Minding my Business
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The CompoundChapter 2: Minding My Own Business free porn video
Literally, the dirt on his grave had not even settled. Before the clamoring for the reading of his ‘Last Will and Testament.’ arose. I had not wanted to take part, but my presence, for some reason, was a requirement of the reading. Why that was, I would learn much later.
Yes, we were close, but he knew of my feelings about being mentioned in his ‘Will.’ My unease of receiving any gift from the grave, blood money I had heard it called it. I didn’t want to be haunted and wanted no part of it. I do not think he understood that about me. Wealth for him was merely a tool to be used. However, he had his ethics and worked hard to be fair-minded about it all.
If there had been anything, I wanted it would have been his staff, not necessarily the manor but the people who had served him faithfully for as long as I had known them. Yet, for some reason, they had disappeared without a trace. Wouldn’t my grandfather have taken care of them in his will? But there was no mention of them.
He kept telling me wealth was but a tool to be used for better or worst. And that all such wealth had some blood on it. It was inescapably so.
I did not fully understand my part in this reading. But when the dust had settled, my father, as expected, was a primary beneficiary, with a detailed listing of those holdings he now controlled. I honestly did not understand that part. As I have said before, my father was no businessman, no matter what he may have thought of himself.
The joke went on that one dollar went to each of the other family members. The explanation was that, since they were so focused on finding ways to steal money, they were encouraged to keep right on doing it; but it would be done without his help. A rather unsubtle way of saying he had not approved of the way they had been doing business. He may have been the head of the Family, but he was not micromanaging them. It should have been enough that they knew of his displeasure, such were the egos involved. They felt that they were free to do as they pleased if he had not outright prohibited it.
While I had not said so before, my gift was the first mentioned. I seemed to have escaped Grandfather’s wrath, not that we had any difference that might have incurred it. I had been gifted his fully restored and beloved Aston Martin DB5, of ‘James Bond’ fame, “and all that it contained.”
Oddly worded, not that any seemed to have noticed, including me. That car held a great deal of sentimental value to me.
As I said, mine was the first to be mentioned, even before my father’s, which should have been a red flag to those paying attention. It was for me. But I may have been more in-tune with my grandfather’s thinking. In truth, the Aston Martin was not worth all that much, not being that rare a car. There was an itemized list of all it contained to be read. However, those present were impatient to get on with and waived that requirement. Wanting to find out where the real money would go to. No one would think a sports car could hold all that much. Confirmed when the first item mentioned was the radio, then its modifications as a movie car. Later some of the smarter ones would go over that list.
There was a listing of its contents, as I said, which those in the room ignored. After hearing of the first few items on it, it was like a listing of options on a new car’s window sticker. Even I did not want to listen to it. It just goes to show how
shell-shocked I was by my grandfather’s death. Grandfather never did anything without reason. I had played Chess with him often enough to learn that. How he would layout a trap, and I had fallen into this one neatly. As did most everyone in the room.
The focus shifted again, and it seemed to be for those out looking for the real prize. Most knew my father would receive the lion’s share, the titular head of the Family. Most looked at the Aston Martin as some gag gift of no consequence. Clearly, by having it named first, my grandfather was trying to embarrass me. Distancing himself from me. That, after I had broken down in tears, speaking of my eulogy of him in my life. They laughingly told me that I would need to sell it to pay off my student loans. Yes, they knew I was not following my father or Grandfather in the ‘Family’ business.
Those who felt they were entitled to some part of the billions and perhaps trillions. Ended greatly disappointed in the contents of Grandfather’s ‘Will.’ The actual joke was that grandfather had left many of the so-called beneficiaries with companies. Companies that they had been bleeding money out of for years were now worthless. Some laws had been changed. Now they would be personally on the hook for those losses. As they had been members of the boards of those companies. More than long enough to have corrected the course of those companies. Had they seen fit too, rather than enrich themselves at the expense of the shareholders.
