SYNOPSISTODREAMSANDREALITIESBASEDONATRUESTORYBYJONATHANLTRAPMANWhen a local carabiniere discovers an empty skiff with a discarded

revolverandnote, floatingonastormstrewnLakeComoin Italydoes itlead to a terrifying trail uncovered years earlier in the New York CityLibrary in1928byanEnglish investigative journalist,CaptAHTrapmanakaToto?A vast unpaid fortune owed his family for gold gifted to the

RevolutionarycauseandhisdreamthiswouldleadtohisveryownYellowBrick Road, turns into a reality revealing dark secrets, nightmarescenarios and hidden agendas impacting the world, imminently to beillustratedintheCrashof’29.Will hedecide there arebigger fish to trap and truths to expose than

self-enrichment?Doeshebecomethefishorfisherman?Willhisfindingsigniteanothersparkofrevolutionorareforcesranged

againsthimtoopowerfultoreelin?Unmaskingtheirendgameplaceshimandhisexplosivediscoveriesinto

the spotlight of a person of interest and Public Enemy No 1. His life inmortaldangerheoptsforexposure.Araceagainsttime,hunteddownbyagentsofthepowerful,survival

hingesonawakingfromdreamsandfacingrealitiesheadon.

JonathanLTrapmanJonathan L. Trapman, author and photographer, has written since aged 9 and photographed professionally since aged 16. His first novel The Bull got fair marks at school marking him out as an author in need of improvement. Defying early detractors his professional career as a photojournalist included working for some of the top titles in Fleet Street. Among them the London Times, Daily Express and a very short and boring stint with the Sun newspaper. Exposed to the demands for half-truths and periodic propaganda demanded from photo/journalists in the ‘70s and 80s, he decided his soul was worth more than shekels earned from the news rooms of corporate media. Marking his further career becoming one of the industry’s foremost photographers he enjoyed getting to know the world, its peoples and a far wider vision of life on earth on others’ behalf and at others’ expense. He has appeared on TV and radio including the BBC, France Inter and online radio. He has been invited to speak at creative and literary conferences across the globe. Early 2012, in partnership with his wife, had him accomplish several translations of foreign writers. The most enduring, endearing and groundbreaking has been the first ever, in over 900 years, translation of 10th century Sufi founder and mystic saint Hoja Ahmed Yassawi’s Diwani Hikmet (Divine Wisdom) poetry and sacred verse. Currently he is authoring The Freedom Cycle an ambitious heptalogy (seven book) project, Dreams and Realities being the first. With the second volume, Angel of Redemption, due out early summer 2017 with the remainder set to roll out over the next few years. Jonathan presently lives in Somerset, UK.

ContactJonathanEmail: jonathan@thefreedomcycle.com Web: www.thefreedomcycle.com Tel: UK – (44)(0)-7817892900 USA – (1)-864-372-4820 Skype: jonathantrapman FaceTime: j.trapman@zen.co.uk FaceBook: www.facebook.com/totothebook

PRELUDE

The gathering storm turned the twilight on Lake Como gunmetal gray as lightning flashed, illuminating the regulars lined up along the Italian waterside bar. Its sharp light cut through the smoke-filled room as movement homewards beckoned for one of them.

A young waiter struggled outside to close down umbrellas no longer serving custom whilst hopelessly at the mercy of a wind whipping them to demonstrate the futility of human impudence against Nature’s rule.

An impeccably dressed carabiniere lent against the bar, relishing a walk home, where he would cook his favorite dish, a pleasure reserved for his one day off. Before departing he threw down a final Cinzano, turned, adjusted his trench coat collar upwards and headed for the door.

“That boat outside is still drifting untethered,” shouted aman entering, in a suit that had seenbetterdays.

“Boat?Whatboat?”answeredtheSicilianofficer,adjustingtheblackcapneatlyplacedonhishead.Thebarman,awareofthelawman’simminentdeparture,hollered.“You’vegottobekidding.Didn’tyounoticeitonthewayin?”Theill-suitedmanfacedthepolicemandirectlyandglowered.“Isn’tthisyourdepartment,Fantozzi,tosolvemysteriesaroundhere?”Fantozzilookedupgrudginglyandreplied.“Tomorrowmaybe,buttonightI’veadatewithspaghettiallacarbonara.”Thebarmanshoutedacrosstheroom.“Aren’tyouintheslightestbitcurious,Guido?”Withoutturning,Guidoblurtedback.“Looseboatsaretheboatman’sproblem,”andskirtedpastthesuit.Theman,facingthebar,addressedFantozzi.“MaybeinPalermo,buthereweexpectthecarabinieritodotheirjob.”Anawkwardsilencefollowed,quicklyfilledwiththebarman’sattempttolowerthetemperature.“GoonGuido–justaquicklook,keepeveryonehappyandthenyou’rehome.”HewinkedovertlyatFantozzi’squestionerasGuidopulledthedooropenwithunusualauthority

andtwistedroundtohisinterrogator’sbackandspathisresponse.“InPalermo,sir,ourboatmentethertheirboatssecurely.”Thedoorslammedshutbehindhim.Hemadehiswaytothewaterline,thewindwhippingwaves,spumespittingontopolishedblack

shoes.Retreatingbackafewpaceshelookedtoleftandright,makingsurenoonewitnessedthepedantic

processoftakingeachshoeandsockoffinturn.Feetnaked,trousersrolleduptoavoidasoaking;hemadehiswaygingerlytowardsthetossingskiff.Realizinghestillworehiscap,heturnedandthrewitwithprecisionovertheshoesandsocksbehindhim.Turningattentionbacktothecraftinthewater,hewadedin.

