Only Need Remains

These chapters are a little character development and some plot.

    

ONLY NEED REMAINS

by Darren Dunne

 

Prologue

Zurich, Switzerland, 2016

On the west side of Zurich, Herman Grurber sat in a small nail-bar getting his weekly manicure. Heavy metal blared from his fashionabe brightly coloured headphones as one of the pretty young asian girls asked him questions in overly enthusiastic manner, shouting at him over the sound of his music. He would always respond in a contented, monotone voice. His week revolved around the different ways he could spend his evenings unwinding. A pedicure filled a rainey Tuesday evening, he went there every week, in the evenings at around seven, for one hour. Most people recoiled in shock upon entering the tiny nail-bar to see his three hundred pound silhouette spilling out over the chair, book-ended by the two petite Asian women. He was an ugly man, with a fat red bludgeoned looking face and a small pale delicate mouth, that looked like it belonged on the face of a small boy. His jaw dangled jowls of flesh like hanging meat in a butchers shop and his achne scarred, perputally sweating forehead, was smeared with a long cigarette stained fringe. He sat facing outwards towards the front entrance of the nattow rectangular room, that was meticoulously crammed with girlie pastel pink beauty equipment, that furthered the  ridiculousness of the scene. 

He would sometimes stay afterwards, chatting with the beauty technicians, drinking tea and reacting in his usual calm and mannerly way as they bombarded him with their boistressness. Most of the times he didn't understand the words, but always understood the meaning. They were expressive, they didn't let him feel sorry for himself. 

"Hey Herman, Herman?" they would say, in a shrill and knowing tone, almost shouting at him.

"Why you sad Herman? What wrong?"

"Nothing." he would reply with a kind of sweet reticence.

"Oh, Herman." they would say sympatheticially, their eyes seeing past his grossness. "Herman, you crazy...but we like you. You a nice man ok!"

He would nod and smile politely and slurp his tea over his small lips.

Wednesday was something he particularly looked forward to. He liked Roberto, the Italian cooking class tutor, a lot. He was bright and entertining. Herman had met many strong men in his twenty three years in banking, but Roberto had a way about him that was equally as present and immediate as any head honcho Ceo that he had ever met.

Herman presumed that Roberto was most probably drunk. 

He would sit quietly, never saying a word during the class, finding Roberto's almost violent chutzpah infectious, he would feel lifted by the experience. He was a big character, you could not forget him, even if at times he was a little too brutal for his own sensitive 'disposition'. 

On Thursdays he usually called one of the girls from an escort service, a high class company, to accompany him to the theater or a show. He had a favorite girl Juliette. She was a small English girl of eighteen. He liked her because she, like him, was still just a child at heart. With her he could giggle openly "Like two little girls having a pajama night" he would say. He could laugh in his own laugh and not the machine gun of a cackle he would employ to convince colleagues that he was "In the game and on the money." 

On Friday he would see his mother. He spent the evening with her talking about Hermans sister Sabine, who was a famous painter. Just once he would like her to inquire about how he was, or how he felt. She cooked him German sausage with potato and onions and scolded him about his hair. "It looks like an old piece of smoked fish Herman, cut it off please!" she would say with a huff and a wave of her dish cloth. He left with a hug, that never managed to reach around his massive gut.

On Saturday he attended various events, mostly with Juliette if she was available. He liked tennis or as an alternative a soccer match, where he always got a box. He took Juliette to some of the most prestigious events in Zurich, she was the perfect accompanyment with her astute fashion sense and magnetic charm. People would often think they were Father And daughter, they played along if the mood took them. 

Sunday was a day off, but the most beautiful and intimate day to him. The most excusite  piano music came from the apartment below and would fill the cold silence of his afternoon as he read the Sunday papers. The music almost had a voice, it seemed to speak to him in the silence. The sensitivity of the player could, it seemed, hear his thoughts. Herman played along on his mandolin once and then every week there after; together they would acompany one another never haveing set eyes on the other. It became special, spiritual even; just like a Sunday should be.

Every Monday he spent at a retirement home, his Father had spent the last nine years of his life there. Herman returned after his death to take his Fathers place in the card game with Bernie. He was an old  world war two vet and a war buddie of his Father Henrich. Herman returned out of some sense of sentimental duty, but he enjoyed Bernies company, who still knew how to have a good time despite long lapses in cognitive function; he would frequently stare blankly into the abyss, unresponsive for minutes at a time, Herman would wait and smile, nodding politely at the other residents as they looked on. 

Despite his many interests his favourite past-time was eating.

Kittys Bar was run by a raven headed, bug-eyed bulldog of a Woman from County Kerry. Kitty spoke with a lilting, forceful voice, that demanded to be liked and respected all at once. It was a voice most of the west of Ireland spoke with, a swearing blarney, a tone employed to express a dark witty mystical knowledge; deep islander truths that visiting strangers had yet to discover. 

"The best Irish stew in the whole of Zurich!" he would tell anyone who would listen. He sat at the hand made table and chairs, thinking about what desert to order next, indifferent to the repulsed guest of Kittys Bar, their faces still a picture of shock after having watched Herman devour four bowls of her delicious stew followed by two portions of German sausage and potatoes, eight bread rolls and a portion of garlic fried potatoes, washed down with six pints of weiss beer. He was considering what desert to have when he realized the commotion outside was coming his way. The door crashed open, sweeping a passing cat along with it and smacking it against the wall with an overly dramatic squealing thud. Two men dressed in police combat uniforms and visored helmets appeared in the doorway and marched towards Herman. They said nothing as they grabbed an arm each and attempted to haul him out of the chair.

"Stand the f**k up." said an American accent from behind.

"You are not the police! Who are you?" said Herman, employing his corperate bankers voice, but failing in his attempt to gain control of the situation.

"Come with us now!" ordered a deep gravely male voice with a Russian accent. Herman was ushered into a waiting SUV with blacked out windows.

"What is the meaning of this? Who the hell are you?" asked Herman, from the back of the speeding vehicle.

A man, who's piercing blue eyes were his only discernable feature from under his balaclava, turned to look at Herman.

"Are you Herman Gruber?" he asked.

"I am yes." said Herman with a foolhardy defiance. "Who are you?"

"For now all you need to know is that you are not in any danger, as long as you co-operate." 

"Ok, what do you want?"

"Do you recognise the name Theresa Manning?"

"That name rings a bell yes, a politician I think, from San Fransisco. Yes Thersa Manning, I manage her account. Why?"

"The details of where her money comes from, I assume that information is not easily available to you?" said the Russian man, his eyes searching past Hermans corperate civil veneer.

"That assumption would be correct yes, and I would prefer it to stay that way." said Herman.

The man leered at him from under his balaclava, but Herman was no stranger to judgemental looks.

"I must take your word for that Herman. Thresa Manning is an American politician, and a corrupt one." said the Russian.

"I have no knowledge of such things, I told you. Does it matter?" he said belligerently. 

"Yes it does Herman." came an angsty womans voice from the drivers seat.

"I don't see how that is relevant."

"Don't you have a conscience?" 

"Why would I care about such things?" asked Herman coldly.

"This is not you Herman, I know you." she said, her brown eyes glancing at him through the rear view mirror from under ber balaclava.

"I'm sorry?" he barked. "What is this?"

"I have been watching you for some time now Herman." she said smugly glancing over her shoulder at him. "Maybe you have gotten used to the money and the lifestyle, but it's not you, it's not who you are. You are a nice man arn't you?"

"I don't know what you mean, I do my work and I go home."

"That is correct, you are dilligent and responsible, someone who doesn't rock the boat, the perfect employee. But you are not one of them,  how could you not care what goes on with these dispicable people you do business with? Don't you have a conscience about what they do?"

"I'll ask you again." replied Herman amused by his own disregard, "Why would I care about any of that? That is not my business."

"I don't get you Herman." she said angrily.

"Yeah? Well!" said Herman, his impulsive retort belayed by second thoughts.

Herman sat quietly as the car sped out of the city and through a cluster of small towns, the masked men appeared to say nothing, their darting glances looked sinister to Herman, he imagined what they might do to him. The fear rushed through his body, as the car turned sharply into a narrow street. He let out a terrified high pitched scream from the back of the SUV, the warm sensation on his inner thigh soaking his pants and the seat below.

The masked men pulled Herman from the van and into a closed off shop, ushering him into the dimly lit back room. The angsty woman stood over him as he sat, her breathing shallow and intense, she pulled off her balaclava and looked at Herman, smiling scornfully at him. She mockingly swept his long yellow fringe to the side, as tears welled in him. "What are you going to do to me?" She watched him cry, the snot running from his nose and sitting on his top lip like two puss filled sacs, making his fat blugeoned face all the more ugly. She had no sympathy for corruption. 

"Who are you?" asked Herman.

"You want to know who we are? Hah!..Now you will listen! We are nobody, and we are everybody. We are your shopkeepers, your teachers, your waiters. Your actors, your musician, your drug dealers. We are everybody else. The ninty nine percent Herman?" said the short, attractive, bitter woman.

"I'm on your side, I get it ok. I didn't mean to, all I wanted was a job." said Herman with a pandering simpleness.

"Bullshit! You knew it and you played along, you are as guilty as anyone else."

"Yes but I had too!"

"Come on now Herman we both know you love money! I wonder how much of it you have helped these pieces of s**t steal over the years, it must be into the billions!"

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

Herman felt the thud in the middle of his chest, the black army boot an after thought as he slammed backwards, cracking a floorboard and disintergrating the chair with his collossal weight. The Russian pulled off his balaclava to reveal his long black hair and greying beard. He looked down at Herman, his massive size filling up the space on the small back office floor. 

"You are some disgusting looking pig you know that Herman! Get him up." The Russian man sat face to face with Herman, his cold blue eyes causing Herman to shake with fear "My name is Alexander Poli and this is Ali Lang, we are members of the activist group Freedom Is A Right, better know as F.I.A.R."

"I don't know how you expect me to help you." said Herman. "I'm just a bank clerk."

