Ivy lived in a one-bedroom apartment on Franklin Street - one of the few streets in San Francisco that never went to sleep. At all hours of the night, just like the day, cars accelerated down the hill, filling the air with exhaust fumes that rose to the level of her second floor apartment. The noise of engines, brakes and the occasional blaring of horns meant that the night was never silent and nor was it dark. There was always a steady stream of headlights and sometimes the whirling lights of emergency vehicles, their sirens piercing the night with their high-pitched wails. Sleep was hard, but then it always was these days. If Jason did fall asleep, he dreamt of a negative outcome of his visit and awake sweating.He had two recurring nightmares: one where he was drowning in a prison cell and the other where Charles floated away in the form of a sheet of paper that Jason could never catch. People said that after the accident, Charles appeared fine. When they pulled him from the
The kitchen table had become Lola's place to write. The clock said 3am and the house was silent except for the ticking of the old, and familiar clock. Tick tock, tick tock; she rocked her head from side to side in time. After a while she got up to make some tea. "Yes," she thought, this was what happened to her mothers later in life; they became nocturnal creatures. She would always go to bed early with Edward, but then get up at these quietest moments of the night - the perfect time to think. Edward would sometimes join her for a minute or two, but he would tell her that she worked too hard, and she would promise to stop. He knew she wouldn't, and she knew he knew, but this was their script and there was a certain comfort in sticking to it. Now, as she waited for the water to boil, she thought of Jason. It would still be daytime in California. What would he be doing? At least he was safe now. She sighed and returned to the table with her mug of rosehip tea. Everything was laid
A few days after her father arrived, Ivy introduced Jason to John Harris, professor of Economics at San Francisco State University and Grandfather to the children she nannied. Professor Harris was delighted to meet Jason and later offered him an opportunity to recruit the best and brightest to help keep the company at its feet. This offer came as a surprise and not a particularly welcome one. He had little desire to interact with people, and the recruitment would force him to do just that. "Mr Davis, I don't believe it!" "Yes?" Jason turned, expecting to see a student. "What!" Jason exclaimed. "What are you doing here?" "What are you doing here?" Robert laughed as they embraced.Robert had been at the university teaching theater arts for the past seven years and had only just heard Jason's arrival. The meeting felt like a homecoming to Jason and from that day on he had a friend to talk to about arts and as well as his experience so far. It was with Robert that he woul
Kittridge and Jason are both concerned. Their concern is that small businesses are dwindling and the rich are getting richer but America is getting poorer. Like the popular ice caps, the middle class is disappearing. America is becoming a two-class society. This phenomenon - the shrinking middle class - is a global problem, but predominantly in the rich Nations ( in countries such as England, France, Germany, Japan, etc.) With the threats to the stability of democratic capitalism itself within the country.Mr Kittridge and Jason placed the blame on lack of education. But they focused on a different type of education, financial education. Both men were concerned about the lack of quality financial education in America, at all levels. Both men blamed the lack of financial education for the government having gone from the richest government in the world to the biggest debtors in history. Both Kittridge and Jason are successful entrepreneurs and investors. Both men do business and are r
After the usual pleasantries, they got around to why they were meeting in the first place. "So what should our book be about?" Asked Kittridge."I believe we've all had the same question," Jason replied. "Since there is such a wide gap between our respective real estate dealings as well as the size of our respective financial statements. I don't think we match when it comes to money. After all, you're a billionaire, and I'm a mere millionaire." Kittridge chuckled. "Don't ever put down being a millionaire. Billions of people would love to trade places with you financially." "I realize that, but there is a definite difference between millions and billions. After all, today, there are many millionaires who are actually broke." "What do you mean, exactly?" Kittridge asked."Well we all know people whose homes have increased in value but their income has not. For example, I know a friend who inherited his parents' home after they died. Since the real estate price have skyro
When Kittridge and Jason were talking about the shrinking middle class, it made Kittridge aware that some things can be explained. It's like an hourglass with the middle class the pinched part, or like someone with a very small waistline. What happens when you flip the hourglass? Either way you flip it, you have the poor feeding the rich or the rich feeding the poor. It's either one or the other. Kittridge doesn't like the visual because it reminded him of the old world and aristocratic ways that the country revolted against. Kittridge had been reading some news papers while enjoying some travel time, but there was a story in The Wall Street journal that got him thinking about risk. Just yesterday a new spread like wildfire about three Climbers dying on their way down from Mt. Everest, evidently from exhaustion, after they had reached their goal. And there was an article about the great racehorse, Barbaro, and his terrible injury, and the tragedy in the Volvo Ocean Race, where a
Once he got the rights, he still needed a tiny parcel of land that was critical because of Zoning laws that required a minimum of thirty feet of open space behind any building. That took more investigating and negotiation. In addition, his architect, Scott Mathew, and Kittridge went over at least four dozen designs. Finding the best elements of each and incorporating them into final design. Then they had the final design approved by the city with zoning variances. None of the steps were easy, but he saw each step as a challenge and enjoyed working out the details. If he didn't see it that way, it could have been very easy to be discouraged. But instead he had a beautiful building that has become world famous, The Kittridge Tower, was going to be named Tiffany Tower because of the location. But a friend asked Kittridge why he would use another famous name to describe a building that he had envisioned and built, and his question hit home, so he named it Kittridge Tower instead.