As an additional rubbing of salt in the wounds were instructions that explicitly stated that my father would not be allowed to redistribute the contents of his ‘Last Will and Testament.’ Even if he were to want to.
They were already arguing over contesting the will.
I was pleased to be out of the money grab. I was exceptionally delighted with the gift of the Aston Martin. As I have said, it was of great sentimental value to me. My Grandfather and I had taken many a long drive in it. All the while talking about most anything. But often, it was about our vision for life, what we hoped for the world. As we saw ourselves as stewards of this world. And what that responsibility meant to us.
Somehow the rest of the Family had forgotten that service was the reason for our existence. I didn’t have to be taught that it seemed instinctive.
My grandfather was forever challenging me and assessing my convictions to see how I would react. It always pleased me to see him smile when I explained my reasoning behind them. As I did, he would talk more about hidden lessons of life and, if I were only aware, I could gain their meanings. He was big on keeping things abstruse. He was pleased that my instincts were unfailing, that even without his explaining and direct guidance, I had chosen the right path and solution. They were some of my fondest memories. I had come to love the old man as a father, as my real father could never be.
To say the will wouldn’t be contested would be an understatement. Dangling hundreds of billions, maybe trillions in front of the attending attorneys would ensure a bloodbath for years to come.
I could not grasp how he could have left it as he had. He had always seemed to have things well controlled. My grandfather always had understood what he was about, always planning well ahead. Yet another sign of how his death had affected me. Somehow, I think he was having a last laugh from the grave. Although I did not see how this could benefit the ‘Family’ or the world as we had discussed it. It just did not seem like him to leave our family vulnerable like that. Was my grief masking my instincts about this? I knew something was not right, but I was unprepared to deal with it just then.
To say that I had lost what little love and respect I had for my extended family was a given. But, in their eyes, great wealth equates with great power. That was how you won the game. It was all that seemed to be on their minds for now.
After I was mentioned in the ‘Will,’ I was told my presence was no longer required and that the Aston Martin was outside. I was to take possession of it immediately. I was happy for any reason to escape the mayhem that was already building within that office.
As I made my way down to where the car was, a man stood next to it. From his looks, I was confident he had not been to one drive it to this spot. Maybe I just imagined it, but he looked like a compact mountain of bad news.
From the look on his face, he could have been part of the presidential security detail or my worst nightmare in a dark alley. And he was standing between me and my grandfather’s car. I was hesitant to approach.
“Mr. Wolfenstein.” It was not a question. And I had to look behind me to see if my grandfather or father was there. I was not used to being called that. I was Jim or James, or while in prep school Wolfenstein as the roll was called, never ‘Mister.’ That was my grandfather or my father. I had never related it to me.
My thoughts were interrupted, “Mr. Wolfenstein.” He said again. This time, I did not look behind me. “Your car has been inspected and cleaned. Here are your keys.” He then handed me the keys and added that I only needed to ask if I required his services, and he would find me. He had not told me his name - not that I was listening all that carefully after he said ‘My car.’ - but as with most things of that nature, I wouldn’t have forgotten it if he had.
‘He would find me.’ That seemed like an odd way of saying it: ‘just ask.’ Like, just saying the words out loud, and he would find me? But, of course, I did not say these things out loud. As he handed over the keys.
Out of habit, I walked around to try to open the passenger door before realizing my grandfather would not be driving. I tried to hide my embarrassment in front of this man, whose face might have been chiseled out of granite. Then, I walked back around to unlock the actual Driver’s side door. It did not help that this car had right-side steering, being of British Manufacture. My grandfather would laugh most every time I made the mistake of trying to enter the right-side door. So, I had gotten into the habit of going to the left-side door after that.
Grandfather ... I stopped thinking ... and stood there for a moment, the mountain had said, “my car.”
It sank in that grandfather, and I would no longer take those long drives together ever again.