The Russian man continued, his tone more serious than before this tme. "Listen up Herman, you are going to take back all the millions Theresa Manning stole from her constituants."

Herman interrupted with sheepish curiosity. "How do you expect me to do that?" 

"Just listen! How often do you have contact with Theresa Manning, face to face?"

"Me personally, maybe once every quarter. She has someone make deposits quite regularly though."

"When?"

 "At random times."

"So the accounts are checked when Mrs. Manning comes in herself?"

"Not always. Last year I don't think she checked them herself at all. She met with the man upstairs and made quite a large deposit with me afterwards, if I remember correctly."

"That's information that we can use, good. You have expressed a desire to get out of banking correct?"

"How did you know that?"

"As we said we have been following you for months. We chose you, we want you..." 

Herman again interrupted Alaxander defiantly. "I wont help you!" 

Ali brought her rifel butt butt down hard on his hand, crushing it against the armrest. Herman screamed out in pain, she raised the gun for another blow. Alaxander gestured for her to wait.

"No, no please!" cried Herman.

"You will help us. You will wait until after her next visit and then transfer the funds." said Ali,

"I will get fired if I'm caught and never work again."

"Collateral damage, can't be helped Herman. Go buy a boat and live out your days on an island somewhere." said Alaxander.

"Or we could just kill you." Ali whispered in his ear.

"How much money?" asked Herman soberly.

"Ten million dollars!" 

"Ten million! That's too much. I can't move that much money without arousing suspecion. Large sums like that require approval. You don't get it," Said Herman nervously, "People put money into Redick bank, they don't take it out again...unless a benefactor gets an inheritance."

"What about your boss Fredrick Leehman, where does he live?"

"I don't know...why?"

"Who does then?"

"Maybe Marcus Helkin."

Alaxender Poli threw an arm around his comrade leading her into a back room.

"He is right Ali."

"About what?"

"I don't think this is the way, I don't think this is our man, we should have gone to the top, Fredrick Leehman."

"No, I'm sure this is the way, this is our guy. I have had people on him for months Alexander. I have considered all this, we will get him to transfer small amounts regularly. Fredrick Leehman cannot be trusted. Herman Gruber is the one for sure, he is a creature of habit, every day is the same. He drives to work on time, has lunch in the same place every day. Eats the same thing. Leaves work and goes to a bar, eats like a pig. Then depending on the day, he attends an event with some escort or visits family or a retirement home. Always the same thing one each day of every week. He has been at Redick bank for ten years, not once has he been late or missed a day. This is the type of guy you don't check up on, this is the guy everybody forgets, people leave him to get on with his work, nobody checks up on him. This is the guy Alaxander!"

"And if it goes wrong?"

"I have my man lizard on it, he can crash their system, it will cause major disruptions for days. Should give us time to cover our tracks."

"What if he just goes to them with this?" 

"He has a famous painter for a sister. I have some photos of her leaving work, home etc. All we have to do is show him these." 

"I'm trusting your instincts Ali, I hope you are right about him."

"My instincts are sound." 

Alaxender and Ali returned to the back office. Alaxander pulled up his chair and sat closly facing Herman.

"This is what is going to happen Herman, you are going to start transfering funds from Thersa Manning's account into an account that you will set up for us. If you don't do it, then we will have to find other ways to persuade you." said Alaxander, throwing the photos into Hermans lap."

"No! How did you get these?" said Herman, a flood a tears spilling from his eyes, "Ok, ok I'll do whatever you want."

"Good." said Ali.

"Just don't hurt her."

"We won't have to. This is all going to run smoothly and as planned. We picked you for a reason, we strongly believe that you are above suspicion. We know you can do this." Alaxander stood up, he towered over Herman in the chair, Ali joined his side.

"I don't have a choice do I?" said Herman, his face taking on a boyishness through the tears.

"No Herman, you don't have a choice." said Ali, her sharp American accent like a slap to the face.

"Just don't hurt Sabine." he pleaded with a child like obediance in his voice.

"We are going to take you back to your bar now. We will contact you in a few days. Speak to nobody about this." ordered Alaxander.

"Or we will cut every finger off Sabines right hand." added Ali, "She paints with her right hand, correct?"

"I won't say a word. I can phone you when Thersa Manning comes in if you like."

"That's good Herman." said Ali.

"I promise I won't say a word." said Herman, his terrified reality pierced by blinding sunlight as the fake police officers marched him out the door towards the SUV. 

Alaxander and Ali stood alone in the small back office, she looked at him inquiringly. "I have to go Ali, operations in Germany are not running smoothly at the moment. Long story, but they need me. I want you to return home and wait for my call. I don't want you here." his words tailed off.

"Whatever you say Alaxander. I will be waiting for your call. Na Zdorovie." said Ali taking a step forward onto her toes to kissing him affectionatly.

He caught Ali by the arms and kissed her on the forehead. It was a distant embrace that did not have room for affection; or romance. "Na Zdorovie my love." said Alaxander stoicially.

Part 1

Chapter 1

Water And A Flame

2003

Thick swirling clouds of steam hid the frail naked body of Manfred Buffett as he lay curled in a ball, the blood stained tiles of the highschool shower-room forever a reminder of his first outing. Adam Crow was a boy Manfred admired, he wished he could be like him; carefree and not so "Overly emotional" as his Father Ronald had frequently begun to refere to him as. It wouldn't be long before Manfreds attentions would drift from school work to his own wandering thoughts of Adam; his model of the perfect boy. He sat almost horizontally in his chair, as if he was unaffected by the things that would torture Manfred daily. Manfred would study him, his thoughts, or lack there of. But the more Manfred watched Adam, the more he found himself distracted by strange feelings for him. No longer admirarion but deep swells of desire invading him at the most innapropriate times. He began be distracted by Adams body, his chest seemed to ripple under his shirt. His forarm was that of a fully grown man; strong and musular and covered in heavy black hair. His neck was thick and supported a wide jaw and defined cheek bones covered in coars bristles. He had an energy, a preasnce when near by and a smell that was not sweet like the other boys. 

Adams buttocks shined in the flickering flourecent lighting of the school gynasium shower room. Manfred gasped as he felt his heartbeat quicken, followed by an overwhelming desire to touch, caress, own them. He had no control over these enveloping desires, they errupted in him like a dam bursting it's banks after months of heavy rain fall; lust. He began to move almost automaticially towards the gistening spongy bubble covered fleshy half spheres of Adams arse. Two thin limp wrists emerged from the steam and reached out to squeeze. He could not savour the slippery sensation as he would have liked. In an instant a blur of fists burst from the steam, springing outward and pounding his face and body with sharp wet slappign thuds. Manfred's brain counted six excrusiating blows before it shut down, he fell hard to the floor. Adams kicks continued to rain down as Manfred lay curled up in a puddle of steaming suds, his arse no longer of Manfred's concern.  

He came too and smiled, a bright swirling pool of blood circled an island of pubic hair. 

"You f*****g f****t Manfred!" said Adam as he paused to prevent himself from slipping. 

"This is the rather more brutal attempt to establish boundries don't you think Adam?" Manfred's words only hastened the frequency of Adam's kicks.

"F**k. You. F****t!" 

"Oh a scarlet letter, flowing from my most precious of masks; oh withered hope. See how fall downwards, into the chaotic void below. "

"Shut up p***y!"

"I really never seen this coming...But passion does not have the benefit of hindsight."

"You really should keep quiet unless you want more of the same."

"That one hurt, feels like it did some internal damage there. I get the point now thanks."

"P***y!"

"Oh the irony!"

Manfred didn't cry out as he lay there in pityful reconciliation.The physical pain was savoured as penance for his 'affliction'. Humour his morphine. Adam continued to teach Manfred his own lesson in shower room eticet for another minute, until he coughed up blood, until a deep and pained self loathing stared back up at him from the mildewed tiles, until  the primitive tyranical power in him was abated. Adam left hurriedly, gesturing as if he had been the one that had been hurt. 

"What the f**k!" shouted Adam, his walk conveying a betrayal of trust that would not easily be forgiven.

"Thanks Adam, good chat." said Manfred.

It was two weeks before Manfred could return to school. 

Rebecca Manning entered the high-school cafeteria alone, looking down as she walked, noting nothing but her unnassuming beige pullover and her impeccibly iorned slacks. Her walk was one of avoidance, as if loudly communicating the essential navigation of their 'harsh illinformed neurotic victimizing assesments'. 

Words broke from the din, heat seeking missiles of hate, "Freak!" 

She continued as if it had missed it's target.

The sheep, the fence sitters, their passive minds; they know nothing yet! 

She cut through thier baggage, avoiding their weaponized laughs. 

Anger is their only form of strength. Hah. Fools I will have the last laugh.

She spoke to herself as if in conversation with somebody.

I could slay them with one whitty remark. 

Becca, never try to explain intelligence to stupidity. 

Yes you are right. 

Her head lifted to find the familiar smile of Manfred, sitting in the furthest corner from the door; near the book shelves, at the greenroom table with the two broken orange plastic chairs. Her smile was never warm, always forced, a sterile puncuated intamacy, the clinical embrace of high intellect.

Rebecca Manning had started columbus Highschool four years previous to Manfred. She was attracted to him, like a magnetic wave; his positive charge the perfect polarity to her negative affliction. He seemed to blend into groups easily; posturing teens and their obtuse bursts of sentimentality, her song was never the same as theirs but for some reason he liked her. She built her life around the time she spent with him. He drew out a side of her that she hadn't listened to, a quiet voice buried under a cloak of intellect and self loathing. Manfred didn't allow her to aid her victimizers, he actively discouraged it at every beat. At six foot two she was taller than most people, her long wavey red hair, forced smile and broad shoulders made her noticable around the corridors and made her a target for those of a tyranicial disposition. They would puck at her like buzzards over a carcas, her avoidance drew out the predator. Nobody wanted to be prey. She was the one. 

"You're fine." she thought she heard someone say

 

Thank you whoever you are, I am trying to be strong.

A weaponized laugh destroying the sliver of humanity she hoped she had felt.