Kittridge has known about the 90/10 ratio for a long time. He predicted it could reach 90/05 or even 90/01 with 1 percent of the people owning 99 percent of the nation's assets, if they didn't pay attention. Jason's ideas When it comes to attitude, most employees seek security. They say "I'm looking for a safe, secure job with benefits." A small business person may say, "if you want to do it right, do it yourself." A big business owner is often looking for a president, CEO or other talented person to run his or her operations. One of the differences between Small business owners and Big business owners is the number of employees. "Simply because there is very little you can do for yourself from taxes - hence you really do not need an accountant to advise you. Most governments give tax breaks to Big business owners because they provide jobs, and governments offer tax breaks to investors because they invest their money back into the economy. Special tax breaks were usually giving to p
Jason was receiving an award for his book that he'd published and Jimmy was in the city, so he did the best thing he could before running off to Florence. It has been a long time since he'd been around but the event that had unfolded recently had taught him to spend more time with family. Encaenia took place in the Sheldonian - a long and rambling ceremony conducted in Latin for six distinguished persons though, in Lola's mind, this was a celebration mainly for Jason. At last, he was receiving the recognition he deserved. After the ceremony, she stood and watched him with pride as he mingled with guests. She had met Jason briefly before the ceremony and they had hugged, but hardly spoken; too many people and not enough time. She thought at first that it was perhaps the way it should be, with no time for sentimentalism, but no, she decided that it was not the way it should be. They needed more time. "Do you know all these people?" Malik whispered."No." Lola shook her head, even tho
Night had fallen over Shekina. Jimmy stood alone on the porch of the fieldstone house enjoying the sounds of laughter and reunion drifting through the screened door behind him. The mug of coffee in his hand had granted him hazy reprieve from his mounting exhaustion, and yet he sensed the reprieve would be fleeting. The fatigue in his body went to the core. "You slipped out quietly," a voice behind said.He turned. McEwan's grandmother emerged, her silver hair shimmering in the night. Jimmy gave a tired smile. "I thought I'd give your family some time together." Through the window, he could see McEwan talking with her brother. Sophie's grandmother came beside him. "Mr. Jim, when I first heard of Esquibel's murder, I was terrified for McEwan's sake. Seeing her standing in my doorway tonight was the greatest relief of my life. I cannot thank you enough."Jimmy had no idea how to respond. Although he had offered to give McEwan and her grandmother time to talk in private, she had asked
"Davis?" McEwan was standing outside the car, looking back at him. "Are you coming?" She was holding the rosewood box, which captain Romano had returned to them. Inside, both cryptex had been reassembled and nested as they had been found. The verse was locked safely at its core - minus the shattered vessel of vinegar.Making their way up the long gravel path, Jimmy and McEwan passed the famous west Wall of the chapel. Casual visitors assumed this oddly protruding wall was a section of the chapel that had not been finished. The truth, Jimmy recalled, was far more intriguing. Shekina chapel's entrance was more modest than Jimmy expected. The small wooden door had two iron hinges. The chapel would be closing soon, and as Jimmy pulled open the door, a warm puff of air escaped, as if the ancient edifice were having a weary sigh at the end of a long day. Entering with McEwan, Jimmy felt his eyes reaching across the famous sanctuary and taking it all in. Although he had read accounts of She
The mist had settled low as Amorth limped into a quiet hollow out of sight. Kneeling on the wet grass, he could feel a warm stream of blood flowing from the bullet wound below his ribs. Still, he managed.The fog made it look like heaven here.Raising his bloody hands, he prayed, but most importantly he prayed for his mentor… Myositis… that he would not fade with the sands of time. The fog was swirling around him now, and Amorth felt so light that he was sure the wisps would carry him away. Closing his eyes, he said a final prayer.His pains at last began to fade, and he knew Myositis was right. It was late afternoon when the London sun broke through and the city began to dry. Andrie Romano felt weary as he emerged from the interrogation room and hailed a cab. Sir Albert Rodriguez had noisily proclaimed his innocence, and yet from his loose ranting about the Archstone, secret documents, and mysterious brotherhood, Roman suspected the sly historian was setting the stage for his lawye
