Chapter 14
I was practicing the martial arts. To be more specific, I was going through sword exercises with my Kendo instructor. Besides sword, I was also learning the staff or Bo. To me, Bo training was the more useful, as I did not really see any need for sword work to tell you the truth. We finally ground to a halt. I was sweating but I felt good. I had really been stretched to the limit, and a bit beyond, with this instructor.
He then critiqued me, and he really laid into my failings!
"Tom, you are not practicing your speed. You do not flow with the moves as you should. While you seem to have the talent and ability, you are not pressing yourself to do your best.
"I had hoped to advance you to your next rank, soon, but you have not shown any improvements in the necessary speed or discipline. You have a good grasp of the basics, and learn each Kata as I teach it, but you no longer seem to have the drive you once did," Master Sune told me.
He went on telling me that I had the natural ability to be very good, but I was wasting his and my time, right now. He suggested I take some time off, and think about what I wanted to do.
I sighed as I put my sword in my case. I picked up my staff, or BO, and carried them both out to my new truck. Yes, I had broken down and replaced my Volkswagen. I donated the fastback to the Salvation Army.
My instructor was correct. I did not devote as much time to practicing as I used to. Instead, I was spending more and more time going into the past, and watching scenes from the past.
I had gone back to the early part of the 1900's recently, and bought stock in several companies. Stocks were cheap back then, and I still had gold. I bought into AT&T, and IBM when it was just starting out, as well as a few other stocks in other companies that I had researched. I 'aged' the stock certificates the same way I had 'found' the coins. Worked like a charm.
The result was I was now much richer than I had been, just a few weeks ago! While I tried to keep a low profile, several organizations knew, and were gleefully holding out there hands for 'their share' of my windfall. Damned "Infernal Revenue Stealers", anyway! Infernal. I liked that. Seemed devilish. Just the way the governments, all of them, want your money.
I went from having the few paltry million I had managed to make off my coins, to having well over sixty million in the bank! Well, on paper anyway. It is amazing how much money you can make in a hundred years, if you don't touch it, and if it had been invested correctly!
I was tempted to move to a state that did not have a state income tax. I could keep the farm, but live somewhere else. No, I was attached to this place. I could not see selling it or living somewhere else. This was the family homestead, and if I married, I would bring my wife here. At least, I thought I would.
I was still getting used to being a very wealthy man. Somehow, groups of people found out, and my phone had been constantly rung with requests for donations. I had it changed to an unlisted number.
Then I also received a ton of mail, asking for donations, and requests from people who wanted money for personal purposes. I even got several threats. It seemed my time was taken up with sorting through mail just to get to someone or something I knew! I talked to the postmaster, but he told they were 'required by law' to deliver everything, even the junk mail.
As much as I hated too, I had to leave my home. People were showing up at all hours, wanting to hit me up for money. How the hell did they find out? Did the government sell this information? Oh, I knew they didn't. There were people who watched movements of stock, and stock purchases were a matter of public record. So that was one way. I was now holder on record for certain stocks.
My 'inheritance' had made news in several circles. So that was another way. Not even a day after the news was out, I was being bombarded with calls for money. So I did the only thing I could. I asked mister Hoffly to watch over the place, again, and I left.
Ok, I admit it, I was driven out of my own home!
So that is how I wound up moving to a gated community outside of Boston. I paid a surprising amount of money for a house which I knew was nowhere near worth what I had paid for it. Prestige is what I figured I was paying for... and privacy, and security.
There was an additional monthly fee for security guards, trash, snow removal, landscape upkeep, and other odds and ends. Altogether that totaled another twelve hundred a month, but they figured you could afford it, if you bought into this place. I shrugged, and wrote them a check for a year, and asked to be notified when it was time to pay again.
The house I bought was set on five acres in the back section of the community. That was another reason I had paid so much: access to the lake. That I was close to the man-made lake this community had built, the amount of land that went with the house, and its relative privacy (it was set in and among a nice stand of trees); all these contributed to the final price of the place.
I sent my half sister my new address, and telephone number. Now that I had family, of sorts, I was not going to loose contact with her! Ok... I was needy and grasping, but I had lost both parents at a relatively young age.
Debra had been thrilled for my good fortune. I asked her if she would like some of my good fortune, and she refused. I was surprised, but also gratified. It meant she liked me for me, and not my money. At least, I hoped she liked me. I decided I was going to get her to accept some money anyway, somehow.
When I had moved into this place, it was mid summer. I hired a decorator to come in and furnish and make it homey for a single man. I also went into Boston proper and rented a small office and started a philanthropic foundation. I was going to help out when and where I could. Do you have any idea how fast money makes money?
I hired a small staff: a manager, a disbursement officer, and a couple research people. I got computers installed, and set up a budget. I made sure that the manager and disbursement officer cosigned on checks. Anything over a certain amount, had to get my signature, also.
I settled down in my new occupation for a while, but that wanderlust soon had its grip on me, again. I was twitching to get into the past. I still practiced watching the past, and I was getting better at storing power.
It was no effort for me to go a hundred years into the past, and use my stored power to return. However, I could not seem to store enough power to go over one hundred years. There seemed to be some sort of limiting factor operating. One hundred years seemed to be my max.
