Fox News called me ‘a self-aggrandizing demagogue … a puppet-master manipulating weak-minded liberals with his tree-hugging, phoney philosophy of love for the planet’. I had to look up the word ‘demagogue’ which apparently means a political leader who uses prejudice and simplistic arguments to whip a crowd up into a frenzy. I wasn’t sure that really described me but it did sound like every politician in the entire world … ever!
Comedians on TV joked about me being a hypocrite because I wanted to save the planet and yet control so much money – ‘He puts the “con” into “falcon”!’ –. This seemed unfair as a very large proportion of my money went straight into our many projects around the world. Do I have to be homeless and be expected to get mobbed every day on public transport? It’s easy to criticise, but really I was just one person trying my best to save a planet – and an entire species from committing mass suicide.
Many people didn’t appreciate what I was trying to do. They misunderstood my point. I wasn’t here to make things worse, or to judge them in any way. I wanted us all to survive and to continue into the future. Was that too complicated a message for them?
But the campaigns had to continue. Life carried on; as did the killing off of it, sadly. Word reached me of a problem with toxic waste in the Arctic Circle. It made me think of Qassoo, who had valiantly given his life to protect us from the Sellafield nuclear waste disaster. We could have done with his courage and special skills.
Back in the 1960s, a secret US military project built a nuclear launch site under the ice near Greenland with the potential for six hundred missiles. However, this was abandoned, leaving a vast amount of radioactive waste and poisonous pollution preserved under the ice. This was done before knowing about climate change and the melting of the icecaps. Rising global temperatures now meant that the very ice protecting us from this potential catastrophe was slowly thawing, to expose the dangerous substances whose effect would be ‘disastrous and irreversible’, according to one leading scientist.
Before we could get on with the practical work of preventing any kind of leak or exposure, a number of nations and world leaders needed to settle any territorial rights or claims of responsibility. America, Denmark, Russia, Canada and Norway all asserted rights to particular territorial boundaries in the Arctic Circle, making this a horribly complicated affair. I was being asked to help them negotiate and to act as an arbitrator on this complicated matter. How could a teenager sort out a dispute between world leaders? And yet there was no choice. If I didn’t intervene then it seemed nobody else would.
More than ever I needed Ala. Her clear thinking and articulate manner still made me feel childish and out of my depth. Whilst Guy was the one who had started everything and inspired me, Ala was the real leader – far more than Guy who remained ponderous and somewhat infuriating. Guy was shy and hated the spotlight. Ala, on the other hand, was a natural speaker and encourager. She had charisma and the gift of empathy that made everyone admire and love her. Her TED talk became one of the most watched and downloaded speeches of all time. She had become a renowned and much sought after lecturer and commentator on political, news and issues based programmes. She’d even been commissioned to devise a series of documentaries to cover the main issues affecting our planet today.
Switching on the TV to catch the latest episode aired on BBC2, I watched her for a few moments with the volume down. Her brown eyes glinted with a furious passion. Her long fingers pointed accusingly straight at the camera – at the viewers; every single one of us. I didn’t need the sound up to know that she would be talking about saving some endangered species, or perhaps about protecting the rainforests. She had become the international face for environmental and wildlife issues, while still heading up things – alongside Gene – at the Gaia Foundation. Her sudden rise had even rivalled mine. The United Nations had asked her to stand on their Environmental Programme Committee as an independent member with a particular interest in marine and terrestrial ecosystems. She was the go-to celebrity for any environmental issues. The UN happily recognised and supported the work of the Gaia Foundation and found nothing that would cause any kind of conflict of interests. We welcomed this level of support.
I gave in and turned up the sound to listen to her voice.
‘… this illegal wildlife trade is the second biggest threat to species survival after habitat destruction. I can’t believe there are still humans on the planet who think it’s OK to kill elephants for ivory, or to poach tigers. Of course it’s all for money. For selfish gain. What’s wrong with these idiots? But it’s not just animals involved in black-market trading. What’s so troubling is that, by eliminating a species of plant, you endanger the entire ecosystem of planet Earth, and therefore the destruction of your own children and grandchildren. How bloody stupid can you get?’
Her angry expression was replaced by images of a tiger slinking into the long grass, dolphins twisting through the water like synchronised swimmers – which I knew would please Ala – and of a single delicate orchid shimmering in the breeze on a steep sand dune.
But then to my acute embarrassment they played my number one hit single: Gaia (Mother Nature) over the pictures. I switched the 105-inch 4K Ultra 3D television off and walked towards the automatic door of my luxurious bathroom, to get ready for another evening out. The bathroom contained my remote-controlled toilet with its motion-detector cover, automatic and instant seat warmer, deodorizer and self-cleaning wand. The underground heating kept my bare feet warm as they pressed down on the marble flooring. The integrated music system kicked in as soon as the door swished shut behind me.
Once showered, I stepped into my body dryer and then onto the conveyer taking me to my spacious walk-in wardrobe where I found a hundred new suits to choose from. After being worn, each suit was sold at auction with the profits going to one of my charities, to be replaced with another from Savile Row, London.
