A Modern Nemo 28

Drake Forest walked into a tavern. He sat at a table next to the door and bade the waiter bring him a bottle of retsina and a pair of glasses.

As he sat at the table and sampled the wine's bouquet, another Asian man dressed in black and wearing glasses sat down on front of him.

"Drake Forest, huh?" said Shizuo Onodera as he leaned forward, placing his left arm on the table. "Just how many people are you planning to call yourself that name in front of?"

Ryuichi Hayashi took off his hat and glasses, smiled and continued sniffing the wine. "Which would you prefer?" he chuckled. "Lim Yong-il? Lin Longyi? Paamai Teeneungmangkon? Rung Rong Mot? Preichheu Dambaungneak? Pamai Khangthoaidmangkon? Draig Hunfed Goedwig? Oh, how about Hutan Pertamanaga?"

"They all mean the same thing," said Onodera, grinning.

Hayashi poured wine in the other glass and handed it to Onodera.

"Paamai Teeneungmangkon, Lin Longyi, Hutan Pertamanaga," Onodera went on. "They mean the same thing: your name. Doesn't matter if it's in Thai, Chinese or Malaysian. It's still Ryuichi Hayashi."

"Don't worry about it."

"I kinda like Draig H. Goedwig, though; It's not that obvious. So, how do you find your new friend?"

Hayashi tasted the wine. "Naive," he replied. "Interesting, can actually be quite trusting to people who give something to him."

Onodera sniffed the wine and drank half the glass of it. "So," he asked, "can we use him?"

Hayashi lifted his glass to the light and swirled the wine. "I believe we can," he said, watching the wine as it moved round and round in the glass. Lowering the glass, he put it to his lips and drank.

A Modern Nemo 27

The North Korean ran in panic. He was lost, lost in a place far removed from his homeland. Exhausted and trembling, he slumped into a chair at an outdoor coffee shop.

"Are you lost?" said a voice.

He started. Turning to his left, he saw a man -another Asian- sitting at the table; a cup of coffee was in his right hand and a newspaper was in the other. This man was the same height as him and wore dark glasses, a  wide-brimmed panama hat and white clothes: an unbuttoned shirt, tank top and trousers.

Kim Nam-ha was stunned. He thought only he and the others in the fleet were the only foreigners around. He wanted to leave, but felt compelled to stay.

"You're travelling with the Green Oceans fleet, I see," the man continued, noting Kim Nam-ha's ID.

"Yes, sir."

"Are you on vacation?"

Kim Nam-ha was nervous. Adapting to life at sea was stressful enough. Dealing with another foreigner just added to it. Sensing the distress, the stranger motioned a waiter to bring over a glass of retsina.

Tasting the wine was an exciting experience for Kim Nam-ha; he had never tried grape wine before. He began talking at length about his ordeal; how he escaped North Korea, getting his hands on Konstantiniadis' book, and wanting to live freely. And now he was lost. He had no idea how he would get back to the port.

The other man listened and smile all this time. Kim Nam-ha, his face now flushed (that was a pretty strong retsina,) ran out of steam. Depressed, he slumped forward. "But now I don't know what to do," he said. "I don't know this place and I can't think of what to do next... or where to go."

"That's easy," said the other man. "I can take you back to the pier."

"You can?" Kim Nam-ha started, his eyes wide.

"Sure," said the man. Rising, he placed a pair of SS bills on the table. "Keep the change," he said to the waiter.

"Follow me," he said, motioning to Kim Nam-ha and started walking. As Kim Nam-ha followed his new benefactor, the waiter approached the table to pick up the bills. His eyes widened at what he saw. It was enough to buy a small TV set.

"Where do you come from?" asked an astonished Kim Nam-ha. The money he saw wasn't European.

"Why do you want to know?"

"I've never been out of my country before," replied Kim Nam-ha. "And we're in Greece. I've never traveled before and I-"

"You're not comfortable meeting different people?"

"No, it's just-"

"It's alright," said the stranger reassuringly. "I had the same problem. But now I travel a lot. My work takes me places, and your time at Green Oceans will as well."

They had been going a short distance when Kim Nam-ha became even more uncomfortable. "Excuse me, sir," he said. "But are you sure we're going to the pier?"

The man pointed upward. "Look up," he said.

Kim Nam-ha looked up and saw the  bow of the Embark. It glistened in the afternoon sun, and even though it was still quite a walk, the figure of the huge ship was still a sight to behold. Kim Nam-ha gasped in amazement. "Thank you, sir!" he exclaimed, running past the stranger.

As he neared the port gate, he almost forgot one thing. "I'm sorry, I just remembered," he said turning around. "What's your name?"

"It's Drake Forest," replied the stranger.

"Thank you, sir!" cried Kim Nam-ha, "Thank you Mr. Forest!"

Drake Forest turned around and waved as he headed back to town.

A Modern Nemo 26

Eric, Peter, Leon, Cyrus, Makoto, Ethan and Lorenzo were in the study of Ong Manor. This was the same room the where taipan and the cardinal regularly played chess. They had dinner at the manor with Eric's family and afterward, Christine had gone to bed, Linus and Laurie went to their beach house.

The taipan, the cardinal, Leon and Ethan were at the Mahjong table, playing Mahjong. Makoto was playing billiards with Lorenzo while Cyrus was drinking coffee at a nearby coffee table.

Peter sat opposite Eric, while Ethan sat facing Leon. They were playing Hong Kong Old Style Mahjong -and the game was getting pretty tense as no one seemed to be winning.

Cyrus' phone rang. It was Maximilian. "What is it, man?" asked the younger brother.

"Are you with dad?"

"Yeah, but he's got company."

"Well, I need to talk to him."

Cyrus put his mug down and went to the mahjong table. Everybody there was growing rather agitated. Eric had used up all his cigarettes and was glancing nervously at the other players. Ethan was smiling but sweating. Leon was looking at his tiles and trying to figure out whether to pick a tile from the wall or discard one in his hand. The stone-faced cardinal seemed unmoved -until one could notice that his hands were frantically rearranging his tiles.

"Dad," Cyrus whispered in his father's ear. "Maximilian wants to speak with you," and he handed Eric his phone.

