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

by RobCharters

  Len was somewhat reticent about this process at first. However not only did Les continue working on him subliminally, but the doctor and others helped to assure him that it was all a part of staying in business, and that, when all was said and done, 'everyone does it'.

  This went on for the space of a few years until their group of companies had grown to an impressive size. With it, grew Les' bank balance.

  Dr. Stanovitch was also happy. One day, he took Les to dinner at the Ritz. Gilderman was with him.

  'There is a new industry that's making tremendous amounts of money,' began the doctor. 'I would like you, Les, to visit a leading company in this field that I've been observing and find out how they work.'

  'What's the name of it?' asked Les.

  'Crayton Securities. Their main office is in Bangkok, but it's operated by expats -- mostly Irish. That makes you the ideal man for the job.'

  'Running a securities firm?' said Joseph. 'I've heard of some of these. They're not the miracle they let on to be. In fact, I'd suggest we stay far away.'

  'I know what you are thinking. Crayton Securities may look like a fly-by-night scam. That's one the drawbacks, because there are companies that look like them, that are. Another drawback is that they've made some bad judgements of one or two of the companies whose shares they've sold in the past. But the companies were doing business as stated, and their investors received what Crayton Securities believed were real share certificates. It's just that when they finally examine the financials, they see they're operating in the red. Now, they're more careful about the finer details, and push only companies that can give good returns on investment.'

  'So how much of a killing can possibly be made selling legitimate shares?' asked Joseph.

  'The same way as IPOs, except that some are already listed on NASDAC and other exchanges. Crayton buys large blocks of yet-to-be-released shares in return for venture capital the companies can use to expand. Then they sell them at the current stock market value. The investors get the share certificates, but with a one or two year restriction on them, meaning they cannot sell them on the stock market just yet. The client companies then have the venture capital they need to expand their industries, the investors have share certificates that will hopefully gain in value in one or two years time, and Crayton Securities keeps the difference. Everybody's happy.'

  'Good, provided it's understood to be a long term investment,' said Joseph. 'Most of the scams I know of promise very quick short term gains.'

  'That's the other drawback. Some of their brokers are over-anxious to make the hefty commissions and drive the sales as though they were short term. They promise double and triple value in a matter of months, and don't bother to inform them there is a restriction. That, alone, could doom the whole industry. But my plan is to avert that. If we draw this company into our group, we can enforce discipline, find those with pliable minds, get rid of the rest, and teach those we've hand picked how to sell, using our mind-power tactics. In the end, the concept would go so much farther, and make a more stable working arrangement. Then we have a winner.'

  Pliable minds? wondered Les. Did he choose me for my 'pliable mind'?

  'Even now, many see this as a winner,' Stanovitch went on. 'There are some big names already in it. Gillie McFray, the tennis champ has his own company going for IPO status, and has a deal with Crayton Securities. Several film stars are major shareholders in that one. At least one Academy Award winner, for special effects, also is a partner with them. Also, behind the scenes are one or two big names in the financial world, well known in business circles, as well as one member of American royalty.'

  'American royalty?'

  'A member of a presidential family. If this goes down as a scam, some big names will be tarnished. That alone opens other possibilities.'

  'So, how are we to get involved?' inquired Les.

  'I have asked a friend in high business circles in America, who also knows their big financier friend, to arrange a meeting between you and Sean Flynn, the "flying Irishman". I want you to present your services in a way that he will see the value of partnering with us, both to streamline his operation, and introduce him to some highly profitable companies that need venture capital. We can use a program like this in our network. It will provide inroads to more clients, as well as make more money for our causes.'

  So it was that Les made his first trip to the west coast of United States to rendezvous with Sean Flynn, who was there for meetings with clients.

  Les found it difficult to use his subliminal influence on Sean, probably because he was such a skilful salesman himself, and a 'type A' personality. However, being Irish probably did more than anything to endear Les to Sean. In the end, it was agreed that Les would go to spend some time in Bangkok at Crayton Securities and see if he couldn't streamline the company a bit.

  Sean had contacts in London, and would soon be passing through himself in the next week or two. Then they could meet and hammer out some details. They exchanged mobile phone numbers, and that was that.

  A week later, Les walked into a pub he had always wanted to try. It was near the head office of the 'Neo Maazick' CD shops he had helped Gil Durant to open.

  He sat at a table, ordered a pint and asked to look at the menu. Then he heard his name being called.

  It sounded like Gil, but when he looked, he didn't know whom to answer, for there were two identical images of the same person -- thin, with well trimmed blond hair.

  'Meet my twin brother,' said the one on the left. 'Ed, this is Mr. Armstrong, who helped us get the shops off the ground.'

  'I didn't know you had a twin!' said Les.

  He signalled to the waitress that he had shifted tables, and sat down with them.

  'You work together in the shop?' enquired Les.

  'I work,' said Gil, 'He sort of looks like he's working sometimes, but don't let that fool you.'

  'You're Irish,' said Ed.

  'You noticed,' returned Les, sounding flattered.

  'I was in Ireland once. Rather liked it actually, apart from there being too many Irishmen about.'