Thewind edged the boat closer. Confident of aim andbalance, he raised both arms and lungedforward into the boat. The stiffeningwindwithdrew his target and Fantozzi fell headlong into thewater.Spittingoutcold,clearwater,hescrambledtowardsitsprowandclamberedover.

Another flash illuminated the interior, revealing an Enfield revolver, lying on the bottomof theboat.Hefroze,lookedleft,rightandleftagaincatchingtheoutlinesofanemptywinebottle.Anotherlongerflashexposedahandwrittennote.Astheboatbobbedupanddown,hereachedin,grabbeditandbegantoread.

A loud clapof thunder followedbypeeloverpeel rolledacrossmountains and lakeas strongerwaves,indicatedhecouldnotexpecttoenjoyaquietevening.

CHAPTER ONE Leaningback in a rounded rosewood chair, one arm restingnonchalantly on the long oak table

besidehim,thecorrespondentwasbuggedbyanigglingfactrefusingtoclarify.Havingcompletedtheworkenvisionedashisgetoutofpenury ticket,hestaredupat thegildedgoldenceilingabove. Itsblue sky and cotton bud clouds teased his imagination transport itself beyond the raging stormlashing Arcadian steps outside leading to the New York Public Library he presently occupied. Hestruggledtostaypresent.

Ferret-like referencing, stitching and compiling of facts, compelling words, chapters andinformation had brought this definitive book on dogs to life. A rain-soaked April evening in 1928became a potential prelude to a future free from the leaden weight of scraping by. It heralded apursuitofhappinesscraved, forso long.Wellovertwoyearsexpendedonthisproject,hadenabledhimtouncoverfamilylinkstotheCarolinas,whichhadexpandedhisknowledgeofthefamily’spastand encouraged him trace roots and origins. This parallel research developing his own family treefittedcomfortablyintotravelsbackandforthtoEuroperesearchingdogsandhumansalike.Yetashesattheresomethingwasmissing,somethingsoimportanthereadilythrewawaytheopportunitytodaydream.

Whatwasit,heaskedhimself.WhathaveImissedinwhat’swrittenandresearched?He read and reread themanuscript, scanning notes on the family; over and over perusing each

paragraph.Timepassed,somuchsoheforgot italtogether.Allheknewforcertainwasthemissinglinklayinthefamilyresearch.

Thatbuggedhim.“Excusemesir,Iapologizefordisturbingyoubutwearenowclosing.”Thecorrespondent,deeplyabsorbed,didnotregistertheseniorlibrarian’svoice.Raisinghisvoice

slightlythelibrariantriedagain.“Sir,we’reclosingandImustaskyoutopackyourthingsandleave.”Heplacedagentlehandonthewriter’sshoulderwhojumped,alarmedattheinvasion.“Ibegyousir,weneedtoclose,andmayIaskyouquicklycollectyourresearchandleave.”Brought into the present with a jolt, the man realized his absorption and obliviousness to the

librarian.“ButImustfindwhat’smissing,Imust,it’sheresomewhere–ormoretothepointit’snot....”“Sir, you can return tomorrow at sevenwhenwe open and continue. As a concession youmay

leaveallthesereferencesinplaceandIshallpersonallyseetoitthatnothingisdisturbed.”Thecorrespondentbecameagitated.“Ithastobehere,ithastobe...”“I’msureitis,”thekindlylibrarianattemptedsoothingthetroubledresearcher’splight,“buthave

younotgotfamilytogobacktoandspendtheevening,takesupperwith?”Like a bombshell, the researcher felt his mind explode realizing what was missing. He turned,

stoodup,tooktheshouldersoftheheadlibrarianinbothhands,oneoneach,andshookthemwithjoy.

“MyGod,thankyousir,thankyou.”Theotherman,stunnedatthesuddengesture,theintimateactionandcompleteignoranceofwhat

inducedit,allowedtheelatedman,stillholdinghisshoulders,tocontinue.“Youseeitwasjustthat,youhititonthehead.Youhelpedmefindthemissingpiece.”Unaware of the shock the librarian now registered, Captain Albert HenryWilliam Trapman, ex

military, erstwhile foreignwar correspondent for the London Telegraph, seeker after fortunes anddreamerofbetterthingstocome,letsliphishandsfromthelibrarian’sshouldersandtooktheman’slefthandinbothofhisandshookitvigorously.

“Thankyousomuch,sir,forlettingslipthemagicwordfamily.Funnily,IhavenofamilyinthisgreatcitywithwhichIcanshareaneveningmeal.Ihaveevenless

money to evenpurchaseone, but all these aremere incidentals comparedwith the gift you’ve justgivenmeandtheknowledgemyfamilyfromthedeepsouthholdanimportantandmissingpieceofmypuzzle.”