Grandfather had taught me how to drive it. I still had occasional nightmares of those early times. In America, you steered from the left side, not the right. And the gearshift was on your left as well.
Maybe it was a blessing that I never learned to drive an American-made automobile. Instead, I owned a self-driving car.
Did you know that that little red button on the gear shift really does work? Just kidding, I have never actually tried it.
There was one other feature that I did like. While learning to drive ... you know how sometimes you make mistakes while driving. Mind you, at this time, I was also too young to even have a learner’s permit. So, it always seemed like a policeman was right there to catch me making them.
Grandfather had made the steering wheel detachable so that he could take it and make it look like he had been the one driving all along. I did not know what this did for his Driver’s record, and at the time, I was a bit too afraid to ask.
Good memories ... good times...
I still felt his presence within his car. Even though it been ‘Willed’ to me. It felt like he was beside me.
I quickly made my way out of the city, oblivious of the direction. However, I soon found myself on the route of one of our favorite drives.
It almost felt like he was with me, as it was when he first taught me to drive with a stick. I glanced over, feeling he was there and noticed the old-fashioned compact tape player sitting in the passenger seat for the first time. It had a sticky note that said play me.
Without stopping, I reached over and hit the play button. A familiar musical theme started from it; the opening music from ‘Mission Impossible.’ Then, “Good afternoon, Jim. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is in the glove compartment. As always, should you or any of your I. M. Force be caught or killed, the Secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions. This tape will self-destruct in five seconds. Good luck, Jim.” Grandfather loved the old Mission Impossible television shows. Not so much those movies starring Tom Cruise. Simpler times.
The tape did self-destruct with a hiss and the accompanying smoke. I opened the window to let it out.
What was this about? And Did I really have a choice? Pulling over to the side of the road, I reached over and opened the glove box. The lock must have been keyed to my thumbprint. Grandfather would not have something like that left to chance.
With it open, I recognized this was yet to be another test. One Grandfather must have set up before his death, perhaps the last one he would ever give me. I pulled out yet another tape recorder and a large envelope. Rolling my eyes, I thought, “Really, grandfather?” I hit its play button. There was no music this time. It was just my grandfather’s voice. “Good afternoon, Jim. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is in the envelope.” That was followed by a chuckle, “I have been dying to use that line ... Oh wait; if you’re hearing this, then I guess I did die. Well, damn it! It seemed funny at the time.”
“You may stop this tape now if you choose not to. And destroy the envelope and its contents.” I paused the tape as I briefly thought about this. There wasn’t really a choice. There never had been. As I thought about it, if my grandfather wanted this, then I would do it. Then I took a deep breath, pressed play.
“Good Jim, I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me.” the tape continued.
“In any case, Jim, by this time, you are safely out of that shark-infested office and far away. With any luck, you will soon be forgotten about as the sharks’ circle to fight over my ‘Will,’ for the as you called it, ‘Blood’ for the sharks, for they certainly sensed the blood. By God, I hope it takes them years to sort it all out. I did my best to make damn sure that you would be out of the ‘crosshairs’ of that fight.” Out of the crosshairs? I thought about that for a moment before bursting out with laughter, ‘Cross Heirs.’ Grandfather’s puns took a bit of getting used to.
“You probably think you got off lucky. No such luck there, I’m afraid.” Why had I pushed play again? Couldn’t I just pretend I hadn’t? “ ... with just the receiving of this old car of mine. I made it clear, though I think few will take notice that you were to receive ‘all that was in it.’ Know that I spent some time priming my Barristers on just how to phrase that so that the others would become impatient and waive the reading of that list. Well, Son, with that said, you didn’t get off scot-free!”
Was it too late to destroy the tape and all the rest? Yes, it had been too late the moment that man handed me the keys to my grandfather’s car.
“The folder...” I had to say it was a thin one. “ ... containing a few pages. My grandfather had handwritten a note, “These are the key holdings of mine that I deemed most far-reaching. And perhaps for humanity as well.