Manfred's own superiour intellect let her believe that she was normal, self assured even. They both planned to do Biomechanical Engineering in college. She no longer felt awkard, or nieve, or wierd; she was real, concret, tangible, sometimes phenomenal. She found unusual answers to even more unusual questions around him, thoughts would become more thoughts as she discovered just how complex the world could be; how it never stopped changing, flowing, moving forward. Manfred didn't exhibit the reactive battery thinking of the masses when life asked a difficul question. Realities could be shifted, new realities threw up new questions that would become more questions and new realities and she grew, developed, matured and evolved. She was happy. 

"Feminisim today Manfred, I agree it's on the rise. They are manipulate and then play victim." said Rebecca in the cafeteria, as they munched on their mixed bean salads, washed down with coconut water. 

"Feminizais ." said Manfred.

"I agree."

Rebecca noted a looming long winded lecture brewing in him, she laughed to herself knowing how much she knew she probably needed to hear it. But she was forever trying to impress him.

"I sat watching some fire ants once." she said, as Manfred's face twitched with frustration as his eulogy was put on hold, "How impressive they were for their place in the world. Their drive to be co-operative allowed them to manage incredible feats together."

"Ants?" said Manfred rudely, affronted by her intrusion into his brewing eureka moment, "What have ants got to do with anything?!" 

"Yes ants Manfred!" she said with a forcefullness that acquiesced Manfred to listen, "It got me thinking: what if we improved each ant so their brains and nervous systems were as complex as our's, and each ant could think as an individual?" she sat upright in the broken orange chair and pointed her white plastic fork in his direction, as if to highlight her parables importance. "What do you think would happen to their abilty to carry the worm effectivly?" 

Manfred paused as he looked around the cafeteria, his eyes darting franticially. 

"I dunno, I'd have to think about that one."

"I think it would become like humanity!" she said, in a somewhat condesending manner. "The ants would continue on as normal at first, but then an individual ant may well have what he thinks is is a better way to move the worm. Maybe his idea can move it quicker or more efficiently, with less ant-power."

"Ok, that's interesting I guess." said Manfred, disguising his disinterest out of niceness.

"But I think something else would happen shortly afterwards; the individual ant would become bigger than than the idea itself. The ant would be the story. His ability to convince the hive of his hypothesis would increase his status and after a time that may well be a baser motivation and not symptomatic of a complex society. An oversaturated society reduced to base instincts." said Rebecca, scratching herself. 

"Ok so you are talking about celebrity are you. How we are all obsessed with it."

"Yes. The ordinary ant would become extra-ordinary. His place in the hive would be elevated and moving the worm would no longer be of concern, being like him would be the ants new motivational drive. I think the result would be that each antwould pull in their own direction."

"You got all this from watching ants did you? You are deep arn't you Becca?"

"Don't make fun of me Manfred, this is what we should be talking about, not the mindless fluff I overhear in this place. Chewing-gum for the mind."

"I'm listening, I love all this stuff you say, it's the reason I'm sitting here and not over there." said Manfred reassuringly, gesturing towards a table of blonde well presented girls. "Continue what you were saying."

"Well the worm would cease to move wouldn't it, and the hive would begin to become heavy and burdoned as each ant pulled in their own direction. I think this would continue for some time, until a point where time took it's toll. There would be a point where the ants would begin to move the worm again, out of some instinct to survive. They would remember that the old way worked for the good of them all, the hive mind. Using their complexities to work as one, to move in one direction. Eventually the worm would start to turn, as more and more ants woke up to the idea."she leaned back on her broken orange chair, scowling at Manfred who was seemingly still indifferent to her genius. "What do you think?" she sniped.

"It's socialism gone wrone I guess, George Orwell, Animal Farm. 

"She didn't miss a beat, she continued waving the white plastic fork in his direction and delicatly chewing a mouthfull of her mixed bean salad "Most of the ants are doing the work and a small minority of people are pulling in their own direction. The only thing these indiviual ants bring is their desire to be recognised, an empty recognition; a recognition of their emptiness. They destroy the fabric of society? They manipulate the masses, who in turn try to copy their behaviour because that is deemed to be 'winning'. They miss what is great about life, our togetherness and our symbosis; overcoming our deficiencies and finding acceptance0. But instead they harvest others peoples ideas and they sit back and watch, full of themselves as they destroy this world." she spoke louder as if addressing the whole cafeteria.

Manfred, looked sheepishly around the room to see who was listening. He gestured to her to speak quieter.

Instead she grew louder and more intense. "We are at the stage where some are realizing that maybe the old ways need to return." she grimmaced as she spoke, "Not some tie dyed smiling sing along hippy comune. Not a step back, but a setp to the side."

"I agree but...can't you keep it down a bit?"

"No manfred I won't. We have real leaders, leaders who are in tune with our higher potential and possible futures; but they are not being heard because the masses are being manipulated to care what society thinks about them! Tiny politicians. It's time to wake up to the real world, it is not some sit-com, or some political campeign, it's real life." she said, taking a big slug from her coconut water. 

"There is one more layer to your ant analogoy. Eventually that individual ant will be judged not on what he thinks but how he says it. Nurosis!"

"The real world? I wouldn't know." said Manfred smiling and trying to lighten the mood. "Where I live Unicorns roam the land and the trees are made out of candy floss."

"And here's me thinking you were smart." she said incredulously.

"I think you think too much Becca."

"I don't!" she said affronted.

"You need to have some fun is all I'm saying. You can't be this serious all the time, you have to learn to enjoy the good things in life too, otherwise you will only see the worst things about life. There is a lot to celebrate."

"I know, you are right. It's my Mother that has me this way."

"Theresa Manning is your Mother right."

"You have heard of her?"

"Not really. Look lets skip class and go to the mall."

"Skip class?" she said, shocked by the suggestion.

"Yeah, haven't you ever done it?"

"No."

"C'mon, breaking the rules once in a while is good for you. Trust me, it'll do you good Becca."

"Breaking the rules, my Mother would kill me."

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her."

"She wont notice anyway. Yeah let's go."

Manfred pulled her up from her chair and ran from the cafeteria skipping around the other students baggage. Becca followed with her head bowed.

Chapter 2

The Liberaterians

Catherine and Ronald Buffett were not typical for their time, or their town. Broken Arrow was northeast of Oklahoma, a small town where life moved slow and the conversation moved even slower. Ronald and Catherine may have been more suited to 1930's  Berlin or the swinging sixties of Liverpool and London. They would arrive with the air of majesty, gracing the dull halls and barns of Broken Arrow with their presence, an almost celebrtiy status. They were extravagent and flamboyant, alive and celebrated for their kindness and acceptance of all. But this show of force only stretched as far as their front door,their keeping up appearances dismanteled once the lights of the theather had dimmed.

As far as Catherine had seen, Ronalds Fathering acumen was not so acute as his social awareness. For her he was too stern with her darling boys, too impatient and brutal in his assesment and in the way he spoke to them. Their children became shell shocked in the trenches of their war of attrition. Manfred was often the topic of their most viorlent exchanges.

He was growing up too sensitive and overly emotional. His whining at the slightest grievance irked Ronald, so much so that he begun drinking after work, just to cope with the burden on his less than infinite wisdom. For Ronald Catherine had been too overbearing.

"You are making him feminine, it will become an unneccissary issue later in life. I cannot sit back and let you turn this boy into a softie."

Cold shouldered silences and regular manicial outbursts of frustration had taken their toll and one too many drunken versions of Ronalds school of hard knocks forced her to kick him out of the family home. He tried and failed many times for reconsiliation, Manfred was always the issue for Ronald.

"You are making him emotionally unbalanced!" Ronald would say climaticially, after another round of their doorstep tit-for-tat game. 

"Me!? It's you who is forcing him to bury his emotions." she would say, holding the door with a stay of execution.

"He is a boy and you treat him like a girl."

"I do not, he is not like other boys."

"Yes and that is why I am trying to prepare him for the world that awaits him."

"Prepare him? Is that what you call it?"

"Yes, what would you call it?"

"You are holding him back, beating him down, making him feel like he is not good enough. Making him feel he in not normal."

"I'm letting him know there are no easy rides."

"Then you are going about it the wrong way!"

"Maybe I am! But you indulge him when he is being childish. Do you not think that is holding him back?"

"He is a child! A child for Christs sake!"

"Yes and he needs to learn to be a man."

"He is seven years old, you're such an a*s Ronald."

"That is no excuse! I want to prepare him for the world now, so he has a head start."

"Be honest, that is not the reason is it? The way you treat him? The real reason is you do not love your own child do you?"

"What, how could you say such a thing you b***h?"

"B***h!? That's nice. But it's true!"

"You are crazy you know that? Crazy!" That is so hurtful Catherine, and spiteful, what a thing to say. When did you become so cold?"

"Oh yes, there we go there is the real Ronald Buffett. Crazy am I!?" she said her face twisting into hatred. "You don't love him because you see your own weakness in him. He looks at you and you see how pathetic you are."

"How you could you even begin to think that a man could not love his own child...it's crazy?!"

"Why do you have to be drunk to be with him?"

"I drink after work because I don't want to bring home my stress to him."

"That's a good one Ronald! So you bring home a mess instead. You bring home a happy lesson about how hard life is. How does that look? To a seven year old teaching him the hard lessons of life while drunk sooks like somebody enjoying hurting you.

"My God..."

"Maybe I am worng, maybe somewhere deep down you do love him, but admit it Ronald, you do not like your own son!"

"What are yu f*****g talking about Catherine. Of course I like him."

"No you don't, you cannot bear to be around him. He is not what you were hoping for is he?"

"He is...

"That's a lie and you know it!"

"...I don't know Catherine, he is too much for me sometimes. All his tantrums and acting out...I just don't understand it."

"So you admit it, this is not about preparing him for the world is it, this is about you!" said Catherine, with an almost comical look of glee on her face.

"Oh f**k off Catherine, this is about me doing what a Father is supposed to do. I am trying to straighten him out, like a Father should. Show him how to be a man. It is you who is trying to make him in your own image. You are creating a weakling, someone who will bend to a womans whim, a pawn in some feminist agenda."

