by A.D. Winch
Chapter 16 - Breaking News
“Breaking news,” announced the Anchorman. His angular face showed signs of excitement, and his toupee looked as if it was about to fall off his head. “We are getting reports of a large explosion somewhere in the Persian Gulf. As yet we do not know much else but when we do you will hear it first on this news station! Onto other news now. Landslides in...”
Andrea, who had been standing very close to the log fire, stepped in front of the screen.
“We must assume the worst,” she said coldly and left the room.
Eric sat staring into space as if he had been turned into stone. The Benjamins continued to watch the news, but nothing more was said. Only on the hour did Eric move, and that was to face the television again.
“You are watching the news live at five with me, Campbell Windsor. Good afternoon. Coming up: widespread flooding across Peru, forest fires in Australia and a freak tornado hits California. But we begin with our main story this hour.” He paused and shuffled his papers. “It has been reported that at seven thirty-seven p.m. local time a large explosion approximately fifty kilometres north-east of Dubai rocked the Persian Gulf. It was witnessed by the crew of the cargo vessel, ‘Gulf Steam.' We are going live now to Captain Sharma of the ‘Gulf Steam.’”
A photo of a large, cargo ship appeared on the screen and underneath was written, ‘Captain Sharma speaking live on satellite phone.’
“Hello, Captain Sharma, can you tell us exactly what you witnessed?” asked Campbell Windsor.
After a short time delay, a well-spoken Indian gentleman began talking.
“Good evening. We were on a course from Dubai to Mumbai across the Persian Gulf when a vessel appeared ten kilometres away on our radar. We hailed the ship to warn them that we would be passing quite close and to be aware of our wash. We received no reply. We repeated this warning a number of times more, but without receiving any acknowledgment. It is prudent in these situations to err on the side of caution. This smaller vessel appeared to be bobbing about aimlessly, and as we were moving considerably faster, I cut our speed from twelve knots down to six.
At seven thirty-six p.m., we were hailed by a hysterical woman. Amongst a great deal of commotion, we just made out the words, ‘help us!’ This was instantly followed by a large explosion which we witnessed far away on the horizon, in front of the ‘Gulf Steam.' We have just arrived at the last recorded coordinates of the other vessel but so far we have found nothing. Absolutely nothing. All debris has oddly, already sunk to the depths of the ocean, and there are no signs of survivors. However, we will continue looking.”
The picture of the container ship was replaced with the news reader.
“We are now going live to Dubai, to our reporter there, Angus Nichols. What can you add Angus?”
A pale, ginger-haired man wearing a beach shirt over his large belly filled half the screen. Expensive yachts stretched out behind and towered above him was a building shaped like a luxury cruise ship. People were walking around aimlessly between boats, as if in a daze.
“Well Campbell, I’m here at the Dubai Yacht Club and the Dubai Creek Marina. I’ve spoken with the coastguard and the Dubai Ports Authority here, and they’re not hopeful. They have confirmed that a yacht left the marina here this evening heading for Mumbai but as yet they will not release any further information.”
“How is this news being received around the marina?” asked the news reader.
“That’s a good question and you can probably see the answer in the people that are walking behind me. As we all know Dubai attracts the rich and famous of the world but this does not mean they are any less of a community. Like any community, the news is travelling fast. People are taking stock, checking on their friends and business partners, and there is a noticeable but quiet sense of relief when they find them.”
“Are there any theories about what has happened?” asked Campbell, tidying his notes.
“It is difficult to say as yet, as it is still unclear who the actual victims are. However, a little earlier I did manage to speak to Jolanna Corn, the US Secretary of State, who is about to embark on a series of peace talks around the Middle East. She stated firmly, and I quote, ‘This has all the hallmarks of a terrorist attack committed by a cowardly group and designed to keep the world an unstable place for us all.’”
Angus Nichols signed off, and Campbell Windsor opened his mouth to speak. Before he had a chance to say anything, Mémé had turned the television off.
“There is no point in us continuing to watch this for the next hour,” she said, standing next to the television.
“Marie-Thérèse is right,” agreed Granddad Benjamin, from the sofa opposite Eric. “Until news people know the facts they will consider all kinds of theories. Most of them wrong.”
Mémé sat down beside Eric and said reassuringly, “We don’t even know who owned the yacht that exploded yet. We are assuming the worst without any reason.”
Eric turned to look at her. His eyes were blank and empty.
In a distant voice, he said quietly, “It’s bad, Madame Benjamin.”
From the other side of the coffee table, Ursula agreed with him.
“We know nothing yet, let’s not jump to any false conclusions,” said Mémé smartly.
“Marie-Thérèse is right again,” added Granddad Benjamin placing a pack of cards on the coffee table. “Rather than sit here moping let’s play a game of something.”