The librarian remained stunned, perplexed and riveted to this extraordinary fellowwho, beforehim,wasasradiantashewasloudinthesehallowedhallsofsilence.Underordinarycircumstances,suchanoutburstwouldneverhavebeenpermitted.Howeverthetruthwasthattheyweretheonlytwoleft inthebuilding,sohefelt lessimpelledtoquietenhisvisitordown.Inconfusionasmuchasshock,heswitchedoffhisautomaticinternalresponder.

“Youseeit’sthefamilyI’vemissed,it’sthefamilythat’sthekeyandit’smyfamilyImustpursue,”explainedtheeffulgentresearcher.

Letting slip thehandshake,hebeamedwildlyat thebooksand shelvesaroundhim, liftingarmsoutstretchedingratefulsupplicationtooneandall.Atthesametimehonoringthelibrarianandalltheghosts who had begun to drift into place as the living withdrew. Hastily gathering what seemedimportant, along with the finished manuscript he looked triumphantly to the heavens and gildedgoldenceilingabove.

“ThankGodfordogsandfamily,”CaptainTrapmancried.Thelibrarianremainedstunned.“Thankyouforallowingthiscarnagetoremainas is,sirandI’llreturnatseven.FornowImust

allowyoutocloseshopandbeaboutyourbusiness.”The librarian was not only bemused, mystified and thoroughly relieved as he watched the

Englishmanskip,likeachild,outofsightbutmoreimportantlygladhecouldnowclosethedoorsandhis evening on one of the strangest encounters he hadwitnessed in all his years in theNew YorkPublicLibrary.

Heleanedoverscannedthecontentsofresearchleftwithhisphotographicmemory,rememberingeachpieceandplacementofthereferenceddetritus.Hepridedhimselfonattentiontodetailandwascertainthatinspiteofthecrazinesshehadjustwitnessed,hewouldhonorhiswordthatallwouldbeexactlyinplaceandreadyfortheCaptainreturninginthemorning.

Notingitallheturnedtogo.Acrossthelibrary,AlbertTrapmanreappeared.Thelibrarian’sheartsunk.“Bytheway,Ineverintroducedmyself,thoughwe’vespentsomanymonthstogetheracrossthese

tables.I’mCaptainAlbertTrapmanandyouare?”“GeorgeEvans,Captain,”hemumbled.“Excellent,George,excellentandplease,callmeToto.”George Evans, senior librarian at the New York Public Library had no time to query theman’s

sobriquet. He did what he would automatically do in times of mental confusion. He took off hisspectacles, looked at them quizzically and began cleaning the lenses with a finely pressed silkhandkerchief.Henotedhemightaskthatquestionatalaterdate.

CaptainTrapmanmeanwhiledisappearedintotheragingstormoutside.

CHAPTER TWO

A black-swathed sea of figures moved almost motionless with inner turmoil battling outwardrestraint.

Agoldencasketscythedthroughthisoceanofgrief,towardsacandlelittrestlebeforethealtarinthe Anglican church. Nestled behind the metropolitan bustle describing London’s KnightsbridgeKensingtonborders,thechurchbecameafittingplaceofsomberceremonyforoneofitsown.

AchillNovemberdayin1932andasharpshowerbecamethebackdropforthegriefwithin,whereanelderlywoman,herveilcoveringdeeplylinedandsaddenedfeatures,self-consciouslyendeavoredtochecksobbingsadness,whileatenorlauncheddivinelyinspiredresonancethroughoutthechurch,toaccompanytheplayingoutofafinaladieuofalifelostbeforeitstime.

No one noticed the entrance of a tall, fleet-footed young man creep through the rear porchentrance, removea rough tweedcapandseek therefugeofabackpew.Kneelingdown,hesilentlypaid his respects. The chasm of vacant pews between him and the tightly packed congregation upfrontdescribedperfectlythedividebetweenhisownislandofsorrowandtherest.

His thoughts raced across a landscape of shared memories, times together, the bond ofbrotherhood.Theyoungman’salonenesssweptintoareceptacleofsorrow,vibratingdeepwithin.Hissoulconsumedbyanotherworldlypresenceacceptedanunknownforceholdinghim,soothinghimasaninnervoicesoftlybidhimstill.

Allisvery,verywell,itcoaxed.Herecalledmanywalksbothhadtakenacrossgorse-strewnheadlandsandsilverstrandsofsand.

Talks of ancestors escaping deprivation and poverty, seeking freedom and release in the promise,dreams and riches lying across the ocean. The times his companion shared tales of family whosejourneytookthemhalfwayacrosstheworld,supportingrevolutionandchange.

SmokeyGreene, riveted to thepew, felthimselfpartof somethinghe cared little for, yet sharedwithhisnowdepartedfriend.Twenty-threeyearsseparatedthem,nowinconsequentialwithinwhatseemed too brief a sum of years.Waving aside a torrent of unspoken questions tearing round hisyouthfulhead,Smokeydidwhathealwaysdid,leftittobrewwaitingforanswerstoappearintheirowngood time. If nothing elsehewas apatient soul, an essential quality for an emissary to come.Painful experience and hard-learned truths would be the scholarship he must experience on hisjourneytomysticsage.

For now, loss absorbedwas sharedwith a tribe of unknown relatives, friends, compatriots andcolleagues,alltouchedintheirownwaybythedeparted’seventfulanduniqueexistence.

Smokey silently thanked him for eachmoment of their time together. Vowing to be true to hismemory,hesworetoupholdhispromisegiven.

