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Trevor thought about it. He hadn’t thought about it for a long time. Amanda’s question forced Trevor to look back to his childhood, and his memory created a small puzzle from the distant past out of several pieces of long-forgotten childhood impressions.
It happened on the day he turned twelve.
Trevor’s father, a well-known architect, was designing one of the tallest hotels in Thailand. His wife and son had moved to live in Hong Kong. It was the day Trevor’s family celebrated his birthday. The celebration ended with an evening gondola ride along Bangkok's canals.
The boat was long and narrow and big enough only for a few people. A yellow cloth stretched over it to protect passengers from the sun. A kerosene lamp sat in the rear of the gondola while another dangled from a long pole at the bow, lighting the way ahead.
It was close to midnight, but nobody wanted to return to the sweltering heat of the hotel. More lamps were lit on the boat; the conversation flowed. Trevor had been placed on the bottom of the hull next to his father and had fallen asleep. He dreamed that he was sailing on a large pirate ship on a stormy sea. The periodic splashes of water on his face made his dream seem more real. He was smiling in his slumber. Trevor remembered the day, full of fun, gifts and games.
His father’s colleagues usually took their families with them on long business trips, so Trevor found plenty of friends. On this day, however, he received all the attention. He was given sweets and gifts wrapped in colorful boxes. His father gave him the best present – a model kit of a huge white aircraft. The color image on the lid astounded Trevor, and he couldn’t wait to open the box and start putting it together.
After the party, his parents had decided on the gondola ride along the canals of Bangkok. Trevor held the model kit tightly against his chest, leaning against his father and quietly falling asleep. Trevor heard the casual banter of his parents, splashing of the water and rocking of the boat, the salty smell of algae and fried rice filled his nostrils, and then suddenly everything disappeared, and he found himself on the roof of a barn, like in a fairytale. Everything went still, but the picture was too realistic and clear. The roof of the barn was made of rusty tin. Trevor was squatting barefoot and staring at the clouds.
Shocked by the abrupt transition, Trevor stood up and looked around. Next to him was a boy he didn’t know chatting in a strange language. Trevor looked at the boy with undisguised fear and astonishment, trying to figure out who he was and what was happening to him.
Not far from the barn stood an old log house with a red tile roof. The cracks in its walls were visible. Chickens were scampering around a yard and a big shaggy dog was sleeping, chained to a wooden fence.
The barn looked over a series of vegetable gardens, small houses with red roofs and farther – the mountain slopes densely covered by green forests. The day was very hot and smelled like burning bitumen, like at his father’s construction sites.
In contrast with bustling Bangkok, everything seemed to have stopped here. There wasn’t even a perceptible gust of wind; the total silence accentuated the tranquility of the place.
“Where is the boat, mom? Where has everything gone?” Trevor asked, terrified, not able to grasp what had happened and how he ended up here.
Trevor looked down at his clothes. He was dressed in blue woolen joggers that bagged oddly at the knees and a white t-shirt with the letter 'R' embroidered in black near the hem. Both the t-shirt and the joggers were too big for him, as if they belonged to somebody else.
Everything around him looked vividly realistic. That terrified Trevor. He tried to pinch himself, but nothing happened. Trevor squeezed his eyes shut, held his breath and clenched his hands. Then he cautiously opened one eye, then the other, but it all remained unchanged – the barn, the red roofs and the stranger.
Trevor decided he needed to leave this place quickly and took a step. The red-hot tin of the roof scorched his heels. He shuddered from the sharp pain… and opened his eyes.
“Get the lamp, now!” Trevor heard his father yelling. He grabbed the lamp and quickly passed it forward.
A shot of pain jolted Trevor awake. His heel had touched the glass of the kerosene lamp while he was sleeping, which then fell and nearly broke.
“Are you burned?” his mother asked, inspecting the heel. “Thank God, he seems fine. You scared us. Wake up, honey, we're about to get off.”
The odd dream and strange transition haunted him, but something was about to happen that made him forget about everything.
The next day tragedy struck. There was a car accident. His parents were killed and he spent a month in hospital hovering between life and death.
Much later, the strange transition and the eerie feeling of reality gnawed at him for a long time and he began to see it all as a sign of the impending tragedy, a warning, which he fatally did not understand and so could not warn anybody. He felt guilty for not telling his parents about the dream for a long time. Maybe they would have understood the warning and that horrible accident could have been prevented. The hard feeling of guilt settled deep in Trevor’s heart.
The fears eventually faded, the tragic memories replaced by new one, and the boy’s memory erased everything he had experienced at the time of the accident.
And now, Trevor was taken aback by a simple question about dreams. It made him think and return to that distant past. In fact, it was after the crash that he stopped dreaming. Trevor usually went to sleep and couldn’t remember anything when he woke up. He could not tell whether he had had a dream or not. He did not remember his dreams, as often happens to many people after an exhausting day.
