So you say Doc,” Rumi shook her head, “What did they want?”

“They wanted me to take a little ride with them, but if they had been cops, they’d have identified themselves when I asked,”

Greg smiled ruefully.

“I guess I stepped on someone’s toes yesterday. You watch Gully and his pals when I come back into the atrium, I think they’ll be very surprised to see me.”

Greg’s prediction turned out to be correct. As he and Rumi entered the lobby of the conference centre, two dozen jaws dropped in disbelief. Doctor Gullivan gaped like a boated trout and hurried to the bank of payphones along the far wall. Greg and Rumi smiled and walked to the room that had been set up for the salon. It looked like a carpeted gymnasium with row upon row of chairs and a table with a lectern set at the front. Greg covered his eyes and groaned.

“Aaarrrgh! What have I gotten myself into?” he fretted. Rumi smiled gently.

“Hey, just relax and be yourself Doc, you’ll be fine,” she soothed.

“…says the girl who doesn’t live alone on an island! C’mon, let’s get some food before the horde arrives,” he waved her towards the buffet. They helped themselves to the food with Greg assembling a monster sandwich of black forest ham, Swiss cheese and spicy Dijon mustard. Grabbing a can of cola, he headed to the table at the front of the room and set down his laptop and briefcase. Rumi joined him with a simpler roast beef on a roll and a ginger ale. She handed him several napkins.

“You know, for a Zen master, you are awfully forgetful…,” she giggled.

“Thanks Rumi,” he smiled winningly.

Trish grimaced.

he justified.

The delegates started arriving and made small sounds of appreciation at the food laid out for them. Greg just directed them towards it when he noticed hesitation. That started an orderly stampede. The crowd finally settled around ten minutes past one and Greg looked about the room speculatively.

“It appears that a few people wanted to make my acquaintance,” he acknowledged. The group chuckled at his self-deprecatory comment.

“Well, here I am and I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m tired of being talked at. You all must have something on your minds, or you’d be in Doctor Gullivan’s group down the hall. Please, just stand up and speak…” the crowd surged to their feet, “…ahhh… but one at a time please… I’ll point,” Greg directed. Jon Tyler stood in the front row and waved. Greg rolled his eyes,

“Yes Jon…” he sighed, expecting trouble. Jon clicked his heels together and bowed at the waist in mock respect for his friend.

“Herr Doktor Howard, why are you so neeto-keen?” he asked in a fake German accent. The crowd laughed aloud at this and the ice broke. Good ol’ Jonny.

“Gee, I don’t know Jon.” Greg looked around the room, “Maybe someone else here can answer Doctor Tyler’s question. It seems to be based on the hypothesis that I am ‘neeto-keen’. Any takers?” Rumi stood up and Greg nodded to her in relief.

“Well, I’ve had a small opportunity to observe you closely Doctor,” she began, “and I think it’s because you care. You care about the planet, you care about other people, and you care about more than just yourself. It makes people want to like you.”

“OK,” Greg nodded, “it seems I care, anything else?” A young man in the middle of the room stood up.

“Yes Sir? You know my name, Doc or Greg. And who might you be?” Greg smiled indulgently.

“Uh Doc, I’m Norman Johns and I think Ms. Takahashi is correct, but the opposite is also true. The things you don’t care about are also worth mentioning.”

“Go on Norm, we’re listening,” Greg prompted.

“Well… you don’t seem to care about profits, you don’t care about too much secrecy, and you don’t seem to care about protocol and hierarchy either. You respect people (or don’t) based on whether they deserve that respect, not because someone gave them a title or a string of letters behind their name,” the young man suggested.

“OK, good point Norm. I refuse to bow and scrape to a title, I prefer to respect a person. OK folks, now that my character flaws have all been dissected, are there any other questions?” Greg smiled out to the sea of faces, and then mock glared at Jon who made the sign of protection against the evil-eye to ward off the look. A man around his own age stood up in the back.

“Rob Rumboldt,” he said by way of introduction. “Greg, most of us know what AERI is, but what is the second one?”

“Thanks Rob, I was just getting to that. The second acronym is Alternate Energy Research Institute, Europe. I’ve just purchased some land near Biel, Switzerland to build a larger facility and manufactory. I’ve done almost everything I can on my own and now I want to get a team of open-minded, rugged individuals together to help me make the world better for everyone, not just for those who can afford it.” Greg elaborated and the bulk of the room was on its feet cheering by the time Greg had finished his answer.

Another young woman stood when the applause had died down.

“Natalie Green, Doc. I was wondering, do you propose an abandonment of technology or a return to an agrarian society to balance the equation of man versus nature?”

