Chapter 31

Over the next few days, I was on the verge of confusion. I had seven men I needed to discuss things with: Cap, Linc, PR, Sensei Lee, Wild Mustang, and Clearwater – and of course T-man Sussex. And let’s not forget the women: Margu, Marylou, and there was Ms. Moonflower at the bank. Oh, and there was the Hopi.

[Lexi?]

Right, there was Red too, and the Great Spirit, who didn’t ever want to discuss anything with me. He just watched.

Yes, Red.

[I’ve reconsidered my approach to the Great Spirit. Since there is proof that it/he/she exists, I accept that. I will consider the Great Spirit a ‘he,’ since that is the way you think of him. I am glad to note that he is on our side. I would hate to think that in sixteen centuries, humanity dies out and he doesn’t care.]

Was there something else?

[Yes, I thought I’d give you an update on the financial situation. Your brokerage account is at Charles Schwab. That firm survives into the 2050s as a deep discount broker. I didn’t look further, as everything will change – we hope. You have done quite well with your speculations, as modified by our ‘Robber Baron’ style of trading. Your three hundred thousand dollars has turned into over a million. That is publicly declared money, taxable, of course. Don’t tell anybody, of course, but you are a millionaire. That’s quite a lot, in 1977 dollars.]

[And our undercover accounts are well over three hundred million dollars. They are spread out over several countries. It is easier to multiply the undercover accounts than the public account. Nobody is watching them.]

Fantastic, Red. Is that enough money to accomplish what we want to do?

[I think not. By the end, in 2000, you’ll need to have several billion in declared money, at least.]

A billion is a thousand million, right? How are we going to do that? From what you’ve downloaded for me, all this trading is short-term. That means it gets taxed like regular income.

[Yes, but fortunately you have an abiological investment advisor. You just need to buy into things that will never come down. Buy Apple, Google, Amazon when they come out. And buy a bunch of Spirit of the Hunter. Microsoft, too, but that’s a trickier call. With the change that’s coming to the internet, MS may have a different future than you lived through. Intel will certainly have a different future.]

Okay. But for now, I have a bunch of things to follow up on. Good thing you can keep track of all that.

I needed to prioritize. What was first? The Spirit of the Hunter, certainly. But that was split into too many things to have it be the first. I finally decided: it was me. If I went off the rails, too many bad things could/would happen. So, what was first on my priority list?

Rock. I called Painted Rock. In addition to spending Saturdays watching him train, and Monday and Thursday afternoons with him, watching me train, there was the non-TKD time. So far that was almost nothing. “Hey, Rock. Whatcha doin’?” I asked when he came to the phone.

“Not much. Classes are pretty much done for the semester. I thought I’d go riding tomorrow.”

“On a horse? That kind of riding?”

He laughed. “Yeah. Giddyup and all that.”

“Wanna teach me how to ride?”

“Your butt is going to be sore. And I’m not rubbing anything into it, either.”

We picked a time. Okay this time it WAS a date.

...

I called Linc. “Want to go and see the installation you’re going to run security for?”

He agreed, of course. When he picked me up at Wild Mustang’s, the old man was sitting on his rocker, chewing on a cheroot.

“Ugh...” he said, laying a restraining hand on my arm when I went to get up. “Who is this man?”

“He’s a security guy. For the Spirit of the Hunter company ... and for me.”

“I would meet him.” It didn’t sound like ‘someday in the future.’ Wild Mustang meant ‘now.’ So I waved Linc over.

The old man in the rocker, looked him up and down. “Ugh ... What tribe?”

“My latest tribe is the US Marines.” He smiled easily and sat down on a free rocking chair. “Before that I was, and still am, Apache.”

“Good combination. Fierce fighters. I useta know your chief, many moons ago. He is dead now.”

“The new chief is Frank Washington. He’s a good man.” He squinted at Wild Mustang. “Younger than you by half. He has new ideas.”

The Medicine Man just said “Ugh ... Everybody is younger than me. You go back to your tribe after the foolishness with Marines is done?”

“Only to see my aunt.” He pronounced it ‘ahhnt.’ “I’ve been a Marine too long to look back at the old ways.”

“Ugh...” There was a pause while he whipped out a Zippo to relight his cheroot. “White Owl will face some dangers.” He pointed the cigar at Linc. “You take care to solve them for her, yes?”

“Yes. And I’m going to hire some people to help me.”

There was a long pause in the conversation. Mustang puffed on his cheroot and finally, spoke. “You plan to stay here all day?”

Linc laughed. “No ... Thank you for this talk.”

“Ugh...”

So we clambered aboard his formerly white, but now dust-covered Jeep. Wild Mustang was gesturing and talking. I couldn’t hear him, so I got out of the ve-hickle (that IS the correct Marine pronunciation, right?) and went over.