Chapter 29: Two Quick Trips

I was back in my stateroom on the Cécile before noon (Central Time), so I had lunch with everyone while I told them of my visit with Cynthiana.

“ ... and so Cynthiana is preparing a statement for me to share with the press stating that I was finishing out on hole number seven when everything happened and my security people immediately whisked me away to our car and we then flew back to Zurich. I did not see what happened, and I did not finish due to security concerns, which we passed off to the White House for further comment,” I told them.

“But what about the FBI?” somebody asked.

“I’ll still have to deal with them sometime soon, but Cynthiana has an idea and told me to sit tight and continue on to Galveston. She also said my new signage would be there by Sunday, when we arrive.”

The conversation continued around the table, but it was strained as everyone consciously avoided talking about my disappearance and reappearance using the powers that the pink planet had given me.

Finally, Rachel and I adjourned to the aft cockpit to enjoy the sunshine.

“I talked to my folks this morning. They said we would have to rent a car in Lubbock when we get there. Their old truck finally gave up the ghost and they have no way to come get us. Will that be a problem?” she asked.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it when I find out if Cynthiana is sending the small jet,” I told her.

“The small jet? I’ll say this ... Life is always an adventure when I’m with you!” Rachel said breathlessly.

“Alex?” Kelly Ann said softly as she shook my shoulder. Rachel and I had fallen asleep out on the cockpit. We had not slept much last night. Fortunately, we had fallen asleep in the shade. “Cynthiana called and wants you to come back.”

“Okay. What time is it,” I asked. I hoped it was close to dinner because I was hungry.

“It’s almost one o’clock,” Kelly Ann replied.

Rachel was still in my arms, and just beginning to wake up when I thought about the entry foyer in Zurich. The next thing I knew, we were both laying naked on a cold tile floor and the intrusion alarm was blaring.

“What ... what happened? Where are we?” Rachel asked, panicking.

“Welcome to Switzerland!” Isabella said cheerfully as she smiled at us sprawled out, naked, on the entryway floor.

“OHMYGOD!” Rachel screamed and then her eyes rolled back in her head as she passed out.

“Oh good! You’re awake,” I said as I watched Rachel eyes begin to flutter. I had brought her up to my room just fifteen minutes ago and wasn’t sure how long she’d be out.

“I had the strangest dream...” she started as she propped herself up on her elbows and looked around my Zurich bedroom. Then she just stared at me with her wide open eyes.

“How...?” she stammered.

“I have no Idea. We had fallen asleep on the stern cockpit when Kelly Ann woke me to tell me that Cynthiana wanted me. I immediately thought about transferring here at the same time I looked down at you still asleep in my arms and suddenly, we were both here,” I explained. “And we need to get dressed for dinner.”

“I don’t have anything to wear!” she responded as she immediately forgot that we had just done something that neither of us knew we could do.

“Sofía left you a couple of things to choose from in the dressing room,” I said as I pointed to the doorway into my dressing room/bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later she walked out in short dress that, at least to my eye, looked absolutely stunning on her. I made a quick U-turn to the closet to pick up a sport coat, and then taking her arm, led her downstairs to the big dining room.

As it turns out, we had guests for dinner. There were five couples present and they were all older than us and they all worked for the Foundation in some capacity.

I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. I had thought we’d spend some time talking to Cynthiana and then get back to the yacht. But when she saw the expression on my face, she quickly pulled me to the side and politely reminded me that these folks would one day work for me and I would discover that I really needed them to help run the Foundation.

So I tried to put my impatience to the side and focus on our guests. As Rachel and I made our way around the room after dinner, I became more and more surprised at the way they treated me. Most of them seemed thrilled to meet me and were both warm and friendly to Rachel. They went out of the way to openly share with us about themselves and what they did with the Foundation.

I couldn’t help it as I warmed up to them. I found myself becoming fascinated with who they were and what they did.

One guy was a facilitator. His job was to make just about anything easier. I would have called him an efficiency expert. Some of his stories of the inefficiencies he had encountered just blew me away. Like the one where he took all the brand new automated machines out of our factory in Indonesia and returned the workers to producing their cloth goods by hand. Of course he also opened boutiques in Paris and Milan where they sold the finished cloth for seventeen times what they used to get for it. And passed a part the profits back to the women at the factory. He said the ladies in the factory loved it and had already hired many more workers.

I also met one of the statisticians. He would hardly say a word, but when he did open his mouth, you had no doubt that he was a genius. But it was his wife who was the surprise.

She loved to laugh. You know, one of those contagious laughs that made you want to laugh along with her, even if you didn’t know what she was laughing about. She also loved to talk. I discovered that she was the corporate genealogist. She explained how that since the Foundation’s existence was to protect and serve the descendants of the founding brothers, her department had over forty genealogists, all studying and tracking thousands of descendants.

When Rachel mentioned that someone had said her mother might be descended from one of the early Board of Directors, she immediately pulled out her smart phone and began taking Rachel’s family information, promising to look into it as soon as she could.

Herr Schröder, whom I had met the first time I came here, was there. He introduced me to the Foundation’s head bean counter. It didn’t take long for their conversation to eclipse me, both in knowledge and scope. I came away with the realization that the Foundation’s holdings were indeed vast and that those holdings were overseen with the most scrupulous of care.

It was Isabella who rescued me from the financiers as Rachel was still talking with the genealogist. She took my arm and led me over to a very tall, elegant, lady and her rather short but equally elegant husband.

“Dr. and Mrs. Bloomberg, this is Cynthiana’s protégée, Alex Masters. Alex, this is Dr. David Bloomberg and his wife Helena. Dr. Bloomberg is the Chief of Neurology at Rockefeller Medical Center in New York as well as a professor at Columbia University. Mrs. Bloomberg is the Foundation’s Chief North American Litigator and a Senior Partner at Ableman, Bloomberg, and Schwartz in New York.”

“I was under the impression that I was flying to Houston to meet with you this weekend,” Mrs. Bloomberg started. “Was I mistaken?”

“Pardon me,” said Isabella, “But I believe that when Cynthiana had me make those arrangements, she was not aware that Alex would be here this evening. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll check with her now.”