"Now who is being crazy!"

"It's true, you are trying to kill us men off, castrate us, manipulating our own children into joining you in your game. You think we don't see what you are doing?"

"You cannot be serious with that s**t Ronald?"

"One hunderd percent."

"If that were true your kids would hate you Ronald."

"They do."

"No they don't."

"You use our kids to leverage influence against me, but that doesn't work in the long run. You use them, and they know you use them. They will grow to resent you. Stop being a feminist and be a woman"

"I am not a feminist and I am a woman, one who does not want to be repressed, marginalized, treated as less then equal. But that has no bearing on how I bring up my children."

"I think you hate men Catherine!"

"I do not!"

"I see it all over your face." he said stepping forward.

"Look Ronald..." she said as she pulled the door across her body, peaking her head around.

"Admit it. Men like me! You look at me like I am some sort of animal. Well I am not Catherine. I am mearly a man and I want my son to rid himself of all this neurosis that he is exhibiting. You are nurturing it in him by letting him behave this way, as if in some way it is a good thing."

"You call being sensitive bad do you?"

"No I don't, I am sensitive?  I too have feelings? But I will not let those feelings get in the way, I have to be strong, I have to be a man and that is the way it is. That is the real world is Catherine."

"I've had it with this, we will never agree. I want you gone from here now."

"But we were getting somewhere, can't you just listen, I am trying to make this work."

Ronald put his boot in the door.

"F*****g b***h, if you take my kids I'll f*****g kill you you hear me...you w***e." he screamed, his face turning a bright red and tears welling in his eyes.

"I will call the police!"

"This is my home, I payed for it and you throw me out of my own house, for what?"

"Because you are abusing my children."

"Abusing! What! I don't abuse them."

"Look at you, look how you are behaving."

"...this is crazy Catherine, can't we discuss this, work this out?"

"No ok! I wont let you turn my children into what you have become. now leave!"

"What you made me...You cannot do this alone Catherine, children need a Mother and a Father. You will only hold them back."

"Leave Ronald!"

"He is going to resent you for this Catherine."

"I have said all I am willing to say now please Ronald, this won't work."

"Ok, ok. Please Catherine please one more chance, I cannot be without my chidren."

"We don't love you anymore Ronald."

Manfred listened from the bedroom above. 

Catherine slowly closed the door, kicking his boot from the gap and slamming it shut. Ronald stood on the steps of his home, the place where he had dreamed of a happy life, a loving wife and children. So many hard days and nights working towards his dream, now it was gone. The bitterness filled him as he turned his back one last time, looking back as he closed the gate. He looked up to glimps Manfred waving goodbye from the upstairs bedroom window.

Ronald didn't wave back, he pulled his collar up and walked away. 

Even Manfred's patient and loving Grandfather Edward, found Manfreds need for attention wearing to a point of subtle annoyance. His desire to dig herbs in the garden with his mostly wonderful grandson, had been damaged by the highly active behaviour. He would lament to his wife Essie that it was some kind of attention seeking, or even the food she was giving him.

"Too much attention." he said, "It's the only thing that boy wants. It's the only time the boy feels special." he would say frustratedly, "If if were not for Catherine encouraging this bad behaviour, we would have a normal boy. He act's up and she goes telling him how great he is, it's rewarding his bad behaviour Essie! It's crazy, he needs a firm hand that boy, I'll tell you. He needs his Father, why she kicked him out I will never know he was a good man." 

"Manfred is complex, time is all he needs, and understanding Edward." said Essie as she poked her head out from the oven. "Catherine knows her own boy...Ronald couldn't cope. He was an organized kind of fellow and I think it all got to him, he didn't have the skills to deal with Manfred. You would not try to fix your car if it broke down by beating it on the hood with a hammer.That was why it didn't work out?"

"I suppose you are right."

"Stop worrying and hand me a match will you...I need you to take a look under that sink and loosen that bolt again for me."

"Yes Essie."

"I remember the boy pre-school." said Essie shouting out from inside the oven "He would stand in the center of the room taking the toys off the other children one by one, claiming them as his own. I couldn't believe it. All the other children would cry and Manfred would eventually give them back the toys, but he did it in a way that was as if they where his toys. Catrherine seen it and thought it needed to be trained it out of him, this possesive behaviour. Ronald was interfering in that. She felt his way was limiting his relationship building with the other children. It caused him to come home frequently in tears or tempers, confused; bed wetting was not uncommon. She felt normal parenting would not suffice so instead emoployed a kind of trick on him, an Mother's nack, using a mixture of love, reasoning and some mild emotional manipulation. She showed him how special the other children were, how beautiful she had seen them and how he should too. Manfred began to listen and eventually he started to notice how happier he was when he didn't upset everyone around him. He felt less victimized by them. He began exhibit love and compassion. She knew what to do, Ronald had to toe the line or go.

"If you say so Essie."

"I do."

Manfreds little brother Rohan was only small when he fell from the treehouse in his back yard, breaking his neck and rupturing three vertebres in his back. He had spent four months in a coma and over a year in hospital. When he was well enough to return home again Catherine had noticed something was different about him. It had changed her quiet, unassuming child into "A little chugging train with endless wood for burning." She assumed that the many visitors to the childrens ward at the hospital and the attention he had recieved, had brought him out of his shell. 

His older brother Manfred was now used to all the attention at home and Rohan would spend long spells alone once home again from hospital. He was only five but he knew things had changed and he would have to find out where he fitted in again. As his Father left one cold January morning, he felt the deep sadness fill him. Not for himself but for Ronald, who had been trying his best. Manfred's behaviour worsened after Ronald left and Rohan felt a responsibility afforded to him by his Mother.

The man of the house. 

His instincts and reading of a situation would frequently leave her dumbfounded and she had accepted that he no longer needed her guidance. 

She would just have to be there for him when he lost, somewhere soft for him to fall. 

He fell a lot, more than Manfred, much to his brothers growing indignation. 

Rohan collected marbels, he treasured each one for its individuality. If he had two marbels that were the same, he would discard one. By fifteen he had a collection of over one thousand marbels. Some came from as far as China and New Zealand. Everyone would bring him back one from their travels, and they would go out of their way to look for the most exotic marbel for him. 

"This marbel is from Morocco." said Rohan to Kelly Fairchild "I was given it by Harry Smullen. I once helped him paint a fence and he said if he was ever in a new country that he would buy me a marble as a gift. I painted that fence five years ago and he still remembered."

 As he got older he put his marbels to one side and instead began to collect other things, t-shirts, baseball caps, watches, friends. He favoured anything original, somehting individual and indivisible; if it was a person, they had to be able to communicate well. He watched people before he made a move to talk to them, observing them casually as he mingled. Those who imposed themselves on others and those who had learned that kind of behaviour was not plesant were of no interest to him. He watched for a certain type of person: people who had good instincts, applied knowledge, in control of their emotions and who exihibited an obvious desire for improvement. 

"True winners."

He would often sneak girls back to his house and like his marbel collection he would have to dig deep to find an original one. Kelly Fairchild was not like other girls, she didn't play games with him, she didn't try to trick him; she didn't want anything from him. He could see she liked him a lot. When he talked to her she would smile warmly. They had no gravity, no weight of expectation, no secret agenda; they were just there and together in the moment. 

Kelly kissed Rohan one night as they lay together on his bed as he he spoke about wanting to some day do something great with his life, "Something that nobody else had ever done. I have no desire to follow in the footsteps of others Kelly, I want to be an original." She seemed lifted as she snuggled into his arm. 

"Ambition, belief, drive, it's what you have and it's all you need Rohan."

He jumped up and began to play the one and only song he knew on piano. He was interrupted by loud footsteps pounding up the stairs below.

Manfred had returned home again from one of his nightly sojurns, just in time to beat his Mother Catherine to the door, who was herself returning from one of he many attempts to replace Ronald. 

"One day Kelly I will get away from here and become somebody."

What do you think of me, do I seem right to you? Tell me please. I am being kind to you arn't I? And nice to you arn't I? Wont you tell me something. No! No! Ok then I will just have to take it from you!  And you will suffer!

Manfred struggeled with a dark bitterness that sprouted leaves in his garden of s**t. It engulfed hours of his day, like heavy rods in his back. His Mother had limited his potential as a child, patroizing him, instead of raising him to deal with the kind of stuff he was now beginning to face. Adam Crow had not been his last hard lesson in the correct behaviour. He remembered the arguements and the carnage of his teenage liberation. The strange cargo that he now needed to jettison. He remembered how she wore down easily, and the feeling of victory when she finally broke. He remembered the swirling emotions as he escaped out of his window and into the night. Into the whole  universe of wonders and the people who inhabited it. 

He loved the streets, the icy wind that invigorated his senses; the sounds of the city filling him with awe. He ran breathlessly and wide eyed throught the pulsating weekend crowds of Broken Arrow's bored and belligerent.

He ran oblivious to their bemused concern. 

"Are you a leprechan?" came a carfree voice from one of the drunken streetcrawlers, as he filtered through them."Take us to your pot of gold will ye? Yee hoo! Are you looking for something, where are you going?" 

A sinuey looking skeleton of a man, who spoke in a voice that was much younger than his weathered middle-aged appeance, shouted to Manfred from behind. "What are you looking for boy?"

"I'm no boy a*****e! 

"You don't seem sacred at all."

"I'm not!"

"What are you looking for?"

"I'm looking for answers." came an excited Manfred, not breaking stride, unaware of the gravity of his words for someone so young.

"Answers?" said the confused man. "Answers to what?" 

"To life!" he laughed as if now aware of himself and his place in the world.

The skeletal looking man stopped to catch his breath, "Well the only answers you will find here are the wrong ones!" The man appeared to grow in size as he stood upright from his hunched position and reached out his arms to the sides. Manfred stopped and turned to face him, the whites of his eyes eclipised by his massive pupils. 