  Les laughed good-naturedly. Then he said, 'Can't say there are too many Englishmen in London these days, can you?'

  'That's why we prefer a good pub like this,' said Gil. 'Nothing but proper civilised food at this one.'

  Conversation went on like this for the duration of the meal. Les wasn't able to get anything out of the pair about what cause they supported. They had a good time though. Again, Les had the down inside feeling as though he knew Gil from away back somewhere. He didn't have that feeling about Ed though. That was strange because there was no profound difference in their looks or personalities.

  A week later, Sean Flynn called, and they set up a dinner appointment for that night.

  Half an hour after that there was a visitor requesting to see him.

  Les walked out and thought he was greeting Gil Durant.

  'No, I'm Edmond, the master copy. Gilbert's -- er -- my clone,' he responded.

  'What can I do for you?'

  'I'd like to talk, if you have time.'

  'I can spare a minute or so, come on in.'

  Les opened the door to the inner office. Maybe he'd be less guarded when not around his brother.

  'I was wondering if you would know of any openings for someone with my skill,' began Ed.

  'You mean to say you want a different job than the one you have now with your brother?'

  'Being VP of a record chain is all very nice, I'm sure, but it's just that sitting behind a fancy desk doing the Daily Mail crosswords isn't my idea of a life, if you know what I'm saying. I want to feel like I'm my own man, for one thing. That's to say, I'm sure Gil knows what's good for me better than I do,' (ironic grin) 'but, to be straight with you, or should I say crooked, I'd much prefer to screw my own life up than let someone else do it for me, if you catch my drift.'

  'I think I do,' said Les. 'By what means do
you propose to screw your own life up?'

  'Sales, marketing, I've done telemarketing for a few places, once in Spain, which was actually good -- if only I knew at the time how good it was -- then for a time in Copenhagen, which didn't work out so well, but I think I could do all right if I had the right start.'

  'Telemarketing. What were you selling? Time shares? Kitchen knives?'

  'Wine in Copenhagen. Time shares in Spain.'

  'How about stock market shares?'

  After some talking, Les invited Ed to join him that evening on his appointment with Sean Flynn.

  Ed asked Les to promise he wouldn't mention any of this to Gil, to which Les agreed, on the condition that Ed would do likewise.

  They had dinner with Sean Flynn, and Ed was offered a job as a broker. He flew to Bangkok within the week, and Les followed a month later.

  Chapter 30

  Subject: Re: My wild goose chase

  To: Alec Magawan

  From: Ernie

  Ernie wrote:

  > Sorry I've been out of touch, Pop.

  > It's a long story, and I don't know

  > where to start...

  >

  Alec Magawan replied:

  > I'm glad you've emailed me. I was

  > getting worried. Eddie understood you

  > were just going to visit mum, and

  > you'd be right back.

  >

  Ernie wrote:

  > ... It actually has a lot to do with

  > that shooting star you and mum saw

  > on your last night at the digs. I

  > actually have it with me, and mum saw

  > it when she woke up from her coma.

  > Uncle Abdul was with me when I found

  > it. It turns out that it's what produced

  > the clue he had found as to the entrance

  > to the tomb. Anyway, I'm in

  > Thailand...

  >

  Alec Magawan replied:

  > I'll have to take your word for it

  > for now. Abdul did tell me a strange

  > story indeed that morning we heard we

  > had to leave. The colour he described

  > did bring to mind the shooting star

  > we had seen the night before. I'm

  > thankful that I learned early that

  > there's more to life than we usually

  > give it credit for. Otherwise, I would

  > have dismissed Abdul's story as

  > Blarney, along with your mum's mention

  > that you had the shooting star in your

  > pocket. As for explaining it to Eddie,

  > just leave that to me for now. Somehow

  > I don't think he's ready to hear the

  > whole story yet. I've always admired

  > that boy for having such a sober

  > practical mind. He could run a giant

  > multinational corporation if he had

  > to. It's just that it takes a different

  > sort to understand some of the

  > complexities of life.

  >

  Ernie replied:

  Thank you Pop.

  Ernie wrote:

  > There are several of us who

  > have had very similar experiences

  > regarding the shooting star. It's

  > really weird, but at least it's

  > confirmation that I'm not a nut

  > case of some sort. So far, there

  > are four of us, but one in

  > particular that I would like to

  > introduce to you to. Her name is May

  > Lin. She's Malaysian, and actually

  > lived not far from the school Eddie

  > and I went to in Penang.

  >

  Alec Magawan replied:

  > Do I hear wedding bells?

  >

  Ernie replied:

  I don't want to be premature, but

  there are others in our party who seem

  to hear them, especially young

  Ibrahim.

  Oh - you can stop worrying if I have

  enough to eat. I have a job now, with

  a company called Crayton Securities.

  I'm the bloke that calls you out of

  the blue and asks if you want to buy

  shares (I hope you won't disown me

  now).

  You might not believe this, but you

  can stand by the window of our office

  and look straight down at the old

  Salem House, where Eddie and I went

  to school.

  love to you both

  After being told by countless receptionists, 'He's not in,' 'He's in a meeting,' 'He's on a call,' 'He's with someone,' 'He just stepped out,' 'He's not interested in what you're selling,' (How do you know what we're selling?) Ernie finally got through to a GM of one company on his list.