Reluctantly the two children agreed. For almost an hour, they played Rummy but it felt like the longest game in the world. The two adults talked constantly, but Eric and Ursula rarely joined in. Eric, unsurprisingly, offered only one word answers to any question he was asked. For the rest of the time, he was sullen. He looked as if he was concentrating on the game, but his mind was elsewhere.
At six o’clock, Eric stood up, switched on the television and sat back down next to Mémé.
The intro music began, and the camera slowly zoomed in on the news reader, Campbell Williams. Once again he was looking serious while trying to contain his excitement.
“Our top story this hour: The Meyer family are missing, presumed dead. Other news: European Scientists discover signs of possible life on Mars, but NASA dispute these claims and landslides in...
Mémé turned from the television to Eric. He was staring intently at the screen; his eyes glazed over with tears. His body was stiff, and when Mémé put her arm around him, he did not move.
“It has been confirmed that the luxury yacht, ‘Queen of Hearts,' exploded in the Persian Gulf fifty kilometres off Dubai earlier this morning. The ‘Queen of Hearts’ was owned by the Meyer family, one of the richest families in Europe and who are rumoured to be worth just under half a billion Euros. Martin Meyer, his wife Maria and their son Eric are all missing, presumed dead.”
The news reader faded from the screen and was replaced with a black and white image of Eric’s father. A compassionate voice spoke over a series of old photos and some poor quality, eighties television footage of a poker game against a moustached man.
“His chips have been cashed in; the game is over and Martin Meyer, probably the best poker player in the history of the game, has left the green velvet table of life. But for many followers, and players of poker, he died almost twenty years ago.
“In nineteen eighty-four, at the tender age of sixteen, Martin Meyer arrived on the international poker stage and was quickly nicknamed ‘the kid.' For the next seven years, he dominated every tournament he played in, winning over twenty-five million dollars in the process. However in the summer of nineteen ninety-one, after bitter disagreements with the organizers of what would have been the biggest poker game in history, he vanished from the world of poker and out of the spotlight. Thus, he became known as the Bobby Fischer of poker.
“For the rest of his life, he shied away from public performances, remained hidden from the media and, some would say, became a
recluse as he dedicated his time to running the Meyer foundation and investing his millions.
“In nineteen ninety-three, he briefly hit the news again when he married the Latin beauty and Miss World, Maria Torre. It is said that her influence changed the face of the Meyer Foundation.
“Initially, the foundation invested money into projects as diverse as cures for the common cold, extra-terrestrial locating, real estate, the European Space Station, vehicle design, robotics, materials, training dolphins, satellites and their biggest earner, computers and the internet. For a brief spell, Martin Meyer had been a consultant at CERN. While at the European Centre for Particle Physics Research, he had met Tim Berners-Lee, the father of the internet. It is reported, though not confirmed, that a large number of dot com businesses began with Meyer money and still earn millions for the foundation each year.
“In nineteen ninety-seven, the Meyer Foundation shocked the world of business and closed down as an investment company. All employees were given lucrative redundancy payments and not one original member of staff remained. It reopened in name alone as a charitable organization, but its staff were, and still are, invisible, its benefactors unknown and its donations kept secret. However, it is believed that millions each year go to worthwhile causes worldwide.
“Since he disappeared from the public eye and up until his untimely death, there were strong rumours that Martin Meyer continued to play poker at secret locations around the world and played regularly online.
“Over the last twenty years, the Meyers have guarded their privacy in the same way that Martin would have guarded a winning hand. Rumours have spoken louder than facts and nothing about them is known for certain.
“For these reasons, Martin Meyer will be remembered as ‘the kid’ poker player who took the card playing world by storm and, during a period of seven years, blew it away. His wife Maria will be remembered as a former Miss World. A woman of such profound beauty and stunning looks that she took people’s breath away. With the death of their son, the Meyers have no surviving relatives.”
Eric stood up like a robot, switched off the television and walked back towards the sofa. He stepped painfully on a chess piece, the Queen from the earlier game, and almost fell. Like a volcano, he suddenly erupted. He kicked the Queen with such force that it shot through the air like a bullet and cracked a pane of glass as it hit the window. Falling onto his knees in front of Mémé, he smashed his fist against the coffee table so hard that it broke in two. His hands dropped by his sides; he suddenly looked unsteady and then he dropped into Mémé’s lap. She put her arms tightly around him, and he burst into tears.
Ursula was shocked and clung hold of Granddad Benjamin. For what seemed like forever no one moved and the only sound was Eric’s sobbing.
Suddenly Andrea entered the room. “We must go now!” she said forcefully. “Pack your bags. We leave in ten minutes.”
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