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Follow on Google News | MK Lukman: "Embattled Star-trader". Pt. 2. Excerpts of Chapter 15: PIERCING EYES."If there were any doubts, whatsoever, in "PJ's" mind about the far-reaching scope of American jurisprudence—the extent to which he might be guiltily adjudged for offences amounting to high-treason—none was evident on the first day of his trial."
Disclaimer: "This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and/or territories (mentioned herein) are products of the author's imagination; "Embattled Star-trader." Excerpted from chapter 15 of Piercing Eyes A novel by MK Lukman. All rights reserved Fairbanks’ work was interestingly cut out for him. Using the inherent powers of his office, he vigorously sought to force the hand, as it were, of the banking-officials at UBS to reveal 'any/all' details of accounts—'bearing the name or names of Colin (“PJ”) Walcott and, for that matter, his relatives, acquaintances, or other persons, deemed to have had links with him; as well as related accounts containing extraordinarily large deposits in the absence of legitimate, economic sources of income'—to the relevant US authorities. At stake was a diminution or, at worst, total loss of credibility of one of Alimnosam’s top executives, whose impropriety could potentially put the firm at risk of losing its world-ranking dominance in related, global markets. All eyes, the world-over, were thus fixed on the outcome of the trial. And, indeed, Alimnosam! Some critics, however, saw “PJ’s” ‘involvement’ Moreover, it wasn’t “PJ’s” world. In fact, it never really was! And, very likely, would never be in that it was a world, governed largely by Anglo-American men, with vastly different sets of rules: 'theirs'! It was, in many respects, a permeation of Wall Street and its related echelons: a seeming culture of power, politics, sex, and greed; intriguingly conveying (even, to 'impressionable' minds!) a sense of exclusivity and belongingness (as well as a sense) that the ‘rule of law’, which governed the larger society, didn’t apply to them: the 'players'! And, as alarmingly peculiar as that culture was to 'the mainstream', the more it held a seductively dangerous fascination for “PJ”. At times, it all seemed like one 'helluva' thespian moment—psychologically burgeoning on a Dante-like inferno—etched against the landscape of his fertile imagination. But, in reality, what lay before him, right there in the Federal courthouse of Lower Manhattan, was even more nightmarish than he could ever imagine! One might wonder whether it was all an aggregate of bad karma, ‘revisited’; In any event, it became increasingly evident—from the outset of the Federal government’s case—that “PJ” was on a different playing-field; His ego—rivalling his arrogance and pushing him to the very limits of propriety—frequently got him into a lot of hot water. And, at times, miserably failed him—in the process! And barring some deeply rooted sense of spirituality or profound understanding (of the type of fate that awaited him) to which such stoicism could be wholly attributed, “PJ” exhibited every appearance of interest; despite an obvious struggle to suppress angst, sadness and pain; petrification, even! He was tense, and nervous; extraordinarily stoical! Thus, tiny beads of perspiration began to settle on his forehead; occasionally trickling down onto his cheeks and causing him to reach into the inner pocket of his suit-jacket for a cotton-handkerchief, which was perfectly folded. With it, he gently dabbed his face. And his heart, which he’d been helplessly wearing on his sleeve, rapidly pounded like a miniature jackhammer; struggling betimes to maintain a normally synchronous pace with his 'tachypnoeic' breath. Yet, irrespective of the reasons, it might be drawn (especially from the keen observation of many of the world-press and spectators, alike, who were countenanced to observe the courtroom-proceedings: It was heartbreaking to watch him in such a state: just pensively sitting there in 'that' Federal courthouse; sadly mired down in a critically uncertain state (in which his fate lingered in the balance; seemingly held in the 'grip' of a jury—'a jury of his peers', it was hoped!—let alone that of the Chief Judge); giving his handsome, dark-brown face the worrying impression that something—terribly ominous!—might woefully befall him. It was 12:20pm, to be exact! The periphery of the Federal building sustained a hive of activity. A cadre of media-trucks— It was the first day of his trial. It was marked by sharply fallen temperatures that ranged from 35° to 5° Fahrenheit—approximating, on the Celcius scale, to 2° (above zero) and minus 15° C—respectively. In fact, the temperature stayed around 5º F throughout most of the afternoon, and well into the late evening-hours. Meteorologists had forecasted an onslaught of gusty, north-easterly winds—originating from Canada—that impacted on commuters, and even the infrastructure of Manhattan at speeds of up to 50-km/h (30-mph); dramatically intensifying the bone-chilling sensation, felt by many, via a wind-chill of 28º C (minus 19º F). The entire cortège—escorted into the courtroom by two muscle-bound court-officers; “All rise!” yelled the bailiff; upon the immediate entrance of the judge into the courtroom via a door, which opened onto the rear platform, leading to her bench. “The United States District Court for the Southern District of New York (Plaintiff) “Please be seated,” said Morgan-Jones: # # # Avrem Publishing House, a subsidiary of Avrem Enterprises Group, Inc., is committed to the publication of compelling, fictional characters that have been influenced, motivated, or flawed, in one way or another, by infidelity, greed, intrigue, and power. End
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