Success Opulence and Power Read online

  About the author

  Hebru Young is a UK based author with a passion for storytelling, character development and attention to fine detail.

  Success, Opulence and Power

  Hebru Young

  Success, Opulence and Power

  Vanguard Press

  VANGUARD PAPERBACK

  © Copyright 2021

  Hebru Young

  The right of Hebru Young to be identified as author of

  this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the

  Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All Rights Reserved

  No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication

  may be made without written permission.

  No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced,

  copied or transmitted save with the written permission of the publisher, or in accordance with the provisions

  of the Copyright Act 1956 (as amended).

  Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to

  this publication may be liable to criminal

  prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is

  available from the British Library.

  ISBN 978-1-80016-039-2

  Vanguard Press is an imprint of

  Pegasus Elliot MacKenzie Publishers Ltd.

  www.pegasuspublishers.com

  First Published in 2021

  Vanguard Press

  Sheraton House Castle Park

  Cambridge England

  Printed & Bound in Great Britain

  Dedication

  First and foremost, I thank God.

  Secondly, I would like to dedicate this to my wife, my children and the extended family… and to Margie. This book wouldn’t have seen the light of day without your support.

  Love you all.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, dialogue, and situations have been fictitiously created by the author for the sole purpose of entertainment. A mix of actual and fictional locations have been used in the book to provide a feel of authenticity. Any similarities to people, alive or dead, and all events and dialogue are coincidental. All product branding was created by the author and the copyright for these brands belong to the author.

  Success

  Chapter 1

  Meet Eddie Dominguez

  Where: The Nations High Court, The United Nations of Europe and Americas — Washington, DC

  When: 1105 hours, Tuesday, October 1, 2041

  Currency: UNEA credits

  “Calling docket number 1177896, United Nations of Europe and Americas v. Edward R. Dominguez. All rise for the presiding Nations High Judge Thomas H. Davidson.”

  Now just how did I end up here? Someone chirped. Snitches, they’re the scum of the earth. The enforcers, politicians, lawyers, judges—all shady, just like me. What makes them think they have the right to sit there and judge me?

  In the courtroom, I could see the court officials through the Vexa True D-i installed in my cell. The Vexa True D-i is a super-advanced hologram projector. It was rigged with some sort of synthetic mist emitter, true-definition imagery or True D-i as it is often referred to. It also had a satellite receiver. The mist from the emitter captured the light that was project by the Vexa True D-i. The mist would contort and respond to the light and then form the required imagery. This meant that you didn’t need a solid background. The synthetic mist acted as a flexible background, so to speak. With this, I could see everyone in the court and they could see me.

  With the advance capabilities of the True D-i, we were seeing flat screen TVs gradually becoming a thing of the past.

  As consumers, we had reached a point where super-fast networks were a must. So naturally, network providers had to ramp up their innovation. The end result was advance satellite micro-receivers that were included in most portable gadgets. The tiny receivers are powerful enough to receive signals from lower levels of multistory buildings. Vexas could produce high-quality 3-D images over a fast network making it difficult to differentiate the real from the fake. Three years ago, this kind of technology was only available to the Nations Law Enforcing Unit (NLEU). Enforcers had been using them for secure communications and interrogations. But now Vexas were being used everywhere—universities, movie theatres, you name it.

  We prisoners were no longer allowed in the courtroom; it was too risky. One of the reasons for the security measure was to ensure that no attempts were made to spring prisoners out. The courts had to put this rule in place after the Carlsdale incident. During a court hearing in 2012, the head of the Carlsdale crime family was sprung out of court by his nineteen heavily armed goons. This was the event that triggered the immediate beefing up of security protocols.

  With access to all this advanced technology, not only did remote trials become possible, they eventually became standard practice for trials of major crimes. There was another reason why they kept us out of the courtroom. Members of the judicial system weren’t exactly fond of the idea of being in close proximity to alleged criminals. They had developed a certain level of repulsion for people like me, people they felt didn’t emanate a particular level of social class. The way that they saw it, people like me stank up the courtroom and just didn’t belong in there. Boy, were they all hypocrites?

  During court proceedings, we had to remain in our cells and were patched in via the satellite network connection. My image was transmitted from the cell and then projected right next to my defence attorney. The digital replica of the courtroom and everyone in it was projected to my cell. I could see and hear everything that was going on like I was actually there. A chair was placed in Vexa-Position, the specific position in my cell for when the cell’s Vexa powered on and the trial commenced.

  It was all really impressive technology, but I wasn’t a huge fan. When it comes to tech, I’m quite old-school—I preferred legacy stuff. A lot of the new tech is based on technologies that made it far too easy for the government to keep tabs on society—much easier than it used to be. With the push of a button, a significant amount of personal information could be made available to anyone with the appropriate level of clearance: your blood type; the ingredients used in baking a cake; the fact that the cake is for your four-year-old’s birthday; the kind of movies you watch; a digital model of your exact DNA structure. All this information was available to the government.

