, why don't you do it then?'

  'Not - in - your - life,' Les barely managed to whisper.

  'Very good Gromley,' said Nicolai. 'That will do.'

  With that, the thoughts stopped immediately, and Les felt sudden relief, as though waking up from a nightmare.

  Nicolai added, 'Now, let's see what I can do.'

  'No -- please!' Les almost whimpered.

  But the doctor had turned towards Gromley, not him.

  Gromley sat there, looking unfazed at first. If Stanovitch was doing to Gromley what Gromley had just done to Les, Les thought, Gromley had nerves of steel.

  But now, Gromley was beginning to shake and sink in his seat, though still holding his own.

  Then, suddenly he said, 'No -- please -- stop --'

  But Nicolai kept at it.

  'I - I promise ...'

  'Too late for promises now, Gromley.'

  Now, he was pulling at the tablecloth. All the empty plates were moving towards him, and things began falling off the table.

  A minute or two later he was practically screaming for mercy, grovelling on the floor in front of Dr. Stanovitch, who still kept him in his gaze.

  Finally, when Gromley was curled up in a corner, whimpering like an infant, Dr. Stanovitch left off with his stare. Just then the door opened and barmaid looked in, eyes as big as some of the plates now on the floor.

  'Come, pull yourself together Thomas,' chided Stanovitch as he pulled him up and uprighted his chair.

  'Er -- is everything okay?' said the barmaid, timidly.

  Gromley got up, but now he looked like a basket case.

  'What did you say you were going to do, Thomas?'

  'I-I think I might just retire -- er -- at least I got enough for that don't I...'

  'I think it's time to pay the tab,' said the doctor, turning to the barmaid.

  She went downstairs and was back in about a minute.

  'I recall you said this would be on you, Thomas?'

  Gromley fumbled for his wallet and shakily gave the barmaid a Visa card.

  After a few minutes, the barmaid was back up again.

  'I'm sorry, but this card has been cancelled.'

  'Th-then take this one,' said Gromley, giving her his Mastercard.

  That was overdrawn. His American Express was cancelled. So was his Diner's Club.

  Gromley again weeping, Nicolai said with a sigh, 'Well, it looks like I'll have to pay. You'd better check the ATM machine on your way home, Thomas, to see if you have enough to retire on after all.'

  They went home in silence.

  The last thing Nicolai said to Les while dropping him off was, 'If you play your cards right, Les, you will go a long way. A very long way. If you don't -- well, tonight you see what can happen if you don't play by my rules.'

  To say Les suddenly felt uneasy about Dr. Stanovitch, would be an understatement. As good as his future looked, he now realised his life wasn't his own.

  He didn't sleep easily that night.

  Chapter 28

  Les noticed Thomas Gromley a few days later at the Belfast city centre, while walking past Great Victoria Street station. Obviously he had found his account empty when he checked the ATM machine that night. He was still dressed in good clothes, but they hadn't been washed in a week and he hadn't shaved in at least that long. The man who was once the picture of confidence and success, now approached Les and asked for a handout. Les gave him five quid and wished him good luck.

  He wasn't sure if Thomas recognised him or not -- until he looked at him and mumbled, 'You're the devil's slave you are, lad. Don't ever dream of diddlin him.'

  Immediately, his father's words flashed in his mind: How do you know he's not out ta buy your soul?

  The next time he saw Gromley, he was wandering about aimlessly, talking to himself and looked as though he had been sleeping on the street. The clothes looked and smelled like what he had on the last time.

  As for Les, he did manage to improve his marks, and that year, graduated with honours. Almost immediately, Nicolai Stanovitch began taking Les along on some of his engagements.

  He thus had the chance to meet some of the Sin Feinn and IRA elite. Once he was even invited to a dinner party at which he got to meet the honourable MP himself.

  This made him feel good about his future once again. Being close to powerful and important people does that to one.

  Then, there were trips abroad.

 
At a restaurant in Zurich, they dined with a gentleman named Joseph Gilderman.

  Joseph had finished his PhD one year earlier, and already, with the help of Dr. Stanovitch, had started his own company, called Gilderman and Associates.

  Les looked at him, not daring to say, but thought in his deeper most parts -- lest the doctor read his thoughts -- 'Fellow slave, are you?'

