Technicality

[NoAzMale]

ORIGINAL SHORT STORY
"Technicality"
by J. B. Tilton
email: aramath@yahoo.com
Rating: K+

* * *

Multi-millionaire Jonathan Boulder is forced to make a deal with a demon. Can this shrewd businessman outsmart his opponent?

* * *

Jonathan Boulder calmed himself down. He picked up the receiver to the phone and continued his conversation.

"Okay, Mark," said John, "explain it to me again just so I can be sure I have it correct."

Mark Wheeler was Boulder's personal attorney. They had been friends for many years and as Boulder's wealth and power had increased, so had his friendship with Wheeler. They had gone through college together and when Wheeler had opted for law school, Boulder knew that their friendship would be beneficial to both of them. In that respect, his foresight had been extraordinary.

"Okay," said Wheeler, "it's very simple. Melissa moved to California almost a year ago. When you decided to divorce her, we decided to have her served with a citation. So we bought the citation from the court and had a process server in L.A. serve it on her.

"The only problem is her middle name is Diane, not Sue. Since the citation is for Melissa Sue Boulder, it's no good. John, how could you be married to a woman for almost nine years and not know her middle name?"

"I don't know Mark," responded John. "I've always called her Missy Sue. Sort of a nickname. But I don't see the big deal. The citation is for Melissa Boulder. Why can't we just go ahead with the divorce proceedings?"

"Because it's made out to Melissa Sue Boulder," said Mark. "You're wife's name is Melissa Diane Boulder.

"But that's just a technicality," said John. "Why can't we just explain to the judge about the confusion. What am I paying you the big salary for?"

"To handle your personal legal affairs," said Mark, "and to give you honest legal advice. John, the law is made up of technicalities. If we try to go into court now, the judge is going to delay the case until a proper citation has been served. The law requires that the name be exact."

"Why don't we just have the case dismissed?" asked John. "Then I can refile and have her served again. Once the case is dismissed, maybe she won't suspect us of refiling."

"John," said Mark, "if we dismiss the case here, she can file there. California, like Texas, is a community property state.

"But unlike Texas, California is an alimony state. And frankly, considering how much you're worth, she'd get quite a large chunk of alimony every month. I'd advise against dismissing at this point. This was the last place you lived together as husband and wife. That gives Texas jurisdiction over the case. It would be best if we just try to go on with this thing as best we can."

"Okay," said John. "Do whatever you have to and straighten this thing out. We've had this thing on file for almost four months. I want this finished as quickly and easily as possible."

"I'll have a new citation sent out immediately," said Mark. "Hopefully, we can have this case set in less than a month."

"Thanks Mark," said John. He slammed the phone back onto its cradle. "Damn. All this over her middle name. What a stupid law. Still, there isn't anything I can do about it. I just hope Mark can straighten it out without too much trouble."

John Boulder thought about the decisions he had made over his life. He was thirty-eight years old and worth nearly a billion dollars. If his professional plans progressed as he had planned, and they almost always did, he'd be worth well over a billion by the time he was forty.

John had always had a good head for business. His first patent at the age of sixteen had been relatively minor. A heat resistant material that originally had been used to make burner covers for stoves.

But that one invention had catapulted him to near instant wealth. It turned out to be so effective that a friend of his father's at NASA had become interested in it. It had become the basic prototype for the tiles now used on the space shuttles that kept the ships from burning up upon reentry into the Earth's atmosphere.

On the other hand, John's personal life was less than satisfying. Because of his money, he was always worried that women were more interested in his millions than in him. When he had finally found a woman who seemed genuinely interested in him, he had thought things would start to work out.

But, like with most of his relationships, he soon began to take his marriage for granted. His work came first. He had come from a poor family. His father had worked his entire life as a janitor at one of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration buildings and there never seemed to be enough money. So John had decided earlier that he would never have to worry about money again. It had become nearly an obsession with him, almost to the exclusion of everything, and everyone, else.