  I wasn’t comfortable with this level of surveillance, hence my preference for legacy technology. Old-school tech was virtually untraceable and had a sort of vintage and classy feel to it. Old-school communication devices run on obsolete retired networks that were now privately operated by the crime syndicates that required them. The high demand for such technology made it expensive, illegal, and hard to come by. My organization owned a number of these old devices as well as the networks that they were connected to. We used the old tech to exchange dialogue or data that we didn’t want to fall into the wrong hands.

  Judge Davidson was in the third year of his term as high judge; he had attended the University of Pennsylvania and graduated law school in 2022, shortly before the UNEA merger. In those days, Penn Law offered top-notch legal training that other leading law schools didn’t. Shortly after finishing law school, Davidson worked in the US attorney’s office as an assistant prosecutor and then worked his way up to US prosecutor. This meant that he had jurisdiction in the United States only.

  After seven years in the US attorney’s office, he became a US judge in September of 2029, and by 2038 he was sworn into the NHC as Nation’s high judge. My lawyer had done his research and yeah, this guy was cut from different cloth. One could tell by the way he carried hims
elf. Nonetheless, he was still shady—one doesn’t make it up the ranks in the short space of time he did without bending the rules or stepping on a few toes along the way. There had been rumours of bribes, and although no one could prove this or even had the guts to do so, the truth was obvious. Aside from his salary, there were all the other sources of income, the main one being regular dividends from Zhang Heng stocks. Zhang Heng Motor Industries was responsible for all the automobiles that were exported out of the United Orient Nations.

  The judge also owned holiday homes across the African Union (AU) as well as log cabins in the Independent Swiss Territory (IST). These exclusive, luxurious properties were rented out to VIPs. I stayed at one of his log cabins during my visit to the IST. At the time, I didn’t think they were anything to write home about.

  It was difficult to ascertain all the sources of Davidson’s wealth, and the fact that he was from a wealthy family made it even more difficult to find the cracks in his finances.

  The judge was quite ambitious; he was planning on running for office as a member of the UNEA Council. This office ran parallel to the executive office, the office of the UNEA president. His plan was to climb up another level of his already illustrious career ladder, using my trial to boost his political popularity and media presence. I am the number one bad guy in the Nations, and my case is high profile, perhaps one of the highest that the Nations court had seen in a while. My trial is the best way to gain the global exposure he needs for his election.

  After the bailiff announced his entrance, his honour Judge Davidson took his seat and gave me a look of disgust. One would think that I ran away with his wife, sent his three kids to boarding school, and had his dog put down. This guy did not like me. He glances down at his interactive desk and taps in the secure code that gives him access to a digital file containing my case documents. After flicking through a few of the digi-docs, his Honour looks up at me—again with disgust—before proceeding to read the charges.

  “Edward Dominguez, you have been charged with cyber-crimes that include record tampering, identity cultivation, and online racketeering. You have also been charged with distribution of narcotics, distribution of military-grade firearms, kidnapping, conspiracy to assassinate a government official, and murder in the first degree. How do you plead to these charges?” the good old judge asks in what he probably feels is his sternest and most intimidating voice. Hell yeah, I pleaded not guilty. I have a ten-thousand-UNEA-credit-per-hour lawyer who is more than capable of handling everything that the prosecution team was planning to dish out. The way I see it though, I will be lucky if I didn’t do at least twenty years in prison for all this. It seemed like they had been building cases against me for a while, and now this bunch of shadies wanted to lock me up for life and throw away the key. The best outcome here is maybe fifteen years—there was no way I was going to beat all these charges.

  Persuading any of the jury members to deliver a not-guilty vote was out of the question—the NHC had them on twenty-four-hour lockdown. All twelve jury members were assigned a team of enforcers for security for the duration of the trial. Enforcers weren’t like the cops I knew when I was coming up. Policing had evolved significantly since the Great Merger. It wasn’t officially called that, but people often referred to the unification of Europe, the United Kingdom, Canada, the United States, and all of South America as the Great Merger. After the Brexit catastrophe in 2016, England, Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland had no choice but to be a part of the new union.

  The merger took place in December 2022, and it was decided at that point that there was to be a single law enforcement agency for the UNEA. Enforcers were made up of cross-trained military guys from all parts of the collective nations. Normal cops had to get army, navy, and air force training. Either that or retire. To make matters even more complicated, enforcers within the higher ranks had to obtain a degree in international law. A lot of the older cops just didn’t make the cut; it was easier to cross-train younger cadets or people who were already enlisted in the military. So, the UNEA for the most part ended up with soldiers enforcing the law and policing the streets. To ensure that these guys were almost incorruptible, the government made sure that they were very well paid.

