The Program

By Hilbert Haar

Three extremely rich Rotarians die under suspicious circumstances within 24 hours. Young detective Freddy Chalmers teams up with attorney Steve Harrison to unravel the mystery. Hunted by contract killers they find their answers at the villa of a mad tech billionaire in the Bahamas.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hilbert Haar
• Release date: May 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215900215

Hilbert Haar

Hilbert Haar (1950) started working as a journalist in the Netherlands in 1969. He has worked for newspaper and magazine publishers and also worked as an independent writer with his own company V.o.f. De Stijl. He spent seven years in Greece on the island of Crete, and lived also briefly in Utah and California. He worked as the Editor-in-Chief at Today, a muckraking English-language newspaper published in Philipsburg, St. Maarten - Dutch West Indies, for ten-plus years, until the paper closed down after Hurricane Irma in 2017. He is currently traveling with his wife Myriam in Asia.He finished his first full-length thriller - The Ultimate God Conspiracy in 2018, and published a second thriller - Diary of a Psychopath (Dutch title: Dagboek van een Psychopaat) in 2021.Het luchthartige zelf-help boek Achttien Tips Voor een Gelukkig Leven verscheen eveneens in 2021.

Book preview

The Program

Hilbert Haar

Published by Hilbert Haar at Smashwords

Copyright 2023 Hilbert Haar

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Contents

01. Fulgor Nocturnus

02. Allquist

03. Conspiracy

04. Sixty Seconds

05. Twin Peaks

06. Stinger

07. Johannesburg

08. Amsterdam

09. Paris

10. Rotarians

11. Harvard

12. Lucky Shot

13. The Bahamas

14. Mayflower

15. Nuclear Option

16. The End Game

17. Heil Hitler

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1. Fulgor Nocturnus

Fritz Perry had only twelve hours left to live.

Unless he did what they told him to do.

He took the Glock out of his desk drawer and caressed the walnut grip.

The weapon was loaded with six bullets.

That’s plenty, Perry thought.

Because he needed only one.

He grabbed a sheet of correspondence paper and his Fulgor Nocturnus.

Not just any fountain pen, he thought miserably.

He’d been crazy enough to pay $8 million for it at an auction in Shanghai, only five years ago. What had attracted his mathematical mind to the damn pen was the story that the Italian manufacturer Tibaldi claimed to have based its design on the divine proportions of Phi. Therefore, the visible barrel of the pen when it was closed equaled the Phi ratio of 1.618. Great. Perry also liked the embellishments: 123 rubies and 945 black diamonds.

There was nothing left now of the excitement he had felt five years ago when he bought the Fugor. What the fuck? What did it matter? What did anything matter?

He knew he had been taken for a fool and now was the time to pay the price - or step out of the game before they came knocking on his door. He did not want to be over-dramatic by penning an emotional statement. He was going to keep it short. As short as possible.

Fuck The Program, he wrote, before he put the Glock in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

* * *

Christy Perry was not amused when the police came knocking on her door. Not uniforms, just two overweight guys in cheap off-the-rack suits. She did not look happy and the two suits mirrored her mood.

Madam Perry pulled her expensive kimono tighter around her lithe body, thus robbing the two detectives of a rather spectacular vista. Fuck them, she thought.

We have some bad news for you, madam, one of the guys started.

Make my day, Perry muttered.

We found you husband dead behind his desk this morning. Not much left of his head, because apparently he blew a bullet straight through it.

Nice way of putting it, Perry grumbled.

This does not upset you?

He was an asshole. What do you want me to say?

The detectives ignored Perry’s nonsensical question. Any idea why he would do such a thing?

How the fuck would I know?

You are, or rather were, married to him.

So what? Fritz never told me anything. I just took of my clothes when he wanted to fuck me.

Must have been a great marriage, one of the detectives observes sarcastically.

I married him for his money, Perry snapped. You got a problem with that?

Not at all, madam. We’re just wondering who is benefiting from his death.

Ah, I get. It. Did you bring your handcuffs? Because I get everything. Fritz was an asshole, but he wanted me so badly that he signed a prenup that guaranteed my financial independence. So yeah, I have plenty of motive, but there is one problem. I. Did. Not. Do. It. Satisfied?

The detectives were not impressed. Where were you this morning at 10.30 a.m.?

My guru was fucking me. Ask him, I think he loved it.

Guru?

Yeah, guru. A guy who guides me through this madhouse called life.

His name please?

Jonathan Crumble.

You’re kidding, right?

No detective, this is not a joke. Unfortunately that is his real name. Nothing wrong with his essential body parts though.

Very funny.

Christy Perry sighed, gave the detectives Crumble’s address and closed her front door with a loud bang.

* * *

What do you make of her? Freddy Chalmers asked his fellow detective David Thornton.

Stuck up bitch, Thornton answered cheerfully. I guess we have to keep her on our list of suspects, just in case the coroner rules that Perry did not commit suicide. His farewell note bothers me though.

Yeah. I’ve been thinking about that as well. Fuck The Program? Written with capitals? What program? And why would a guy who has everything suddenly blow his brains out? It does not make any sense.

Thornton nodded thoughtfully. Good question. We’ll have to learn everything there is to know about Mister Fritz Perry. His business, his private life, his sexual preferences, his friends, his enemies. The lot.

Chalmers and Thornton returned to their offices and started digging.

At first, they found nothing. At least, nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that could explain why the owner of the most expensive piece of writing equipment in the world had decided to call it a day. Boom. No more Fritz.

Thornton sighed and made quite a show of rubbing his eyes after hours of finding nothing useful. He was six months away from retirement and he did not give a rat’s ass about the apparent suicide of a guy who made more in a week, than Thornton had made in his whole career. Forty years of my life, he muttered to himself. All I am going to get is a lousy pension. And then I have to put up with my fucked up wife 24/7. Jeez.

He looked at his young partner Chalmers who was still digging for clues. He looked fresh, and rested. Enthusiast, even. Christ, the energy of the next generation pissed Thornton off. Royally.

Hey Freddy, he mumbled. I’ve had it. I’m going home pal. See you tomorrow at eight.

Sure, Chalmers said without looking up from his computer. Have a nice evening David.

Fat chance, Thornton grumbled, before he slammed the door of their office behind him.

Freddy Chalmers laughed out loud. He did not like his partner but he realized that he would have to put up with him if he wanted to turn his job into a meaningful career. He switched on the television and zapped until he found CNN, the station that offered breaking news around the clock. Or so they claimed. The young detective turned the sound up and returned to his search-efforts.

Sure, they both had Googled The Program, because it was the only clue they had. Chalmers wondered if it really mattered, once it turned out that Fritz had committed suicide. But he was curious, so he soldiered on. The search key did not return any meaningful results. It was hopeless.

Everything changed in a split second when Chalmers heard the CNN-anchor announce that Peter Walsh, a wealthy tech entrepreneur in Los Angeles had jumped out of the window of his opulent office. Bad idea, because his office was on the twentieth floor of a high rise in the center of town. Obviously, Walsh did not survive.

Investigators found a mysterious note on his desk, the anchor was saying. "It contained just three words and it read: Fuck The Program. Excuse my French. A spokesman for the police force said that detectives have no idea about the meaning of what could be described as the shortest suicide note in history."

Freddy Chalmers was stunned. Fuck The Program? What the hell? Had everyone