"Yeah?" asked Eric as he took the phone from Cyrus. He was very uncomfortable having to make such a receive such a call while playing a game that turned into a nail-biter (lowest score would host a buffet for the other players at the city's most expensive restaurant.)

"Konstantiniadis isn't just building a fleet of ships for his own sea-spanning nation," replied Maximilian.

"So what is he up to?" muttered Eric, as he glanced at the other players. The tension was already so high, they had been playing for almost four hours with miserable scores. It was decided to have a final round.

"I don't want this tile..." Ethan mumbled as he dropped a One of Dots onto the table. Peter snatched it and dropped a Seven of Characters as Ethan picked another tile from the wall. Leon threw in a concealed tile and drew another one from the wall.

"Konstantiniadis is building something at sea," continued Maximilian. "A city that can move across the ocean and control international trade."

"That idea's kinda far-fetched," remarked Eric as he discarded a tile without looking. It was eagerly snatched up by Ethan.

"It's true, dad," said Maximilian. "I got the files from Petrov."

"Petrov? Where is he now?"

"He didn't say, but what he sent is definitely Green Oceans material."

"I call," said Leon. "Somebody's bluffing here."

"I'll catch you later," said Eric as he handed the phone back to Cyrus.

"Somebody better show his hand," said Leon.

Eric glanced at his hand. He had blundered throughout the game. His hand held a pung of 3 Bamboo, a pung of 2 Dots, a kong of 4 Characters, a 2 of Characters, a 1 of Characters, a 1 of Dots and a West Wind tile. He was East wind.

The cardinal  held a chow of 5 to 7 Characters, a pair of 1 of Dots, a pung of 2 Bamboo and an odd assortment of 3 of Dots, 3 of Bamboo, 2 of Bamboo, 2 of Characters and 8 of Bamboo.

Leon's hand held a pair of Red Dragons, a pung of 3 Bamboo, a pung of 7 of Dots a pair of 6 of Dots, an 8 of dots and a 7 of Characters. He chuckled. "Let's see what you got!" he said to Ethan.

Ethan sheepishly put down his tiles: a kong of White Dragons, a kong of his own wind (North) a pung of 1 Bamboo and a pair of flowers (Bamboo and Chrysanthemum.) "Sik," he mumbled.

Leon leaped to his feet, roaring in dismay. The cardinal landed face down in the table. Eric gaped at Ethan like a landed fish.

The Anthem

Anselmo: Taking a break from "A Modern Nemo." Here's the Ninth Symphony of Beethoven, the complete fourth movement, also known as the EOGC's unofficial anthem.

Lorenzo: Almost everybody in the EOGC territories loves this song... except the politicians.

Anselmo: Haha, yes. Oh, and this version's being sung by Japanese.

A Modern Nemo 25

Maximilian was in his office, going through all the files Petrov had sent him. He was practically so engrossed that his secretary had to go into the room because he didn't answer the phone. And when someone wanted to see him, he would nod his head, wave and continue reading the files while the visitor would go on and on with his or her ramblings.

There was something very disturbing about the files Petrov had sent him. Weapons were being purchased from former Soviet countries in Central Asia and were being smuggled through Russia, China, Afghanistan and Pakistan through Green Oceans' own delivery and shipping offices after being disassembled and placed in containers. But in some places, especially in remote places on the Russian Pacific coast, the ships were just waiting on the coast and were loaded. There was even an office created to pay out bribes to local officials.

These things, taken in isolation, did not faze Maximilian; neither was the sheer size and the type of weapons involved: attack helicopters, AK-47s, RGPs, surface-to-air and surface-to surface missiles and electronic warfare systems and point-defense weapons, to name a few. What really got his attention was a folder entitled "The Agenda."

As he pieced the information in contents of the folder's files together, an image was building in his mind: Konstantiniadis was putting together a vast armada that would claim the seas as its pond and turn the seas into his own country. That would be bad for the whole world.

He never left his office the entire day and asked his secretary to bring him a cheeseburger meal for lunch. He never stopped reading the documents even though it was already six in the evening.

Justine arrived from Ong Manor at around ten. Maximilian's secretary had already left for home and Justine came to inquire why Maximilian hadn't come home yet.

"Hey bo," she said, walking into the room. "You haven't been answering any of our calls. What's up?"

Maximilian nodded but didn't say anything. His eyes remained fixed on the computer screen.

"Hey," she said again, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, hey," replied Maximilian. His face still remained in front of the screen.

"What're you doing?" she asked.

"Working."

"But dad says there's nothing else to do today."

"Well, he doesn't, but I do."

"How important is it?"

Maximilian paid no attention until he came across a picture of a star-shaped city floating on the sea: a ship as big as a city, unconventional in design and sailing every sea in the world, claiming dominion over the waters. In the text, Konstantiniadis stated that he would ban international shipping and only his new creation, the Great Ocean Nation, would be solely responsible for protection of the seas' ecology and handle all maritime trade. A dangerous revelation was discovered.Commercial shipping would cease to exist and international trade would suffer, bringing about a global crisis. Wars would erupt and shake societies to their very foundations. Even the EOGC would be affected. Maximilian's eyes widened in horror. "Justine," he said. "Get me the phone. I'm calling dad."

A Modern Nemo 24

The wireless phone rang beside the bed. The girl awoke and picked it up. "Hello," she mumbled. "Who is this?"

"Oh," she said after listening. She turned and nudged the person sleeping next to her. "Hey," she said, "It's for you."

Maximilian opened his eyes. He put his glasses on and took the phone.

He was in his condominium unit with his girlfriend. Although his parents approved of their relationship, they did not approve of them sleeping together unless and until they tied the knot. Well, in Maximilian's opinion, that had weight if they were in Ong Manor. But this was his house; so the rules were his rules.

"Hello?" he said, sitting up.

"Mr. Ong," came Petrov's voice. "Can you go online right now? I have something important to send you."

"Alright," said Maximilian, "In a moment."

He hung up, kissed his girlfriend, who had just went back to sleep, and climbed out of bed. Then he put on a black brief and white tank top and headed for the living room.He sat down in front of his computer, turned it on and logged in. Patching into his chat with the camera on, he beheld an unusual sight.

