The Harvested Sun

By Bernard Cowsert III

A story about an extremely wealthy Asian inventor and industrial magnate who needs collaboration to complete his last hurrah in the business world, culminating in a worldwide hunt for him, combined with twenty-six people, the best in their fields, trapped and drugged, to help him accomplish his dream. Amanda, a vivacious, beautiful, smart, and ambitious French woman finds lost love and travels to combine with a smart male marketer that has the potential of a financial windfall.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503527980

Bernard Cowsert III

Bernard was born and raised in Denver, Colorado. After attending South High School, he ski-bummed in Northern California and Aspen before working for the Martin Company on the Arizona desert, Titan 2 missile sites. He attended the University of Arizona in Tucson then returned to his native Colorado, attending night school at University of Colorado, working during the day, teaching skiing on the weekends at Winter Park. One of the classes he enjoyed most was creative writing, but he never pursued it until now. Most of his young business life was motivational speaking, promoting speakers like Dr. Norman Vincent Peale, Paul Harvey, Og Mandino, and Zig Ziglar; serving as regional vice president of Northern California . His most recent was twenty-six years at a Philips Lighting distributor, outside sales to vice president, and back to outside sales. He currently resides in the Denver area and has a grown son, Bernie Jr.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The train was moving at a blindingly fast speed. As it started to slow down, I could see the vibrantly blue sky, as though it were late afternoon. The leaves of the aspen trees were the color of budding leaves—not fully green but more light green. There was a slight breeze that caused the leaves to shimmer.

As the train pulled into a stop, it suddenly turned dark for a brief moment, and it came to a stop. I don’t know where I am; I don’t know why I am here.

All the people on the train seemed to know who I was—but I don’t.

We entered a large, spacious room that appeared to be a hotel lobby. A man swiftly approached me. He was tall and slender but had an athletic look about him, with his medium-length gray hair, not a one out of place. He said, Great job, Mr. Forrester. Looks like a really great start to the project.

I have no idea who he is or why he said what he did.

I went over to a soft light-blue couch to sit down to try and figure out what was going on. Every person I saw seemed to recognize me as they all smiled or slightly nodded to me as they passed by. I noticed something in my back pocket, something that kind of jabbed me. I pulled it out, and it was a room key: Room 601.

As I strolled slowly to the elevator lobby and pushed number 6, I was curious to see what I would find.

I opened the door to find a large suite with the smell of fresh lilacs. The room was filled with beautiful new furniture. It has a large walk-in closet in the spacious bedroom. In it were ten or so brand-new suits, with two dozen button-down oxford shirts in blue and white only. A tie rack was full of rep ties. Several pairs of new shoes were neatly placed on a large shoe rack on the floor.

There was an oversized picture window that faced out to the outdoor pool and, behind that, another wing to the hotel. Across the way, I could see a woman sitting on a green sofa, reading a book. She looked up and waved then went to the phone and dialed. At that moment, my room phone rang.

Brock, this is Amanda. Why don’t you meet me at the pool bar for a drink? I have some good news for you. It is very casual.

I put on a pair of Bermudas and a polo shirt and headed downstairs.

The pool was a beautiful blue, with small trees surrounding it on all sides. As I sat down, the poolside waiter approached. The usual, Mr. Forrester?

Yes, I said, wondering what I would get.

He came back with a cold glass of Coors Light. That looked and tasted familiar to me.

CHAPTER 2

It was a cold wintry day in Lower Manhattan. Snow was falling slowly. As he looked out the window, he could barely see the building across from them. A dreary day, to say the least, but there was serious work to be done. There did not appear to have been any clues to the disappearance of Flight 212, a charter that left from the Queens airport six days ago.

Sgt. Chin Andrews is a seasoned forensic pathologist who has solved some of the most puzzling crimes for the past three decades. He started in China as a beat cop and, later, as detective. He was so stunningly creative that the Los Angeles Police Department hired him to move and become chief of detectives. He shortly moved his family to California thereafter. He is on loan to the New York Police Department.

His son Mongo is now a burgeoning detective in San Diego. Maybe Chin would need his help on this one. Would spring ever come?

Forever Airlines specializes in charter flights, mostly for überwealthy clientele. They are known for going to exotic places and are not cheap. They command and get super high fares. Chin decided to pay them a visit and asked his son to fly in and join him on the visit. On Thursday, they sat in the plush lobby of the airline and were greeted by the perky young receptionist. Can I help you?

We are here to see Mr. Hoo.

He is very busy. Can I ask what you want to see him about?

I handed her our police IDs.

She said, I’ll be right back.

It wasn’t but thirty seconds later when a very short but stately Asian man in his sixties said, I am Ernest Hoo. Come this way.