Then came the discovery that his devoted wife was not as devoted as he had originally thought. Her little trysts with first one lover then another soon showed John that her interest in him was limited to his check balance and not him personally.

Finally, just over a year ago, he had written her a check, packed her bags, and sent her on her way. The check was substantial. More than enough to keep her living comfortably for many years to come.

But this was not enough for her. She wanted "everything that was due her," as she put it. Which meant half of John's considerable wealth. Mark had been able to protect most of John's assets, but there was still a considerable amount still being haggled over. If only they could get her served, Mark was sure they could get the divorce finalized quickly and John's problems would be over.

John spent the rest of the day going over contracts for a major purchase he was trying to make. He was having almost as much trouble with this purchase as he was divorcing his wife. Some little piss ant was holding out. Not willing to sell his property. And without that property, John's plans to develop the surrounding property couldn't go through. A project worth almost three billion dollars was being held up by a piece of property that wasn't worth a hundred thousand.

"I'd give anything to get this project through," said John aloud to no one in particular. "Three billion dollars worth of development held up by some pea brain who thinks he can hold me up for what he would consider a fortune."

John wasn't really a bad person. Oh, he had screwed his share of his competitors. But that was the way with business. Dog eat dog. And he was always careful to donate enough money to charities to make it appear that he was a very caring, benevolent, considerate benefactor. It actually did more to soothe his conscience than anything else. He cared very little for others.

John walked over to his bar and fixed himself a drink. He drank it slowly trying to figure out how to get the project going again. He fixed another drink, then turned to go back to his desk.

As he started toward his desk, he noticed a puff of smoke coming from one of the high back leather chairs sitting in front of his desk. He walked to the chair slowly and as he moved around in front of it, he saw a man sitting in the chair.

The man was dressed in a very expensive Italian suit puffing on what John recognized as a very expensive cigar. The man appeared to be about thirty, had a thin mustache, much like the type Clark Gable had worn, and was wearing two ornate gold and diamond rings. A very expensive briefcase sat on the floor next to the chair.

John moved to the chair behind his desk and sat down. As he did, his foot pressed the button on the floor that notified security. Within a few seconds, the security guards to the building would be in his office.

"Who the hell are you?" demanded John. "How did you get in here?"

"That, Mr. Boulder," said the man, "is unimportant. What is important is what I can do for you. I have a business proposition for you that I'm sure you'll be quite interested in."

Just then the door to the office opened and two men dressed as security guards rushed into the office.

"What is it, Mr. Boulder?" asked one of the men.

"Please escort this gentleman out of the building," said John, gesturing towards the chair.

The guards looked at the chair, then around the room. They appeared confused.

"Sir?" questioned the guard.

"The man sitting in that chair," huffed John. "He's an uninvited guest. I don't know how he got in here, but I want him out now."

"I don't understand, Mr. Boulder," said the guard, "but what gentleman are you referring to? There's no one in here but you."

"That man right there," said John pointing at the chair.

The guard looked at the chair, then at the other guard. Then he looked back at John.

"Mr. Boulder," said the guard, "there's no one here but you, sir."

"Are you crazy?" asked John. "He's sitting right there. In that chair. Smoking a cigar."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Boulder," said the guard, "but there isn't anyone here."

"But...." John began to protest, then stopped short.

John looked at the stranger, then at the guard. He wasn't sure what was going on, but this situation simply wasn't normal. Something was definitely wrong here.

"Get out," he said to the guards.

The two men left the office convinced that their employer must have spent a little too much time at his private bar. After the guards had left, John turned to the stranger.

"He couldn't see you," remarked John.

"Of course not," replied the man. "My business is with you. Besides, he's simply a security guard. I'm afraid he wouldn't have much to offer us. Perhaps at some time in the future, but right now he is of no concern to my organization."

"Your organization?" asked John. "Just who are you and what is this organization you're talking about? And what exactly do you want with me?"

"You may call me simply Beel," said the man. "As for my organization, let's just say that I work for a conglomeration of sorts. And as for what I want, as I said, I have a business proposition for you."

