by C. C. Monö
CHAPTER 29
Talk Thirteen is an international youth empowerment organisation with its headquarter in South Africa. It started off as a social network, initiated by two thirteen-year-old boys, Axel Hallman from Sweden and Peter Kruger from Cape Town. Their dream was to create a network that would help young South Africans get involved and collaborate for the benefit of other children in the country. The network grew at a remarkable speed, gaining both national and international attention. Mr Hallman and Mr Kruger were both honoured with a number of awards.
Three years after launching the network, Mr Hallman and his family moved back to Sweden, leaving Mr Kruger to run the network. With the support of various donors, Talk Thirteen grew into a world-wide organisation of which Mr Kruger remains the president. Today the organisation has mobilized more than five million children around the globe, working on a large number of issues. It remains one of the most influential youth organisations…
Professor Jackson took off his reading glasses and threw the article on the table. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the glass of scotch in his hand while his mind worked. He sat like this for a very long time, attacking the problem from various angles. He was missing something, something important, but what?
He let out a frustrated sigh and pressed a button on the intercom.
“Yes, sir?” came Nicole’s cheerful voice through the speakers.
“I want you to print everything we have on Mr Hallman,” Professor Jackson demanded. “I want it before my meeting with Mr Nakata. Understood?”
“Everything?”
“That’s what I said, didn’t I?”
“Yes, sir. Anything else?”
Professor Jackson took a sip of his scotch and felt the strong liquid burn its way down his throat.
“No, except I trust you won’t tell anyone about my request.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” Nicole said. “I should inform you that Ms Sokolova has requested a meeting with you or Principal Cunningham next Wednesday. She would very much appreciate it if one of you could attend her next management meeting. According to the principal’s schedule, he’s in South Korea at that time. Will you be able to go?”
Professor Jackson sighed. Twice a year, Ms Sokolova, head of staff, invited Principal Cunningham or Professor Jackson to one of her staff management meetings. She believed their presence was good for morale. She was right, of course, but it would be damn nice if Principal Cunningham could attend one of these bloody meetings for once. All he did was travel, give some speeches, and get his arse kissed by presidents and business owners. Everyone loved the old gaffer and praised him for the Academy’s success, but it was Professor Jackson who ran the E.K.A. He was the one who did all the hard work.
“See if I’m available,” he muttered. “If so, I’ll go.”
He let go of the intercom button and leaned back in his chair once more. One day he’d run it all. It was just a matter of time. Until then…
Professor Jackson tapped his glass and inhaled its comforting smell.
Axel Hallman. The wild-card. The youngster concerned him, which was annoying. Powerful men shouldn’t be concerned. They should be in control. Professor Jackson grinned. Of course, one didn’t become the assistant principal of the world’s finest academy by sitting idly by. Hell no, Professor Jackson knew how to get things done. He knew how to be in control.
He stood up and walked over to the window, his glass still in his hand. It was time to act.
CHAPTER 30
“From kings to beggars; that’s the secret!” Mr Christopher Bell, teacher in Leadership Etiquette, stood grounded in the middle of the classroom. “It’s not very hard to attract followers from one social class,” he said with a charming smile. “All you have to do is praise their significance and degrade everyone else. People are rather gullible that way, but if you want to achieve greatness, you must attract followers from all classes. From kings to beggars.”
Mr Bell had an impressive, aristocratic face that fitted perfectly with his immaculate dark suit. He was a man who, in every sense of the word, personified a true gentleman.
“To start off, I would like Mr Reed, Mr Zulu, Ms Martins, Ms Neferet, and Mr Kamala to position themselves over there!” He pointed at the wall behind the teacher’s desk, and the named individuals hurried to obey. “Perfect. Ms Taylor, Ms Baton, Ms Campbell, and Mr Hallman; will you stand to my left, please.” Axel and the others got to their feet. Mr Bell gave them a polite nod. “Excellent. The rest of you, stand at the back.”
Paul, Dalilah, and Federico walked across the room to position themselves at the rear. Mr Bell inspected his class and nodded.
“Good, now Mr Reed, would you be so kind and give us a short presentation of yourself?”
“It will be my pleasure,” Edward replied and puffed up his chest. “I’m twenty-four years old from Beverly Hills, California. I was born to be a great leader. I started my first company when I was eleven. Together with my father, I run several international businesses. We have nine different estates around the world, eighty-seven cars, two planes…”
Mr Bell held up his hand.
“That’s enough, Mr Reed. I didn’t ask for a full inventory.” Edward glared at Mr Bell who raised a finger as a warning. “There’s a fine line between being informative and boastful. One is appreciated; the other is not. And don’t give me that look; you come across as sulking. People won’t follow you if you act like a child.”
The muscles around Edward’s jaw hardened, but he dropped his gaze. Mr Bell turned his attention to a woman who somehow managed to exert intelligence just by the way she held herself.
“Your turn, Ms Neferet.”
Layla nodded and took a step forward, mindlessly spinning a thick, gold bracelet around her wrist.
