Read Online The Aisha Prophecy by John R. Maxim - Free Book Online Page B

major player in oil. His control of Trans-Global was absolute. Infamous even by the standards of that industry, Leland thought him to be a man without conscience and had already said as much to his face. Far from being offended, Haskell seemed pleased to hear that he was known to stand out from the pack.
    Leland, being curious as to Charles Haskell’s motives, and more so about the Bohemians at large, accepted, although not without misgivings. He’d cleared his schedule, but only through Wednesday, not for the full two-week session.
    Haskell had told him that the media mogul would be one of their “bunk-mates” as he’d put it. “Can’t hurt,” he’d said, “to have this guy as a friend. You sure as hell don’t want to be on his shit list.” The British banker would also be a part of their circle. His bank had branches throughout the Mideast and it had funded Trans-Global’s rise to prominence. “The guy is a walking ATM,” said Haskell. “Except, trust me, he spits out more than twenties.”
    The Saudi prince was there as the guest of the banker. “He’s a dimwit,” said Haskell, “but that’s okay; he’s our dimwit. Or he will be by the time this session’s over.”
    “And me?”
    “And you, what?”
    “Am I to be… yours?”
    “Howard, we’re Bohemians. One for all. All for one. Relax. There’s no way for you to lose by having come here.”
    The media mogul said, “I’ll take one of those beers. The letting down of hair begins now.” He opened their cooler and passed cans of Heineken to Leland, to the banker and to Haskell. Leland saw that none had been offered to the Saudi. He thought he understood why. An observant Muslim. But not even an iced tea or a cola?
    Haskell read Leland’s mind; he said, “We’re not being rude. We just don’t indulge his pretence of abstinence. The Prince’s drink of choice is bourbon, straight up. He’ll catch up in private, never fear.”
    The Saudi had to have heard this, but he barely reacted. He let out a sigh and kept rocking.
    The mogul said to the banker, “Here we are, away at camp, and we’re sitting round a fire. Shouldn’t someone be telling ghost stories?”
    “No ghosts here,” said the banker. “Can’t get in unless invited. But we could summon Satan if you like.”
    The mogul smiled. He said to Leland, “I assume you’ve heard the rumors. Devil-worship and such. I never cease to be amazed at what people think goes on here. The damnedest thing is that some of these stories have appeared in my own publications.”
    “Then they must be true,” said the banker with a nod. “We all know how unbiased your editors are.”
    “I’d have a talk with a few of them were it not for the rules. I’m forbidden to correct them. I can’t tell them a thing.”
    The banker said, “More’s the pity. I think people should know. Not all of it, of course. Not all that we do. But it might be a comfort to them to know that their world is in capable hands.”
    Leland thought to himself, Here we go again.
    Haskell said, “What he means, although he’s too polite to say it, is that unlike the mass of our elected civil servants, we don’t have our heads up our asses.”
    “I liked the polite version better,” said Leland.
    “Oh, he didn’t mean you,” the British banker said quickly. “Nor were you elected. You were appointed on merit. You are nonetheless part of a political system that limits, even thwarts, your effectiveness. But perhaps we might help you to focus your energies where they will do the most good.”
    “For whom, sir?”
    “For the world, sir. And indeed for ourselves. Truth be told, we do run it. Or we run a great deal of it. We run it better and more profitably than it’s ever been run by anyone since…”
    “The robber barons?” asked Leland.
    “I was going to say the Romans. They brought law. They brought order. But you say ‘robber barons’ as if it were a pejorative. I think you know your own history better than