"What type of proposition, Mr. Beel?" asked John.

"Just Beel, please," said the man. "We are aware that you deal in some very lucrative projects. I represent an organization that is in a position to offer you whatever help you need. We can guarantee results and in return we ask for so very little."

"No one can guarantee results," said John. "Not when you're dealing with people."

"Oh, we can," said Beel. "We have many, many contacts and it is simply a matter of determining what people most want. Since we're very good at that, we can guarantee whatever results you desire."

"Wait a minute," said John. "Let's back up just a minute. The guard said that no one else was in the room besides me. Why couldn't the guard see you? You're as plain as day. How could he not see you?"

"As I said," replied Beel, "my business is with you, not him."

"But that's crazy," said John. "What does it matter who you have business with? Something is screwy here."

"I can see this isn't going to be easy," said Beel. "I suppose we'll have to go through the usual formality of establishing my identity.

"Okay, listen. I only appear to those with whom I have business. To anyone else, I simply don't exist. It's that simple. Somewhat odd from your point of view, I'll grant you. But, nonetheless, that's the way it is. That's the way it has to be."

"I don't understand," said John. "Either you exist or you don't. If you don't, then I'm crazy. If you do, then anyone should be able to see you. I want some straight answers and I want them now."

"It's always like this," said Beel. "Very well. Let's get the formalities out of the way so that we can conduct our business. Perhaps this will help you understand a bit better."

Suddenly, two horns began to sprout from Beel's forehead. A goatee formed on his face and two fang like teeth sprouted from his mouth. His eyes took on the appearance of cat's eyes and a long, pointed tail grew from Beel's backside. The shoes on Beel's feet vanished and were replaced by two cloven hooves; similar to the type found on goats.

Beel's cigar had gone out and with a flick of his finger he relit it. He smiled a smile that sent chills down John's spine. It was a wicked, evil smile. John could smell the distinct odor of sulphur and brimstone. The temperature in the room rose to a very uncomfortable level and John found himself beginning to sweat heavily. His eyes widened in disbelief.

"Is this more what you expected?" asked Beel. "Actually, I've always felt that the horns and tail were a bit melodramatic. The cloven hooves, the beard, the fire and brimstone are all just so much special effects. It's so much nicer to conduct business in a pleasant, relaxed atmosphere like this office."



"Actually, no," said Beel, returning to his former appearance. "The, uh, boss, has more to do than to worry himself with a simple contract signing. I believe this week he has four earthquakes, two volcanic eruptions, and several dozen fires planned. Earthquakes are his favorite. He loves the way the buildings jiggle before they collapse. And the dozens of buried bodies, some of which are never recovered. He loves that little touch."

John didn't know what to say. He gulped down his drink and sat staring at this man. Or creature. Or whatever the hell he was.

"John," said Beel. "May I call you John? John, please, I don't have all night. If we could conclude our business, I do have other appointments."

"Uh, yeah," said John suddenly becoming very frightened. "Now, uh, just what exactly is this proposition you spoke of?"

"Oh, it's quite simple, really," continued Beel. "As I said, we can guarantee certain results. For instance, I can guarantee you that within twenty-four hours you'll have the property you need to complete your current business negotiations. After that, I'm sure we can assist you in other endeavors from time to time."

Beel opened the briefcase next to his chair. He pulled out what appeared to John to be a contract. Beel looked the pages over for several moments, and then laid them on the desk.

"This is a standard contract," said Beel. "It's quite simple, really. Once you sign this, our business will be concluded."

"So," said John, "you grant me my every desire. And for your help, all I have to do is sell you my soul, is that it?"

"Oh, my goodness, no," said Beel, laughing. "Unfortunately, the soul is not a commercial property. You don't really own it so you can't sell it. This contract states that upon you death, a person of our choosing will inherit all your holdings. Someone who works within our organization. They can then continue to run your businesses in our interest. It is actually your last Will and Testament."