Petrov's face was in the camera, he was covered with sweat and appeared to be moving back and forth in rapid succession. As Maximilian put the headset on, he could hear the sounds of panting and moaning.

"Hello Mr. Ong," said Petrov, breathing heavily. "I have been able to get some information on Konstantiniadis' plans."

"So what did you find out?" asked Maximilian.

"I'll send the over to you right now," Petrov replied.

A message with attachments appeared on Maximilian's screen.

"Have you received the package, Mr. Ong?"

Maximilian downloaded the attachments. There were several folders full of documents. "Yes, I have," he replied and saved them in a separate folder.

The moaning and panting was getting louder.

"Good," said Petrov. "Now I must get back to business."

He backed away from the camera and it was revealed that he was naked. His arms were holding something and were moving back and forth, as was his body from the chest down. He paused for a moment and lifted a head from below the camera; it was the face of an effeminate-looking blond young man.

"As you can see, I'm rather busy," Petrov continued.

The young man looked into the camera, smiled and waved a hand.

Unnerved, Maximilian closed the window and went offline. He thought of going back to his room for a moment. But he was tired. They had been up and about the whole night. Turning off the computer, Maximilian leaned back and fell asleep in the chair.

A Modern Nemo 23

The fleet arrived in Greece, the land of Konstantiniadis' ancestors, dropping anchor at Heraklion in Crete. Shoji and Chidori  decided to take the time and explore this new place. Chidori had been to Europe before, but this was a first for her. Her time in Europe had been spent studying in England.

As they walked the streets of Heraklion, Shoji noticed the North Korean constantly following them. It didn't annoy him. He's probably lost. he thought. Living in North Korea must be really hard on him.

But whenever he turned around, the North Korean would duck to the side and try to hide himself.

As the Japanese turned his head to look back, Kim Nam-ha threw himself behind a wall and cringed, his hands trembling. Did he see me? he thought anxiously. He remained there for a few seconds then leaned to peer at the couple.

They continued their walk. Kim Nam-ha detached himself from the wall and followed them.

Once again, the Japanese glanced over his shoulder.

Kim Nam-ha threw himself into the door of a bookstore. Looking through the window, he saw the couple continue on their way back to the port.

"Excuse me," said a voice behind him, causing him to start. Turning around, he saw a fat, middle-aged, man.

"Are you looking for something?" continued the man. "This is my store."

"No!" cried Kim Nam-ha, frightened. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Bowing profusely to the owner, he ran out of the bookstore blindly. After running for a while without a thought, he realized he was lost.

Shoji and Chidori returned to the port and were greeted with a new batch of arrivals. There was one group, about six of them from France, that actually approached him; they had heard of the speech he made.

"Hello, Shoji Kawamura!" said one of them, approaching Shoji with an extended hand. "I am Francois Moreau. My friends and I heard about your speech in New York!"

Shoji laughed and shook Francois' hand. "It's nothing, really," he said.

"We've come all this way here because we want to be free from the meaninglessness of living in our society," Francois continued. "The six of us here, let me introduce you; Andre, Louis, Raoul, Raymond, Suzette and Antoine."

He gestured to his friends, who greeted Shoji in turn. But Shoji noticed something. "Antoine?" he wondered. "I thought there were only six of you."

Francois laughed. "Of course," he said. "Antoine is still in France, but he will follow us in a few days' time."

"He's a Green Oceans information officer, like you," added Suzette.

At this point Chidori, who had gone back in the hotel with Simon, came running back to Shoji with Simon behind her. She was very excited. "Shoji! Shoji!" she cried.

She fell upon his left arm, wrapping her arms around it. "It's Sayoko!"

Sayoko was the woman who was with child.

"She's about to give birth!"

Meanwhile, in Paris, France...

All was quiet in the apartment building, all except for the sound of pleasurable, sensuous, moaning coming from behind one apartment door. This one had a plaque on it which read: Antoine Leclercq, Green Oceans.

Arkady Petrov sat up and lit a cigarette. He was naked and had been busy all day and all night. He looked down at his right, at the naked young man still lying down and high on cocaine.

"Well, that's that," he remarked. "It's a pity I'll have to waste you soon; you were great in bed and really cute. But I have a job to do."

A Modern Nemo 22

Shoji Kawamura woke up and turned to his right. Chidori was there, sleeping beside him. It had been three months since he made that speech. Now the two of them, along with Simon, the North Korean and the couple were at sea together with a host of others. In such a short time the bulk of the Green Oceans fleet had officially retired, including new vessels. The fleet was now in international waters and, withe other ships to join them in the coming months. In a few days, Konstantiniadis would arrive to inaugurate the new nation.

Life at sea was an exciting affair. Konstantiniadis owned a number of Caribbean resorts and his wealth and influence kept prying eyes away. Shoji and Chidori practically had the time of their lives as the fleet traveled the islands. They were now in the open ocean, heading for Europe.

Shoji sat up and climbed out of bed. He put on his white boxers and walked across the cabin to the porthole. Pushing the curtain aside, he beheld the vast, open sea. The morning sun was shining, casting its rays upon the waters; the sparkle reflected in his eyes. He smiled, and as his thoughts were turning to the possible challenges that would open up to him, he felt Chidori's right arm encircling his right shoulder.

He put right hand on her right hand, lowered his eyes and turned to his left as she put her left hand on his left arm.

A Modern Nemo 21

Maximilian entered his father's office and beheld his brothers standing nervously next to the desk. Their father was sitting, not at the desk, but on it -and cross-legged; he was smoking a newly-lighted cigarette.

Upon seeing Maximilian, Eric threw the barely-used cigarette into the ashtray and dropped to the floor. "Alright," he said, "your brothers told me everything. What I want to know now is why you sent Petrov and his crew to gather intel on Konstantiniadis at this point. It's too early. It could even backfire."

"You did tell me once that it's important to think two steps ahead of the competition."

Eric approached his eldest son. "You're hiding something," he said. "What is it that you're not telling me?"

"If I told you, would you believe me?" asked the younger Ong.

Eric leaned forward. "Try me," he said.