Not everything I owned or controlled was listed in the will. Contrary to what was said in the ‘Will.’ you are my Designated Heir. It will likely take years for them to complete a comprehensive audit and find your father actually controls very little of the ‘Families assets. Knowing your father as I do, he will never initiate such an audit. Anyone other than him will find it quite challenging for him impossible.
As of my last tabulation, your father controls a bit less than a third. Only a handful of people know of the ‘Family’s actual net worth. With those sworn to secrecy. Even I can’t say for sure, as it can fluctuate greatly each day. It would be safe to say I could have paid off this nation’s national debt, and perhaps those of several other countries as well.
If you ask me why I didn’t, the answer is simple, I have no desire to clean up other people’s messes. They asked me, I gave them my advice, and they ignored it. I wasn’t about to bail them out.
It is safe to say they will never be able to trace your holdings, and if I was you, I’d keep it that way.
“What you now hold in your hands are the essential holdings. They are now yours. Everything in the ‘Will’ is merely a smokescreen to keep the vultures off the scent. What you hold in your hands will, I hope, shape the future of a much better world, as we have often discussed. I trust you to know what to do. Enjoy the Aston Martin and take care of her. This tape will self-destruct in five seconds. Good luck, Jim...” ... then there was laughter that faded out, with a hiss as the tape of self-destructed with its accompanying smoke.
It was unsurprising to me that Grandfather had such a low opinion of so many in the Family. But, from what little I had witnessed of them today, it was well-justified. I was sure even my father wasn’t let into the deception.
There were several items in the envelope that had been prioritized that I was to check first. There was one medical group that Grandfather had stressed I was to see them posthaste for some reason.
The medical group’s accompanying file didn’t reveal much. I couldn’t say I was surprised there. Grandfather was never one to tip his hand. Since that medical group was first on the list, I quickly searched it on my smartphone. I learned they were a company making inroads with some research on medical nanobots. They had made some strides but no breakthroughs. Thoughts of Julia washed over me. What they were after always seemed to be right around the corner, with only minor developments thus far.
Another was a research group working on Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s diseases.’ Although the research was for a worthy cause, I felt that many of these research groups were merely looking for research grants without doing much research work. Of course, you really couldn’t tell about such people, but they were on Grandfather’s list, so how bad could they be?
I was going to read further when a patrol car pulled up behind me. I gathered up my papers and shoved them back into the envelope. I had just secured them back into the glove box as the patrolman stepped up to the window and tapped on it.
“Driver’s license, registration, and proof of insurance.
Startled, I was just given the car. I had forgotten all about a Driver’s license that I didn’t have. I hadn’t gotten insurance yet, nor had it registered to me. Or had it? I was about to explain this when he pulled out his gun and demanded I exit the vehicle.
I had to swallow; this police officer was about to shoot me if I didn’t follow his orders. For what? not having gone straight to the DMV to get the car registered and my insurance company for an insurance policy. Did people still have to do that? Couldn’t it all be done in a few minutes online? These were misdemeanor charges at best, nothing worth taking anyone’s life over. For the first time ever, I was in fear for my life.
I was about to comply when I heard him shout NOW! as I heard the click of his weapon being cocked.
Out of the blue, a camera drone dropped between us, and I heard a voice ask, “What is the problem, officer?”
As surprised as I, the officer said I was resisting arrest, and he had ordered me out of the vehicle. Holding his weapon on me was for his own safety. That he feared for his life that I might have a weapon. Obviously making it up on the fly.
I might be young and inexperienced, but even I knew that was a load of bull.
The next thing I heard was a gun being fired, then several things happened at once. That first shot had taken out the drone. I was grateful whoever was controlling had placed it between me and the weapon. Then the window closed as several more shots were fired. They didn’t penetrate the glass. Bulletproof? I saw a trail of hits against the window as it rolled up. I had never been so scared before in my life.