“Great, that’s a very good question Natalie,” Greg clapped his hands together. “My answer would have to be… no and no. There’s no reason we cannot have a healthy planet and maintain our technological status. I think that the answer lies in finding a way to reuse what we have callously thrown away and to find technologies that may have been suppressed or abandoned as not being cost effective.” A low murmur shot through the crowd.

“OK, for example, who here has seen a James Bond movie? All of you? Right, who here saw the Bond film Die Another Day? Most of you, good, then you’ll all remember the villains’ plot… to orbit a giant mirror that would light and warm the darkest places of the Earth so it would be possible to grow crops where there was once only permafrost. Giant death rays aside… that was a real proposal. The Russians wanted to orbit these giant mirrors to warm Siberia. The plan was scrapped because it wasn’t… say it with me…” he waved his arms in the air as if conducting an orchestra,

“COST EFFECTIVE” the crowd said in unison.

“OOOOH… spiffy!” Greg continued, “We spend all of our time chasing little scraps of paper around because we have been told that it’ll make us happy. Now don’t get me wrong, money is currently the only game in town, but what happens when everyone is well fed, clothed and sheltered? Money becomes much less important. However, when money is less important, how will the rich people know that they’re better than the rest of us? I would suggest therapy, but that’s just me. As to finding an effective technological recycling plan…” Greg’s little informal talk was definitely off to a great start and 3 hours later, Greg finally stood to wrap the session up.

“I think we’re just about out of time so I can take one more question and may I take this moment to congratulate you all on your extremely well thought out questions. This is what I think a symposium should be. All right, you in the middle, the young lady in pink?” he pointed.

“Ah… Sally Johansson, Doc. Why do you seem to hate the rich so much?”

“Another good question,” Greg responded with the ghost of a smile, “but that’s based on the faulty assumption that I hate the rich. I don’t, I can’t, because I am currently what most people would call rich and I’m not into the whole self-hate thing. Besides, I know many wonderful rich people. You’d love them too… great folks and good conversationalists. No Sally, I do not hate the rich. What I do hate are greed and fear. Those two one-syllable words have kept humankind in darkness and violence for millennia. I’m not saying we can eliminate greed, it seems to me to be hardwired, but greed is why a planet that could probably sustain twice our current eight billion souls has over three quarters of its population starving or exposed to deadly diseases on a daily basis... and then there’s fear. Fear of the other has caused more wars than any other single thing, greed included, even though it has been proven repeatedly that we are all the same beneath the skin… in our genes, in our DNA, in our atomic structure. If you happen to believe in a God or a Goddess, not one of them tells you to kill in His or Her name. I believe we can eliminate fear. We just have to learn to appreciate all that we can offer to each other. Sorry to get all preachy so late in the day, but I feel very strongly about this. Thank you all very much.” Greg made a small bow and the standing ovation almost blew him over his chair. Then the crowd slowly started filtering out of the room.

Trish sounded awed.

Greg rejoindered

Rumi ran up and gave Greg a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Doc, I… I don’t know what to say, I’ve never felt so completely inspired. I have to work with you… I have no other choice now!” she gushed. Jon grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Jeez Greg, I didn’t know you had it in you! I’d leave Canada at the drop of a hat to plant a seed in Africa if you asked me to,” his friend praised him.

“Go on, the both of you. Was it really that good?” he asked.

“Doc, I’ll bet that more than half of the people here today will be polishing up their résumés for a shot at working with you to improve the planet,” Rumi answered knowingly. Greg stood there looking flustered. He held up a hand.

“Look at me, I’m trembling…Goddess, I could use a good stiff drink. Who’ll join me? It’s on the rich person,” he laughed.

Before anyone could answer, there was a sound of clapping that came echoing across the empty room. Greg focussed on a tall gentleman in a tailored suit that screamed its substantial cost.

“I must say that was an excellent salon Doctor Howard, well spoken indeed.

Greg recognised the voice as he’d heard it on the other end of Natalia’s telephone conversation. He felt his hackles rise but maintained a mask of calm. The man seemed to be somewhere in his 60s but in excellent shape. He had wavy steel grey hair and carried an ornate walking stick.

“You have me at a slight disadvantage Sir,” Greg professed ignorance. “You seem to know me but, as far as I can recall, we’ve never been properly introduced.”

“Nathanial Ravensclaw, at your service, and your friends are Jon Tyler and Rumiko Takahashi. Please sit down,” Ravensclaw gestured imperiously as he walked towards them and sat in the front row of the room.

“I’d hoped to meet with you privately, but my colleagues told me you politely declined,” he said with a slight quirk of his lips.

“Well Nathanial, I’d suggest you hire a better grade of goon next time, perhaps some that understand a polite question when it’s asked of them,” Greg responded crisply.