We briskly walked down a long hallway, and he motioned us into his Chinese-decorated office. Two large statues of elephants, made of pure white granite, guarded both sides of the entrance. How can I help you?

We are here about the disappearance of your Flight 212. What can you tell us about it?

Well, not much. Let me call John Herring, our chief of charter flights, in.

After a quick intercom call, John was in his office.

What can you tell us about the missing flight?

He opened a small file.

It was chartered by a wealthy Chinese businessman. He phoned and inquired about the possibility of a small plane—twenty-five to thirty passengers—that would fly without refueling for 2,500 miles and could land at a small airport. He did not ask about the cost.

Was there a flight plan filed? asked Chin.

Yes, there was. I’ll have to get it. Can I e-mail it to you later today?

Yes, my e-mail is on my card. Chin handed it to John.

Thank you.

CHAPTER 3

About five minutes later, Amanda walked out the door across the pool. She was tall and extremely attractive, with beautiful long legs. She was slightly tan and had midlength curly blond hair. Her walk was confident, although very feminine. I looked down at my hands to see no rings on them. I must be single.

I stood up as she approached. She sat down in the chair next to me, legs crossed. Hi, Brock.

The waiter approached. What can I get for you, Ms. Gerous?

A Brandy Alexander, please.

Anxious to find out more about me, I asked, So what’s the good news?

I thought by now you would have known. I have been appointed your special assistant, effective next Monday.

My Coors was empty, and the waiter, without asking, brought me another beer.

What will your responsibilities be? I asked, hoping to get a very long answer.

Well, the company feels that my background of bringing new product to market—successfully—in the past would be a good fit with your product development expertise. What do you think?

Which product are you thinking? I asked, hoping to get more information.

Don’t pull my leg. You know which one, don’t you?

I have so many ideas run through my head, I sometimes can’t separate them.

Let’s have an early dinner tonight, together, away from the hotel. I know a great place. I’ll pick you up at six p.m. Casual dress. I will bring the blueprints so we can discuss our strategy to go to market. Is that good for you?

As though I had plans. Yes, I’ll look forward to that.

The waiter approached. An upgrade, Mr. Forrester?

He brought me a vodka tonic, short, with a lime. Tasty! How did he know?

One more then bring my check.

CHAPTER 4

When Chin and Mongo returned to his office, the e-mail had arrived. He opened it and began reading the flight plan. It was to leave Queens at 6:30 a.m. on January 4 and take a route over the Atlantic, heading southerly to a remote island off the coast of Venezuela.

There is a small dirt landing strip in the center of the island with no tower or lights. A day landing only. The flight never made it there and has not been heard of since.

What do you make of this, Mongo? asked his father.

I’m not sure, Dad, but it looks a little fishy. Why would it not have made its destination?

Exactly. Let’s draw this out on the whiteboard and try to fill in the blanks with Mr. Herring’s help.

Who were the passengers?

Did they have anything in common?

Did they know each other? Did they know their destination?

How long were they going to be gone?

All these questions were written on the board. It helps you focus and ask further ideas.

Mr. Herring told them there were twenty-six passengers: twenty men and six women.

They were not related to each other and seemed to have varied backgrounds. Most of them paid $20,000 for the trip and were told it was a surprise destination. Three of them were recent master’s degree graduates from top universities and were comped the entire trip.

Mr. Herring, can you get us the names, addresses, and phone numbers, workplaces?

Yes, I’ll e-mail all the information I have.

Thanks.

CHAPTER 5

Amanda picked him up in her brand-new Mercedes SL500, a gorgeous candy-apple red convertible with beige leather seats and an audio system fit for a king (or queen). It was a beautiful evening, and she said, OK to put the top down?

Sure, sounds like fun. I’ll grab a hat and sunglasses.

As we headed out, the soft growl of the big V8 was pleasing to my ear—it sounded familiar somehow.

It was a short drive through a tree-studded street to a small French-styled house. The sign on the driveway entrance said Welcome to Les Gourmet: Enjoy a Relaxed Meal.

Amanda had made reservations and requested a window table overlooking the expansive two-acre backyard that was filled with active wine grapes. The maître d’ said they grow their own grapes for the wine they serve.

A real French tradition.

The family who owns and runs the café has a French background and culinary expertise. They had the American idea of service though.

The waiter asked if we would like to taste the wines of the night. Sure.

Red or white?

Amanda said white, so I’ll try the red.

The wine came in a small, miniature wineglass meant for tasting.

We both liked our respective samples and ordered a glass of each. Did you bring the blueprints? I asked.

Yes, here they are.

They were small enough to put on the table, and I looked at them. It seemed to be some sort of light source. Revolutionary, the title said. Invented by Mr. Haan.