I hadn’t closed it; I didn’t even know the windows were electric. Let alone bulletproof. Ok, it was 007’s Aston Martin DB5, but I had thought those things in the movies were just movie magic’ props.’
The officer was turning. He must have seen something I hadn’t. He was fast, but whoever he was aiming at was faster. The man’s head exploded. Shit, what was going to happen next? I must have spilled my coffee as the front of my pants was now warm and wet. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
It was then that my worst nightmare strode forward. Let me amend that! The man who had just saved my life stepped forward. It was the same man who had been standing next to the car and had handed me its keys.
The window rolled down by itself. I closed my eyes as the man still had his gun out.
“You ok, Mr. Wolfenstein? Can you drive, or do you want one of us to drive for you?” It was then that I saw the other men’s weapons drawn moving to surround my car.
“You ... you ... you just shot him, a police officer.” It was all I could manage to say to the huge man, who seemed in charge.
The huge man simply replied, “That was no patrolman. That was an assassin who was going to kill you.”
One of those men had checked the body, reporting to the giant, “He’s clean. It looks like his body cam was recording as well.”
Another man came up. “Dashcam in the patrol car was on as well. From the looks of it, it’s a legitimate cruiser.”
The first man came back, “The badge and ID check out. If he is not a real cop, he sure went to a lot of effort to look like one.”
The big man said, “Dig deeper. He has to be a plant or simply a dirty cop. Everything he did here screams assassination attempt.”
The first man, “I can’t disagree with you there. That weapon was not standard issue, and the rounds look tricked out to do maximum damage,” then turning to look at me, “Damn good thing those windows were bulletproof.”
I had unsteadily gotten out of the car by this time.
I turned to look at that window. Grandfather, what have you gotten me into?
The other man said, “If that is a legitimate policeman and patrol car, they will be looking for both.”
The big man simply said, “Then make sure they don’t find either.”
He simply said, “Yes, Sir.”
“Good, have a cleanup team take care of this mess. It never happened.”
“Yes, Sir, right away, Sir.” Then he sorts of grinned and added, “What never happened?” It looked like the giant was going to take a swing at him, “Yes, SIR. I will get right on it. I will see to it personally.”
“See to it if you know what’s good for you.”
Again, “Yes, Sir,”
As I said before, he could have been my worst nightmare in a dark alley. I had no desire to test that theory.”
I don’t think I was in any condition to drive at the moment. I looked down at the dead man, then the window that had saved my life—and then the drone that was in pieces on the ground. And finally, the men that still surrounded the area.
Then I started asking questions. “How?” was the only word I managed to get out.
“Mr. Wolfenstein, your grandfather thought something like this might occur. My name is Nick, and I was assigned to protect you. Mr. Wolfenstein had hoped we could do it from a distance. However, I had warned him that it might not be possible.” He motioned to a vehicle. It pulled up it looking every bit like the POTUS Limo. For all, I knew it was. As he had introduced himself, Nick opened the door and bid me enter and take a seat.
“Wait,” I reached back into the DB5 and pulled out the contents of the glove box. “Ok, now we can go.” I entered, and he followed me in. He picked up a phone, then briefly looked at me. Sahara Hotel Alpha. And replaced the phone back in place.
I looked at Nick questionably. Then, Nick started, “Mr. Wolfenstein, your grandfather, didn’t think they would try anything this soon.”
“What? You mean he and you expected this?”
“My grandfather knew?” I repeated staggered.
Nick looked away briefly. He pulled out a tape player. I gave myself a Palm slap. “Mr. Wolfenstein prepared this for you.” Of course, he did, I thought to myself.
Where had he gotten these things? Had he managed to buy a warehouse full of them? They hadn’t been used in over fifty years, perhaps longer. Maybe that was the point. Most people wouldn’t have recognized one of them even if they saw one. Think early, rotary-phone.
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