At first, he paid no attention to it. Later, as he grew up, at about the age of twenty he believed that he really did not dream. It was natural for him.
“You know, Amanda, it’s been a very long time since I’ve had a dream. I don’t dream when I sleep, like at all. Ever since I was a child, I think,” answered Trevor, and then remembering something important, exclaimed, “Color. Probably color. This was a very long time ago. But I do remember that those dreams were in color.”
Amanda looked at Trevor with surprise.
“It is impossible not to dream at all. Even those who are born blind experience dreams, although specific visual images are rarely present in them, because other sensations are involved. Maybe you just don’t remember them?"
“No, Amanda. I don’t dream when I sleep. I tried to remember something just now, but only one thing came to mind. A dream from my childhood. It is actually hard to tell what it really was. I don’t think it was a dream per se, but I cannot remember anything except for that.”
Trevor looked at Amanda and realized that it surprised him too. It would seem that everybody had dreams and there was something wrong with him. It hadn’t bothered him until now. In the mornings, he would feel the same way as those who had just woken up and could not remember their dreams, but never stopped to think about it. However, later those people sometimes could remember what they had dreamed, while Trevor would never give it another thought. He also did not feel like sharing with Amanda his family tragedy.
“Alright, let’s try to figure out the reason behind this strange phenomenon. You see, a person needs to have dreams in order to relax their mind from the impressions of reality. A dream is a sort of a relaxation and protection program,” Amanda said, smiling and set a metronome. “Although the events that happen in a dream do leave indelible experiences on a person’s memory and heart, they are still just dreams created to protect your brain from overload. You may forget everything in the future.”
The rhythm of the swaying pendulum filled the room. Despite its monotony, the sound was pleasant and after some time Trevor felt his heart beat in time.
“Well, Trevor, let’s begin. Lie down on that couch."
Trevor felt slightly awkward, but he was interested in what Amanda had to say now, so he did as he was told.
“Sometimes, people think they don't dream, but in reality they experience dreams every night,” continued Amanda. “It’s just when we wake up, we forget not only the dream itself, but the very fact of it happening. The human brain is very complex and we know little about it. Let us now try to comprehend everything, and I’ll also work on your insomnia while we're at it.”
Trevor settled on the couch as Amanda instructed and tried to observe her. He did not believe that someone who considered themselves a hypnotherapist or psychologist could force another person to fall asleep, as if it was some kind of a game, and then under the hypnosis perform some actions, make some suggestions or provoke something from the distant past. He always believed it to be pure fraud, and those who did manage to suggest something to a person, using their gullibility, to be just talented charlatans.
Amanda took a small pillow and placed it under Trevor’s head. She moved her chair closer to the couch, sat down and turned on a voice recorder.
“Relax, Trevor. Close your eyes and listen carefully to what I’m saying.”
After an easy pause, Amanda continued slowly in a steady voice: “You feel the pressure of the pillow against the back of your head and your shoulders. You feel the couch under your entire back. Now, focus on your thighs and feel the couch support your entire body. You are very relaxed, as if your whole body has sunk fully into the soft couch… completely immersed in it."
Trevor listened to her pleasant, low voice and the steady beats of the metronome.
“Imagine yourself at home or in another cozy place, where you’d like to fall asleep. It could be a sea shore or a forest, or a cool, dewy meadow by a river on a hot summer day.”
Trevor suddenly remembered that night on the canal in Bangkok. He is lying on the bottom of the gondola and somewhere above him a voice grows quieter and quieter, following him to the dream world.
“You are breathing steadily and deeply. Your body is soft and relaxed… You are calm and very relaxed… Your whole body is relaxed… And now you fall asleep… Sleep, sleep peacefully, deeply, calmly and deeply… sleep… You are falling asleep deeper, and deeper, and deeper… Sleep and listen to my voice.” Amanda’s voice grew quieter and quieter, then increasingly distant until it disappeared completely…
Trevor came to upon hearing Amanda shout "Wake up!"
Trevor opened his eyes. Everything in the room was the same as it was just a few minutes ago; the metronome continued its steady rhythm.
Amanda looked concerned and confused.
“Well? Did you manage to dig something out of my head?” Trevor joked.
“What did you dream about? Did you have a dream?” she asked instead of answering.
“Amanda, I told you I don’t have dreams,” Trevor sighed and tried to say something else, but Amanda interrupted him.
“Well, you just spent a good hour trying to convince me otherwise.” Amanda looked at Trevor anxiously, prompting Trevor to feel anxious as well.
“Here, listen to this. I think you will find it very interesting.” Amanda placed the voice recorder before Trevor and turned it on.
Chapter 7
14 December 2011. 18:35 London, UK
Robert was in his hotel room looking through materials related to a contract. In an hour he was to meet Mr. Zimme, a gemologist, for dinner at a restaurant, and so he wanted to examine the details of the deal one more time.