"Ah yes, the ‘polite question’,” Nathanial snorted derisively, “what was it? ‘Who wants to know?’ Well Sammy is learning the hard way that politeness can usually achieve much more than threats.”

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company Nathanial?” Greg asked coolly.

“A simple business proposition Doctor Howard,” Ravensclaw responded. Greg scowled.

“Rumi, Jon, could I meet you in a few minutes at that bar across the street, I have to figure out how to politely refuse Mr. Ravensclaw’s offer,” Greg inquired of his friends.

Trish seemed ready to leap across the table and choke Nathanial.

Greg mollified Trish. Rumi guided Jon from the room by his elbow and winked back at Greg.

“Now Doctor Howard, is that nice? At least hear me out,” Nathanial said blandly.

“Why?” Greg glared at him. “So you can take me to the high mountain and show me the kingdoms of the Earth? Knock off the act Ravensclaw. You feel I’m threatening you somehow and you want to purchase my soul. Well… it’s not for sale! I had your daughter pegged pretty soon after I met her. It’s really too bad she hasn’t the stomach for reality,” he smirked.

“Ahhhh yes…” Nathanial steepled his fingers, “Natalia… what on Earth did you do to send her scurrying back to Los Angeles with her tail between her legs?” he sounded slightly amused.

“I acted Nye Kulturi, without culture. Her pampered upbringing never prepared her for a dinner with a real person. A pity… if she wasn’t so cold, she probably has the capacity to be a real person herself,” Greg chuckled at the memory. Ravensclaw sighed.

“Very well Doctor Howard, I can see that you cannot be bought. However I really don’t think you fully understand who you’re dealing with,” he warned Greg ominously.

“Really?” Greg raised an eyebrow. “Well Nate, why don’t you illuminate me? Throw a little light on the subject?” he quipped. Ravensclaw stiffened and glared at Greg. All pretences of civility had drained out of him.

“You play a very dangerous game Doctor Howard. We have many resources and we could make life…let’s just say… difficult for you,” Nathanial’s true colours were beginning to show.

“Well, I may just surprise you with resources of my own,” Greg countered. “Now, here’s my warning to you… don’t push me or my friends or you could very easily find out what poverty is… and not just the moral poverty you currently suffer from. Now, if you’ve nothing further, I’ll take my leave. I’m expected for a drink with my friends, you know… friends?” Greg scoffed. He stood and walked towards the door. Halfway there, he turned back.

“You know something Nate? I just figured out that there’s no polite way to tell someone to stick their head up their ass, so… go stick your head up your ass,” he concluded. As Greg exited the room, Doctor Gullivan leapt back in surprise. Greg just glared at him.

“I think your boss needs his ass kissed, do you need any chapstick?”

Greg strode out of the hall and walked across the street to the bar. He wanted a drink with his friends, but he also desperately wanted to smash something. He spotted a rock on the sidewalk. It was small and grey and looked like granite. It would do. He picked it up and made a fist. Grey powder filtered through his fingers and he felt slightly better. Dusting off his hands, he went into the bar and found Jon and Rumi.

“How’d it go? Did he scream much? Was there any blood? Tell me man, tell me!” Jon leapt out of his seat.

“I found out how to tell a man to insert his cranium into his anus. You simply can’t do it politely,” Greg grimaced. “Ravensclaw made vague threats towards me and I made vague threats back. His toady Gullivan was hovering just outside the door too,” he reported. Jon frowned for a moment.

“Actually you could have told him to live cranio-anally.” Greg looked at his friend blankly for a matter of seconds and then did a double take. They broke out laughing.

“Thanks Jon, I really needed that,” Greg said feeling instantly better and glad for the fellowship of his newfound companions. Rumi slid a double bourbon in front of Greg.

“Doc, are you sure this is a safe course of action?” she asked worriedly.

“Nathanial reminded me that, according to him, there are only two ways to go, his way or the highway. I happen to know of a third. There is no safe course when dealing with scum like Ravensclaw, Rumi. If he declares war on me, I will declare it right back.”

“Still want to enlist with Doc Savage here Rumi?” Jon stage whispered to her.

“Yes, the planet is worth it Jonny. What about you?” she asked.

“Oh sure kid, my old roomie knows I’ve got his back,” Jon said affectionately.

“Thank you both,” Greg relaxed visibly. “The new institute won’t be ready for six to eight months, but I’d love to have you as project director and researcher Jon, and Rumi, I want you as planner and researcher when we get going or sooner if you can, to assist me in getting the place up and running. But really, thank you, I’m already feeling the slime washing off of my slightly battered soul,” he smiled sincerely at his pals and then raised his glass in a toast.

“To the future and a renewed world!” The others raised their glasses too.

“To the future and a renewed world!” they echoed.

To Be Continued