Asgratitudeandloveconsumedsorrow,asubtleexpansionandentranceofsurprisingjoyentered.Hetookthismomentascuetowithdrawasquietlyashehadentered.

CHAPTER THREE

Thestormlashing thestreetsofNewYorkofanAprilnight fouryearsearlierhadabsolutelynoeffectonToto’s spirits.Hewasashighas akitewithexhilarationevenprohibition couldnotbringdowntoearth.HisenthusiasmdrovehimonashecrossedBryantParkheadingtowardsBroadwayand West 44th. The park almost deserted save for a handful of passers by, invited intemperateweatherandthewraithsofhauntedsoulsfrequentingthispotter’sfield.Totowashavingnoneofit.Hemayhave felt thepresenceof thedisplaced,yet tonight’smissionwas toget to theHotelAstor,hopingtocadgesupperoffoneofhisjournalistbuddies.Wrappedinatrustymackintosh,heraiseditscollaragainsttheweatherandmarchedforward.

Rainpelteddownunremittingly;incapableofdiminishingtheenthusiasmfelthavingfinishedhisbook.Hewas joyful forGeorge,his friendandallyat the library, forgivinghimthekeyhebelievedwould be far bigger, farmore important than any downpour.Where it led at that precisemomentremainedacompletemystery.Appreciationforthelibrarian’skick-starttodiscovermorewithevengreaterimpetusshelteredhimfromthestormiestexternalinfluences.

Presentpenuryhadfornowbeenassuagedbyintuition.Iflifehadtaughthimanything,itwastotrustthat.Tonightwasabouthittinghomeruns.

Fromanearlyageithadbeenanexperientialtruth.Itwasresponsibleforhisnickname,Toto.Hismind floatedback to thatsunnymorningatCavendish, theEnglishcountryhouse inSuffolk,

where he had spent his early years. A far cry from the stormy New York parkland he presentlytraipsedacross,yetnolesstangiblethanthecuttingbiteoftherainacrosshisface.

Hesawhimself,theyoungfouryearold,inhisbedroomonthefirstfloor.Talking,ashesooftendid, toToto,his invisible friend.Thatmorning,while indeepdiscourse,his father, freshhomefromanother merchant business trip, hid himself on the landing outside the lad’s bedroom, wishing tosurprisehisson.Awareofhisfather’sgame,hecarriedonasifoblivious.

HisinvisibleSelfassuredAlbertthataslongashealwaysrememberedtheirbondanditspresence,theboywouldneverbealone.Albert’sfather–privyonlytohisson’ssideoftheconversation–wasshockedwhentheboyturnedandspoke.

“Papa,youcancomeinnow,he’sgoneawayagain.”

HisfatherWilliamslowlycreptintotheroomtowitnesstheboystandinginthemiddle,inpajamasandasmiletowarmthecoldestheart.

AlltheseyearslaterTotostillfeltthewarmthandthrillofrushingintohisfather’sarms.Howhelandedinatumbledownsortofwayintolonglegs.Hewasagiantofafatherinallsensesoftheword.

“Howismyyoungwarriorthen?”Williamasked,ashewhiskedAlbertintostrongarms.Theyounglad lookedpiercingly intohis father’seyes,enjoyingthedizzyheightsexperiencedby

adults.“Papa,you’rehome,tellmeabouttheIndiansandbuccaneersagain.”His father hugged him, realizing therewas no escape from recounting oft told tales. Adult Toto

rememberedthepleasurehisfathertookinretellingarichrepositoryofadventurestheboyabsorbedlikeasponge.Hisadultselfappreciatedtheimaginationitcultivatedandhowithadhelpeddirecthimto land inNewYorkCity,albeitstrappedforcash,yetusingskillscreativelyandprofessionallyasajournalist.

He chuckled to himself, in spite of the rain working hard to bring him back to the presentremainingfocusedonthechildhoodmemory.

“FirstlyAlbert,you’venotintroducedmetoyourfriend.”Albertstruggledinhisfather’sarms,fakingescape.“Notsoeasyyoungmantillwe’vebeenintroduced.”WilliamhadoftenheardAlbertinconversationwithhisinvisiblefriend,alwaysacceptingthisas

partoftheprocessgrowingupforachild.“Papa,Toto’sgone.He’llnotbebackyet.”“Toto?”“YesToto,Papa.”“SowheredidthisfriendTotocomefrom,Albert?”Settlingdownonthefloor,helookedhissonintheeyeandaskedagain.“SowheredidthisfriendTotocomefrom,Albert?”“He’sme.”“You?”Williamreplied,withsomeconsternation.“Totosaysthat,”theboyreplied.“Totosayswhat,thathe’syou?”“Yes,he’smyfriend.”Intriguedattheboy’sprecociousness,hisfathercontinued.“Isthisarealfriendorjustoneofyourimaginaryones?”“Real,ofcourse.Noneareimaginary,”Albertrespondedslightlyhurtattheinsinuation.“SocanImeethim,Albert?”“No,he’sgone.”“Sowe’llnevermeethim,yourmotherandI.”AdultTotorememberedtheconcernhefeltatthisquestionandhowhehadpausedlongandhard

searchingforasuitablewaytodescribetheconundrum.Asachildithadbeensoclearyetforadultssomysterious.Alltheseyearslaterhestillfeltproudofhisreply.