Morgan Lawyer & Co. was acting as intermediary in the acquisition of a large lot of diamonds and had provided documentation and legal support for the deal. The seller was a billionaire from Russia living at One Hyde Park, a luxury residential complex in London, and the buyer – a sheikh from Saudi Arabia. The Russians wanted to remain in the shadows, so he involved an offshore company from the Virgin Islands for the sale and acted through representatives. All negotiations between buyer and seller, without exception, however, involved Robert.
The firm usually had him support these kinds of deals worth hundreds of millions of euros. So, this wasn’t the first transaction of this sort for Robert.
The day before, there had been a meeting at the office of the firm’s director, where Roland said to Robert: “I understand your concerns about the rush. I know Christmas is just days away, but the buyer wants to spend the money before the year’s end. You know, for tax purposes. Besides, the buyer is a Sunni, and for them our Christmas doesn’t really exist. Everything will be ready by December 16. No later. Brink’s Incorporated, the shipping company, has already delivered the diamonds to the bank, and I was notified today that the buyer’s money has been transferred there too. Here’s the SWIFT transfer confirmation."
“Roland, the rush is not a problem. Rather, I'm concerned about insurance liability and possible consequences. I told you the diamonds' sales contract clearly specifies a strict deadline for completion of the deal. If the deal falls through, the default party will have to pay a penalty of five percent of the value of the deal.”
“Well, what’s bothering you there?” asked Roland, surprised. “The bank already blocked this amount on the accounts of the parties to the contract.”
“That’s not what I mean. I am suspicious that the payment of the penalty and insurance indemnity to the seller under the preliminary agreement and at the request of his representative are transferred not to the account, where the funds from the sale of the diamonds are transferred, but to an offshore account. The buyer, meanwhile, makes the payment through a top bank, and the possible penalties and insurance indemnities are also transferred there.” Robert paused and took the contract in his hands. “The fact that the buyer agreed to that is what is most suspect. These kinds of contracts take at least a month to prepare and we have only slightly over a week. By the way, December 16 is the last day. I'm not used to being so pressed for time. What if the deal does not go through on the 16th? We are really short on time,” he said.
“Listen, if the buyer does not object, what can we do? I offered, but the Arabs did not focus on this at all. Also, Robert, why do you think that the agreement will fall through? After all, the insurance indemnity is paid only if nothing happens. I think your suspicions are groundless. Both parties are serious about this and nobody will risk their image for some five percent. No, that’s just silly."
“Roland, the penalty is nearly fifty million dollars! You think that’s silly?"
“Robert, maybe the seller wants to evade taxes this way.”
“You mean the taxes he would pay on the principal bothers him less than a possible loss from the penalty?”
“Well, that’s why we are sending you, Robert. You have to make this deal happen, so that nobody has to pay any fines.”
In the evening, Robert and Kenan Zimme, who worked at the laboratory of HRD Antwerp, were dining at one of London's oldest restaurants.
Mr. Zimme was an active, sociable and nice seventy-year old Jew, a native of Odesa. At the beginning of the Second World War and German occupation of the city, his family fled to Palestine. Shortly afterwards, due to the constant conflicts inside the newly created Israel, the Zimme family moved to the United States, where his father opened a jewelry store and a pawnshop.
That’s what he told Robert during dinner. Mr. Zimme joked a lot, and he shared funny stories from his life. During the conversation, he remarked several times that a smile made him feel like a twenty-year old young man and that as luck would have it, he was sick only once in his life – he contracted epidemic parotitis, the mumps, at the age of four.
Zimme was reciting all this with great humor, typical of those who are fully content with their life and fate.
Robert was noticeably concerned about the contract, but Mr. Zimme cheerfully reassured him: “Young man, believe me, from an old perch that's swum in different waters in this life, you need not worry. Everything that is bound to happen will happen, and everything that is not meant to happen will not happen, regardless of your concerns and your actions. So, is it worth being nervous or anxious then? Today, when you go back to your hotel, don’t worry about anything. Just lie down and sleep tight. Trust the rest to God. He will take care of everything. As for our object, I must tell you that it is wonderful. It’s been some years since I’ve seen something like that. I reviewed everything thoroughly and I am confident there won’t be any trouble.”
But Robert was still concerned. He could not understand the reason behind his doubts and anxiety. To distract himself a bit, he decided to call Chloe.
It was just after 9 pm. Chloe did not answer. Robert dialed several more times, but got the same result. A waiter approached him and asked Robert to take a call from the restaurant’s phone. Robert immediately thought about Chloe, but how could she know the phone number of the restaurant?
“Right,” remembered Robert. “I left the details at the hotel’s reception.”