"I don't mind." said Manfred belligenterly, "That way I will know what are the right answers are." he laughed out loud. "Won't I."  he shouter after him, his consending tone causing the skeleton to fall back down to his hunch. "See ya." he said turning and skipping away. The man's confused and prolonged shrug suggested reluctant agreement.

Manfred disappeared into a forest of unsteady legs, as the patrons of Slam Dunk Sports Bar piled out; their drunken singing drowning out his own atingled laughter. 

He stopped by a parked black Sedan and sat on the bonnet of the car, his short legs dangeling over the side. He observed the noisey crowds as they spoke to each other in some garbeled language; their laughter filling the air like a chemical gas, their jokes flying high over Manfred's head. But something communicated to him, the feeling remained, it resonated within him, a smile like he had never felt before landed on his face like a beautiful butterfly. 

A tall blonde attractive woman broke from the crowd and walked precariously on red six inch narrow heels towards the smiling teen.

"Hey little man, where's your mommy?" she asked, her words kind but barely coherent.

"I'm fifteen!" answered Manfred, his annoyance amusing to her. Manfred looked all of thirteen, if he was lucky, and his teenage neurosis attacked him again like a paracitic virus. 

"F**k you!" he said without caution.

"My God, you have some mouth on you! Fifteen is too young to be hanging around here! Are you alone?" she asked, as she seemed to find a moment of sobriety.

"No, I'm meeting my friend!" He jumped from the bonnet and ran, his face a mixture confusion and fear. "Sorry I'm late!"

Alone in the city his speed blurred the passing cars into long lines of over-exposed coloured light. Every sound spoke to him as his mind soaked up the wonderousness of it all. The sound of a ladder lowering from a fire-escape conjured up that of a lonely man passing by, finding meaning in his life for a short moment as he rescued a dying man from a burning building.

Every colour thrilled his senses, creating a dazzeling light show inside his mind. Shafts of evervescence burning through some cynical facade, a casting off his masculine schackles grew as he began to sprint, becoming the man. He noticed his neurosis was gone and his mind was now quiet. All her had was the feeling; a resonant frequency.

Happiness.                                                                                                                    

He stopped across the road from a cafe with lonely looking people inside. It's enormous panes of rain splattered glass warped the sunburst light that shined through them, painting the rain soaked streets with glittering colour. He hunkered down behind a postbox, as if aware for the first time of his truancy, and watched the cafe people come and go. They would saunter in and sit down with a bouncy shuffel over the over inflated looking green seats and bury themselves in menues. He wondered how they might converse with each other; the adult conversations he couldn't wait to have. He watched the cafe owner's indifference to his customers and wondered why they would want to eat there with such an obvious and rude man. He wanted to know so much; it was his time to see the world up close and personal, warts and all. He had been watching closley for long enough! 

His observation of the people in the rain splattered cafe shifted to a kind of contemplation as he wondered at the starry sky on his way home. Forgivness came easy as he thought about his Mother and how she had done the wrong thing but for the right reasons; treating him like a child while allowing Rohan to find his own way. 

Manfred meandered his way back to his open window and sat stargazing at the world  as if for the first time again.All I have seen in one night, I can't remember it all, he thought, and there will be so many more. I cannot wait to grow up. Once free from her hen-pecked clutches I can spread my wings and discover the same freedom. I will find my libertarian persona...But maybe I would have something to struggle with, something dark and intense inside me, that would seem a more realistic version of myself! Not some bland person, but a complex and colourful work of living art! My own beautiful creation. I cannot wait!

Chapter 3

Ali Lang had become acoustomed to burying her emotions, espicially the feelings she had for her mentor and friend Alaxander Poli. As soon as he had left the back office and headed for the alley, she began to feel her body tremble. The same strange agitated concern that she would frequently wake with after another one of her strange and lucid dreams. She took a cigarette from an open box that had been left on the table and rolled it around her fingers. Her angina caused her to wince.

"All the pain these horrendous things cause." she said loudly as she stood and began energeticially pacing the room, trying to shake off her tremors.

"All the f*****g  lobbiests and politicians and senators that have habitually lied, keeping us misinformed. They sell themselves as decent human beings who claim to have our best interests at heart, but they don't. They speak as if the darker nature of things does not exist in their rehlm. It's insanity that we keep voting for them!" she snapped the cigarette in two and watched it fall to the floor. She swung her satchel over her back and left as the tremors returned, her phone rang and the name said Owen. 

Not now!

"Hi." 

"Where are you?" asked Owen.

"I'm in Colarado. Work stuff." she said, managing to sound convincing.

"When do you get back?"

"Tomorrow."

"You coming down to the club?" he sounded lonley.

"I'm not sure."

"It would be great to see you again Ali."

"I can't talk now Owen I'm sorry. I need to go, I hope that is ok?"

"Yeah that's fine, you sound like you have something important so I wont keep you."

"It's just work, I'll call you later I promise."

"Ok."

Her taxi was waiting at the end of the ally. She lay her head back on the seat and watched the clouds drift by as the taxi pulled out towards the airport. 

Ali had never stayed in one place for more than a couple of years, never getting close to anyone for long enough to know what stability felt like. She had become used to making strange places her home and by the time she was thirteen she had lived at four different addresses. She found it easy as a child, she was resiliant enough to know how to connect with her new enviornment; touching the walls, the stairs, the bathtub; the window panes, the furniture, the light fittings, all to make them familiar. A child learning their characteristics and giving them a place in her new life. She would then imagine all the happiness and love that once lived in the place, a sembalance of it in her own hermidic and nomadic life. Her imaganition became so good at it and so acute as to  manifest the feelings of happiness, love and family inside her. When she arived in these new places they were quickly familiar to her in all but appearance. She had taught her heart how to survive without love.

When she was twenty three she visited Thailand, it was an awakining for her. She was never political before she met Alexander Poli, but he had quickly changed that. He was a free lance journalist, and had spent two years in Palastine and a number of years out in Iraq and Afghanistan. After his convoy was destroyed by an IED he had taken time off to recover on the island of Koh Chang in the gulf of Thailand. He was recovering from post traumatic stress disorder and it had left him vunerable when Ali met him in a bar one night. She helped him to find himself again. He had a different energy than anybody she had ever known, it was intense and passionate, but unlike anyone else who had come into her life up until then and he had given her life new meaning. Ali had expressed an interest in joining F.I.A.R, an activist group that Alaxander had started after his recovery and together they grew it into the third largest activist group in the country. 

Her first meeting with Lance Brady, ex NSA systems analyst and whistleblower was in  Dussellorf. He was in hiding after he had released some papers exposing corruption within the NSA and other information on various corrupt American political figures. She had heard that there were some documents ommited from the final official release to the press that she had read prior to release. Her source had informed her that they contained information on Theresa Manning and her corruption. She wanted to find out why, she flew with Alaxander to meet with him.

"I can't thank you enough for meeting with us, this is Ali Lang."

"Not at all Alaxander, nice to meet you Ali, I have been following your career Alaxander for a long time now. We are on the same side...So how do you want to start?"

"I was thinking some questions about yourself first and then maybe we can get into the documents."

"That's fine. So, my name is Lance Brady and I worked for the NSA for nine years, up until last Wednesday." he said with a nervous laugh.

"Why did you feel the need to release these documents?" asked Alaxander.

"Because every day I sat at my desk, I felt more and more that we were reaching a tipping point. Where we as a people were becoming no longer able, or willing to oppose our government properly. Policy changes have put the power in our governements hands and the people of this country just do as they are told. America no longer felt free to me. Nobody was doing anything about it, so I had to." 

"That's putting yourself in real danger Lance, is it worth it for an idealogy?"

"I am willing to sacrafice myself for the greater good, I can't let this happen any longer. Something has to be done, or there is no point to anything."

"OK, lets talk about Hamilton Blackett, how is he involved in all of this?"

Lance continued for three hours explinating how the NSA did their surveliance and the operations he had been involved in. Alaxander's last question was about the ommited documents.

"There is one final thing I would like to ask you. I have recieved some documents, that were included in the original files I recieved, but have been ommited from the official release. They contained information on a number of high profile American politicians. Do you know why that was?"

"Ah, yes, they were supposed to be secret. You obtained them from Oleg then I take it?"

"I don't know where they came from, I recieved them from a trusted source of mine."

"Well yes it's true. We discussed which papers to release. There are personal reasons why these papers were ommited. I can't tell you why I am afraid."

"That does sound strange, can't you tell me anything about them?"

"I can give you something. Just not here, I'm worried the room may be bugged, I can't risk it I'm sorry Alaxander."

"It's fine. Ok we should probably finish there then. Thank you Lance for meeting with me, it has been very informative."

"Pleasure, I hope you got all you needed."

"To be honest I was hoping to discuss the ommited papers, it is the reason I came today if I am completly honest with you. Off record if you prefer. It's for my own curiosity."

"If you want we can meet tomorrow and I will try explain." 

Lance, obviously shaken, wrote a message on a piece of paper for Alaxander. 

Tomorrow night at the waterfront, corner of Clarance Street, nine pm sharp.

"We will see you then, thanks Lance." 

They met the next day as planned and drove in Lances car to a small burger joint.

"Ok so the papers that were ommited, we have been informed that Thresa Manning was mentioned in there, she is our number one priority Lance. Can you explain the ommission, off record, as we agreed." asked Alaxander.

"Yes, we discovered she was spying on the NSA and consequently me. I have no idea how she got through my firewall, but she found out I was planning to release some classified documents. She didn't know what was contained in them, as our encryption was water tight, but she got paranoid and contacted me to let me know that it would be bad for me and my family if there was anything about her in there."

"She threathened your family?"

"Yes, but there is more to the story. She is a major is a major shareholder in my Father company Dufronis and they supply parts to her company Blackhawk Munitions. Not only that but she owns buildings that my Father uses. If I take her down my Father will be ruined, I said I would do this as long as it didn't affect my family."

"Maybe we could help. I don't need details, ball-park what you have on her in those documents?"