“I am twenty-three years old. I come from Cairo, Egypt. My father is a very wealthy man and my mother is a well-known actress. I was studying leadership and law at Harvard University before being accepted to the Academy. I’ve known my whole life that I was destined to become a great leader. Just like Edward, I run several businesses. Among others, I started…”
Mr Bell raised his hand.
“Thank you, Ms Neferet. The same goes for you. If people want details, they’ll ask.” Layla nodded and stepped back. Mr Bell turned to Axel’s group. “Let’s see…who shall we take? How about you, Ms Baston?”
A grave-faced woman stepped forward.
“I am Julie Baston from Lyon, France,” she began with a strong, French accent. “Before coming here I lived with my parents and little sister, whom I love very much. My father is the sales manager for a medium-sized retail company, and my mother is a pharmacist. I believe leaders are the key to success and I’ve always wanted to become one.”
She fell silent and took a step back. Mr Bell tapped a finger against his lower lip as he eyed Julie.
“I assume Professor Evans has told you this already, but you come across as a little robotic; both in the way you speak and hold yourself.”
Julie’s cheeks reddened and she nodded.
“Yes, sir. Professor Evans has told me this.”
“Good, then you’ll work on that. I also want you to consider what information you reveal when introducing yourself. You have seven seconds to make a mesmerising impression; make each word count.”
Mr Bell steepled his fingers and turned to Paul’s group. “Mr Harris. Why don’t you tell us a little bit about your background?”
Paul scratched his neck and took a step forward.
“I’m twenty-four years old. I’m a sports agent as well as the owner of a golf academy. Three years ago, I wrote a paper on leadership and its effect on economy. It was published in the Sydney Morning Herald and won me a scholarship at Sydney University.”
“Well done, Mr Harris. Very good.” Mr Bell rolled back on his heels. “And what did you do for a living before you started your businesses?”
Paul’s confidence evaporated. He stared at the teacher for
a second and then began cracking his knuckles quite loudly.
“Eh…is that of importance, sir?”
“Yes, and don’t crack your knuckles. It gives away your nervousness.”
Paul slid his hands behind his back.
“Well, if you must know, I worked at a golf club, sir.”
“Doing what, Mr Harris?”
Paul drew a deep breath.
“I was a…uhm…parking valet.”
From some of the students came a low snicker, and Paul’s typically joyful face darkened. With an elegant flick of his hand, Mr Bell hushed his students.
“I would think twice before laughing at Mr Harris’ background,” he warned, keeping his voice flat. “People prefer to follow someone they can relate to. Since most people aren’t born with a silver spoon in their mouth, a simple background can be an advantage when leading people.”
“I just worked there so I could play golf,” Paul said with a low voice.
“You mustn’t defend yourself,” Mr Bell observed. “You come across as either guilty or ashamed. Now, tell me about your parents. What do they do for a living?”
Paul’s shoulder slumped a bit and he looked down at his feet.
“I’m sure you already know, sir.”
“Of course I know.”
“Then I don’t see the point of this,” Paul grumbled.
“Whether you see a point or not is irrelevant, young man.”
“But no one else got these questions.”
Mr Bell smiled.
“Instead of worrying about the injustice of the question, you should focus on giving me a brilliant answer.”
Paul let out a deep sigh.
“Fine, if you must know, my father is unemployed and my mother is a waitress.”
Despite Mr Bell’s previous words, someone giggled. From where he stood, Axel couldn’t see who it was, but it came from the direction of Izabella and Thabo’s group.
“I won’t tell you again,” the grey-haired teacher warned. “Disrespect is not accepted in this classroom. It shows bad character and, quite frankly, I can’t stand people who are rude. Do it again and I’ll have you thrown out of this classroom quicker than you can say Jack Robinson. Understood?”
“YES, SIR!”
Axel leaned over to Julie.
“Who’s Jack Robinson?” he whispered.
She shrugged, keeping her eyes on Mr Bell as he turned back to Paul and his group.
“Thank you, Mr Harris. That will be enough. What about you, Ms Izzati? What’s your story?”
Dalilah stepped forward, her chin held high.
“I’m Dalilah Izzati. I come from Malaysia. After high school, I got a job in a small bookstore near China Town. The owner was very kind. He taught me English and German. While working there, I discovered leadership and I read many books on the subject.”
“What about your parents, Ms Izzati?”
Unlike Paul, Dalilah didn’t weaver.
“I never knew my father, and my mother was a prostitute. For a while I lived on the streets in Kuala Lumpur until I was brought to an orphanage at the age of eight.”
No one said anything. Axel could feel the tension in the room. Dalilah’s honesty had stunned them. Now she glared at her fellow students with her hands on her robust hips while defiance burned in her eyes.
“I don’t come from a rich family,” she snapped, “and I’ll never inherit any money. I don’t look like a Barbie doll, and I lack the finance to start my own company. But you know what? I’m smart. I’ve learnt three languages. I’m hard working and just as keen on learning the art of leadership as the rest of you.” She paused. “Plus, I know how to survive on the streets, which means I can kick your ass if I have to.”
Edward grinned. “I don’t waste my time fighting. I hire people to do it for me.”
This brought laughter from the others and the tension evaporated.