“He’sme,soyou’vemethim.”His fatherwasstaggeredathis son’s logical jump.Aprocess,heconsidered,waybeyond tender

years.Nonethelessheentertainedtheboy’simagination.“SoperhapsweshouldbecallingyouTotothen.”“Cando.”“AreyousayingAlbertyou’dliketobecalledTotofromnowon?”“Cando,”thechildrepeatedagain.Hisfatherwasnonplussed.Wishingtoeasehisincredulitytheboyadded.“MamaknowsToto.”“Mamahasmethimhasshe?”“Yes,”motherElizaconfirmed,timingherentrancetoperfection.“Sohe’sintroducedyoutoTotothen?”“Wellnotexactly,he’sjustgoneawayaccordingtoAlbert,”herhusbandreplied,greatlyconfused.

Eliza’s exquisite knack at extricating her husband from themasculinemire of incomprehensionwaswhatadultTotohadadoredabouther,alongsideherabilitytoresolvetheirresolvable.Healwaysfeltitwouldhavestoodheringoodsteadforthediplomaticcorps.

“Whydon’twecallAlbertTotofromnowon.ThatmakesTotohappy,AlberthappyandyouandIcangodownstairsandtakebreakfast.”

Withthatwisdomanddiplomacy,fromthatdayoneveryoneinhisfamilyandthoseconsideredaclosefriendcalledAlbertTrapman,Toto.

Eventodayinhisfifties,TotorecognizedhisintuitiveselfastheverysameTotoofhisyouth.Neverparted,alwaysthere,despitesomanyyearsforgetfulofthisconstantcompanionship.Anotherthinghehadutterly forgottenwas thegas lampdesignating theedgeof this sideofBryantParkand thebeginningofSixthAvenue.Notevenarefinedintuitionwouldhavepreventedthepainfulmeetingofskullandmetal.IfnothingelseitbroughtTotobackintothepresentswiftlyyetmorepainfullythanhewouldhavewished.

“Bugger,whatthe...”hecriedouttoadesertedspaceofdarknesslitteredwithencroachingstreetlighting,swiftlycuppingheadinhands,unawareoftheexactnaturehisinattentionhadprocured.

“Lookwhereyou’regoing,mister,”criedanunsympatheticvoicefromthegloom.His foolishness felt compounded just longenough for the rain tobecome irritating.Hemarched

brisklyofftotheAstorandafreemeal.Roundingthecornertothehotel,theopportunityofafreemealpresenteditselfsteppingoutofa

sleek Rolls-Royce Phantom accompanied by an editorial counterpart from the New York Times heknewwell.AdolphOchs,renownedpublisherofwhatwasnowconsideredoneofthebestandmostrespectednewspapersinthecountry,shuffledtowardtheentrance,

followedbyJerryGraves,hisfileeditor.Totomanufacturedtheaccident.Swiftly adjusting his wet dog look with help from one of the hotel’s windows, he dispensed

mackintoshontohisarmandbumpedlightlyintoGraves.“Mostterriblysorry,”Totobegan.ThecommotionhadOchsturn,immediatelyrecognizingitscause.“TheBritishmayrulethewavesbuttheirnavigationleavesmuchtobedesired,especiallyfroman

Armyman”hechortled.Inspiteofhisseventyyears,themagnatestillretainedthesenseofhumorTotoalwaysrelished.

Gravesimmediatelycededtohisboss’swelcomeoftheencounterandbrushedhimselfdown,pattingTotoontheshoulder.

“Goodtobumpintoyou,”heexclaimedwithunnaturalirony.Allthreeenteredthehotel,Totosweepinginontheircoattails.“Albert,whatapleasureandsincewe’reincasualmodeIinsistyoujoinusinTheGrillRoomfor

supper.”Faitaccompli,thoughtToto,acceptingtheinvite.Ochskepttheconversationgoing.“Aboutthatslimvolumeofyours.Isitreadytobefeaturedinourreview?”Toto,eagertoshareevents,diplomaticallysuggestedhebringthemuptospeedatthetable.Threequarterwaythroughthemeal,withTotosharingthecompletionofhisbookanddelivering

histakeonthesupernaturalqualitieshefounddogspossessed,hisperipheralvisioncaughtafamiliarfacemakingitswayalongthecenteraisle.Hefocusedonhistale,astheotherscranedtheirneckstocatchhisdramaticdelivery.

“YouseeIbelieveadogisabletosensethosewhocarrybadcharacterandthosewhoarefriendly,when it comes to us humans.We all get vetted through some sense or otherwhenmeeting thesehighlyintelligentbeings.”

“Certainlyneedmyowndogtosiftunreliablesourcesacrossthenewsdesk,”quippedGraves.“You’dneedawolfhound,”Ochsrespondedwithoutapause,thenchided.“Jerry,letCaptainTrapmanfinishthisfascinatinginsight,please.”Pickinguphisthread,Totocaughttheapproachingfigureclosingin.Hepaused,lookedup,asthe

elderlystrangerwearilyreachedtheirtable.Toto’s suspicions confirmed, he stood up abruptly and extended his hand. The others turned

round.