I waited until I was in the elevator before tapping on my thin, glossy Black Diamond Smartphone – only five ever made – which alerted Rodgers, my driver, of my approach. Checking my Rolex, which boasted an accuracy to plus or minus five seconds per year, I saw I was three minutes ahead of schedule for my date.
The limo rolled up to my door silently and the door opened automatically for me. I didn’t need to speak to Rodgers as he knew the timetable for the evening.
I had to look out the tinted window to see if we were moving or not, and the changing lights and colours on the opaque glass told me we were. The back seat was so comfortable, and the air the perfect temperature, that I could have fallen asleep right there and woken up refreshed ten hours or more later. But eventually the door opened before I realised we’d stopped, and I shook my head, straightened my tie and got out with as much dignity as I could. The flashing of cameras was expected, although I hadn’t anticipated such a huge mob.
To my surprise a short red carpet had been put down from the front door of the mansion we had parked outside right up to my limo. It was a private gated residence with a long drive, but the press had obviously been welcomed in for exactly this moment.
On cue, the door opened and Aria Verona stepped out onto the carpet that was sculpted over the four steps leading down to the driveway where I was standing, smiling and with an arm held out to her.
It was difficult to see precisely through all the bright camera flashes, and the general mêlée as each photographer hankered after that unique image, but I could make out that Aria was wearing a stunning silver dress that showed off her legs and figure exquisitely.
She finally reached me and I saw how perfect her face was even close up. Rodgers held the back door open for her and she turned to give the paparazzi one last wave before settling into the spacious seat of the limo. I got in next to her as the door slowly closed soundlessly, and saw that two glasses of champagne had already been poured out for us.
Of course, this had all been set up by her agent and record company. She was only just eighteen and has an album to pub
licise, called Mother Earth Knows Best, which had fifty per cent of its proceeds going to the Gaia Foundation – and it was expected to sell tens of millions of copies. She requested a date with me to promote its release and the Internet went down for a few hours as people made up rumours about us going out / getting married / having an affair/ breaking up (?!); delete as required.
And of course her agent lapped it up. I couldn’t refuse, and she’s a very beautiful girl. Who wouldn’t want the chance to be with her? Even if for just one date? I agreed, for the sake of the foundation, of course!
Sitting there next to her, I couldn’t help staring at her incredible cheekbones and huge eyes – not to mention her contoured cleavage and smooth, shiny legs. She kept giggling whenever she caught me gawping, which was often and for most of the journey.
‘I like your suit, Falco. You look very … debonair.’
Her estuary accent made me remember that her exotic foreign name was a fake identity created by the industry to make her even more mysterious and glamorous.
‘You’re looking very lovely too,’ I said, trying not to sound too lame. I felt out of my comfort zone. She has probably had lots of cool boyfriends who were witty, clever, tough and incredibly trendy. I was none of those things. To be honest, I didn’t know how to impress her, but thought that more compliments was the best way forward. ‘Stunning.’
‘Thank you, kind sir.’
‘More champagne?’ I reached over for the Bollinger.
‘Oh go on then. Hope you’re not trying to get me drunk, eh?’ She giggled again.
I poured it very carefully.
‘Of course not, I’m a gentleman.’
‘Oh.’ She gave a slight pout before finishing her drink and fiddling with the glass. ‘I don’t mind. I can take my drink. Can you?’
‘Actually, I don’t drink much.’
Her tone lowered. ‘Well, we’ll see about that. I’m glad you agreed to come out with me tonight.’
‘Yeah, I’ve been looking forward to it. I heard your album – it’s really great. I love the lyrics about nature and Mother Earth. It’s really clever, the way you made them sound like love songs but to our planet rather than to a person—’
‘I didn’t write them. I have writers who do that for me. They churn out all that stuff and then I record it and make some dosh so’s I can go out like now and part-a-ay.’
‘It’s good that you care enough to sing about a subject that really matters, though.’
I caught her grimace before it turned into a smile.
‘Oh yeah. They told me it was cool right now. Saving the planet and all that crap is what’s trending. I can’t believe you agreed to help us, I really owe you one.’ She put a hand on my knee. ‘I promise to thank you properly later. And I will make it all well worth your while. You know what I’m saying?’
I did and I’m ashamed to say I could feel myself being drawn to her giggles and curves even while being slightly put off by the fact that her green credentials were a mere pretence.
‘Can I ask a favour before we get there? There should just be time.’ Her fingers squeezed my thighs tightly.
I wondered what she was going to ask and it made me incredibly nervous.
‘Of course, yeah.’
‘Could you give me a quick private performance of your changing-thing? Can you become the bird for me? Ple-e-ase?’
I shuffled on the soft leather seat. ‘Um … look I’m really sorry but I’ve got to say “no”. It’s complicated. I’d have to get dressed again.’
‘Oh.’ Her tone reflected the mystified disappointment of someone who always gets their own way. ‘Maybe later then?’
‘Maybe. I’m not a performing animal in a circus though.’ I was getting fed up of this sort of thing – especially after Tia. A confusing sense of regret struck me in the belly.
She turned and gave me a bitter look. The evening was clearly ruined now. She slumped down and snorted through puckered lips.