I finally said to hell with it, and booked a flight to England. I was also going to visit a few other countries while there, but I wanted to see if I couldn't go back in time, and get an autograph. I had been a fan of Sherlock Holmes as a kid, and who better to get an autograph from, than Sir Arthur Conan Doyle?
From my vantage point of the 20th century, I knew his habits and hangouts. I was going to dress appropriately, and seemingly stumble across him, and get his autograph! He was doing the serial thing in the newspaper at the time, so I bought a copy of the latest paper with his story in it, and ran into him. He signed my copy of the paper, mission accomplished!
What startled me, was that I heard from Lord Avery-Smythe when I checked into my hotel. We exchanged pleasantries, and I assured him I had not come bearing gifts, just taking in sites on a two or three country jaunt. He also congratulated me on my good fortune of inheriting as I had.
I was surprised. This guy was really keeping tabs on me! I thanked him and we talked a few more minutes. Just before he hung up, he invited me to his country house when I came back through. I was startled but pleased. I thanked him for the offer.
I then flew to Italy. I saw several of the famous sites and did a little 'time watching'. It was a fascinating look. While history books said one thing, I could see actual differences or out and out misrepresentations. Of course, this was not the first time I had noticed a discrepancy between what was said or was taught to be history, and what actually happened.
I then flew on to Germany, and looked over a few sites of historical significance. I was still not able to go back as far as I wanted, but was slowly pushing the range of my ability further and further. I was now able to bodily go back to the late 1500's. I could see further than that though. That was another thing I did not understand. Why could I see further back than I could go?
I flew back to England, rested a day, and got on yet another tour bus. This one was a bit different, as it was more directed at sites of past concerts from groups. Rock stars of the past. Yup, I saw where the Beetles supposedly started out. Saw several places... Then I got a wild hair up my ass, and left the tour at a specific hall.
Tears welled in my eyes as I looked at posters of past performers, and I decided to 'back time' and see a concert, in memory of my father who was a fan of this group. I remember as a child listening to them singing and I knew their songs by heart... well, a lot of them anyway. I went into a toilet and 'back timed' to the concert date. I startled a guy as I left and went to find a seat! It was a great concert, and I wished with all my heart that dad could have been here to hear his favorite group, ABBA.
After the concert, I went back to my own time. I left the building and caught a cab to my hotel. I decided I was going to 'back time' and see if I couldn't get the autograph of J. R.R. Tolkien, too.
I got back to my room and something seemed a little off. I stopped and looked carefully. My briefcase was slightly out of position. Damn! Room service had already been by, and I had left it a specific way. I had nothing incriminating in it, or in the room for that matter. Still, someone had been in my room, and apparently had gone through what I had with me, here.
I 'back timed', and saw them. Two men inside searching carefully through my personal effects. They photographed anything and everything. They photographed my copy of the old paper with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's autograph.
After they were done, I followed them out of my room, and out of the hotel. I watched them get into a nondescript car, and pull away. I caught a cab, and told him I would be telling him where to go as we went.
We arrived at a building. I had no idea of what it was. I asked the cab driver if he knew what this place was. He said he didn't know, just that it had something to do with the government.
I gave him a 20-pound note, and asked him to stay, saying that I would be right out. I went in, and saw a directory. I caught site of the directory and read it. I nodded to myself, and went back to the cab.
"Take me to the House Of Lords," I told him. "Do you know where it is?" I asked.
He said 'yes', and we were on our way. It took about twenty minutes from where we were. I paid him, got out, and went in the front door. I went straight to the reception desk.
"May I help you?" A young lady with a no nonsense voice asked.
"Yes, could you direct me to Lord John Avery-Smythe's office?" I asked.
"Is he expecting you?" She asked with
"Oh, he might be. He invited me to his home in the country for a stay, but I wanted to touch bases with him. Why don't you check with his personal secretary. Nice man, if a bit abrupt," I said.
She got on the phone and I waited.
She looked at me with a new respect when she hung up. She gave me directions on how to find the lord's office. I thanked her, took my visitors pass from her, and went off as directed.
I was received by the lord's secretary. We shook hands and while I was welcomed, he said that the lord was busy, currently. I said that was ok. I would tell him what I was going to tell his lordship, and he could relay the message.
I then told him that I had contracted with a security company prior to coming to England, and I had them keeping an eye out for me. I was now wealthy and had to keep myself safe. I told him I was surprised to be informed that two people from MI-6 had broken into my room, and searched it. I told him that they had photographed the contents of my suitcase, and my briefcase.
They were lousy agents, I said, since they missed the camera my security company had placed inside the room. I told him I was disgusted with both Frick and Fracks behavior. I was also perturbed that the agents in question were followed to a local office of the MI-6.
I said that I resented being spied upon, and if his lordship really wanted a pissing contest, he would get one. I wished him a good day, left the office, and made my way back to reception.
I handed the pass to the young lady, who asked me if I would wait, as someone wanted to speak with me.
I told her 'no'. I said I had to make arrangements to fly back home. I left the building with her yelling, "Sir? Sir, please...".
Edited By TeNderLoin