"Oh stealing from the treasury, larcony, intimidation, and gun trafficking. She doesn't mess around either. If you get in her way, she takes you down politicially or by other means."

"Can you release that information to me Lance?"

"If I do you will have to use it and if you use it she will know where it came from. If you want to take her down we will have to find another way."

"Any ideas."

"I can tell you that all the money she is taking is put into Redick Bank, in Zurich."

"Ok that's a start. Anything eles you can tell me?"

"Herman Gruber, look at him. He takes care of her account."

"That's it?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Thank you again for meeting with me at such short notice."

"Keep fighting the good fight Alaxander."

"A Pleasure, Lance I will be in touch."

That first meeting, the first of many with Lance, had set their course. Theresa Manning became F.I.A.R's number one target. They had discovered that she had major ties to a number of powerful politicians in America. Alaxander felt Ali was not ready for such a major operation, but she had insisted. He advised her to find a suitable partner, someone she could rely upon for stability and support.

"This Owen character, he seemes like a loose cannon to me." said Alaxander in F.I.A.R's head office in downtown San Frasisco.

"He is unconventional yes, but that is why I choose him."

"I don't understand, we told you to pick someone who can provide you with stability."

"He does, he understands me."

"Ok. And how are the tremors?"

"Better since he has been around actually."

"You know yourself Ali, better than most people I know, so I trust your judgement. But you know that if he becomes a liability then he has to go, so I would advise you to keep your distance with him."

"I don't plan on marrying him if that's what you mean."

"I mean this is an arrangement for our benefit, nothing else matters."

"I agree."

"Then good."

Ali had played her hand close to her chest, for his own protection. She hadn't asked for anything from him, he had come into her life through his own curiosity for her and his own desperate situation, he was lonely. He was the one that pushed himself forward as she sat alone in The Joy Lounge watching Dee go through her pole dancing routine, he was the one that came over and forced her to talk to him. 

"So, just chillin' with a beer and watchin' some girls huh?" said Owen, appearing unsure about his choice of words.

"You got it." she said, uninterested in indulging him.

"Hey look, I'll leave you alone, just thought you might like some company." said Owen turning to leave.

There was something about him, something familiar, it was playing on her mind when he came along, Alaxander had been on her back for weeks to find somebody. 

"Hey...stay it's fine, I'm just tierd...long day you know." she said with a casual sincerity.

"Look no problem, I'll leave you alone. 

"No really, I'm just a bit tierd from work."

"I know what hard work feels like." he said returning. Ali looked at him inquiringly. 

"Ok that was a lie." he said. "I have no clue what hard work feels like, this place runs itself if I am honest."

"I had noticed." she said not taking her eyes off Dee as she walked onstage to Tom Jones What's Up Pussycat,

"I've seen you here a few times, I've been wondering what your story is."

"Oh me, I work in a factory, making micro chips you know, boring...but that is just until I await for my big break in a hollywood."

"You are and actress are you? Sorry it's actor now isnt it?" said Owen apolegitiacially.

"I'd like to be." she said, amused by the half truth. She was in a way learning to be an actor.

"It's a tough business. Too many kids growing up dreaming the same dream."

"Yeah." she said, turning to watch the Dee remove her top.

"You are a bit of an enigma you know that. I think that's why I like you. So do you have  a name?"

"It's Ali." she said, reaching out a hand while keeping her eyes on Dee who was hanging from her legs on the pole.

"Owen. Owen Clearwater." he said sheepishly.

"I know who you are, didn't you used to be in a band, The Clause wasn't it?"

"Yeah actually, in a different life!"

"I remember you, you guys were great!"

"I'm amazed anyone remembers us at all."

"I do! So what happened, why did you break up?"

"Oh that was a real crazy time Ali. I'm not really sure, it was a big pile of confusion, egos and tantrums; we thought we were bigger than we were, well I did at least. I was pretty much an alcoholic and I was acting like I wasn't. Basicially being f*****g idiot."

"You had something special up on stage though, something that not a lot of others had around at that time. It's a real pity, you guys couldn't make it work."

"Hey, we move on...just look at me now."

"You arn't doing so badly." she said sipping her drink. Dee strutted from the pole to the front of the catwalk and stumbeled on her heels, she flashed Owen a worried look. He didn't care.

"I run a strip club, it aint what I had in mind."

"Could be worse."

"True! Another drink?"

"Sorry I've got to go Owen, I'm in work in the morning."

"Can I get your number?

Ali stood and knocked back her drink, slamming the glass down on the table. 

"I don't usually give out my number, but  how can a girl refuse the great Owen Clearwater."

Ali returned to The Joy Lounge the following week as Owen arrived with a hesitant approach. 

"Sup." she said stoicially.

"I tried phoning you during the week." he said, somewhat patheticially.

"Sorry I was out of the country. I forgot to mention I would be away." 

"Oh, no problem, mind if I join you for a while?"

Owen had a bottle of Champagne brought over as he sat down beside her. Ali's gaze didn't leave the performing stripteese in front of her. Owen was quiet as he waited; seemingly trying to figure her out. 

"Champagne, on a Tuesday night?" she said finally, her eyes quickly darting back to the stage.

"It was opened, it's been on ice for too long and gone flat."

"Kinda like you." Ali glanced at him again as he pourd two glasses.

"Dam girl!"

"I'm joking." she said, he eyes locked on Kali fall into the splits on the stage.

"I'm tryin to figure you out, it's proving difficult." said Owen handing her a glass of champagne.

A vein in Ali's temple began to throb and she glanced sideways and back to Kali. "There's not much to know Owen. I'm a simple girl."

"Ok." he said suspiciously. "Forget it, to lonely Tuesday's then."

"To lonely Tuesday."

"I don't think you should be running a business like this."

"You get straight to the point don't you." said Owen, mildly offended. "I promised I'd keep it open after Jimmy died. It's somewhere for me to go now I guess."

Ali sipped her Champagne and looked around, holding the glass limply and sloshing the Champagne around inside. "It's always empty...You know what this place needs?"

"Don't say a womans touch!" 

"Well that wouldn't be a bad idea. What this place needs is direction, a vision and someone with drive to see it throught to the end."

"I know, you are right, I've been thinking of selling the place for a while to be honest, but I just can't bring myself to part with it." Owen looked like he was burying some emotion. Ali stayed focused on the Kali gyrate in front of a group of bug eyed college stuents.  Why do you come in here anyway?" he asked, irked that she had yet to look at him.

"I like to watch the girls."

"I can see that. So you like girls then?" 

"No I'm not a lesbian. I want to learn I guess. There is something about the way they move and expresses themselves...That sexuality is something alien to me. I feel like I'm missing that part of me." said Ali, tensing up.

"It isnt something you arn't born with, you gotta learn it. Like dancing."

"That's why I come in Owen?" she said turning to face him. Owen put his hand on her knee. She had to stop herself from slapping him away, Alaxanders requests to find someone soon reverberating in her ears.

"You have to learn to free your body." said Owen "Learn to let yourself go. We are not born with sexuality. That is something that comes with age."

"I'm learning everythime I come in."

"But there is something else about you Ali. It's not just because you are missing that part of you...I can't quite read what it is. Yes that's it! You would like to be a stripper!" 

"Is that a joke?!" she said her voice barely registering emotion and returning to watch Kali twerk in front of her.

"I can see it in your eyes. I think you like the thought of performing. "

"Whatever Owen."

"Seriously. I knew there was something mysterious about you. I'll be you think about it don't you?"

"No Owen, I've never thought about it before!" 

"Really, never!?" he said throwing her a sly look.

"No!...It's not very lady like."

"Lady like?"

Ali looked offended.

"I'm sorry, I'm teasing you." said Owen, leaning back on his chair and waving to the waitress to come over. "But you know, to deny yourself your urges is to deny yourself the very thing that makes you human. It's a quote. Have another drink."

He topped up her drink as she watched Kalis two red velvet tassels spin around as she bunny hoppey across the stage. Owen watched as Ali closely observed Kalis half naked body and her badly bleached hair and chipped nail polish; and the cracked leather of her shoes and the blotchey fake tan and glittered skin. Ali knocked back her drink as the waitress brought over another. She winced as the bubbles from the two hundred dollar bottle Champagne tickeled her sinuses, she took another sip and then sneezed.

"Excuse me."

"Excused."

"I guess you are right!" she said turning to face him and brushing his leg with hers.

"Right?"

"I do like to imagine it...I'm up there on the stage and everyone is watching me. The room becomes electrified by my body, it is changing me, taking me somewhere else, somewhere new. I guess it excites me! Hah, crazy!" it was the first time Owen had seen her laugh as she knocked back her Champagne. "Never thought about that before!"

"Glad I was here to witness it then!" said Owen as he topped up their drinks. 

"I can't stay long." she mumbled, taking the glass away from her lips.

"Why?" he asked, looking at her face as if for the first time.

"Oh work, you know."

"Is the Micro chip business really such a demanding profession?" 

"Do you mind if we don' talk about work." Ali looked at him apologeticially, "I'd rather talk about my passion?"

There was a silence as the new girl Jenny took the stage, removing her bra and thowing it towards Ali. She skipped away nonchalauntly ignoring Owens displeasure.

"Yeah, go ahead tell me about your passion then." said Owen indifferently.

"At least try to sound interested."

"No it was the new girl... Oh forget it. You know what it is I like about you Ali?"

"What?"

"You are not like most girls, you say it like it is, you are straight up. You say what is in your head, I like that. I love that. i'm like that. I think most girls find me wierd."

"You are f*****g wierd." .

"F**k you." he said throwing some ice in her direction. "I suppose I am  or at least I was a bit of an extrovert I guess."

"Good, it's ok to be 'weird' Owen, you're pretty complex, in a kind of 'I'm all socially awakward about it' kinda way." she said returning her gaze to the new girl Jenny as she pushed one of the overly enthusiastic students faces into her ample breasts.

Ali looked closley "So tell me about yourself Owen who are you really...who is the real you?"

