Balance of Power Shifted (5 page)

Looking at me with heartfelt concern  he said
, “Mike, I know your grandparents are the only family you have and can’t imagine how you are feeling right now, but I and the rest of the parish staff are here to help in any way you need.  Your grandparents were amazing people and really lived their faith as Christians are supposed to live it and have been fantastic supporters of St. Anne’s over the years.  Your Nana, until only a couple of years ago ran two or three committees and your grandfather supported many events though the Knights of Columbus.”  Thanks Father, I appreciate that.  Getting up, I shook Father’s hand and walked back to the parking lot to my truck.

Sunday, a
week later, I stood in the backyard of my grandparents thinking of everything that transpired over last 9 days.  The funeral home had more people than I expected.  Thankfully, Fiona had stood by my side the entire time since I had no one else.  The pictures Taylor and Kristen picked out were a great reminder of my grandparent’s life, which was good since it ended up being a closed casket affair.  The funeral and burial were emotional especially when I went to the podium during the mass and reiterated how much I had loved them and how I could not imagine two better people to raise me after the death of my parents.  There was something final and peaceful about seeing both their names on a single headstone.  There was no ‘after’ event. I knew the tank would be empty by then and did not even know who most of the people were that would be there. 

“
Mr. Carter…Mr. Carter” snuck into my hearing as I snapped out of my reverie.  I always thought it was weird when someone called me Mister and could not get used to it.  Mrs. Lucy Brown was a realtor that Julius and I decided to use to sell the house, barn and 18 acres of pristine property that included a trout stream running through the back portion.  She looked to be in her mid-thirties and was very attractive with dark shoulder length hair.  What I liked about her was her businesslike approach.  She was less a salesperson and more of a consultant, which was exactly what I needed.

I think I have all the information I need to market the place Lucy said. 
“What are doing with the contents of the house and property?” she asked.  “Lucy” I replied, “Julius and I had worked out that the contents of the house will be sold at an estate sale handled by a professional appraisal and auction firm and the proceeds donated equally between my grandmother’s three favorite charities.”  Looking at me with surprise, she said that is extremely generous of you; there must be $300,000 to $400,000 dollars alone in antiques and paintings.  “I know,” I said, “but I felt that that this was the best way to honor my grandparents.  I will be renting a large storage unit close by and will be back in a month just prior to the auction to collect family items and a few special mementos not to be included in the sale.”  Mr. Carter, please let me know if you need assistance in any way.  Our office can help in many ways and we will be managing the property until purchased.  At closing, all outstanding charges are settled including, taxes, lawn maintenance and utility bills. 

Ms. Brown continued by saying, “
I understand that you have engaged realty firm on Long Beach Island to manage your home in Loveladies.  I have heard good things about them and if you ever want to sell that lovely property please consider listing with us.”  Thanks Lucy, I sure will consider you if it comes to that, but I love that property going back to when I was just a little kid and cannot ever see getting rid of it.  Shaking her hand I thanked he again, and walked back to the front of the house and climbed up into the Ram pickup, which I had decided to keep.

I drove over to Taylor’s home pulled into his long winding driveway which brought me to a beautiful
three story Georgian style home with immense field stone chimneys and a beautiful porch.  Taylor was outside waiting for me, and directed me to park my truck alongside the garage.  My parents said you could park it there as long as you need.  Getting out of the truck, I grabbed my bag, and said, “Appreciate you driving me to the airport.”  I followed Taylor over to the third bay door of the garage where his beamer stood.  I threw my bag in the open trunk and got into the passenger seat of Taylor’s rocket.  One thing about Taylor, he defined the term ‘need for speed’ and driving with him was always an adventure.  I could never figure out why he never got any speeding tickets since he always seemed to be doing 20-25 miles over the speed limit on the highways.  Even though my stomach ended up in my throat when driving with him more often than I want to admit saying it, he was a gifted driver with spectacular reflexes.