Maximilian took a cigar from his pocket and lighted it. "The recent seizure of pirate vessels off the Horn of Africa yielded more than just the usual caches of guns and ammunition. Among the weapons that were gathered from these ships were the parts of a Phalanx CIWS as well as Slick-32 and and Spook nine fire-control radars."

Eric straightened up. "Go on," he said with a nod.

"The interrogation of many of the pirates pointed out that this equipment was destined for a 'shipbuilder in China' and the containers of this equipment bore markings of Green Oceans."

Eric nodded and raised a finger. "You are going to follow up with this mission. I don't want any screw-ups."

"Understood."

A Modern Nemo 20

The young man climbed the stage, nervous but impelled by a desire to please someone he highly respected. Shoji Kawamura glanced back at the curtains for reassurance and saw Konstantiniadis and Chidori give him the thumbs-up.

Smiling, Shoji turned back to the audience. He pulled out a sheet from his jacket and began to read it out at the podium.

"Hello and welcome, ladies and gentlemen," he began, "My name is Shoji Kawamura. I come from Japan. I am like many of you. I chose to leave my home and my country because I believe in a vision of a new society which is free from the constraints and conventions that everyday life has forced on us."

He stopped a moment. Everybody's eyes were turned on him.Wait, he thought. This isn't right. It's like I'm just parroting everything in Konstantiniadis' book.

He looked around. Everybody was expecting him to say more, but he was paralyzed with such nervousness that he was speechless. He panicked.

"Go on, Shoji!" shouted someone.

"Yeah! You can do it!"

"Shoji! Shoji! Shoji!"

He looked back and saw Konstantiniadis still giving him the thumbs-up.

"You can do it, Shoji-kun!" cried Chidori.

Instantly, something kicked in Shoji's brain. Of course! he thought. I can't just depend on this!

He folded the paper and put it back in his pocket. Then, with a new and powerful voice, he gave a new speech.

"Listen to me, everybody! We have all gathered here to put into action a dream; a dream that will change, not just ourselves, but the world as well!"

The crowd applauded as Shoji went on, "we are among those who wish to live in a world free from war, from prejudice, from hatred. But since the world does not share our dream, we have to build it with our bare hands. We cam here to build a new nation that is different from the rest; and to do that, we need land. But the world won't give us any land!"

Many nodded and expressed agreement.

"If the world won't give us land, then we have to create our own: It will be land that will not be hampered by events driving the world crazy. It will be land that is free, literally. We will build this nation on the waters of the world, and we will show them that we are capable of standing on our own two feet, and we will not live by their rules! I want you all to come with me, and together, we will build this new world!"

The audience responded with thunderous applause. Konstantiniadis and Chidori  ran from the backstage and threw their arms around Shoji. "You did it, Shoji!" the businessman exclaimed, "you did it! You've inspired everybody, just as I've inspired you!"

"I'm so proud of you, Shoji-kun!" said Chidori as she held to him tightly.

"Yeah, Shoji!" roared Simon as he clapped  and later raised a fist. "You da man!"

Shoji couldn't help the feeling of euphoria that had come over him. He was so happy. As he, Konstantiniadis and Chidori danced on the stage, Shoji noticed the North Korean clapping and looking at him very intently.

A Modern Nemo 19

Shoji Kawamura found himself standing right in the midst of a vast crowd numbering more than two thousand and all gathered together under one roof. The gathering of like minds in the huge convention center owned by Green Oceans was an amazing and overwhelming experience for Shoji. Here, in this convention center, were people who thought like him.

They believed that all deserved to live in a fair society and that the only way to create one was to start from scratch and in a way that conventional thought never conceived.

Shoji had no idea where to begin. So many people; so many faces. Chidori herself was at a loss at what to do and merely stood right next to him.

A big hand landed on Shoji's shoulder. He looked behind; it was Konstantiniadis.

"Hey Shoji," the businessman said, "So how do you like the place?"

Shoji turned to face his benefactor. "It's amazing," he replied. "I don't know what to say."

"I'll tell you what you can say," said Konstantiniadis as he put one arm around Shoji's shoulders and the other around Chidori's. "You can get up on the podium and and give a speech."

"A speech?" mumbled Shoji, nervous. "Me? What?"

"Don't worry," said Konstantiniadis reassuringly and he brought both of them to the backstage. "I'll give you a crash course."

The news that Petrov was in town reached Eric's ears; he wasn't supposed to be in Cagayan de Oro. The taipan was in his office doing overtime and was wondering what caused the sudden commotion. He sent a message to the general's iPhone.

What are you doing here? You're supposed to be with the task force.

The reply came:

I'm here on your son's orders. I'll be going back to Russia later.

Maximilian was in his condominium and had just finished his supper which he had cooked himself. His phone rang. "Dad" was on the screen.

Oh that was fast, he thought. Well, here we go.

He lifted the phone to his ear. "Dad?"

"Maximilian!" roared Eric. "What the hell are you up to? I want you in my office now!"

A Modern Nemo 18

"It's about time your arrived," said Linus Ong irritably as the three commanders of the Sniper Division entered the lobby.

"Our apologies, Mr. Ong," said Onodera with a raised hand. "It was the driver's fault."

"No, it wasn't exactly," said Cyrus as he came up from behind the three officers. "Apparently he was the wrong guy for the job but the only one available."

The three officers saluted as Maximilian approached them. "We were supposed to discuss this matter over afternoon coffee," said the eldest of the Ong brothers. "But I think we'll have it with dinner instead."

He signaled the concierge to prepare a private dining room.

"This has to be extremely important for you to have called us here," said Petrov. "Normally it would be your father who would  make the call, not you."

Maximilian nodded.

"Does he know about this?"

"He doesn't-"

"Yet." finished Cyrus. "He will, eventually."

"You'd better make sure that we don't get into trouble when your father finds out," said Petrov, grinning.

"He'll approve of it when he does," said Maximilian reassuringly.

"Mr. Ong?" said the concierge, approaching Maximilian. "Your room's ready," he gestured to the restaurant, "this way please."