Thestrangerignoredthehand,whiletheothersimmediatelyrecognizedhisidentity.“Nikola,Toto,”theresearchergreeted.“YouthinkI’velostmymarbles?YouofallpeopleshouldknowInevertouchtheunwashed,never

knowwhereit’sbeen,sodropthathand,”NikolaTeslabrusquelycorrectedtheresearcher.Heswiftlyscannedtherestofthetable.“Sowhat,younowschemingwithscribblingwolves?”Tototryinghardtocovertheinventor’sdirectnessmadehisintroduction.“Gentlemen,IintroducethegreatNikolaTesla.”Theothers,handswelloutofsightraisedthemselvesslightlyfromtheirchairs.“Goodevening,”theybothchirpedinunison.OchsassuredTotothevisitorwasawell-knownquantity.TeslagavethemglancingacknowledgementanddirectedhimselfatToto.“Thesenewshoundscontinuetounder-reportmygenius.”GravesshifteduncomfortablyinhischairasOchs,perfectlyusedtothisbehaviorfromtheinventor

stood.“MisterTesla,Iamwellawareofbothyourinventionsandidiosyncrasiesandcongratulateyouon

theformer.Wouldyoucaretojoinus?”“Dinewiththosesupportingmyenemies.Thankyoubutnever.”“PleaseNikola,dojoinus,”Totoimplored.“Youknowmebetterthanthat.I’llleaveyoutokeepthesehoundsundercontrol.Youknowmuch

aboutthebreed.”Totolaughednervously,moreoutofembarrassmentforTesla’shugefoothefelthadbeenplaced

inthewayofpotentialsupport,thanhisownembarrassment.“AtleastyourmanVanAndahadpassionforthesciencesandakindpentowardsmywork,while

youlickthebootsofplutocratswhomakesuremytruthsnevertrulygetreported,”Teslarebukedthenewspapermagnetandeditor.

AtthatmomentawaitressarrivedatthetableandaddressedTesla.“CanIserveyousir,orareyouwiththesegentlemen?”Teslaturnedlettinghisbadtemperlandontheunsuspectingemployee.“Yes,youcan–gohomeandfeedyourbrats.”Thereplyhitherhard.Shestruggledvisiblytoholdbacktearsretreatingswiftly.Theyall felt it.

Teslaremainedoblivioustoit,includinghismanner.“Thisplaceisinfestedwithvulturesandcockroaches.Twohavejusttriedstealingmylatestpatent

overdinnerandyoupresshoundssupporttheircriminality.Toto,visitme.I’moff.”Teslastormedtowardstheexit.Theresearcherturnedtowardshisfellowdinersbeginninganapology.“NoneedCaptain.Thefellowhasareputationtouphold.Remember,we’repressandthatcomes

dressedautomaticallywithahardnose!”OchslaughedheartilyandTotoresponded,excusinghimselfatthesametime.

Gravesturnedtohisboss.“Doyousupposewe’veapoodleintheCaptain?”OnthestreetoutsideTotocaughtupwithTesla,bynowgettingagoodsoakingastherainpoured

down.Theresearcheropenedhisumbrellashieldingtheinventorfromthedownpour.“Whywereyousobadtemperedbackthere,I’veneverseenyousofurious.”“They’re all sluts to thewhores of banking andwealth.None of themhave an idea how energy

works,howtheveryfabricoftheuniversepoursthrougheachcreviceoftimeandspace,”theinventorspluttered,deeplyhurt.

“YouneedtheseguysonyoursideNikola,youneedtheAmericanpeopletoknowyourtrueworth.Whygooutofyourwaytoaggravatethem?”

“Onmyside?”Teslashotback.“ Just likethosetwotryingtoripoffmypatentsoveratroutandvegetables?”

“I’dnoidea.HowwasItoknow?”

“There’smuchyoudon’tknow,dearfriend.Thatwillbeyourdownfall.Theratsinfestingthisshiphavetoomuchinvestedinittojump.”

Teslafelthimselfshrinkundertheendlessbatteringhehadendured.Tototargetedreassurance.“There’smoneyhere.Investmentcapital,wecanfindittogether,”hepleaded.Teslalookedathim,athisincessanthopeandforcedanhonestsmile.“Yourfatherwasagoodman,kind,asyouare.Heconnectedmewithgoodsupport.Whenwethree

metthoseyearsagothingsweredifferent.Todaygreed,selfishinterestandtherapeofEarth’snaturalresourceshavechangedallthat.”

“Showthemanotherwaywithyour...”“Whatuseareeyestoblindmindsandoilbaronswithnodesiretocomprehendfreeenergy?”“Carnegie,Rockefeller,Morgan,Vanderbilt,Warburg.Theycrowaboutphilanthropy,”Totourged.“Philanthropyforthemisselfserving.Theinventorismerelyanothercowtobemilked.Tospend

useless hours bemoaning these truths only divertsme from the absolute necessity to harness all Ichannel. Imustpass this to thosecomingafter.Whywasteprecious timewithbackbitingbankers,backersandvestedinterests.They’llneverknowthethrillcoursingthroughthehumanheartastheinventor’s creation rises from theether, unfolding formand life. Suchemotionsmakeaman forgetfood, sleep, friends, love, everything. That’s why I leave funding up to George Scherff and RobertJohnson.”