"Me? Oh, well I guess when I was a young I was the cool kid. I had lots of friends and plenty of enemies too. I was one of these kids that could do anything I put my mind to. I would walk the fence that surrounded the local church. It was hard for most kids to balance for more then a few seconds, but for me it was easy. I could walk up and down it all day if I liked."

They both turned at once to watch Jenny drop to the stage with a thud, landing in the splits and with a look of excrutiation. They returned to their conversation.

"I likeed the jepordy you know? It stimulated me. I liked to try new things and I wasn't afraid to fail. That was me. But I guess when you try and fail as much as I did it starts to take it's toll."

Jenny hauled her large frame up from the splits and left with a limp as as another girl, Katie, with long legs and black hotpants rushed onstage while fixing her cropped police shirt and taking her place on the pole.

Ali swung her legs under the table, rubbing them against his and smiling warmly at him. She looked at him with a temporary child-like sincerity. "I'm sorry..."

"You are lucky I'm a gentleman now or else." he said suggestively.

Katie took off her police shirt to reveal large sagging breasts and pink oval shaped n*****s. She casually removed her hotpants and sat on the stage spread eagled in front of Ali. Ali didn't flinch and instead turned to Owen, she looked at him as if seeing something she had missed and began to laugh uncontrallably. She stopped herself and sipped her champagne.

"Sorry I totally started talking about myself there." said Owen "I tend to do that. So what is your passion then?" he asked.

"I hadn't noticed...it's fine. I voulenteer at an animal rescue center. I do it in my spare time." said Ali, her eyes glazing over, as she chugged the rest of her champagne. "I sometimes have to go to different countries, that's where I was this week. " she knocked back some more Champagne. "I had many years of feeling alone, not feeling anything, imagining that what love felt like for too long. Helping to make the world a better place makes me feel good, I feel whole and the pain is gone."

"I didn't know I'm sorry." said Owen, taking her hand gently in his.

She went cold, she turned to watch Katie again.

"This may sound a bit strange, but...you are not an orphan are you?" asked Owen.

She returned to look at him "Yes, how did you know?" 

"Really that's so strange, so am I...or I was one, until my adopted family took me in. I just felt it from you, it made sense."

"It's rare to meet someone who, forget it...so what happened, to your parents I mean?" said Ali, her face contorting with something complex inside.

"Drugs." said Owen "They gave up!"

"That's so sad."

"What happened to your parents Ali?"

"Mine died when I was really young, I don't remember them."

"I'm sorry." he said putting down his Champagne and waving Katie off stage, who ignored him and gave him the middle finger.

"They died in a plane crash. I had no other family, no-one to take care of me. I was put into the system." she said sipping her drink and casually crunching an ice cube between her teeth. 

"Do you see much of your adopted family these days Owen?" she asked, as Katie helicoptereded down the pole in front of her.

"Not as much as I would like to. I left home for LA at eighteen." said Owen not really interested in talking about himself.

"Really, why?"

"I don't know why, my folks were as perfect as you could hope for...I think at the time I felt I couldn't live the lie anymore. I needed to be me."

"You had something that you needed to find and you wanted to see what it was!"

"Yeah like that, I like that Ali! I remember I began to feel more and more like a stranger at home. I still don't understand those feelings..."

"It must be sad for them.They took care of you and taught you, but then you left to find your own way, they must be hurt." she said pouring herself another glass of Champagne.

"They're fine." he said signalling the waitress. "I can't quite deal with right now Ali."

"I'm sorry, I should go." said Ali 

"No stay."

"I forgot I have a lot of work on this week. I should get going. I will call you Owen."

"What happened?"

"Nothing, the Champagne, I got carried away is all. I remembered I have something to do. It's fine. I will see you real soon Owen."

"Ok then. Sleep well Ali."

Ali kissed his cheek as she left and took out her phone, and read the message from Herman Guber. 

Theresa Manning came in today. What next?

Ali phoned Herman as she left.

"Herman, your next step is to set up an account for us, under the name Rebecca Manning."

"Rebecca Manning. Who is Rebecca Manning?"

"She is the daughter of Theresa Manning."

"Her daughter. Is that advisable?"

"It may deter further invistigation if someone catches wind of transactions moving between the accounts."

"Ok then, what then?"

"Then you start transfering the money Herman, three hundred and thirty thousand euros a week...until we tell you to stop."

"That is going to be difficult to keep up, I think...Ok no arguements I get it, I can start today." said Herman reluctantly.

"Don't f**k with us Herman ok, or Sabine will suffer for it I promise you!" said Ali.

"I won't, I promise!"

"Good!"

Ali hung up and phoned Alexander Poli as she hailed a cab.

"We are go."

"Good." said Alaxander.

"I have decided to begin focusing on the daughter, maybe she has some information we can use. We managed to hack her computer, but there was nothing there, lots folders. Maybe there is something there but I wouldn't hold out any hope Alaxander, she seems squeeky clean and completly detached from her mothers from what I can tell."

"Send me whatever you have on her and I will have our people go over it. How have you been Ali?"

"Me, oh I am ok."

"Have you done anything about finding someone. Things are going to heat up a lot from now on, I cannot be there for you as I used to, you will need someone."

"Actually yes I hink I have found someone." said Ali.

"That is good news. Try to make it work, there is no perfect relationship, only ones that we work hard at. But we can all find support if we are willing to be open."

"Alaxander..."

"Before you continue I know I know, you will have to learn to hide that part of your life from him."

"You say it like it is easy."

"It's a matter of degrees. What is more important to you. Don't think too much about it Ali, try to forget, it will get easier with time, just rembember what you need to do."

"Ok Alaxander, I will try, for you."

"Not for me, for the the greater good Ali."

"Ok."

"Na Zdorovie my love." said Alaxander .

Chapter 4

Strange Fruit

2009

Rebeccas Mannings Mother had pushed her past her potential but Manfred had kept her sane. They finished highschool together and Rebecca attended M.I.T. to study Biomechanical Engineering. Manfred had to make do with his second choice Sanford University, but joined her at M.I.T to complete a Masters degree in the same subject. She had hardly changed in the five years they had been apart, she still carried herself with the burdon of high intellect surrounded by fools, the same could not be said for Manfred. He was no longer how she had remembered him. The black circles under his eyes made him look frightening. His eyes darted when he spoke and he seemed distant. He had put on over fifty pounds and his hair had begun to thin and his skin was almost grey. He seemed indifferent to those around him, scowling instead of his familiar whimiscal and flippant put downs. 

But he could still captivate her, make her feel important. He was still the only person in her life that truly seen her and accepted her for who she was.

"I forgot to ask you, how goes the search?" asked Manfred, sitting upright in his chair in the Library of M.I.T. 

"The search, for what?" asked Rebecca.

"Wern't you trying to synthesise an alternative to, what was it again, Beta Trosotate or something?" 

"Oh yes I was, yes it worked, kind of!" she said wearily, her words hinted at something else.

"Great!" said Manfred, "But...?!"

Rebecca smiled at him warmely despite her familiar seriousness, "But I will have to begin again! Moth Serum had it's own worrying adverse side effects. Most probably more harmful to people than Beta Trosoate."

"Moth serum? Strange name!"

"We had an infestation of moths around the time, it kinda stuck." 

"So what were the side affects?" he asked, fixing her with a curious stare.

"Intense craving's in a significent percentage of the subjects I tested it on, resulting in addictive behaviour."

"Addictive, how addictive?" 

Rebecca's face strained  "After a couple of days without Moth Serum they seemed to return to normal, but it did seem to reduce their normal healthy activity for some time afterwards. Almost like they were less without."

"What was their behaviour in the day just after you denied them Moth Serum?"

"Anexiety and stress. If we put two rats in together they would show signs of fear, leading to aggression and the inevitable demise of one or both usually." 

"That's unfortunate!" said Manfred looking distracted. 

"Yeah! It's wasn't pretty!"

"But no hyper active behaviour as found with Beta Trosoate ."

"No, no signs of hyper activity what so ever."

"Then maybe the formula can be looked at, improved? There no alternative to Beta Trosoate correct?"

"Yes but..."

"Maybe I could try reduce the cravings somehow by tweaking the formula, and a mild craving is not so bad is it, the lesser of two evils wouldn't you agree?" said Manfred, ducking his head and assuming a low posture on the table in front of him. 

Rebecca gestured angrily at him "You are joking arn't you!? These were not mild cravings! I can't put my name to something that can turn people into an unsuspecting addicts. It's insane to even consider it!"

"Relax Rebecca." he said attempting to reassure her with a smile, "Would you mind if I looked at your notes?" said Manfred in an offhand way. 

"Yes I would mind." 

"Rebecca stop being silly. You know me, I'm still the same old me. Once I hear about an unsolved problem I have to get my teeth into it, you know. Just let me take a closer look, if you are that close all it may need is a different perspective. Don't you trust me?"

"Yes, I suppose...it can't hurt." said Rebecca, her smile leaving her face momentrily. "I'm trusting you Manfred...I'll go get them."

Manfred looked over Rebecca's lab notes like someone reading a winning lottery ticket. Her findings looked sound at first glance.

"No aparant over complicated deviations, all the way through to the end. This is very good work Becca,very neat and tidy. It's as A to B as you could possibly get. You should be proud of yourself!" he smiled as Rebecca stood watching apatheticially, his charm inflating her ego and momentrily distracting her. 

Manfreds mind was somewhere else, deeper into an idea; his puny moral presidency vied for attention under his constant and avaricious rethorical barrages. Rebecca spoke about her plans for her new formula as he pretended to listen. He was deep in his own thoughts.

I guess I don't care about collateral damage; the side effect is by far the lesser of two evils. 

It is what I have been waiting for.

The many applications something like Moth Serum could have is astronomical. Food and drink companies would go crazy for it if it could pass FDA. 

"What are you thinking?" asked Rebecca, her guacomole tortilla's filling the void of his intense introspection. He didn't answer, something she had grown acustomed to from him since his return from Stanford.

There are far more damaging products out there, that have all passed FDA testing and are consumed in massive amounts on a daily basis: sugar, tobacco, alcohol, coffee; the list is endless. I must talk to Percy about this, he may be able to help.

