Cracking the Mystery of Money

By Thomas W Potts and Bridgette J Intessimone

Devon dreams of being rich. He looks forward to the day when he can drive fast cars, wear expensive closes, and travel around the world. But he has a problem; he doesn’t understand money.

He’s spent the last three summers working at Brew-sters Coffee Emporium for that reason. The master barista, Pops, knows a lot about money. Pops is a mysterious man with many secrets and not everything is as it seems. Legend has it many of his previous pupils have gone on to be wealthy entrepreneurs and powerful political leaders. Others have simply disappeared.

Using magic, parables, and fables, Pops slowly reveals the ancient secrets of wealth and success. Witnessing historical events firsthand, Devon experiences the power of the Financial Trilogy and the wisdom of the Universal Law of Success. He also learns what money is and what it isn’t and how the dark force wants to keep him from his dreams and enslave him for the rest of his life.

In the end, Devon learns his most important lesson of all—Pops’ tutelage is priceless, but it’s not free.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Dec 7, 2018
• ISBN: 9781532036323

Thomas W Potts

Thomas W. Potts earned a bachelor of science degree in computer science from Western Kentucky University and is twenty-six-year veteran of the financial industry. During this tumultuous time, he successfully navigated his clients through four wars, a dot-com bubble, a real estate bubble, a foreign currency crisis, 911, near zero interest rates, and a financial crisis. He is a business owner and has held many positions including branch manager, trainer, and financial instructor.

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Copyright © 2018 Thomas W. Potts.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-3631-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-3633-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-3632-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017919324

iUniverse rev. date: 10/17/2018

Contents

Prologue

Brew-Ster’s Coffee Emporium

Bourgeoisie

Book Of Parables And Fables

The Money Fish Pond

The Magic Chalice

Grit

Secret Codes

Be, Do, Have

The Financial Trilogy

Make

Keep

Hang Ten

Nutrageous

Beating The Dark Force

Willpower

The Fortune Telling Marshmallow

The Bureaucratic Dominion

Big Government Or Small Government, That Is The Question.

Easy Money

The Wagon Republic

Accumulate

The Great Big National Bank

Resting Money

Inflation

A $1600.00 Steak Dinner

Babies

Loanership

Ownership

Fear And Greed

Diversification

The Showdown

The Magic Money Machine

Mob Rules

Paper Alchemy

Graduation

One Last Jump

I would like to express my profound

thanks to Dr. Philip Koerper who seemingly appeared out of the heavens precisely when I needed a friend. Without his relentless optimism and unquestioning friendship this book would have remained locked away in the chasms of my imagination.

To my dear wife Janet, while it’s woefully inadequate, as is so often the case… thank you!

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Prologue

A BDUL WAS SWEATING PROFUSELY IN the windless desert night air. He rarely engaged in physical activity, but he was desperate and time was running out. Abdul’s eldest son, not yet twelve years old, was stricken by an unknown illness.

Abdul, a man of great wealth, had tried all of the customary remedies and prayers, but the boy’s condition continued to decline. Village elders forbade him from taking the boy to the city’s crazy chemist, believing it must be God’s will. But Abdul would do anything to save his son, even if it meant defying the uncompromising village elders. He loved his son more than life itself. All of his vast wealth would have no meaning if he did not have his scion by his side.

He knew his only option left was the chemist, and it was a risk he had to take. Omar Malouf was pioneering many new methods of healing using mysterious compounds concocted in his lab. Medicine was very controversial and still in its infancy in the early 1800s.

The moonless night provided excellent cover as he carried the boy’s limp body in near darkness. Under normal circumstances. he would have gone around the notoriously dangerous slums, but tonight that was not an option because it would add precious hours to his journey.

To avoid the wrath of the village elders and notorious thieves, Abdul left the safety of his luxurious home well past midnight, dressed in one of his servant’s thobes. Abdul recalled with dread his childhood, when his carriage driver had mistakenly taken a wrong turn into this rough neighborhood. The unaccompanied wealthy travelers created quite a stir, and a raucous crowd quickly gathered around them. If not for the bravery of his quick-thinking driver, he might not have made it out alive.

His stomach was in knots, and he could feel suspicious eyes tracking his every move. It wasn’t every day that a stranger walked through this Cairo neighborhood carrying a lifeless body. He was taking a great risk by being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but if he were recognized, he would be risking the lives of his entire family.

As Abdul approached the chemist’s home, he was surprised and relieved to find the lights still on and someone stirring about. Abdul was exhausted, sweating profusely, and nearly delirious when he began knocking frantically on the chemist’s door. He was not well suited for this kind of clandestine subterfuge.

The sudden banging startled Omar Maloof. He was noticeably frightened as he cautiously opened the door just enough so that he could peer outside.

Abdul was panting so hard that he had difficulty explaining his desperate situation. However, one look at the boy was all that was needed. Omar took the boy from his wilting father and gently laid him down on a large rug in the center of the room.

Abdul was used to buying what he wanted, and if there were ever a time to use his money, this was it. Hoping that money may somehow affect the outcome, Abdul promised Omar if he could heal his son, he would reward him with an immense treasure. Omar was so engrossed in his observation of the boy that he took little notice of the offer. Although he was publicly maligned, he was undeniably a man of character and would have healed the boy with no remuneration; healing the sick was his passion. But if an offer of immense wealth was offered, he would of course take it, not wishing to insult the desperate benefactor.

The nervous Abdul talked incessantly, but it had no effect on Omar’s concentration as he quickly diagnosed what ailed the afflicted boy. After several hours of rest, Abdul headed back home through the same treacherous neighborhoods that had brought him there, carrying his lifeless son—and a bag of Omar’s chemicals.