  'Good morning, Ernie Magawan here, calling from Crayton Securities...'

  'Not interested!' Slam.

  Then it was another round of: 'He's not in,' 'He's in a meeting,' 'He's on a call,' 'He's with someone,' 'He just stepped out,'... etc.

  Boz O'Hannan, sitting two tables down from him, already had a gallary of cartoons he had doodled out of pure boredom of receptionists answering the phone with answers like, 'He's tied up at the moment' (her boss pictured in the background tied to his chair), 'He's hard to catch' (the boss in a straitjacket jumping onto a file cabinet while men in white coats try to catch him with a net), 'He just stepped out' (an open window with the drape flapping outward revealing a puff of smoke and a startled bird), etc.

  It was Boz, of course, who had both arranged for Ernie to be interviewed for this job, and lined up two one-room flats in a building just down the street. Ernie shared one of the flats with Ibrahim, while May Lin and Rosa shared the room next door. It was the red brick building right on the edge of Chong Nonsri road, just five minutes walk from the office.

  At the company, Ernie got the only position that happened to be open -- that of qualifier of leads. May Lin was told that there would be room for her to begin in the admin department, probably in a week or two. Meanwhile, there wasn't much for the girls to do except wait and plan their next move.

  'Good morning, Ernie Magawan here, calling from Crayton Securities. Tony Smith, is it?'

  'Speaking.'

  'Could I just take one moment of your time to introduce who we are?'

  'You certainly may.'

  'We're a securities firm, dealing in offshore stock, especially in the U.S. markets, and we specialise in industries that we feel have a definite future, specifically tracing those companies we have reason to believe are poised to surge forward and break new ground in their industry. Do you invest at all in the stock markets, Mr. Smith?'

  'Oh, I dabble in it now and then,' answered Mr. Smith.

  'If we sent you info on a company that we feel is a winner, and the means to check it out yourself, would you be in the position to consider investing in that company?'

  'I just might.'

  'If you saw something you did feel, after thoroughly checking it out, would make money for you, would you be liquid to, say around 5K within the next couple of weeks?'

  'If I thought it was a worthwhile investment, yes.'

  'Then, let me just confirm the address we have for you: 25 Outback Street, Booma Ranga, Northern Territories.'

  'That's right, or you could send it to my personal address, which is 22 Kangaroo Court.'

  'Will do. Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Smith. You should be getting a packet by DHL within the next three to four working days.'

  With a victory whoop, Ernie thrust the qualification sheet into the air.

  'Good on ya, Ernie,' said Melvin, from the table facing him.

  'How many leads is that so far?' said Rune, the other Queensland Ozzie
seated next to Melvin.

  'That makes three today.'

  'I only got two for the whole day yesterday,' said Roary McGreggor. His Glassgowigian accent had endeared him to at least one of his leads, Ernie remembered.

  'I only did one yesterday,' said Ernie. 'I thought Maurie would tell me not to bother coming in any more!'

  'Ernie,' said Melvin. 'You'll have your good days, and you'll have your bad days. Maurie Bentley knows that.'

  'Besides, Sean wouldn't fire you anyway, because you're Irish,' added Roary.

  'It's time for lunch, according to my watch,' said Rune.

  It was, indeed ten o'clock. Having hit the phones since six, ten was lunch, but Ernie preferred to call it breakfast.

  'The Canopy then?' said Melvin.

  Rune nodded.

  'What about you, Ernie? Roary? Boz?'

  It was the Canopy.

  Chapter 31

  The 'Canopy' was the name they had dubbed the group of stalls under a wide tin shelter behind Seven Eleven. To get there, they had to cross the Sathorn - Chong Nonsri intersection via the pedestrian walkway, and up passed where they were building the skytrain station.

  Except for just a few landmarks, Sathorn was almost totally unrecognisable from Ernie's childhood days. Then, it consisted of two parallel tarmac roads separated by a klong (local lingo for canal), with shade trees growing on the banks. Now, the road had been built up so that the klong was hardly more than a centre divide. Any trees that could be seen now were more like an afterthought to please the greenies. Otherwise, it was nothing but tall office buildings, banks, hotels, and more office buildings. Fortunately for the farangs now making their way to lunch, the back lanes were still lined with stalls dealing in the local fare.

  Most of them preferred Thai food to Western, but what drew them together was their relative age, being ten or twenty years older than most of the other qualifiers and brokers. They weren't an ambitious lot, but they tended to be consistent, and had outlasted many of the others.

  Each one ordered from whichever vendor was selling what he wanted that day, and sat down. Curry spooned onto plates of rice were handed over the counter as they were ordered. Soon after that, the noodle soup dishes were brought by the respective stall operators, as they were quick to prepare. The stir fries took longer.

  Ernie thus already had his rice with green curry, and a girl had just brought Roary's and Melvin's noodles, while Rune was waiting for his stir-fried vegetables, and Boz, for his fried rice with naem (pickled pork).