His eyes swirled like black pools of crude oil. The prospect of entering a market with only one other competitor, knowing that he had the superiour product thrilled him. 

Shooting fish in a barrel. 

"What do you think?" asked Becca, as he put down her lab notes.

"I think it's very cool, I like how you have tried to keep it simple, but can I help you with the little addiction issue? I dunno, maybe, but it may take some time. I have a few ideas but, leave me your notes and I will see if we can get this to work for you."

"I will make you a copy I need these." she said, taking them back from him anxiously.

"No problem."

There was a time when Manfred would have actully tried to improve Rebecca's formula. A time before he had realized how easy it was to make money, a time before success had seduced him. A time before Percy and the Bones. 

Manfred had learned by highschool how to repress and bury his impulsive desires and instead would put in place a set of rules he used to keep him from destruction. He had learned that life was better when his desires didn't get in the way of his needs. If he desired to own something he would try to see what it might cost him. "Something new is nice until it gets old, everything gets old evntually, even me. If I cast aside something just because it is not perfect I will one day cast aside myself. This is how karma works. I have to change how I see the world." 

It was something he had observed in his little brother when he returned from hospital after almost a year in a coma. He had improved upon what learned by escaping out of his window to wander the streets of Broken Arrow, He learned to see a much larger picture, he would lecture anyone who would listen to him about how he had seen the world in a new way and with a deeper understanding and how it was a far more productive method and key to true success. In his last year in highschool he was a finalist in a competition to address the President of the United States of America. 

He paused to compose himself on the podium of the high school auditorium, bravely addressing the body of disinterested minds. "One person comes up with an idea. An idea developed from a previous idea, that can be improved upon by another perspective and together we grow and progress." He paused again with nerves, hoping it looked like a professional orator pausing to add gravitas.

"Our biggest failure would be to never understand and to never mean what we say as a generation; integrity is what I am refering to. We need good teachers, who will teach us how to create a fair, balanced and untroubled society. To once and for all eradicate the sensless and mindless wars, the manipuation of our children through our controlled medicne and an education system that is tailored to make us workman and competitive rather than harmonious. And for what? Money? Money has no value if you cannot value yourself, your worth is not measured in money." He watched as he spoke, at the wandering eyes and heavy shoulders. He raised his voice in objection to their empty assimilation to bored God-like beings. "But what can you do to contribute to the world? What will be your legacy? What will you leave behind?" he noticed as some students began to tune into his arguement. "It has to be our generations goal, every generations goal to make sure the we do not fall backwards! We must plant that seed every time, we must nurture it and keep it alive. It is only us who hold the keys to the future!" said Manfred to muted applause.

He continued, standing up on his toes to see over the podium, "If we must compete to outdo each other, then we must think bigger; we must think as a generation. History will look back upon us, we do not want to end up a bunch of beaten, mindless fools addicted to desire." Some of the teachers began to straighten up as the young mind speaking from his podium raised his voice louder. He stepped from behind the podium and began to walk up and down in front of the audiotorium..

"Our desires are a profuct of our society. We are all controlled by fear, fueled by despair and subdued by stupidity. We should never feel fear, despair or subdugation, and we won't if you choose not to! If we as a generation are to make changes, we have to first invision a future where society can function to accomadate all, without our basic animalistic qualities overtaking us. We as young people need the will to do so! Our schools should be teaching us not to sit and be quiet, but to be challanging of the old systems that are designed to accomodate the past. Our time is now and we need to become connected to the world again and each other. We can still find our own way, still be fully alive, beonging to our world and it belonging to us. The opposite of what I propose is our animilistic programming, permitting us to use all means neccissary to destroy the other to win, individualism."

He caught Rebeccas eye in the audience as he spoke, she seemed irratated.

"Fear, confusion, disorientation and ill health is all that will remain, while the conniving victor enjoys the spoils. Co-operation is the only way everybody can prosper and be happy." 

Manfred stepped down from the stage with his head bowed in humbel affirmation of their applause. He never lost a single arguemant on the school debating team.

Sanford had changed something in him. Rebecca could sense it. and Manfred did everything h could to hide it. He could already hear the voices calling him forwards, towards their icy embrace, where his intellect belonged. Maybe politics or banking lay ahead for me, my future will always bright from now on, he thought. "Money is all you need in this life Becca!" he said showing her the contents of his wallet.

"You have changed manfred."

Come work for me I could use a mind like yours."

"Work for you? Doing what?"

"At myfilefinder.org."

"That's your business?"

"Yes, it's a file sharing site that let users upload whatever they want to servers based in countries that have no copyright laws, thus avoiding any legal issues. I started it two years ago and I'm rolling in it Becca." 

He had decided to keep his project to himself, out of fear it would fail. He had begun to see profits soar only months before attending M.I.T to complete his masters in Biomechanical Engineering. But the business world had seduced him. It had taught him things about himself, a ravenous hunger that had lay dorment for so long resurged and overtook him. It gave him something more than the rewards that his moral fortitude or intellect could fullfill. Instant gratification. He found life easier, a simple forced laugh was enough to keep the hounds off his back, where a lot more convincing was needed to get passed the gate keepers of sense and senability. No longer was he tempered by his better side. Now powerful forces manifested in Manfred, teased out of him by Percy and The Bones. Forces that opposed his ideologies and beliefs. His eyes turned to black pits of crude oil as he seen his future potential laid out before him. The path they showed him. 

Rebecca had given him a copy of her lab notes, he sat alone in his dorm planning his next move. "These suited, backslapping stooges will be no match for my intellectual marksmanship once I finish college. It will be a cat playing with a mouse! Moth Serum will be just the beginning. I need to tell Rohan. He picked up the phone to call his brother. 

"You're gonna want to hear this, I've something to tell you. Not over the phone. Not here, meet me at Helsinki Bar, in half an hour." said Manfred, hanging up without allowing his brother to say a word. 

They both arrived on the hour, Rohan in a crisp Italian suit and brown pointed shoes, Manfred in his usual unassuming attire of jumper and cargo pants. They didn't indulge in sentimentality as they took their seats at the table. 

Hidden behind large potted plants and overlooked by a decadent crystal chandelieer they diccussed what Manfred had so hurriedly requested a meeting for.

"What was so important?" asked Rohan.

"Do you know anything about Beta Trosoate?" said Manfred, casually sipping a dry Martini.

"Should I?" said Rohan, gesturing for him to continue, while scanning the room for pontential after hours female company.

"I didn't think so. It's an additive in food, and when it's mixed with certain other ingredients it can cause hyperactive behavior in some children. There have been many articles about it, big consumer backlashs and a general dislike for it, but there is no alternative to it."

"Why are you telling me this?" 

"Wait brother will you." said Manfred, Rohans idiosyncratic impatience irking him. "Until now. I have developed a substitute and initial testing shows it to be devoid of any of these detremential side effects associated with Beta Trosoate. We are talking hundreds, even thousands of products that this stuff goes into, do you see where I'm going with this? It has no other competitors on the market." he said, his smugness was never alien to Rohan. 

"Sounds like that could be worth a lot of money." he said, looking at Manfred inquisitevly.

"A s**t lot of money! Not only that, but there is something else that may make it very interesting to the food industry as a whole." 

"What?!" he asked, noticing something in his brothers manner that made him uncomfortable.

"It's not bad Ro', basicially if enough of it is consumed cravings can develop, but only in around twenty five percent of test subjects."

"Now I'm worried."

"Don't, just think of it like tobacco or sugar." 

"Ok I'm listening." 

"Do you know how many companies would lose their s**t over this if we could get this to market? All of them would bite our God-dam hand off Ro'!" 

"Addictive is not good though Manfred, that sounds like a headache to me, you sure it's worth it?" Rohan signalled a waiterss. "Two more please!"

"What if I said the word Billionaire to you?" said Manfred, flamboyently waving a hand in the air to signal his casual disregard for any moral arguement. "How does that sound to you now?"

Rohan paused, looking deep into Manfreds eyes, searching. All he seen was his Brothers seductive charm, vast amounts of wealth and all the opportunities it would afford him. It excited him, it would allow him to become what he had so long dreamed about, a vision of a bright future. Rohan couldn't hide his excitement, 

"That sounds good to me...what am I saying, that sounds great to me. Do you really think it could be worth billions?" he said almost bouncing up and down like a child in his seat.

"Potentially, yes I do!" Manfred didn't blink at the thought of the mamoth task it would take to get it off the ground.

"Getting it passed it is going to labourious though, right?" Rohan's retisence instantly weakened under his brothers insistant glare, "...or not." 

"It could go either way, but I have a contingency plan." Manfreds face relaxed as he leaned back in his chair.

"A plan? Are you planning on letting me in on it?" asked Rohan.

"Look don't worry it's just an idea for now, I don't have all the information to give you an answer just yet, so it would be pointless to try." Manfred's voice cracked like a lash of a lion tamer's whip as his brother sat back in his chair. "Hopefully we wont need it." 

Drinks arrived. Seduction instigated. An evening of pleasure promised for one of them with the waitress.

"So where is it, this formula you mentioned?" asked Rohan, trying to ignore the urge to argue with his Brother, as he watched the waitress curvasious body slalom around the closly situated tables.

"It's safe, but we have to be careful for now. If anyone gets wind of this we will have so many cyber attacks that Lee will be at his desk for weeks."

"Wouldn't be such a bad thing, what does he do again?"

"Are you hearing me, this is between you and me only!" Manfred's words had no margin for arguement. 

"You doubting me brother?" said Rohan, his voice soft and his head bowed, but his eyes immovable as he fixed them on him again, as if to reassure him of his conviction.

"Not for a second Brother!" said Manfred with a satisfied grin.

Chapter 6

Champagne on Ice

2015

Mia spent Mondays with her sister's child Evelyn, at her hip hop dance class, waiting at the end for th

Author's Note

Hi, I would like to know if the story and characters interested you enough to continue reading. Apologies about the spelling, haven't gotten to that yet. Thank you.