I caught
my flight to Hartsfield airport with no problem.  Sitting in coach for the 2-hour flight, I focused on school.  Having missed a week should not hurt me all that much, however I was working on a team project that would be the main portion of my final grade for my
Computer Forensics Handling
class and I would have to kiss ass on my team mates and work twice as hard over the final of weeks of school.  My team mates where all great and we texted back and forth over the last week and I so appreciated their support.  If I avoided a meltdown, I will be graduating from Georgia Tech in late May after completing a 5-year Master’s program in Computer Science and Cyber Security with close to a 4.0 grade point average. 

Just a
month ago, I had expected to share this achievement with my grandparents however, it now looks like I will just have to pat myself on my own back.  Receiving four legitimate job offers before even graduating was a real ego boost and prior to the events of last week, I focused on a mid-Atlantic based cyber security firm specializing in forensic investigations for both the commercial and government sector.  With the change in my personal situation, I was thinking about a job with more change involved.  This led me down the path of a San Diego based startup firm that is specializing in helping commercial companies’ combat industrial espionage as well as government-sponsored actors.  I pondered this as the plane was taxiing to the gate and became more determined that this would be the best decision before unbuckling my seat.

L
ife could be pretty good at times, I thought to myself, as I raced my black 2012 Chevrolet Camaro down to the Coronado Naval base cruising over the bay on Route 75 on a stunning Saturday morning. I was thinking quite a bit about my good friend Bill.  Bill was now the closest person to family for me since the tragic death of my grandparents two years prior.  After graduation, I came out west to San Diego and started working for Clavis Aurea Incorporated.  One reason the company caught my eye was the meaning of the company’s name, which in Latin translates to something like ‘discover hidden meaning.’  This was a creative name for a computer forensic company that deals with others using ingenious methods to circumvent computer controls, plant system back doors and Trojans and then try to obfuscate their existence.  Bill stayed with me for 2-weeks before going aboard the Darkhorse, an undersea recovery vessel.  We were sober for about 10 minutes of that time together since I took off a good chunk of my vacation time to carouse with him.  We closed a bar a night and had a steady stream of lady visitors back to my loft.  It was a great time, which I sorely needed, and I was able to catch up on what our friends had been doing over the last 2 years.  Bill garnered a reputation within our circle of friends as a gossip queen, which he gladly accepted with pride. When I offered him free rent to take his newly educated brain and move it to California after graduation, he jumped on it without hesitation.

By now
, I was pulling into the visitor’s lot at the naval base.  The place was so large that I could not see if his ship was actually at the dock.  His last text did say he should be in the visitor’s lot by noon. Putting a Dave Mathews tune on my iPhone, which played through the car system, I reclined my seat and waited.  Bill’s impending arrival made me think about back east.  I had not been back there since I wrapped up the myriad of details regarding the final will and real estate sale.  I still had the LBI house, which was regularly used by friends and their family as well as a large climate controlled storage shed, which contained most of my past life, and reminders of my parents and grandparents. 

With the trust fund from my parents
, which my grandparents established, and the inheritance from my grandparents, I was sitting on just over $26 million dollars.  I knew my grandparents were wealthy, but did not realize how well my grandfather had done in business and investments.  My parent’s trust fund for me had almost doubled in value since their death and added up to about a fifth of the total.  Except for the half million dollars I needed to purchase a 25000 square foot 2-story mixed use building at the edge of an industrial park, the money had not been touched.  Even though the market had yoyo’d numerous times my anonymous investment team had made some solid choices and the account had never lost money and steadily increased.