“IrememberJohnsonbutGeorge,I’venotmet.”Thetwoofthemhadarrivedatajunction.Theumbrellahavingdoneitsjobandtherainstopped,

Totoclosedit.Hardlyasoulwasvisibleonthesidewalk.TeslaturnedtoToto.“Then come round to my laboratory and be introduced. It’s just around the corner from the

library.”“Iwilldo,”hereassuredtheinventor.“Onemorething,”theoldmancutin.“Gold’snotindollarsorbars,it’snotinthegloryofpower,

these thingsmere selfish acquisitions ofmen seeing riches for themselves, blind to the needs anddispossession of their fellowman. They’re the curse on humanity, leeches of all that’s wonderful,gloriousandmagnificentaboutthehumaninthesearchforself.”

Toto pondered his friend’s words as Tesla parted and crossed the street. Stopping suddenlymidway,heturnedandshoutedbacktoToto.

“Remember,progresscanonlystartinthemind,notthelaboratory.”ApassingcarriagecuthimfromviewasTotowasleftscratchinghishead.LookingbacktofindTesla,hewasconfrontedbyanemptystreet.Heshruggedandmadeforhome. CHAPTER FOUR

AcommotioninthestreetbelowawokeTotofromadeepsleep.CollectinghispapershewasbackattheLibraryminutesbeforeitsdoorsopened.

AsgoodashiswordToto’snewfriendGeorgeEvanshadallowedthepapersleftstrewnoverthetableonthefarcorneroftheMainReadingRoom,tobeundisturbed.

He settleddown topaw throughnotes and copious references.Despite everynoteandpencileddiagrammatic,heknewpreciselywheretostart.

WiththehelpofoneofthestaffhebeganlookingthroughfilesonSouthernfamiliesheknewweredirectdescendantsofWilliamandEliza,hismotherandfather.HespecificallysearchedreferencestohisforebearJohnMoore.Perhapsitwassomethingtodowiththewealththismanhadaccumulated,morespecifically,thatMoore’sfatherhadaccruedthathelpedfocusToto’sresearch.

Mightsomegoodfortunetrickledownthroughtheagesandlandmeinclover?hewondered.Hewished.JohnMoore’s father had arrived in theCarolinas in 1699 andwith considerablewealth.Hehad

purchasedover3,000acresofplantation,turningittocottonandsugarcane,acropwithwhichhis

brotherhadmadeafortuneinBarbados.HavinglosthisfirstwifeMargaret,MooreremarriedRachel,whoborehimason,JohnonJuly4th,1726.

AsTotolookedatallthepapersalludingtothisyoungJohnMooreitbecameapparentthemanwashighly skilled and becomingwealthier by the day,marking himself truly to be his father’s son. Henotedwrylythedateofbirth,thefourthofJuly,merelybecauseofitsimportinthenationalpsyche.Throughshrewddeals,climbingthesocialladder,clevernegotiationsandcontacts,by1775thenowresourceful Moore had become a member of the Provisional Congress in Charleston. This allenthralled Toto. That they were of similar age, separated by centuries, made him warm to thecongressman. Out of the blue he asked the assistant whether records of wills of congressionalmembersofotherstateswereheldthereinthelibrary.

The assistant hurried off to scroll through private files, not normally available to the generalpublic.OnhisreturnheinformedTotothereweresuchrecords.

Togethertheyscouredtheretrievedfiles.Asheturnedthepage,theassistant’seyecaughtasideentryonacopyofMoore’swill.

“What’sthat?”Totoasked.“It’sareferencetotheLibraryofCongressinWashington,whichseemsabitstrange.”“Whyso?”“Becausenormallythisdetailwouldbeheldlocally.”Totowasintrigued.“Especiallyinlightofbeingthewillofanordinary,thoughrich,citizenoftheSouth.Whydoyou

thinkthey’dannotatethewillasit’sstrangeacopyofhiswillwouldbehereintheNorth,eventhoughhewasamemberoftheCarolinaCongress?”

“PreciselybecausehewasaCongressionalmember, sir, as I said,” theclerk repliedcourteously.The young clerk, assiduously polite and asmodestly dressed as hismeagerwages ensured, took awell-usedkerchieffromhisjacketpocketandwipedhisbrow.Thewoolenbrownjacket,wornelbowsandscuffedcollar,hadtheairofahand-me-downfromafamilymembernolongerinneed.Consciousofitsprovenanceandwiththeawkwardnessofsomeonedressingmorefromnecessitythaneffect,heansweredToto.

“I’mnot experienced in these thingsbut a similar anomaly a fewmonthsback turnedout tobegovernmental,filedundermattersofstateintheLibrary.”

“That’sdefinitelycaughtmy interest.PerhapsbeingamemberofCongress,state-wise,meanthewastiedtonationalgovernmentaffairs.”

“That would be strange even if it was the case as it was rare even then.We’re looking at thegentleman’slastwillandtestament,whichismorecurious.WhywoulddocumentationassociatedtothisMisterMoorebeannotatedtohiswillandfoundalsoinNationalarchives?”