They followed the man into the large French restaurant, which was filled with guests, and into a small, all glass, soundproof room. Over a dinner of bouillabaisse, coq au vin, mille-feuilles and chenin blanc, Petrov came to the subject halfway past the chicken. "So," he said, "what is this assignment of yours?"

Maximilian put his cigar in the ashtray and took a sip of the wine. "We need you to do some intelligence-gathering missions for us on Green Oceans, General Petrov," he replied.

Petrov smirked. "You know that Konstantiniadis  is up to something but you can't say what, don't you?" he concluded.

"We have a vague idea that he's up to no good," Maximilian continued, "it took reading his book and comparing it to Jules Verne's."

Onodera and Hayashi looked at each other. "Jules Verne?" asked Onodera.

"An old science fiction author," Hayashi clarified.

"So what's the connection between a hundred year-old novel and a billionaire shipping magnate like Konstantiniadis?" continued Petrov.

Maximilian held out a book, it was the copy of The Dream of the Oceans. "Since you seem familiar with Jules Verne, the next piece of the puzzle is right here. You can fill yourself with the information here then scout for more of the details."

"Konstantiniadis has been signing shipbuilding contracts left and right," added Linus as Petrov took the book and scanned its pages. "He's already signed contracts with manufacturers in China and he's heading for Russia and eastern Europe next. We figure you might be able to start from there."

"So you want to send me home for a while, eh?" said Petrov, grinning.

"We're going to put together a team," said Cyrus, "it's going to be a massive effort not just involving you and your men. While you're gathering intel, the rest of the team will be following the movements of Konstantiniadis' ships. We'll be looking at cargo, passengers, materials and the like."

"This is a major operation, then," said Petrov, still skimming through the pages of the book, "it will not be something your father will turn a blind eye to-"

A group of words caught the general's eye: a nation floating free and unencumbered upon the vast reaches of the ocean.

The general turned his eyes to Maximilian. "I see what you mean, Mr.Ong," he said.

Maximilian nodded.

A Modern Nemo 17

The three Ong brothers were waiting (rather impatiently) at the vast lobby of the Hotel Chalcedon. Their visitors were supposed to arrive an hour-and-a-half ago. Linus was pacing in circles, grumbling. Cyrus was fidgeting in his seat. Only Maximilian, also seated, seemed to keep calm but in reality he was losing his patience with the wait; a lot of ash had already piled up in the ashtray and he had lighted another cigar.

"Just how many of those have you burned up already?" Cyrus asked. Maximilian had acquired his smoking habit from their father but, unlike him, chose cigars instead of cigarettes.

The Hotel Chalcedon was a five-star hotel owned by the Zhang Group, a member of the EOGC. The Zhang Group was headed by Oliver Zhang, the Cardinal's younger brother. Both Oliver's sons, Paul and Andrew, worked there as management-level officers.

Maximilian glanced at his cigar case. There were only three left. "Want one?" he asked, holding the case out to Cyrus. The latter waved it away and shook his head.

"Want another coffee?" asked Maximilian.

"Nah," replied Cyrus. "One more and I'll get insomnia."

"We've been here for almost two hours and Laurie's been calling me for the past thirty minutes!" Linus exclaimed. Laurie was his girlfriend.

"Just who the hell was it who was sent to the airport to pick them up?" wondered Maximilian.

Presently, Cyrus' cell phone vibrated. It was a text message. "Alright," he said. They're here."

"Finally," muttered Maximilian, rising.

"I'll go bring them in," said Cyrus. He rose and made off to the door.

At first, it was just vehicles of the other guests passing by. Suddenly, an EOGC  passenger van moving very erratically -at high speed in a busy street- blundered its way to the hotel entrance, coming to an abrupt stop in front of Cyrus. It narrowly missed him by six inches.

Cyrus froze. Who the heck is this maniac? he thought. He could have killed me!

"Sorry, Mr. Ong," mumbled the driver, who scampered out of the drivers seat and was now cringing in front of him.

Out of the van stepped Petrov, Hayashi and Onodera.

"What's wrong with you?" Onodera said to the driver. "Are you from Afghanistan?"

Anselmo stepped back, his arms raised over his head and whimpering.

Cyrus noticed a sadistic smirk on Petrov's face. "Stop picking on him," he said to Onodera, realizing that Petrov was behind this.

Anslemo hid himself behind Cyrus as the latter went on, "my brothers are waiting inside. Let's all go in."

Turning to Anselmo, he said, "Be back here by eleven o'clock."

Anselmo became paler than a corpse.

"My brothers and I didn't bring our cars, so you're going to bring us back," Cyrus finished.

Anselmo breathed a sigh of relief. On weekdays, the brothers lived separately from their parents and sister. It was only on weekends that they stayed at Ong Manor. Maximilian lived in an condominium in downtown Cagayan while Cyrus, in a villa in Pueblo de Oro, and Linus made his abode in a beach house in Opol and was a neighbor of Leon.

As Cyrus watched Anselmo get back in the van and drive happily away, he followed the three officers into the building.

A Modern Nemo 16

The van was moving slowly. Anselmo kept whimpering and shuddering as he drove. Far at the back, Onodera and Hayashi were talking about what happened on the plane. Between them and Anselmo sat Petrov, his arms folded and eyes closed.

"I was really surprised that there are still some members of that cult hanging around," remarked Hayashi.

"Yeah," agreed Onodera. "That group should have been disbanded after their failure to take GST."

"Apparently, there are still some die-hards left," Hayashi continued. "Imagine, finding someone sitting next to you and right beside the emergency exit suddenly getting up and screaming the name of their 'master,' then trying to open the emergency exit while the plane's still in flight."

"The pin-down was proper," Onodera declared. "Imagine what would have happened if someone fired a shot at him."

"Both wrists nailed with a knife."

Just then, Onodera changed the topic. "Hey," he said. "Did you notice something?"

Hayashi looked around, then peered out the window. "Yeah," he said. "We're moving really slow."

Petrov opened his eyes.

"Somebody kill me. Somebody kill me. Somebody kill me," mumbled Anselmo.

A hand landed on his shoulder, sending shivers up his spine. He felt Petrov's breath behind his neck.