We ordered Caesar salad for two that was table-made and Chateaubriand and sipped on another wine. As the sun set in the background, she toasted to our impending success, as though there was no other choice in the matter.

That sounded good!

Amanda picked up the tab, and as we drove back to the hotel, I wondered how soon I might understand more about how and why I was here.

She seemed to read what I was thinking as she said in a confident manner, It will all come together in due time.

CHAPTER 6

Chin and Mongo got the e-mailed list of passengers, and as they glanced through it, they did not notice a lot of similarities. All seemed from different parts of the world. There were a few from Silicon Valley in Northern California though.

Time to make some phone calls. They would split the list in half and get started immediately.

Chin’s first call was to Dr. Calvin Winters’s home. A woman answered and said she was the doctor’s daughter. She said her father is a scientist who is head of research at GoLabs, an R & D–type company in Prague. Many of the projects he works on are secret, and she did not know many details until it became public knowledge. She stated her father disappeared when the plane did not land as planned. Her mother is so devastated that she became a recluse over her husband’s disappearance. The company is also deeply concerned not only for his welfare but also for any company secrets that may be divulged.

Mongo’s call was to Marion Clavenger, a product researcher for Proctor & Gamble in Cincinnati. Her husband said she was a PhD and had worked five years at her job and had not been heard of since the ghost flight.

Their third call was a conference call to Albert Wolfson’s home in Santa Clara, California. His wife said he worked for several successful companies in Silicon Valley before settling with Hewlett-Packard to become Innovator of the Year last year for them. He had developed new software that could position HP as the leader in their field for years to come.

Next came Dr. Lionel Grisante, a clinical psychologist from the University of Denver.

He teaches about behavioral purchasing habit and specializes in why people buy what they buy.

There seemed to be a trend surfacing here.

Almost all twenty-six had something to do with product development or engineering, at one stage or another. All were creative types and seemed to have a keen sense of ferreting out fresh ideas and concepts. All were people who seemed to thrive for the end result of their thoughts.

CHAPTER 7

Amanda Gerous is French by background but was raised in Southern California. She attended Corona Del Mar High and was magna cum laude. Her aptitude was in the sciences, and she graduated from Stanford with a master’s in molecular physics. Her first marriage—to a former high school sweetheart who cheated on her—lasted only seven months.

Although her schooling indicated a scientific-type occupation, she chose marketing. She found science fascinating in school but not so in the workplace. It bored her.

Her focus has been to be the best at what you do.

On this Sunday, Amanda was bound for the lake for a little sun and boating. The community has a huge lake about ten miles out of town. She packed a light lunch and was off by 10:00 a.m.

At the lake, she met some friends from work. One of them has a large thirty-five-foot cruiser that he keeps at the marina on the lake. They cruised the lake for most of the day. Some of the group water-skied behind the huge wake, but most just watched.

Amanda had on a stunning bikini. It showed how athletic and curvy she was, breasts bulging out in all the right places. Most of the men on board glanced occasionally, having never seen Amanda in anything but work-type clothes.

Around 2:30 p.m., the group disbanded—Monday was a workday.

Amanda drove slowly back home, choosing a circuitous route. It was a beautiful afternoon to have the top down.

CHAPTER 8

Early Monday morning, several people from the hotel boarded the train. It bound through town and went into the countryside for about fifteen minutes. It made no stops along the way. It traveled eighty miles an hour or so. Brock estimated they had traveled about twenty miles as the train slowed to a large industrial-office complex. It was quite large with very modern, futuristic-type buildings. There was a center complex with several outbuildings, all connected with aboveground tunnels covered with rounded opaque glass over the top.

They walked for maybe two hundred feet to the center complex, and everyone went their respective ways. Brock went to the left and somehow found his office, a large office that reminded him of the presidential Oval Office that he’d seen on TV.

Amanda greeted him, and they went into the conference room. She had on a tailored, feminine dark-blue business suit with a white camisole showing skin almost to her breasts. That with a matching miniskirt and midheight dark-blue heels.

Shortly, several others joined them for a meeting conducted by Amanda. They showed a video that showed the progress of the new light source that is intended to replace all existing lighting as we know it today.

Much of this research centers on taking natural sunlight, concentrating it through prisms, and storing it in silicone modules to be activated by electronic pulses for later, upon-demand use. The undiscovered key is using the correct amount of juice to get the desired amount of light and the desired color-rendering index, a measure of how light renders colors, 100 being natural sunlight.

This all, somehow, made perfect sense to Brock. His background had to have given him the ability to comprehend what he was seeing and hearing.

After the meeting, Brock went to his office. On the wall were certificates of accomplishment: a degree, a business degree, from Harvard and a master’s from MIT. There were trophies. Five or six for sailing, two for skiing, and one for martial arts. Several pictures adorned