  Joseph's English was almost perfect, better than Les' French. There was only a slight accent, but it was hard to tell what national origin. During conversation, Les learned that Joseph had a brother who had finished his rabbinical training in Jerusalem in one of the more orthodox sects.

  'With a scholarship from Dr. Stanovitch?' He asked, when the doctor had gone to find the men's room.

  'He wouldn't hear of it,' Joseph answered. 'Neither would Dr. Stanovitch think of sponsoring him unless he chose a more practical field. A religious nut case, he is -- my brother I mean. My whole family too, for that matter. I don't know why they took such a revulsion to the doctor. They think I've betrayed our traditions by associating with him.'

  'You know, it's funny, but I feel like I know you from somewhere,' remarked Les.

  'Strange. Our paths have never crossed. Perhaps from a previous life,' concluded Joseph.

  Then, Dr. Stanovitch returned, and indicated that they were about to engage the subject they had come to discuss. That was his plan to make the two young men partners in a new venture to be called the 'Glistan Group'. As the name implied, it would be a group of companies which would include Gilderman and Associates as the investment banking arm, and a company to be started by Les in London as the service arm. Les' company would provide consultation and engage in strategic involvement in selected companies as they were deemed profitable. More companies would be added to the group, some as the result of Les' strategic involvement.

  This promised to be extremely profitable for them all, as Dr. Stanovitch could attest from personal experience. Moreover, finances would be channelled through this partnership to various causes, such as the 'Irish liberation', of interest to Les, and various other movements.

  When the doctor mentioned, 'Irish liberation', Les thought he saw Joseph's eyebrows rise ever so slightly.

  The session ended with the shaking of hands, and the signing of papers making the two junior partners of Dr. Stanovitch.

  Les had other homework to do. Besides the planning of a company to be registered on the strength of the parent firm, he also had to work on his brother using the subliminal techniques he had learned from the doctor.

  Len was set on going his own way, and had been applying for IT positions in various local companies. He was neither interested in joining Les in the new venture, nor, as Dr. Stanovitch pointed out, would he be morally prepared to carry out some of the tasks that would be required of him. He still thought of things as either right or wrong.

  Looking back, Les had to admit his own perceptions had changed remarkably in the years he had known Dr. Stanovitch. 'Right' and 'wrong' used to mean something to him too. Now, he thought nothing of seducing a classmate's fianc?, taking her on a few spins before dumping her, broken hearted and devastated, no longer fit to be anyone's spouse.

  Maybe Stanovitch was the devil, but whether he was a devil or angel didn't seem to make very much difference like it used to. The fact that it didn't make a difference -- now that did bother Les a bit. He felt in that part of him that still loved and respected his mum and dad.

  But that didn't motivate him to change his way. In fact it made him jealous of Len for being closer to mum and Dad then he, and that much more determined to bring him down.

  Slowly, Len was beginning to come around. Part of Les' strategy was to cut off every potential job opening by subliminally influencing the prospective employer, and sometimes, Len. In a few cases, he let him get the job, only to arrange for a humiliating accident or mistake that would get him immediately fired. Between every attempt at a job, Les would continue pointing out to him how right he was in judging Len's ability and potential, and how much better off he would be working for Les.

  Meanwhile, he made a trip to London to begin laying the foundation for the new company. He set up an office in a small two room suite in Westminster, and registered 10it as the headquarters of 'Armstrong Business Strategies'.

  Almost immediately, he had a customer, a young man introducing himself as Gilbert Durant, who handed him a sealed envelope with 'Lester Armstrong Business Strategies' hand-written on the front. Les opened it, and found a letter written in Dr. Stanovitch's own hand:

  I have advised Gilbert Durant that he should start a company as a front for his activities. However, he knows next to nothing about starting a business, or making it work. I will leave that to you. The proceeds will go to a good cause -- take my word for it.

  Dr. N. Stanovitch

  P.S. You needn't mention our relationship with Mr. Durant to a single soul

  Talking to Gilbert, he gained no more information regarding the 'good cause' than he read in the doctor's letter. He found that the business Gilbert had in mind was a record shop, selling CDs and music videos featuring the latest punk rock and heavy metal. He hoped to expand it into a chain.

  Les found Gil almost totally ignorant how a business should be operated, but a willing student. They met several times in the next few weeks, and planned.

  Every time Les tried to use any subliminal influence, he found his efforts went nowhere. Was Gil also a pupil of the doctor?