"You don't want my soul?" asked John.

"Well, of course we do," responded Beel. "But as I said, your soul is not yours to sell. Oh, we'll probably get it eventually. People like you usually come to us in the end. That is not my concern at this time.

"This contract simply allows you to live as you wish for as long as you live. To guarantee that your businesses don't suffer any major setbacks. And, I might add, we can also see that you live a very long time. Once you've, uh, passed over, shall we say, you won't need your businesses. That's when we take over."

"I see," said John. "I just let you take complete control of everything I spent my entire life building up, is that it?"

"Something like that," said Beel, smiling.

"And if I should decide to decline your offer?" asked John.

"That would be inadvisable, John," said Beel. "We pride ourselves on a very high success rate. We have had some who have refused our offer, but let us suffice it to say that such a decision is not in your best interest."

"So if I do turn you down," said John, "I would meet with some unfortunate accident, is that it?"

"No," said Beel. "But there could be some very nasty repercussions from a refusal. You see, we can't actually harm you or cause harm to come to you. That's against the rules. But you might find your business dealings taking a turn for the worse."

"And how do I know you can deliver?" asked John. "Or that the consequences you've mentioned are real?"

"Permit me to cite a couple of examples," said Beel. "Some time back a young man, whom we felt had great potential, was interested in a singing career. Unfortunately, many of the so-called experts felt he just didn't have what it took. Well, because of our faith in him, we offered him a similar deal. He accepted and today he is regarded as a legend in his field of music. Rock and roll I believe it was. And yet even his most ardent fans find it difficult to explain what the fascination is with him. And today, years after his death, he is bigger than he ever was in life."

"Alright," said John, "but what about the consequences?"

"Several years ago." continued Beel, "we made a similar arrangements with a prominent Senator. Initially, he agreed. However, in 1971, I believe it was, he tried to renege on our deal. Approximately a year later he discovered that a certain endeavor that certain of his associates were involved in somehow became public knowledge. It seems that this former Senator, who, by the way, had risen to the very top of his profession, was forced to resign in disgrace. I'm afraid that little indiscretion followed him to his grave."

"I see," said John. "So it would appear that I really don't have any choice in the matter."

"Oh, you always have a choice," said Beel. "You are, after all, a free agent, so to speak. It's just that I don't believe you would like the consequences if you were to say no."

John picked up the contract and looked it over.

"I'd like my lawyer to look this over," he said.

"I'm afraid that's not possible," said Beel. "This is a one time offer. It must be accepted or rejected immediately. Also, it's in written in demonese. I'm afraid that not even a lawyer would understand it. Well, most lawyers, anyway. Besides, it's all perfectly legal. I assure you."

"How do I know you won't just renege on this?" asked John.

"Oh, that isn't allowed," said Beel. "You see we have to follow the rules. Bending the truth to a point is perfectly acceptable. But a contract is a contract. It must be perfectly legal if we are to collect. For that reason, our dealings in situations such as this are completely open and above board. And we can't renege, as you put it."

Beel reached into his briefcase and pulled out a file folder. He opened it and began to read.

"Okay," he said. "Name, Jonathan Stephen Boulder. Age, thirty-eight. Net worth is just over seven hundred twenty seven million dollars. Currently married but in the process of getting a divorce. No children."

"You have my whole life?" asked John.

"Oh, not really," answered Beel. "We have to do some research once you become a possible candidate for our services. We can't possibly keep track of every person. So we concentrate only on those who show the most potential.

"We did have to conduct some research and we have all the necessary information necessary on you. Most of it is public knowledge. Because of your prominence in the business community, our research on you was quite easy. Now, all you have to do is sign the contract on the dotted line and our business will be concluded."

"I sign in blood, right?" asked John.

"I do wish I could find the person who started that rumor," answered Beel testily. "No, John, you do not sign in blood. That silly rumor got started sometime in the middle ages. We use ordinary ink. Really, you shouldn't believe everything you read in a book or see in a movie."