“I suspect, young man, that a certain young woman is tired of waiting for you in your room while you entertain an old man here.” Zimme smiled. “Go, because as a talented fellow countryman of mine once wisely wrote:
Love, love, because time does not wait for you.
It takes away your days and nights.
Love for as long as your body is young and thirsty.
Because when you are old, you will only love with the eyes.
“No, my girlfriend is very far away now, but it could be her calling.” Robert smiled at Zimme’s wit and headed to the bar.
When Robert picked up the phone, he could only hear short beeps. Robert replaced the receiver and waited for a couple of minutes, but nobody called back.
As he was returning to his table, Robert noticed from afar an unknown man of Middle Eastern appearance stop near the gemologist. As soon as Robert approached, the man excused himself and went to another room of the restaurant.
Zimme was still in a good mood and joked: “Well, Mr. Blanche, it seems like we keep getting interrupted.”
“Was that someone you know?” Robert asked, disregarding Mr. Zimme’s comment.
“You mean that guy? God forbid, Robert, he had me mistaken for somebody else,” Zimme said indifferently and continued to thinly slice the large piece of meat on his plate. “I’ve been mistaken for others many times. Once, I was even mistaken for Sir Anthony Hopkins and asked for an autograph. What do you think I did? I gave the autograph! And this one time in Israel…”
He continued to tell funny stories, and from time to time the old man would laugh so hard tears came to his eyes. Robert thought he had never met a more cheerful person in his life.
In the morning, Robert was awoken by a call from Mehmet, the sheikh’s aide. In a troubled voice he informed Robert that Mr. Zimme had had a heart attack and been taken to the ER, and so they had to quickly find a new gemologist. He also said that all the documents where Mr. Zimme was mentioned as an expert needed to be revised.
At that moment, Robert felt a suspicion that someone wanted to disrupt the deal. He immediately called his boss and reported the incident.
To keep the deal on track, the Arab side tried to get a gemologist from Israel. However, he was too busy and had to decline. The same happened with a gemologist from Belgium. Unexpectedly, the Israeli Diamond Exchange offered a professional gemologist from Guinea, who was in the UK at the moment.
The sheikh’s security quickly screened the gemologist’s documents and confirmed that Mr. Kone, a citizen of Guinea, was indeed an excellent expert, who had been in the business for thirty years, providing his services in West Africa, Angola and South Africa. Mr. Kone was immediately summoned to London and introduced to the sheikh.
It turned out that Mr. Kone was short, sturdy, black, and sixty years old. He was very polite and spoke French and English fluently.
That same morning, a white Maybach Landaulet drove up to the bank with the sheikh and his aide. The sheikh’s security detail and partners were already standing at the entrance and politely greeted him.
After all the formalities were observed, the representatives of both parties entered the conference room.
The sheikh was the first to enter, followed by his two strong bodyguards and three Arabs, the sheikh’s partners. Everybody, except the bodyguards, were dressed in long white robes of thin cotton and a keffiyeh affixed with a black head ring. The bodyguards, dressed in black suits, white shirts and colored ties, stood with stony faces in the corners of the room. It was clear from their appearance that they were American. Their conduct, hair and square chins gave away that they were former US special forces, likely Navy Seals.
Then the representatives of the seller, both from Eastern Europe, Czechs or Slovaks, entered the room. Everybody, except the bodyguards, sat down at the big round table, greeted each other and waited. One of the sheikh’s aides, upon his order, opened a grey MacBook and launched the bank’s app to access the account.
Several minutes later, Robert, gemologist Kone and two bank representatives with a metal box entered the room.
Robert placed two packages of documents before the buyer and the seller. All these documents had been examined by the parties a long time ago, but official procedure required it. The diamonds had also been already examined by the bank’s experts. Mr. Zimme personally had checked the quality of each diamond in the presence of bank employees. However, before transferring the money to the buyer and the diamonds to the seller, the procedure required another formal examination.
The metal box was opened, revealing neatly folded plastic bags with big, the size of a hazelnut, diamonds. A gemological certificate was attached to each stone.
Everything was removed from the metal box and placed on a separate table for inspection.
Mr. Kone, in white gloves, approached the table and selected several bags. He took out one stone and looked at it through a special loupe set on a tripod. He compared his examination result with the gemological certificate. Satisfied, he handed the stone to the sheikh, who examined it carefully with his own handheld loupe. Also satisfied, the sheikh nodded.
Kone repeated the procedure with several more diamonds. The Arabs again nodded in approval; they were getting exactly what they expected.
The diamonds were, indeed, wonderful; it was hard to find something of such quality at the price offered by the Russians, and in such quantity.
Finally, the gemologist, having examined yet another stone, looked at the sheikh, but he just made a barely noticeable hand gesture for Kone to continue working. The gemologist nodded, carefully packed the diamond into the bag and placed it back in the box together with the certificate. He then took another diamond from the table and continued to examine it closer through the special loupe.