“Perhaps...”Totobegan.Theassistantbrokeinandrepeated.“Perhapsifithadmonetaryimplicationsattachedtoitpertaininganationalissue.”“Of course, you’re on themoney there,” Toto answered. “It’dmean therewas an interest to his

survivingrelativeshewantedtakenintoconsideration,perhaps.”Totobegan togetexcited.Could thisbe themissingpiecehehad feltwasnotpresent thenight

before?Wasthisperhapspartofalegacymoneytrailtohiddenriches?Hehadanidea.“Is it possible seeing if this annotation helps us further?” he asked the assistant, pointing to a

numberedreference.Theothermused.“Itmaygiveusaclue.LetmecheckwithMisterEvans.”Yes,thoughtToto,GeorgeEvanshisnewfriendwassuretoknow.Beforetoolongtheyoungassistantcamescurryingbackinassilentamannerastonotbreakthe

library’ssacredsilencecode.Totochuckledtohimselfashesawthelibrarianasexcitedashewasindiscovering theoutcome.Breathless, fromrestraint, he leanedoverToto todeliver theverdict in aconspiratorialwhisper.

“ItseemstheannotationrefersquitecorrectlytostatematterswhosereferencedenotesitbeingrecordedintheLibraryofCongress.Itdoesalsomean,duetothealphanumericstring,theperiodinquestionwouldhavebeen1778or1779andfiledunderloans.”

“Fascinating,”Totorespondedashestruggledtocontainhisrisingheartbeat.Morethanfascinatingbutkeepcool,hetoldhimself.“Thebadnewsis,”thelibrarianadded.Totofocusedentirelyonthenextwordshewastoutter.“Thebadnewsisyou’regoingtohavetogotoWashingtontoseethedetailedentriesthere.”Ifthatwasthebadnewsthenrollonthegoodnews,hethought.“I’llgostraightaway,”heinformedtheassistantandwithoutfurtheradoandaluckybreakatPenn

Stationhewasonhiswaytothecapitalbeforelunch.TheLibraryofCongresshadalwaysbeenamagnificentpieceofarchitectureforhimandTotowas

nostrangertoitshallowedhallsandcontents.Anothervisitthereheconsideredapleasuremorethanaburdenofduty.Thefactitcouldholdfamilysecretsuptonowunderwraps,wasallthemorereasonforhightailingitovertoWashington.

Armedwiththereferences,hewasescortedtothebasementandencounteredaisleuponaisleofstoredarchives.Hestoodwaitingforthestewardtoretrievetwolargeledgersthatarrivedandweredulyopened.

Impatient, he watched as each page was folded back until the relevant page was reached. Itrevealed statutes on a War Loans ledger issued and entered on the order of General GeorgeWashingtononbehalfoftheContinentalIndependentArmy.Theassistantreaditaloud:Aloanintheamountsofcashandotherloans,totheamountoffourteenthousandpoundsingolddepositedonthedaysofFebruaryseventeenth,Marchthird,JulytwentyfirstandSeptembereleventhintheyearseventeenhundredandseventyeightbyJohnMooreIIofMoorelandsandSt.ThomasParishintheStateofSouthCarolina.SubsequentlyissuedthroughindentssaidloanshereinspecifiedarebyorderofCongress,tobeconsideredwarloansandrepaidwithinterestuntilsosettled,atsixpercentperannum...

Somenotes pertaining toRevolutionary claimswere also foundbut Toto knewhe hadwhat hecamefor.

Hecalculatedthat–one,therewasdecentmoneyowedtheMoorefamily;two,hefelthisfortuneschangingbeforehisveryeyesandthirdly, itwasincumbentonhimtotrackdownandrealizethese‘MooreMillions’awaitinghimfromhisphilanthropicforebear.

His whole life had been worth every cent of failure, dead end, calamity, pitfall and disastrousrelationshiphehadjourneyed.ThebitterpillofdivorcefromIsabella,hisItalianwife,whobirthedhisestrangedsonAdrian,sweetened.

Hismindracedahead,calculatingwithutterlyinsufficientinformation,theeffectofsuchawindfall.Tohiscredithecheckedhismentalengineandturnedtothelibraryclerk.

“ThisentryimpliesaconsiderableamounttobeduetowhoevermadeclaimonthisIOU,woulditnot?”

“I’mbadlyqualifiedtoascertainthat.Howevernotesheredoalludetotherebeingreferenceofthisin both theHouse of Representatives Library and in theHouseManuscripts Library in the Capitolitself.Tomyknowledgeitmeansaqualifiedauthenticitytothisclaimhasbeenlodged.”

“Inyouropinion,forsomeonetoproceedfurtherwoulditbebesttoapproachCongressitself?”“Yes sir, that’s an appropriate step to initiate, however the originals are lodged in Charleston,

thereforebestgetholdofthosefromtheLoanDivisionoftheStateofSouthCarolina.ThissealcopiedheredatesthemasNovember15,1829.”

HavinginstructedcopiesbesenttohimattheAlphaDeltaClubinNewYork,TotoknewCharlestontobe thenextstop.Totobecameamanonamission.Thatmissionhesawasresolving, inasshortorderaspossible,anypooreconomicstatehepresentlywasforcedtocultivate.

HemadehiswaybacktothemetropolisdeterminedtopayhisnephewWillyalongoverduevisit.WilhelmvonMeister,eldersonofToto’ssisterLeila,wassoontobecomeanimportantcog ina

wheeloffortuneTotosawturningtohisadvantage.

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Cover photo illustration - JTSdesign

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