"We're moving slowly," said the general. "Is something wrong with the engine or," he ran a finger in circles on Anselmo's nape, "you're so tired and need a little motivation?"

"Sir, no, sir!" Anselmo shrieked. He shifted to fourth gear and put the pedal to the metal. The van sped to Cagayan, full speed.

A Modern Nemo 15

The surveillance team was instructed to turn the matter over to the Japanese police. Nothing EOGC-related had been noticed so far. A day later, operatives of the Japanese police nabbed the businessman and his two associates in a sting operation. Close to sixty other people were arrested as well for their involvement in the transaction.

Laguindingan International Airport.

Anselmo Sanchez drove an official van to the EOGC arrivals area. Nobody else was available and somebody had to pick up a trio of VIPs. He was told they would call him by name, so he had to wear his nameplate.

Of course, Anselmo didn't like the added job. Driving to Laguindingan would take him past the end of his shift; then he would have to drive them to their designated hotel. He grumbled about being very late to spend the evening barhopping with his friend the judge and sent him a text message to that effect.

"I hate this," he muttered as he parked the van. "JT's gonna be disappointed. Well, I hope those bigshots will make it worth the wait!"

He got off and slammed the door then opened the side door and stood by, pouting and his hands in his trouser pockets. 

The people were passing by. Some were throwing their arms around friends and family members. Others were exhausted from the trip. Still others disembarked to meet subordinates, co-workers or superiors.

Yeah, yeah, Anselmo thought to himself. All nice and peachy. You get to finish your day's work while I get stuck with a bunch of bigshots beyond my work hours.

Just then, he remembered. These were VIPs. Oh yeah! I'll put up my best face! Then I'll be sure to get a raise... or better yet, a promotion!

He turned around to clear his throat for a little rehearsal. He put his left hand on his chest and flung his right in the air. "Hello ladies and gentlemen!" he exclaimed. "Welcome to Cagayan de Oro!"

"No, that was to ostentatious," he said, catching himself.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," he said with a bow. "Welcome to Cagayan de Oro."

He caught himself again. "Nah, too formal."

As he was about to try another style, he heard a voice behind him. "Anselmo? Anselmo Sanchez?"

Immediately he spun about with a big smile on his face. "Welcome to Caga-" he said as he turned. But when he stopped, he finished with a "yike!"

Standing in front of him were three EOGC high-ranking military officers, the dreaded leaders of the Sniper Division: Brigadier General Arkady Petrov, Lieutenant Colonel Shizuo Onodera and Major Ryuichi Hayashi. Major Hayashi was Sister Cathy's older brother.

Anselmo went pale all over. Somebody, please kill me. he thought. He had once developed a crush on Sister Cathy, only to have her older brother send him flying into dumpster.

He was also shot at several times by Onodera for taking a dump behind a target on a firing range he thought was just abandoned land. He had been driving for several hours at that time from Surigao City, needed to relieve himself somewhere, parked the car, bungled through a barbed wire fence and settled down behind the target. Thankfully, none of the bullets made their mark (or Onodera was probably shooting at something else.)

And more than everyone else, he hated Petrov. On at least two occasions, he blundered into the general's crosshairs. The only reason Petrov stopped was because he was able to get a good look at Anselmo's face. There were a number of other things Anslemo knew about Petrov, including the latter's lack of interest in women, which put him on the edge whenever the general was in town.

The presence of the trio reduced Anselmo into a pale white whimpering heap of humanity. It was Petrov who called his name and the general was holding a small scrap of paper in his hand.

"Well, it's time," said Onodera. "Let's go."

"Y-y-y-y-yes... sir..." Anselmo squeaked as he shuffled back to the driver's seat.

As they drove back to Cagayan, Onodera  and Hayashi were having a conversation, Anselmo remained pale and white at the wheel and drove like a snail. Petrov's eyes were on him.

A Modern Nemo 14

In a high-end restaurant in Tokyo a wealthy man with many underworld connections was having a western-style dinner with two associates in a private room. Outside the room, the man's bodyguards were standing watch.

A waiter pushing a cart carrying a large tureen of soup from the kitchen entered the elevator to take his cargo to the eminent guest. There was no one else inside the elevator. As it went up, the waiter fished out a small plastic packet from his vest pocket and poured its contents -a clear liquid- into the soup.

The bodyguards saw the elevator doors open and noticed the waiter heading towards them. 

"Stop," said the leader of the bodyguards, holding out a hand. The waiter stopped and the leader looked at him from head to foot.

He was a very unassuming figure; rather skinny but cheerful, young and plain-looking. As the other guards frisked him, the leader lifter the tureen's lid. There was nothing inside but hot, steaming soup. Nothing was found on him, so it was assumed it was safe.

"Alright, let him through," the leader said to the men at the door.

The waiter entered the room, bringing his cargo with him. As the dinner went on, business as usual, he set the tureen on the table, ladled soup into the bowls of each of the guests and left, pushing the cart. Once back inside the elevator, the waiter pulled out his cell phone and sent a text message.

In another building on the other side of the street, a hotel, several people were in a room with surveillance equipment. One of them received a text message: the soup has been served. "It's done," he said.

Immediately, the others turned to their listening and spying equipment.

Upon leaving the elevator, the waiter didn't return to the kitchen. Instead, he left the cart next to the kitchen door, donned a jacket and left through the back door. He went around the restaurant and crossed the street to the hotel. He went up to the room where the surveillance team was gathered and knocked on the door.

It was opened by a taller man wearing glasses and whose hair was cut close to his head and dyed blond. "Good," he said, "you're back."

The waiter went in and removed his jacket, vest and bow tie. "So how much longer?" he asked the people listening in on the conversation.

"Just a little more," came the reply.

"That was a lot of sodioum thiopental," the waiter remarked.

"Well, better to be certain," said the tall man.

Them came the recordings

A deep voice: "So the money will soon be delivered. I'll expect the delivery of the substance in the next month."

"That's our quarry," the tall man stated.

A mumbling voice: "As usual, it will be coursed through your junk foods factory."

"That's good," said the deep voice. "But I want extra precautions because this one's quite large."

"That can be arranged," said the mumbling voice.