Myositis's body had endured many kinds of pain, and yet the searing heat of the bullet wound in his chest felt profoundly foreign to him. Deep and grave. Not a wound of the flesh… but closer to the soul. He opened his eyes, trying to see, but the rain on his face buried his vision. He could feel powerful arms holding him, carrying his limp body like a rag doll, his black cassock flapping. Lifting a weary arm, he mopped his eyes and saw the man holding him was Amorth. He was struggling down a sidewalk, shouting for a hospital, his voice a heart-rending wail of agony. His red eyes were focused dead ahead, tears streaming down his face. "My son," Myositis whispered, "you're hurt." Amorth glanced down, his visage contorted in anguish. "I am sorry sorry, Father." He seemed almost too pained to speak. "No," Myositis replied. "It is I who am sorry. This is my fault. I was too eager. Too fearful. You and I were deceived." Myositis was unconscious when the doors of St Luke's hospital hiss
Jimmy and McEwan moved slowly down the north aisle, keeping the shadows behind the ample pillars that separated it from the open nave. Despite having traveled more than halfway down the nave, they still had no clear view of the tomb. The sarcophagus was recessed in a niche, obscured from this oblique angle."At least there's nobody over there," McEwan whispered.Jimmy nodded, relieved. The entire section of the nave near Klaus' tomb was deserted. "I'll go over," he whispered. "You should stay hidden just in case someone-"McEwan had already stepped from the shadows and was headed across the open floor."-is watching," Jimmy sighed, hurrying to join her.Crossing the massive nave on a diagonal, Jimmy and McEwan remained silent as the elaborate sepulcher revealed itself in Tantalus increments… a black-marble sarcophagus… a reclining statue of Klaus… two winged boys… a huge pyramid… and… an enormous orb."Did you know about that?" McEwan said, sounding startled.Jimmy shook his head, als
Jimmy had not gotten his eyes off the computer screen since the search began. He was starting to get worried.Anita Istredd was in the adjoining room, preparing hot drinks. Jimmy and Sophie had inquired unwisely if there might be some coffee brewing alongside the tea Istredd had offered, and from the sound of the microwave beeps in the next room, Jimmy suspected their request was about to be rewarded with instant Nescafe.Finally, the computer pinged happily."Sounds like you got another," Istredd called from the next room. "What does it say?"Jimmy looked at the screen, disappointed.They sat patiently in front of the screen and waited through two more dubious returns. When the computer pinged again, nothing interesting happened.Istredd peeked back in the doorway, holding a packet of instant coffee. "You don't want the full text," Istredd called. "Click on the hypertext title. The computer will display your keyword hits along with mono prelogs and triple post logs for context."Jim
Copus peccate's headquarter in London is a modest brick building. Amorth had never been here, but he felt a rising sense of refuge and asylum as he approached the building on foot. Despite the rain, Beardsley had dropped him off a short distance away in order to keep the limousine off the main Streets. Amorth didn't mind the walk. The rain was cleansing.At Beardsley's suggestion, Amorth had wiped down his gun and dispose of it through the sewer grate. He was glad to get rid of it. He felt lighter. His legs still ache from being bound all the time, but he had endured far greater pain. He wondered, though, about Rodriguez, who Beardsley had left bound in the back of the limousine. The Briton certainly had to be feeling pain by now."What will you do with him?" Amorth had asked Beardsley as they drove over here.Beardsley had shrugged. "That is a decision the Teacher would make." There was an odd finality in his tone.Now, as Amorth approached the building, the rain began to fall harder
Jimmy still felt shaken as he and McEwan came from the rain and entered the library. The primary research room was as Rodriguez had described it - a dramatic octagonal chamber dominated by an enormous round table with twelve flat-screen computer workstations. On the far side of the room, a reference librarian was just pouring a pot of tea and settling in for the day of work. "Good morning," she said in a beautiful British accent, leaving the tea and walking over. "May I help you?""Thank you, yes please," Jimmy replied. "My name is-""Jimmy Davis." She gave a pleasant smile. "I know who you are."For instance, he feared Romano had put him on English television as well, but the librarian's smile suggested otherwise. Jimmy had not gotten used to these moments of unexpected celebrity. Then again, if anyone on earth were going to recognize his face, it would be a Librium in a religious studies reference facility."Anita Istredd," the librarian said, offering her hand. She had a friend