Che
z Rico, as I called it, was my pride and joy.  The building, just off 17
th
street in San Diego, originally had a downstairs that was set up as a machinist and fabrication shop similar to the older Orange County Chopper shop floor seen on TV.  I had purchased it at a bankruptcy sale and got all the tools and machines included with it.  A couple of small offices on the second floor cordoned off the space, but the majority was wide open.  This was an older building and much of the support beams were made of roughhewn wood with windows that were almost 2-stories high.  I made a number of initial improvements upstairs so that it would be comfortable to live in.  For the most part, the upstairs walls were red brick except where the bathrooms and sleeping areas occupied. New energy efficient windows, upgraded heat and cooling systems and new electrical panel were at the core.  The entire floor was finished with a textured porcelain tile in a rich terra cotta color.  The kitchen was open to the main room and separated by a long granite countertop with a built in sink.  A separate sink sat beneath a large palladium style window with a view of the activity on 17
th
street.  None of the other windows had an interesting view.  A Viking gas range and oven took up the next six feet ending with a massive side-by-side refrigerator and freezer.

In the farthest corner from the kitchen were
two bedrooms and two bathrooms.  The master bedroom was about 20 feet by 20 feet and sported a huge bathroom completely tiled from top to bottom with a spacious shower and no enclosure door.  A few large tropical plants accented the shower area from the rest of the room. The walls of the bedroom only extended upwards to 10 feet and not to the ceiling giving the impression of unlimited space.

It cost me about 20 grand to refurbish the old freight elevator, but the place
now had its own working elevator as well as a staircase.  The final upstairs ‘pesto resistance' was the spiral staircase I had installed to access the roof.  The staircase in the back left corner brought you to a small protected enclosure on the roof.  When stepping out of the enclosure, visitors to my roof top paradise were treated to a teak platform that spanned a good portion of the roof and was equipped with chaise lounges, umbrellas, a humongous natural gas grill and eight-person hot tub.  I also had a section where I grew different herbs and vegetables.  Let us just say, that I really liked to hang out on the roof around dusk with a cold beer, tasty steak and an all-weather refrigerator stocked with cold drinks.

I jumped up alert from daydreaming as something wet and cold entered my ear.  If I
had not still had my seatbelt on I think I would have actually hit the roof as Bill stuck his pinkly finger into my left ear, wet from his obviously cold bottle of water.  Laughing at catching me un-prepared, he yelled at me saying “Eugeeene open the trunk for me so I can dump my crap in.”  Apparently, he had to jam his duffel bag and other items into the trunk since it was not a very large space.  Jumping into the front seat he fist bumped me and said, “Dude can I drive?”  “When was the last time you drove anything,” I said.  “Not since you last saw me,” he answered.  To which I replied, “no way man, you’ll have sea legs for the next day.”  “Rico my man, as soon as we get to your place I need to show you something and then pack it up and send it back east to the professor.  Do have any shipping materials around?”  We’ll see I said, as I pulled back onto 75 and opened up the Camaro with a comforting roar.

The
15-minute ride back was uneventful and Bill had me in stiches the whole time as he regaled me with stories of how his shipmates good-naturedly hazed him the entire time.  The funniest story was the one where the crew put a blanket over his head during his 60 second shower and made him stay out on the deck buck-naked as they entered a small South Pacific port.  I wish I had a picture of him standing on deck with a floatation device hanging around his front waist while his butt was burning in the sun, waving to all the locals as if was in a Miss America pageant.

Driving around to the rear of the
building, I hit a button on one of the two remote controls in the car.  Immediately the far left loading dock door started to rise.  I drove the car inside and out of the sun into the dark cool area.  The floors were natural cement and polished into a low shine.  In addition to the Camaro, a new Dodge Ram pickup was there, as well as a 2007 Hummer H2 with a ton of gaudy accessories.  Bill was dying to drive the Hummer so he immediately asked if I had gotten it running.  The Hummer had come with the building, but the engine appeared to be blown.  I hesitated fixing it since GM dropped the Hummer and many people viewed them as a symbol of excessiveness since it guzzled gas in gallons per minute.  “No Bill,” I said, “I am still not sure what to do with it.  If you want it it’s yours.”  “Sure rich guy, make yourself feel better around the little people by giving away your castoffs. I have too much pride, he quickly responded.”  “Shut up you idiot and welcome back,” I said with a big grin.