"It will be arriving at the port of Yokohama on the Foresight," said a sharp voice. "All two thousand metric tons hidden in containers loaded with potatoes."

"Foresight?" the waiter started. That was a Green Oceans vessel.

The deep voice laughed. "That Konstantiniadis! We may have brokered some of his deals with that shipbuilder in China but left us out on the action, but that's okay. He's given us some favorable concessions in using his ships."

"Looks like we have Konstandiniadis as an unwitting helper," the waiter murmured.

The tall man nodded. "And that will be good for us in the long run, Ryuichi," he added. "But what about his pirate dealings?"

"Shh! It's coming!"

"Recovery of the potatoes and curry from the Aden shipment was worth it, even if it was expensive," said the deep voice. "At least we can slip the merchandise past customs."

Just then, a knock sounded on the door. It was opened and another man stepped in. "Major Hayashi, Lieutenant Colonel Onodera," he said to the waiter and the tall man, "General Petrov wants a word with you."

"Keep me posted on this," said the tall man to the surveillance team.

A Modern Nemo 13

The pirate vessel was almost completely destroyed by the Corsair's gunfire. As the destroyer approached, its captain called out on its loudspeakers, "Surrender, all of you! We will continue to fire if you do not lay down your arms!"

The submarine captain climbed out of the hatch. "General Petrov," he said, approaching the sniper-general, "Admiral Martinez would want to speak to you."

Petrov lowered his rifle. "This better be good," he said, turning.

The Corsair moved in closer and was joined by a second pirate-class destroyer, the Privateer. Sensing that surrender was the only option available, as the EOGC navy was among the more merciless participants in the operation, the pirates gave up.

A transport helicopter from the Privateer made its way to the submarine and dropped a ladder. Up climbed Petrov and the helicopter flew back to the Privateer.

Hours later, Petrov was transferred to the drungarios-class STOVL aircraft carrier Datu Salangsang, the flagship of the EOGC task force. Arriving on the Datu Salangsang's bridge, Petrov beheld the task force's commander, Vice-Admiral Colleen Martinez, speaking with Cyrus Ong.

Martinez noticed Petrov entering the bridge and gave him a nod as the general saluted to her and Cyrus.

"Your father has an assignment for me, correct?" said Petrov.

"No," replied Cyrus, "not exactly. But he wouldn't mind anyway."

Petrov paused for a moment.

"My brothers and I have an assignment for you," Cyrus continued. "You and your two best men."

A slight grin appeared on Petrov's face.

A Modern Nemo 12

The Embark dropped anchor at the port of San Francisco. From there, it was a long train ride to New York. All this time, Shoji and Chidori kept close to each other. This was their first time in America for many of them. For Simon, it as "no biggie." After all, this was where he came from.

For most people, remaining on the train from San Francisco was boring and, at times, agitating. It was not the case for Shoji and Chidori. Being together seemed as though time had stopped for the both of them. The two were oblivious to the monotony of the train's journey.

Half a world away, something else was happening.

The Indian Ocean. A large container ship was sailing from the Gulf of Aden en route to Singapore. In the dead of night it was being shadowed in the distance by a smaller ship.

The smaller ship's crew were dropping skiffs into the water and men were climbing on board -armed men. They were pirates, and they had already marked the container as their prize. But they did not know that they, too, were being watched. As they sped to their quarry, a periscope's attention remained focused on their ship.

The EOGC submarine captain had his boat positioned ten kilometers from the pirate ship. Behind him, seated, was a man in an EOGC general's uniform.

Like many powerful countries, the EOGC was greatly concerned about piracy and even contributed its own support to the operations in the Persian Gulf and Indian Ocean to protect commercial shipping.

"Fire," said the captain.

At once, a pair of torpedoes came hissing toward the pirate ship. The explosion caused the pirates in the skiffs to look back, only to see their main ship going down and their comrades on board screaming for help.

The explosion also alerted the container ship. Alarms went off and the vessel  went into evasive maneuvers.

"Radio the choppers," said the sub captain, "and take us in close."

As the skiffs turned around to help their companions in the main vessel, a pair of EOGC naval attack helicopters appeared and opened fire on the pirates. The pirates returned fire, but since their command was in chaos, the shooting was random and ineffectual. Meanwhile, the submarine moved in a kilometer and a half from the rear of the pirate vessel.

"Take us up," said the captain.

The pirates didn't notice the submarine surfacing; their attention was focused on the choppers.

"Don't shine a light," said the general, "I want to play with them for a while."

"They're all yours, General Petrov," said the captain.

Brigadier General Arkady Petrov was a former spetsnaz officer and sniper who fought in Chechnya. Years later, he was hired by Eric Ong and eventually became commander of the EOGC special forces' sniper division. He took a number of assassination assignments during the Takeover and his efficiency prompted the Taipan to create a special unit within the special forces whose sole duty was to undertake assassination missions.

Petrov rose and picked up his rifle; it was something he was very attached to and even when he was not on duty, it was with him -even in bed. He put his cap on the captain's desk, donned a black coat and climbed up the conning tower of the submarine. Once outside, he removed the cover from the scope of his rifle.

A pirate pulled out an RPG and aimed it at one of the choppers.

Petrov took aim at the RPG and fired a shot.

The RPG exploded, killing the pirate as well as several of his crewmates.

Another pirate turned around in the direction of the submarine.

Petrov squeezed the trigger again.

The pirate fell into the water.

A skiff was trying to escape.

Another shot and the skiff's motor was permanently disabled.

Another RPG was pulled out.

Petrov shot the man in the back; the pirate fell while squeezing the trigger. The rocket shot in a descending motion along the pirate vessel's deck and exploded on its stern.

Petrov was busy emptying shell after shell when a powerful gun was heard firing in the distance.

A ball of fire erupted in the pirate ship's deck.

Petrov turned to see an EOGC destroyer approaching. It was the pirate-class destroyer Corsair.

"You're too early," muttered the general, "I was still having fun."

A Modern Nemo 11

"I never seemed to fit in with my family," said Chidori as she and Shoji walked along the deck, "my father, my mother, they only seem interested in my little brother. And my relatives," she paused and looked at him, "they expect so much of me."