John looked the contract over. It seemed in order. At least, the parts he understood. It appeared to be a standard Last Will and Testament. It had his name, Jonathan Stephen Boulder; only the beneficiary's name was left blank.

"And just who will my businesses go to once I no longer have any use for them?" he asked.

"Well," said Beel, "we'll decide that when the time comes. There's no telling who will be available when you, uh, pass on."

"But what if the laws change?" asked John. "Won't that make this will invalid?"

"Not necessarily," responded Beel. "This is a very special document, John. As the laws change, the terminology and provisions of the will change to conform to the changes in the law. Only your signature, and those parts which remain relevant remain the same."

"And if I sign this, you won't do anything to cause my death prematurely?" asked John.

"John," said Beel, "it is in our best interest to keep you healthy and alive for a very long time. You see, one of the requirements for us offering this type of deal is that the recipient be worth a minimum net worth. In addition, his potential to increase that net worth must be substantial. So, the longer you live, the larger your estate, and the more we inherit."

"Is that one of your rules?" asked John.

"Well, yes," said Beel, "but I must correct your misconception. They are not 'our' rules. We don't make the rules. We are, however, bound to obey them. The rules are established by…. a rival organization, shall we say. Now, to the contract, John. I do have another appointment very soon and I do not wish to be late."

"I know, I know," said John, "I just want to get a couple of things straight before I sign. So, you can't back out once the deal is made and I sign the contract. And this contract conforms to all the laws applicable to a will?"

"Absolutely," said Beel. "It has to be if we are expect to collect. If it's not exactly as it should be, the will could be thrown out of court once it's probated. So you can rest assured that everything within the contract is completely and perfectly legal."

"What if I want to leave something to someone else?" asked John. "Can that be arranged?"

"Why certainly," said Beel. "We're not completely heartless, regardless of the lies and rumors our competition has spread about us. All that we require is that we get controlling interest in the majority of your estate. We'll allow you to leave a very nice portion to whomever you wish."

"Okay," said John.

He picked up his pen and started to sign the contract. Suddenly he lifted the pen and looked at Beel.

"I was wondering," said John, "could you help me with my situation regarding my wife. It's very simple. I'm sure you could take care of it quite easily."

"I'm sorry," said Beel, "but that case is something that we can't help you with. It involves a legal document that has the wrong name on it. We try to observe the law in such cases, as in the case involving your contract, so that everything will go smoothly. A legal document with the wrong name on it is invalid. I'm afraid there isn't anything we can do for you in this instance.

"But I wouldn't worry too much. If you want we can see to it that, once the citation to your wife is properly served, your wife cooperates in the matter. It would be quite easy to arrange and I assure you that she won't be harmed in any way. In fact, it will be to her advantage to cooperate."

"Very well," said John. "I can see that this would be quite beneficial to me. And, like you say, once I'm gone, I won't have any use for it."

He signed the contract then handed it back to Beel. Beel looked the signature over then smiled.

"Very good, John," said Beel. "We'll just keep this on file until it is needed. Until then, I hope you have a long, happy, productive life. We hope to inherit a very large, very prosperous business from you. In the meantime, we'll keep an eye on you and give you a hand whenever it's needed."

"Good," said John, standing up and walking over to his bar. He poured himself a drink, then turned back to Beel.

"Can I get you something?" he asked. "A drink to celebrate our new partnership, so to speak."

He was answered with silence. Beel was nowhere to be seen. He had left as mysteriously and as quietly as he had arrived.

John walked over to his desk and picked up the phone, then pressed a button on the intercom. After a few seconds, Mark Wheeler answered.

"Mark? John. I need you to answer a question for me. If someone has a name change, say because they were adopted by their mothers' second husband, and then that person signs a contract under the first name, is the contract legal?"

"Was there a legal name change involved?" asked Mark. "Or was the name changed simply as a matter of convenience?"

"Legal name change," answered John. "The adoption decree changed the child's name."

