Status: Finished

Genre: Literary Fiction



Status: Finished

Genre: Literary Fiction



Doctor Michael Barnes' agreement to act as interim Director of the Harry Hope Fertility Clinic did not include the torturous paths and terrifying rides he was forced to follow in order to apprehend a ruthless gang of black market murderers. Nevertheless, the good doctor adapted and pressed on.
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Doctor Michael Barnes' agreement to act as interim Director of the Harry Hope Fertility Clinic did not include the torturous paths and terrifying rides he was forced to follow in order to apprehend a ruthless gang of black market murderers. Nevertheless, the good doctor adapted and pressed on.

Chapter51 (v.1) - POINTS OBSERVED

Author Chapter Note

The Kosovo brothers are restless. Riddick Malcolm wants blood. Max Wales offers blood.
Tony tells his billions success secrets.
Electra and Tom are nearing the flames of knowledge.
And, well . . .things are speeding up.

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: February 12, 2017

Reads: 65

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: February 12, 2017




A Serial

Nicholas Cochran

Chapter Fifty-One


Tony continued. “Dad helped me find the perfect tutor for learning the ins and outs of the brokerage business including the commodities markets.”

Tony gave us all his famous smile. “Tarquin arranged for my memberships on all the exchanges. Within three years, I was able to organize and control investments around the world. 

"What supercharged my moneymaking achievements was the insistence of certain African rulers to give me insider information about impending deals, which they concluded with worldwide companies.

“The entire experience was that of having the run of the candy store as well as everything else you desired as a kid. For an adult, the candy was a mix of shares in companies as well as part ownership in going concerns—as well as startups.

“The last item, the start-ups, really took off. Dad and others were already owners of Apple shares from the eighties. Then along came Microsoft in the late eighties and then Amazon. I then picked Google in 2004. All purchases were on a huge scale using the sale of several interests in Africa as well as a huge stake in the diamond-cutting city of Surat, India.”

By now, I was probably letting my mouth hang open in reaction to Tony’s tale of good fortune, business acumen, and incredible vision.

I roughly calculated that a couple of million shares of Apple from 1980 would be worth over eight billion dollars. My admiration forTony ballooned.

So what was his shame? Why did his color drain when Fiona bluntly told him in so many words that he was holding back; that there was more of a back-story to the gathering of the billions for the Wales?

* * *

Werner had become surly. From their list of assigned targets, they were only able to scratch one. All their efforts to locate Electra and Bubb failed. Despite the cautions announced by the toady Malcolm—direct orders from his boss—Werner sensed an ill wind beginning to whip about both him and his brother.

These hits were sold to them as fish in a barrel, a simile that even two brothers with arms from Kososvo were able to understand. Now, they both had the distinct feeling that all the other targets were slipping away like the slipperiest of slippery eels. 
“We should ask for some more direction—and some more information. We’re stuck,” complained Argon.

“I’ll call Malcolm again. Maybe they have some new information. I bet that husband and wife are on a plane to Brazil. Damn.”

*  *  *

Fiona appeared to relax. Her eyes were losing their blazing aspect.

Christian and Melinda took large swallows of their liqueurs as they slipped back into their chairs.  

“And all along, right up to today, Fiona, I have been favored. No other explanation," acknowledged Tony, "I was helped by one and all in the beginning, especially by those clients in Africa who had a couple of winning stock portfolio managers who insisted that I buy the four big ones I mentioned.

I think between the four of them there is about sixteen billion. So, I’m not the wheeler dealer you may have imagined. Again, very simply; I was favored.”

He stopped, took some coffee, and sat back with a look of a man who had unburdened himself of years of heavy shame.

“Then why did you pale so, Tony, when I asked you for the whole story?” asked Fiona with quiet insistence.

*  *  *

Ellie began to walk up the stone steps, flashing her light to scout any hazards. 

In moments, they arrived at the upper floor. Ellie released the bolts at the top and bottom of the door. Tom eased up beside her. They both gently pushed the door until enough light revealed the back of a wall.

“This is part of all the bookcases surrounding the snooker room; you know, where the switch to lift the basement floor is located; under a bookcase. I guess they must have put in the elevator since I was a kid.” She chuckled, “it’s been a few years now.”

Tom squeezed her hand. “Okay, sweets; what now?”

“We have to find that particular bookcase and then see if the switch is still there. I’m sure it’s been moved but we’ll start there. If it isn’t there, we’ll have to scout under all the bookcases.”

“Why can’t we take the elevator?”

“Because we would be announcing ourselves if anyone is there. Better to try the floor-raising switch. I remember it as being completely silent; not a sound at all. That was part of its magic for me.”

Most of the lights in the snooker room were off. Only a few weak shafts edged their way through a basement window set in the break of continuous bookcases.

“There are lights over there near that door. That door is the one that leads to the first floor."