For the rest of the journey, she ignored me and took hundreds of selfies in different poses and with a wide range of expressions, which she posted onto her various sites and social media profiles.
Then, at last, the limo door opened on her side; a cue for Aria to elegantly turn and slip her long legs out of the car until her toes reached the pavement. Staying in my seat to watch, I smiled as she deliberately hoiked her dress up revealingly high, and then stooped to show more bosom than was necessary. The whole thing to her was a publicity stunt. My being here was all for show and completely meaningless. It could have been anyone accompanying her, except that my name was the biggest one trending at the time, so she had literally hitched a ride with fame to boost her ratings and exposure – in more ways than one!
And now I had to endure an evening at a nightclub with a very shallow, but attractive, girl. It could have been worse. I suppose.
The rest of the evening continued just as staged as the beginning had been. Aria went off dancing with other men – some were also minor celebrities, but some were obviously delighted members of the public – and the photographers encircled her the entire time, encouraging the men to grope her indecently. She didn’t seem to mind, which I thought odd. In fact, she positively encouraged it by flashing her knickers and boobs at regular intervals whenever things started to lull.
Then, at precisely ten o’clock, as if meeting a scheduled deadline, she found me and pulled me onto the dance floor, and I didn’t have any choice with her paparazzi entourage shoving me in that direction.
We embraced and wiggled together in time to a perky little song I didn’t recognise. A slow number followed – on cue – and we swayed in a tight clasp. Aria pushed her face into mine and touched her bee-stung lips against mine.
‘This is just for starters, love. There’s more later if you want me.’
She pushed her tongue into my mouth and our breaths mingled warmly. She ground her body against mine and got clearly annoyed when I didn’t respond the way she’d hoped. Her confidence scared me. I wasn’t the stud she thought I was, and I knew I’d be caught out immediately. I’m just a stupid little boy playing in an adult world. I didn’t know how to seduce a woman. These things were beyond me. Because I wasn’t groping her, she slid my hands behind her and onto her backside where I left them for a few moments before returning them to her shoulder.
Eventually, she got bored with me and returned to a tall, bearded man who was clearly either a model or sports star of some kind; I didn’t recognise him. Aria made a big show of grinding her hips and buttocks into his groin, which he responded to with some gusto. Both of them loosened several items of clothing until it wasn’t only the cameras that were flashing. That was when I left the club.
I was alone with no security or bodyguards. A bit silly really but I was desperate to get out of there. It was drizzling outside and I found myself in a side alley wading through puddles. Bright light glinted from the main road about a hundred metres away, with the on and off effect of car headlights going past. Taking a deep breath of air – even if it wasn’t fresh but smelt of chips and kebabs – made me feel a bit better. It was certainly quieter out here, even though I was aware of every car and passer-by within my feline hearing range. The noise of the club itself still polluted the air through the walls, door and air vents.
Feeling relaxed for the first time that evening, I was caught off-guard when an arm snaked around my neck and caught me in a constricting stranglehold. My first thought was to change, but with air cut off I held back, not sure which numen to imagine myself into. Before I could collect my thoughts, I felt my mouth and nose explode as something hard smashed fiercely into my face. The pain was unbearable as the arm loosened its grip and I fell to the floor. I was aware of my head hitting cold, wet concrete, and I remained in a heap for a few seconds, which allowed me the chance to transform into Falco peregrinus. At first, hidden under the heavy material of my suit, I scrabbled and pecked my way out, clawing one of my attackers as I flapped upwards to
safety.
Landing on the guttering of the nightclub roof, I looked down through the murky darkness to see three young men pick up my expensive suit, shoes, Rolex watch and wallet.
Bastards.
But there was nothing I could do, so I made my exit.
Once home at my hotel apartment, I phoned my financial and legal advisers who sorted out the mess for me, as the police took details.
Transforming helped the healing process but I’d lost a tooth and needed dental work.
The memories of the night before made me miserable and sorry for myself, especially when I discovered that Aria had kept her dignity – of sorts – and her reputation – at least in her mind and that of her vacuous fans.
I avoided Ala and Guy for a few days out of shame.
The next day’s headlines couldn’t have been better for Aria.
‘Falco’s A Flop Says Aria!’
‘Aria Verona Scores A Soccer Hunk.’
‘Falco 0 Aria 1.’
‘Aria Pulls As Yobs Mug Falco.’
Whichever angle the different reporters offered, I came off looking stupid. I was mugged by Aria and the press, as well as by those thieving yobs. She got great publicity because she was a flirt who ended up with a premiership footballer. I was the pathetic idiot who was dumped by her date and who couldn’t protect myself from a bunch of louts. What a sad little wretch. Who was going to listen to my message now?
As it went, the press and general public were quite kind on the whole. Aria did sell tens of millions of CDs and downloads, which was great for the Gaia Foundation, however much she was aware of her good work or not. And I received a huge amount of sympathy and support. Donations came in on a staggering scale, but I promised I wouldn’t buy any more Rolex watches or expensive suits. What was the point of wearing clothes and accessories valued at thousands of pounds when that money could go on something worthwhile? When had I forgotten the true value of money? I promised not to make the same mistake again.
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