"Then the contract isn't valid," said Mark. "Legally, and technically, the first person doesn't exist any more. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," said John. "Oh, by the way. That Johnson deal? Double the offer. What I've been offering isn't a fair price for the property."

"Are you sure?" asked Mark. "I've never known you to be so generous before."

"I'm sure," said John. "I've been doing a lot of thinking since we talked last. Maybe it's time I concentrated more on something other than making money. I've got a lot of changes in mind for the near future. Some will probably come as quite a surprise to you."

"Okay," said Mark. "You're the boss. I'll take care of it first thing in the morning."

John dropped the phone back onto the cradle.

"Get me in the end, will you," thought John. "Well, we'll just see about that. They say people can change, provided the incentive is great enough. It would seem, Beel, that you've provided just about the best incentive I needed to change. Let's see how you like the new John Boulder."

John thought about the next few weeks. He knew that he could live comfortably off just the interest from his personal bank accounts alone. But his obsession with obtaining more and more money had blinded him to nearly everything else. Now he began to consider the possibilities that his incredible wealth could provide for others.

John he walked over to the library to his left and picked up a photograph. The photograph was very old and showed a man, a woman, and a baby in the woman's arms.

The picture was of John and his parents. Peter and Melissa Johnson. His birth parents. Then he walked back to his desk and removed a document from the bottom right hand drawer. The document was an adoption decree. It was very old, nearly thirty-six years. On the last page, right above the judge's signature, was a clause that changed the child's name from Jonathan Stephen Boulder to Jonathan Stephen Foster.

Then he removed another document. This document was much newer; actually only a few days old. A name change petition. It would have changed John's surname legally from Foster to Boulder. He thought about the document for a moment, then ripped it into several pieces and threw the papers into his trashcan.

He had always done business under his natural father's name. A name he had been born with but that had been changed when he was only two years of age. The stories his mother had told him about his natural father had convinced John to do business under that name. Over the years he had never quite gotten around to having his name legally changed back to the one he had been born with. In a few days, he had planned to correct that little oversight, but now decided against it.

He was now glad he had been too busy to attend to it before.

THE END

[Island Breeze]

Interesting twist! Great story!

I loved these parts especially:

"I don't understand," said John. "Either you exist or you don't. If you don't, then I'm crazy. If you do, then anyone should be able to see you. I want some straight answers and I want them now."

"It's always like this," said Beel. "Very well. Let's get the formalities out of the way so that we can conduct our business. Perhaps this will help you understand a bit better."

Suddenly, two horns began to sprout from Beel's forehead. A goatee formed on his face and two fang like teeth sprouted from his mouth. His eyes took on the appearance of cat's eyes and a long, pointed tail grew from Beel's backside. The shoes on Beel's feet vanished and were replaced by two cloven hooves; similar to the type found on goats.

Beel's cigar had gone out and with a flick of his finger he relit it. He smiled a smile that sent chills down John's spine. It was a wicked, evil smile. John could smell the distinct odor of sulphur and brimstone. The temperature in the room rose to a very uncomfortable level and John found himself beginning to sweat heavily. His eyes widened in disbelief.

"Is this more what you expected?" asked Beel. "Actually, I've always felt that the horns and tail were a bit melodramatic. The cloven hooves, the beard, the fire and brimstone are all just so much special effects. It's so much nicer to conduct business in a pleasant, relaxed atmosphere like this office."

"So," said John, "you grant me my every desire. And for your help, all I have to do is sell you my soul, is that it?"

"Oh, my goodness, no," said Beel, laughing. "Unfortunately, the soul is not a commercial property. You don't really own it so you can't sell it. This contract states that upon you death, a person of our choosing will inherit all your holdings. Someone who works within our organization. They can then continue to run your businesses in our interest. It is actually your last Will and Testament."

"You don't want my soul?" asked John.

"Well, of course we do," responded Beel. "But as I said, your soul is not yours to sell. Oh, we'll probably get it eventually. People like you usually come to us in the end. That is not my concern at this time.

And the part about the wife!