  Enforcers were also assigned to all the witnesses that were going to testify in my case, so this made it impossible for my team to get close to any of them. All this, plus the fact that I had found a new best friend in Judge Davidson, meant that this case was not going to be a walk in the park. Not to mention all the evidence that will be presented by the prosecution. The odds of beating the charges weren’t in my favour, not in the slightest.

  I knew that I was doomed—the charges the good judge had just read out were monumental. Yes, I knew this, but it didn’t stop me from getting up out of my not-so-comfy cell chair and replying with confidence, “Not guilty, Your Honour.”

  I am Eddie Dominguez, friends call me Dom. To everyone else, I am Soap.

  Chapter 2

  Puerto Plata

  Where: Puerto Plata

  When: 1720 hours, Thursday, March 9, 1995

  Currency: Dominican peso

  Guillermo owned a small restaurant in the city of Puerto Plata, the ninth largest city in the Dominican Republic. He was married to Anna, and they had a daughter named Isabel. He and his family lived a very humble life, one that was far from that which he envisioned as a youth. He grew up in a poor family and had no choice but to work hard since childhood. His father was a fisherman who supplied an assortment of seafood to the local restaurants. Guillermo learned the fishing trade from his father, and he became very good at it. It was his years of fishing experience that allowed him to make the natural transition from fisherman to restaurant owner.

  Guillermo woke up every morning and drove to the north coast, towing his sixteen-foot Otis Sealiner on the back of his pickup truck. The Sealiner was an old 1985 model. It wasn’t the prettiest thing, but the old boat got the job done. He would fish for three hours, between 5 a.m. and 8 a.m., pulling in a variety of fish, lobster, shrimp, and crabs. When he didn’t have enough for the day, he would stock up from the local market. Eventually, he didn’t have to do the fishing any more. He trained his staff to do the task, showing them the best techniques, and told them when it was best to set out to sea. Since he no longer had to go out to sea, all he had to do was supervise the daily operations at the restaurant.

  Guillermo really wasn’t happy with his current standard of living. He always dreamt of being wealthy but didn’t know how to accomplish this. Proceeds from the restaurant only generated enough money to pay his staff and just about enough to make sure that the restaurant had an adequate number of supplies. After deducting business expenses, there was barely enough money left for him and his family to live on. The economy in Puerto Plata was partly based on tourism and agriculture. However, the bulk of the economy was centred around export. The economic stability of the region relied heavily on Puerto Plata’s seaport, and the rich people in the region had direct involvement in all aspects of port activities.

  Puerto Plata was not exempt from the corruption that plagued similar cities around the world. The majority of its government officials earned their living collecting bribes and misappropriating government funds. Most of the illegitimate funds were derived from siphoning tax proceeds from port operations. The proceeds were then channelled into personal investments. Eventually, all the embezzled money was transferred into personal offshore accounts where they were virtually untraceable. Guillermo was willing to do whatever it took to become wealthy, but he didn’t have the connections that would give him the necessary access to Puerto Plata’s club for the elite.

  Guillermo did, however, have a friend that happened to be a low-ranking officer of the port authority. The officer’s job involved inspecting cargo ships that arrived from overseas. His other tasks included performing administrative duties. His port officer friend would frequent the restaurant for Guillermo’s acclaimed asopao de camarones, which wa
s a tasty shrimp and rice pottage. One evening, the officer made his usual stop at the restaurant and headed to the spot where Guillermo always sat. It was in a corner towards the back of the restaurant, near the kitchen entrance. They shook hands, exchanged pleasantries, and then sat down on handcrafted, red-cushioned, wooden chairs. The square table was covered with a red-and-white plaid tablecloth with a white lace trim.

  Guillermo called the waiter over and requested an ice-cold American-brewed Cerveza Americana for the officer. The officer loved American beer. Guillermo, on the other hand, ordered an El Toro Mexicano for himself—he preferred Mexican beer. They both drank and talked as they waited for the officer’s pottage. Whenever he visited the restaurant, the officer ordered the same meal, so no one ever asked what to serve him. The officer praised Guillermo for his hospitality.

  “My friend, you are a good man. I have known you for a long time now, I come here almost every day, and you hardly let me pay for anything,” said the officer.

  “It’s no big deal—what are friends for?” Guillermo replied.

  Owning a restaurant in Puerto Plata was not an easy feat. The food inspectors, the tax officers, and the port authority regularly visited restaurants in the surrounding area for food inspection, auditing of financial records, and validation of licenses. Restaurant owners who supplied their own fish had to pay a seafood distribution license validation fee on a regular basis. This was the most expensive fee for a self-supplying seafood restaurant, since validation checks were carried out monthly.