“And that’s my point,” Mr Bell said, gesturing the students back to their seats. “You’re all different. This time I grouped you according to your social class, but I might as well have arranged you by culture, gender, or interests to name a few. In this class, you’ll work together. I expect you to share your experiences, knowledge, and skills with each other. Is that clear?”
“YES, SIR!”
“By working together, you’ll learn how to judge the quality of a cigar and the taste of the finest whiskey. You’ll understand how the middle class reason when they buy a car, or what it’s like for a child to grow up in poverty. You’ll learn how to dine with royals and how to eat noodles on a side street in Vietnam.” Mr Bell took his time, making his way back to the front of the classroom, letting silence settle. Then, leaning against his desk, he continued, “Your other teachers will show you how to rule people. I, on the other hand, will show you how to become a chameleon. With my training, you’ll learn how to gracefully melt into any gathering you encounter. You’ll be an eagle among eagles, and a shark among sharks.” He beamed. “Yes, I’ll teach you to be what people expect you to be, and this, my dear students, is how you attract followers!”
CHAPTER 31
The young man pulled aside his curtain and glanced out into the dark.
“The Watchers are out there,” his father said while dipping a dry biscuit in his coffee. “You won’t see them but they see you. Of that, you can be certain.”
The young man let go of the curtain.
“So Smooth is away on business?”
“Yes.”
“But do you know when it’ll happen?”
The old man swallowed and helped himself to another biscuit.
“I don’t, I’m afraid. I know our mole is exploring various alternatives.”
“And Axel?”
“I believe he’s doing well.”
“Believe? Isn’t that something we should know?”
“It’s not that easy, son. The Academy protects its students well. What we know is what little information our mole has been able to gather the past few days, and according to the reports we’re getting, everything seems to be in order.”
Feeling frustrated, the young man leaned against the kitchen counter.
“And the prime minister’s card?”
“I assume it went well, otherwise we would have heard about it. Now all we can do is hope that no one else finds the card.”
“Assume? Hope? These are all words of doubt. Tell me something we know for sure, something certain.”
The old man chuckled.
“The only thing certain is that there is no such thing as certainty.”
The young man sighed. He loved his father but sometimes the man drove him nuts.
“All right, what about project California?”
“I talked to Thor yesterday. He said things are moving forward according to plan. We’re still trying to confirm some aspects of Jack’s background but things are looking good. Of course, we have a long way to go before we’re done, but we’re off to a good start.”
The young man sighed and leaned his head back against the cupboard above the counter.
“You know, I can’t help but feel like we’ve thrown Axel to the wolves just to watch him be devoured. He has no idea what the Academy is capable of.”
The old man patted his son on his shoulder.
“We all knew there would be sacrifices. Axel won’t be the last.”
CHAPTER 32
Professor Bernard Plouffe was a gentleman from France, with a belly that suggested a passion for great food. Axel guessed he was around his mid-sixties, but it was hard to tell since he walked with a slight limp that made him look older. His subject was Political Leadership, and although he did a marvellous job at engaging his students, Axel found the first lesson to be dreadfully boring. All they talked about were historic rulers and their successes or failures. It was “leaders” here and “leaders” there. By the end of the session, Axel was so fed up with the word “leader” he wanted to scream.
“That was interestin
g,” Thabo said with a broad, uncharacteristic smile as they walked down the corridor towards the elevators. “Very fascinating!”
Axel frowned.
“Mhm,” he mumbled.
“What? You don’t agree?”
Axel moved his laptop from his left hand to his right.
“If you want to know the truth, I thought it was kind of…dull.”
“Jesus, Hallman,” Edward exclaimed from behind, where he came strutting along with Ava, Aseem, and Layla, “are you for real?”
“How can you find political leadership strategies dull?” Ava asked.
“It’s why we’re here,” Aseem added. “To learn strategies.”
Axel sidestepped to allow his fellow students to pass.
“You’re right,” he murmured and stifled a yawn.
Aseem laughed.
“Tired, huh? You better get used to it. It’ll just get worse.”
Thabo and Axel watched the others leave.
“Lunch?” the young African asked.
Axel shook his head.
“No, thanks, I want to try out the gym. I’ll join you later.”
Axel had not done any weightlifting at all since his arrival on Friday, five days ago. He was used to working out four to five times a week and felt it was time to get back into his regular training routine.
After a quick change of clothes, he left his apartment with his gym shoes in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. As a pre warm-up, he decided to take the stairs to the fourteenth floor instead of the elevator, but when he entered the stairwell, he heard the muffled voices of a man and woman arguing above him.
“…not ethical, is it?” said the woman with a toneless voice. “Even if he’s a wild-card, it isn’t right.”
“I don’t care what you think,” a familiar voice said. “You’re here to do as you’re told by your superiors. And I am your superior!”
“Of course, sir, but…it feels wrong.”
Axel hesitated. He was obviously intruding on a conversation that was supposed to be private.
“It’s not just a matter of him being a wild-card. There’s something else. We need to know where his loyalty lies. You know what happened to Sarah Wangai.” There was a moment of silence. Axel turned to sneak out when he heard something that made his heart stop. “I’m telling you,” the man continued, “there’s something fishy about Mr Hallman. We need to find out what it is.”