Several days later, Abdul was relieved to see a noticeable improvement in his son. Omar’s magic chemicals soon rid the boy of his most unfortunate ailment. Not a word was said otherwise. The village elders were delighted that their persistent prayers had healed the boy.

Weeks passed, and the chemist heard nothing from Abdul, not even a letter of thanks. This was not uncommon because few people wanted any evidence linking them to the outcast.

Omar’s work with chemicals was all-consuming. As with most people of passion, his obsession would often carry him deep into the night.

Then one day while grinding a promising new root with his mortar and pestle, he heard a knock at his door. Standing in front of the open door stood a strapping young man, barely recognizable to Omar. It was the previously stricken boy, now perfectly healthy and full of life. He held a substantial wooden box.

The boy, taking his charge very seriously, said, Possession of this gift is also an acceptance of an obligation. Omar did not fully understand what he meant.

The boy waited patiently for Omar’s reply. Omar was still distracted by his latest experiment and nodded his head, indicating his acceptance. The boy humbly handed the box to the chemist. After bowing his head, he quickly disappeared around the corner.

Omar was so engaged in his healing that he completely forgot about the wealthy man’s pledge. Now that he had it, he could not help but be excited about the prospect of being instantly wealthy. He would never be short of money ever again. More important, he could continue his chemical experiments unabated.

Surprisingly, the box did not have a lock or any type of device to keep thieves from stealing its contents. Omar slowly opened the lid on the box, fully expecting to see gold and jewels of unspeakable splendor and value. Once opened, he understood why there was no lock on the box.

The only thing inside the box was some kind of cup. No, it was a chalice, held securely in place by a molded cast and covered in silk of the exact shape and size as the chalice. Omar carefully released the chalice from its mold, thinking perhaps it was made of solid gold. His sense of excitement was quickly extinguished. The chalice was not made of gold, and it was not even made of silver; it was common pewter. It was well crafted, but it could not be very valuable.

Was this what Abdul meant by immense treasure? Although it was nice, it would certainly not lead to instant wealth. Alas, few things ever did. Omar grumbled to himself.

As children, Omar and Abdul had often played together. Before Abdul had become wealthy, he was like the rest of the neighborhood children. He had been born into a modest family, but as a young adult, he began to prosper. Over the years, his wealth became legendary.

Omar knew instantly that the chalice was very old, but at the moment he didn’t care and was eager to get back to his chemicals. As he prepared to put the chalice back into its sepulcher he noticed some words engraved on the outside, written in Latin. They seemed to be arranged in a way that told a story, perhaps a journey. Omar did not know that only a person of character would be capable of unlocking its mysteries. In the wrong hands, it would never be anything more than a cup. The chalice was of minimal value, however the powerful message on the cup was invaluable.

Omar had helped many folks, but none would admit it. Over the years, there were many rumors of his unholy practice, and these stories often made their way back to the village elders. Every time there was a death in the village, it was blamed on Omar, whether or not he was involved. Omar began looking over his shoulder every time he went outside. Was today the day that he would not be coming home?

He would soon know the answer to that question.

The loud and frantic knocking on the door startled Omar. That kind of knocking could only be two things. A desperate patient or a warning of imminent peril. The knocking was soon followed by a loud, panicked voice.

You must leave—now. They are coming. It was the latter.

Over the years, Omar had done well for himself. He now lived in a fine but not over-the-top house, because he did not wish to bring attention to himself and his work. Although he knew this day was coming, he had made few preparations.

He would have no time to gather up his possessions, only what he could easily carry. His chemicals were incredibly important to him, and they saved lives. But he had benefited enormously from the chalice, and he had not lived up to his bargain with Abdul. Precious time was slipping away. Further indecision might cost him his life.

I must decide now, he said to himself. He could not take both. He must choose between saving lives and the prosperity of many future generations to come. Omar could hear the mob closing in as he rushed out the back door, never to be seen in Cairo again.

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BREW-STER’S COFFEE EMPORIUM

T HREE LARGE COWBELLS, ATTACHED TO a belt-sized leather strap, jingled noisily as the door flew open and banged against the battered door stop. The old hinges provided a squeak loud enough to make the patrons teeth chatter at Daisy’s Florist next door. As the door slammed shut, the glass window panes rattled like the windows in an old farmhouse during a spring storm.

None of the patrons seemed to notice. Most had heard the clatter hundreds of times, so it had long since faded into the background, along with the fire trucks and the Harley Davidson motorcycles.

Main Street was a busy place in Lexington, unlike some cities where most of the commerce had vacated downtown in search of cheap farmland, ostensibly better suited as a blacktop parking lot. There were many downtown renovations in progress, and even the old Grand Movie Theatre had been completely renovated and was doing a brisk business.

Changes were not limited to old buildings. There was a slow but inevitable changing of the guard as baby boomers grudgingly gave way to a new breed of movers and shakers. It seemed the children of baby boomers were very different than their parents. Young people today prefer old to new, cycling to driving, and craft to mass production. They love fixing up old houses and reenergizing stagnant neighborhoods.

Brew-ster’s Coffee Emporium was the epicenter of Lexington’s downtown revitalization. It was housed in the abandoned Rex-Aid Corner Drug Store. Stephen R. Purdy, Rex-Aid’s latest owner and pharmacist, decided to close the doors after 125 years and five generations. The big box stores had made it difficult for the small mom-and-pop stores to survive. Over the years, price began to trump service