"How come?"

"They expect me to marry into another wealthy family in order to expand my own family'f fortunes. It bothers me."

She went along to tell him more about her family. Her family was wealthy, owning a chain of convenience stores and her parents pressured her to continuously seek success in school. Her younger brother, who was only twelve, was being groomed to be the heir to the convenience store empire that her parents had built.

"Why is it that everybody has to care so much about money?" she said.

"Yeah, I know," agreed Shoji, "my parents are employees and are children of employees themselves. From where I come from, there's always that drive to rise higher because there's always the worry about not being able to care for your children someday."

"'There has to be something important other than money' I told myself," said Chidori. She put her hands on the rail and looked to the horizon. "Money is meaningless without life. And even if you're alive, money really doesn't mean that much," she went on.

"I agree," said Shoji, leaning on the rail. "What is life? Life is meant to be lived freely."

"You have to be free to make your own choices," said Chidori as she moved her hands a little farther apart.

Shoji straightened up. "And you don't have to live to be compensated every time," he added as he put his hands on the rail.

They noticed that their fingers had touched each other. Both were startled.

"I'm sorry," Chidori mumbled, stepping back and pulling her hands back to her.

"No, I'm sorry," stammered Shoji. He also stepped back. "It's just that I got lost and-"

They were looking each other in the eyes. After a moment's pause, Shoji took a step forward.

Chidori stepped forward too.

Their hands came together again

Shoji drew her close.

A pair of lips met.

A Modern Nemo 10

The Green Oceans container ship Embark raised anchor and prepared to leave the port of Tokyo. It had unloaded some cargo and took on some others en route to America. Konstantiniadis had taken the plane. He was to be in his New York office in three days.

The day after the Embark left Japanese waters, Shoji Kawamura stepped out of the bridge and onto the rail. Being in the middle of the sea felt different from viewing it from land. It was beautiful; and the air from the ocean was invigorating.

"It's quite an experience, isn't it?" asked the captain, who came out of the bridge behind him.

"Yes," agreed Shoji, "it's amazing! It feels so different from being on the beach."

"Yes, the sea is an amazing place," said the captain, "amazing and a times difficult. It's what separates the true human beings from the timid ones."

He leaned on the rail at Shoji's right. "Yes," he continued, "life here can be difficult at times. But the difficulty is too small compared to the excitement and adventure life on the sea can become. Not many people can look a man straight in the eye and say they're truly alive than a sailor. There is one exception."

"Exception?" Shoji asked, looking at the captain.

"Soldiers."

Shoji turned his gaze to the see again.

"Why don't you get down below," said the captain, patting Shoji's back, "get yourself acquainted with the others."

He returned to the bridge. Shoji lingered for a while, then left for his quarters.

He shared his room with three other people. Two were sailors and the third was an African-American named Simon Foster. Simon wanted to become a player in the NBA but didn't make the cut. He tried to become a rapper but nobody noticed him. Finally, he decided to go to Japan to learn how to draw manga, hoping to become a manga artist. That's when he came across Konstantiniadis' book. He became friends with Shoji when the latter joined Konstantiniadis.

"Hey there, m'man," he said as Shoji returned to the room. He had been drawing a few sketches while the Shoji was away.

"Hi," said Shoji as he climbed into his bunk.

"So what're we gonna do now while the ship's movin'?" asked Simon.

"Well," replied Shoji, "the captain said we should get to meet the others on this ship."

"I dunno, man," said Simon, "there ain't many of 'em."

"Come on, it'll be fine," said Shoji. He climbed down, took Simon by the hand and led him out of the room. "Exploring a ship was an adventure in itself," he continued, "and besides, if you want to become a good artist, you have to improve your drawing techniques. Drawing objects is as important as drawing people!"

In the ship's canteen, they met some forty other individuals who had boarded the ship under circumstances similar to theirs. Some of them were from Japan, while others came from other countries: India, Indonesia, China, South Korea and the Philippines. There was even one person from North Korea with a very interesting story: he had gotten hold of a Chinese translation of Konstantiniadis' book and read it while on the run in China. When in Shanghai, he learned the Embark had made port. In the night, when the ship was leaving the harbor he swam to it. His name was Kim Nam-ha and he was the same age as Shoji.

As meeting the different personalities went on, Shoji noticed a young girl sitting at a table in the corner, keeping to herself. She was Japanese.

Shoji approached her; as he did, she looked up. "Hello," he said, "Are you lonely?"

"Not really," she replied.

"You're nervous, then?"

"I guess so."

Shoji held out his hand. "I know," he said, "we all are, one way or another. I'm Shoji, Shoji Kawamura."

"Chidori," said the girl, "I'm Chidori Kanda."

"Chidori?" Shoji remarked. "That's a nice name."

She blushed as Shoji sat down.

Simon was talking to a young, unmarried, Japanese couple. The woman was with child. As he spoke with them, he noticed Shoji sitting down and chatting with a girl. After a while, the pair stood up and walked off.

Simon smiled.

Mrs. Kawamura returned from shopping in the early evening and saw the light in Shoji's room still on. "Oh, that boy," she remarked. "Still forgetting to turn the lights off in the morning."

After putting the shopping bags in the kitchen, she went upstairs to turn the lights off in her son's room when she noticed a sheet of paper lying on his rather untidy bed. She bent over and picked it up.

Mr. Kawamura returned from work and had just parked his car in the garage when he heard his wife wailing from their son's room. He rushed in and found her on her knees, sobbing. "Darling," he asked, "What's wrong?"

She couldn't speak,only sob. With trembling hands, she pointed at the piece of paper on Shoji's bed.

Mr. Kawamura picked it up.

I'm leaving. Thanks for everything.


Shoji

Mr. Kawamura held his wife tightly and sighed heavily. Their son was gone.

Chris put The Dream of the Oceans down on the table. He was in his Italian-style mansion in Kuala Lumpur. He had already finished reading the Verne book. "You are dangerous," he said to Konstantiniadis' book.

His gaze turned to the fireplace. It was seldom used, but tonight a fire had been lit. After stoking the fire until it was bright and hot enough, he picked up Konstantiniadis' book and threw it into the flames.