  He also had the same deja vu with Gil as he had with Joseph. Yet their paths had never crossed either.

  Odd!

  In a couple of months, they were doing the footwork to open Gil's first shop, and stocking it with the latest hits. The grand opening was a few weeks later.

  Back in Belfast, Les found that Len was finally willing to work with him. He had hit only brick walls everywhere he turned, and was a broken man.

  Les expressed sympathy, and said, of course he'd take him in. He promised that Len would do well with him.

  They went to have lunch at a pub on Botanic Avenue near the university like they used to during their school days.

  On the way back to the Europa, after they had parted ways, Les saw another familiar face.

  At first he couldn't place it, and he was sure he didn't know of anyone even remotely associated with Iron Hall, the Protestant mission that encouraged fiery street evangelism. Yet, he was sure he knew that one who was now preaching through the loud speaker to the crowd on the street corner.

  He walked over to take a closer look.

  He saw -- and he couldn't believe his eyes! Thomas Gromley! The man Dr. Stanovitch had done the whammy to!

  Thomas was smartly dressed in clean street clothes, was well trimmed and shaven, and had a look far different from the dejected derelict he had become; yet, different again from the smug confident businessman Les had first met. He looked vibrant and happy!

  He passed the microphone on and stepped aside as someone else carried on preaching.

  Les approached him from behind the group.

  'Thomas Gromley! So you're running about with the Prods!'

  'Well! What a surprise!' was Thomas' reply.

  'Have you no shame?'

  'I'm not ashamed of the gospel of Christ, no.'

  'B-but, our IRA comrades in arms? And Sin Feinn?' Les went on. 'Don't you know what they think of traitors?'

  'IRA! What are you talking about?'

  'I'm talking about what you were doing for Nicolai Stanovitch -- for the Republican cause!'

  'But Stanovitch is a staunch Unionist!' said Thomas with surprise. 'He set me up in the finance business just to channel funds to the UVF!'

  'Th-the UVF?!' That was a Protestant para-military organisation.

  'Well, sometimes we gave to the LVF, but we didn't let that out. That would have been considered treacherous! But thank God, those days are behind me.'

  Les went his way dumbstruck
.

  Chapter 29

  Les' first thoughts were, Gromley was confused. His mind had become unhinged by that job Stanovitch did on him so that he remembered everything all wrong and now he had become a religious nut.

  That had to be it. Otherwise, how could Stanovitch be supporting both the UVF and the IRA?

  But his mind still wouldn't leave the subject alone. What if Gromley were right? What more surprises lay in store?

  As though that weren't enough, there was one more horrible thought. What was the 'good cause' Gil Durant worked for? If it were so good, why the mysterious silence?

  On the other hand, even if things weren't as they seemed, what could Les do about it? He was up to his ears in this already! The only option to going along with it was to end up with Stanovitch doing a double-whammy on him!

  So, Les finally decided to let things be and ask as few questions as possible. Even then, he lost a few night's of sleep.

  After Les arrived back in London with Len, Stanovitch began sending more business his way. He was also on hand to show them what he meant by strategic involvement.

  Gil Durant's new business was to be treated as a special case. In fact, Stanovitch indicated that Les was to forget he had even had him as a client.

  The other companies whose business Stanovitch solicited were a different story. They were picked because Stanovitch and Les saw that their line of business had a great potential for profits, even if the management wasn't exploiting it to the fullest extant possible. The first step was to conduct a survey of the entire company, outlining all processes and procedures. For this they were usually given free reign by the management. Then, they would recommend a long term period of gradual reengineering.

  Things would go slowly at the beginning with this small change and that, but Les would plan them carefully as though setting up moves in chess. Len would design the computer system, but with one feature he wouldn't bother to explain in the user's manual -- a perpetual back door whereby he and Les could access the system from outside any time they wanted. This could be useful should the company decide to end their relationship prematurely.

  Finally, when all the setting up was done, it was checkmate. The reengineering process at that point would either require that the board of directors be replaced, or some glaring error would be uncovered that was just too complicated for them to have foreseen but would expose their liability to criminal charges, so they'd be forced to resign anyway. Everything appeared legal, and the proper papers had been sighed by all the right people so that Les had the full authority to do what he did. Naturally, the company became part of the Glistan Group.