Ellie paused to tell Tom that she was visualizing the scene from her visit it this room at age two. “Got it. Right over there on the left. You slide your hand in and there’s a light switch there.”

“Can’t we do this in the dark?”

“No, Tom; well; maybe, but first I thi . . .”

The slam of a door came from above them over the end of the room with the light switches. Voices followed the slam. Male voices.

Damn,” spat Electra, “sounds like my brothers; Andy and Bart. What the hell are they doing here?”
*  *  *

“It was the diamonds” confessed Tony, “blood diamonds now; not then—and the black rhino horns. There were also huge gifts and investments of ivory before the ban.

"My shame was twofold. 

"First, I never questioned the chain of events necessary to place immense deposits of ivory and black rhino horns in my possession. 

"But secondly, and shamefully, once I thought about all the stages of harvesting these endangered items, I continued to deal in them. I simply believed that I was not responsible for the wars or the poaching and so why should I be grieved by these practices.

“I realize now that I had forgotten the teachings of my mother and father and I was ashamed. I haven’t dealt in any of those items for ten years.”

Melinda interjected. “He has invested every cent from those acquisitions in charities, as well as in the hands of those fighting to save the animals. Then there are the good people trying to halt the civil wars.”

Parental pride of her son radiated from every aspect of her persona. She smiled.

Uncle Christian chuckled, “You know, Fiona and Michael, I have been all over Tony to write a book—something about his adventures but he’s reluctant.”

“Well,” sighed Tony, “I’m afraid I’d do more harm than good. I think most people would see me as either a man who was trying to justify all his wealth or a man who was hoping to increase his wealth by flogging his book.

“I think I’ll just live with my demons and try to eliminate them by following Buffet, Gates, and Zuckerburg—not to mention Carnegie—and give it all away. Yes. I’d enjoy that.”

Fiona rose and went to Tony where she planted a big kiss on his cheek and hugged him, “Thank you, Tony. You are a good man.”

I though she was going to cry.

I thought I was going to tear up.

Uncle Christian and Aunt Melinda beamed. Their son was more than any parents would expect; much more.

Tony smiled at each of us with sincere thanks for understanding him.

I made a mental note to switch our 401ks to him first thing Monday morning.

*  *  *

“I can’t believe my brothers are here, Tom. Why?” Ellie repeated.

“Got me, Ellie. Shall we look and see?”
Tom finished his question as the two brothers burst through the door, cursing and speculating on their visit.

Bart took up a snooker cue from the first table, turned and sat on his haunches while he poked the cue under the bank of bookcases on the opposite side of the doorway.

“I can almost do this blindfolded,” laughing, “practice, practice prac . .”

“Ah; all right, bro,” cheered Andy as the floor of the basement silently lifted allowing them to enter onto a flight of stairs.

The moment the top of their heads reached floor level, Bart hit a button causing the carpeted basement floor, three feet thick, to settle back in perfect alignment with the rest of the floor.

*  *  *

Riddick Malcolm was very unhappy. The boss and the ridiculous outfit were grating on his nerves almost as annoyingly as the damn voice-alteration device.

His phone vibrated. Werner made a simple statement. “We need more information. All four aren’t anywhere you told us about.”

As much as he hated to admit a defeat of a sort—any defeat, he had to tell the brothers that two of their targets were in the FBI Witness Protection Program and to strike them off their list.

The boss, listening to Malcolm’s side of the conversation, felt a new anger, a new frustration. Thoughts of bombing the main office of the FBI were mulled for a few moments while Malcolm wound up his conversation with the brothers.

“And as for Electra and Bubb; Jesus Christ, you have every goddamned thing there is to know about both of them and their habits. Christ, do I have to do the goddamned hits for you two?”

The boss realized that Riddick was genuinely upset. Moreover, he certainly sounded as though he would kill both Electra and Bubb, should they walk in the door at that moment.

The boss wasn’t quite sure whether to feel comforted by this realization or to become more upset—with everything.

Things are falling apart. The cascade effect is in play. Very annoying.

Malcolm disconnected while turning with purpling veins to face the boss.

“Why the Christ did I ever listen to that lamebrain Maxwell. Son-of-a-bitch. These Kosovo clowns can’t find it with both hands; with four hands, for Christ’s sake.  Goddamned Wales.”

As if on cue, Maxwell Wales opened the door. With blubber and bluster he threw himself at the boss’s feet and begged for the life of his daughter. He concluded while in his Uber ride, that Bubb could fend for himself—and the boss wouldn’t listen to him on that point anyway.

Riddick Malcolm heard out Max’s proposal and agreed with it. Snuff Max and save Electra. His Electra.

“Okay, boss, I think that’s a damn good trade-off. Got a gat?”


End of Chapter Fifty-One

© Copyright 2017 Nicholas Cochran. All rights reserved.


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