when i got to thomasville, walter syracuse continued, i hung around the bus station and the general store, panhandling. i told the people at the bus station and the man at the store i was willing to work, but they said, maybe later, when the tourist season started.
there was a little library in town about the size of an ordinary living room, but they did not have any books about ancient mysteries or even much about history, mostly just mystery novels by agatha christie and such. they did have mr h g wells’s outline of history and i read it through three times.
one night i was sleeping in the woods and i went a little deeper in the woods than usual to get away from this dog that was bothering me. i woke up at midnight and saw strange lights between the trees and heard strange, chanting voices. but i just went back to sleep and forgot about it.
the next day it rained. i was in the library, reading the mystery of the blue train by agatha christie when a girl came into the library. i thought she was… i thought she was…
walter syracuse stopped. he said that he could not go on with his story, because it was too painful.
richard rochester and john paul binghamton said that they understood.
john paul binghamton began his story.
from the day i was born, it was obvious i was something special.
i was born in a castle on a mountain on an island in the bermuda triangle.
my dad was the richest man in the world, even though you have never heard of him, just phonies like bill gates and warren buffett.
i don’t know for sure who my mom was, but i am pretty sure she was a famous movie star, but i won’t mention her name because i am a gentleman and i am not 100 percent sure.
my dad was determined that i not grow up soft but that i should be a warrior. he hired the greatest warriors of martial arts systems you never even heard of, and the deadliest marksmen from the green berets and the navy seals to train me.
he hired gurus and dalai lamas from ancient disciplines to teach me the secrets of telepathy and mind control and levitation.
i took an i q test and scored 346 - the highest ever recorded in human history.
all this training was for a purpose - to make me the deadliest assassin the world had ever known.
the only glitch, if you could call it that, came when i was about thirteen years old. as i told you, my mom was a famous movie star and i was not a bad looking kid myself. the castle had some female servants, cooks and chambermaids and such, and when i got to be almost grown they just could not keep their hands off me. they all had to be let go.
as you might suspect, the gurus and masters and navy seals gave me a lot of good natured ribbing, though some of the seals especially were a little ticked off that there were no women on the premises any more and they had to go “off post” to find any.
all this was not just to make me a great assassin for no particular purpose.
when the time came, i was briefed on the mission i had been trained for.
so it was that i found myself driving a lamborghini aventador svj roadster up a winding mountain in switzerland on a cool spring morning.
the sun was shining. i came around a bend, and there she was. with a brunello cucinelli bag beside her, her thumb out, and her long blonde hair flowing in the breeze like the flag of a conquering army…
at this point in john paul binghamton’s story the lights in the elevator came back on and the elevator started to hum and then began to move.
in a minute they were in the lobby. john paul binghamton assured the other two that he would get up the ass of the building management and give them holy hell, and all three went about their business.
when any of the three saw one of the others again in the lobby or in the elevator, they might nod, but never spoke.
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