The Trials of Monty Perdi

Chapter 1

The First Secret--1792

A laborer ran up and said, Mr. Stuart, sir, we've found something! Fear hovered in the man's eyes and as the architect rushed back to where the man had pointed, the man didn't follow him. He'd seen something that disturbed him.

When the architect arrived, two foremen were standing in front of a tunnel, studying it. Yes, the architect noted with his sophisticated eye, it resembled a tunnel, not a natural thing at all.

Get me a lantern, he commanded one. Other men stood around now and the architect studied their faces. All good hardworking men, but none he trusted.

Give me an hour, then come after me, he ordered one foreman. And for safety's sake, make sure no one enters. He didn't want to lose any men on this … whatever it was.

The man nodded, but he didn't intend to follow the architect down into that hole. They didn't pay him enough.

When the architect returned, his suit covered in dirt, he motioned for the two foremen, good Masons both, to come forward. He conferred with them for several minutes. In the meantime, get these men back to work, he ordered the foreman on his left. And find me George Washington! He needs to know about this promptly!

Three days later, after the Masons finished exploring the tunnel, the decision was made. The hole was marked, walled up and a temporary door placed there.

Grim-faced, Washington stood in front of the architect. No one must know of this, he told the man.

Well, we are Masons, the architect said knowingly.

Chapter 2

The Trail of Monty Perdi

Democracy once represented a wonderful ideal. Created by wise men that cared about their fellow citizens, who carefully considered and argued over it passionately so that it might serve the greater good, it had worked well for two hundred and forty years. Clumsy and slow, at times, like a boy whose body had outgrown him, it still managed to do right by the country it served. Despite all its opposing desires, its varied interests and the multiple pull of its different parts, sometimes an injustice was set right, an industry better regulated or an oppressive tax repealed.

Oft times, though, it failed from those selfsame qualities and ended up crashing on the rocks of state; it squabbled like children, it acted selfishly and lent itself to bribery. Inaction, willful obfuscation, outright meanness now seemed to characterize this democracy many called the United States of America. United now, it seemed, by its disunion--although some would argue for outright meanness.

That's how Monty Perdi came under the scope of its inquiry on the tenth of November on a cold day in Washington, DC, outright meanness.

Monty ran a successful internet company, with five hundred people under his supervision. The company, Digital Consolidated, ran over two dozen profitable websites, handled the operations of others, owned one consulting firm, a net security firm and a server farm. Digital was honest and all the varied companies ran in strictest compliance with the laws of the land. Digital had true value and although none of the companies under its corporate logo made a lot of money, each made enough to make Monty Perdi a rich person in the later part of 2016, when Congress subpoenaed him to appear before their judicial review.

Monty Perdi, on the other hand, didn't abide by the laws of the United States of America. If given a choice he would have, but under present-day laws, Monty Perdi might be loosely considered an illegal alien--and maybe not even that.

But even that simple determination didn't describe Monty Perdi's status. Not only was he not considered an illegal citizen of the United States, he wasn't considered a citizen of any nation. Even illegals have certain rights under US law and Monty Perdi didn't qualify as jurisprudence dictated as a recognized person under these laws.

Under any law in the world, Monty Perdi had no rights.

Yet none of that explained why Monty Perdi had received a subpoena to appear before Congress. No, the reason for his summons consisted of a baser, seedier nature; someone had whispered into someone else's ear.

That's all it amounted to; a man who had influence with an elected representative from Wisconsin had lost a small contract to Monty Perdi's security firm. A contract he believed rightfully belonged to him. It didn't but Scott Villard had never before let the law stand in his way when he risked losing business. When that happened, Scott Villard used every dirty trick he knew to get what he wanted, and he wanted the owner of Digital Consolidated out of the way.

And so, looking for leverage, Scott Villard began investigating the security firm Monty Perdi owned and ran, and what answers Scott Villard found--or didn't find--made him ask more questions. Eventually, that led him to look into the man behind the company.

These questions about Monty Perdi in particular made Villard whisper into the ear of the Congressman he had influence with. (Truthfully, Villard practically financed Bill Collin's campaign.) Scott Villard had gotten Bill Collins elected and he would be darned if a congressman he owned was not going to do him a favor or two while in a position to do so. At least, Scott Villard saw things that way.

Bill Collins saw it differently but not much differently. He was an honest man, having worked his way through the University of Wisconsin Law School by hard work and study, having never cheated on his taxes, having gone to church every Sunday of his life, and having once been the sheriff of the county he shared with Scott Villard. A good man by all the metrics that measured such things.

Of course, when another man makes your life, sets you up in a high-paying and powerful job, and you don't feel you owe him, then you're just being ludicrous. Human nature doesn't change, especially after years of it being ingrained into you, and even honest men can be tripped up by their own code of ethics if swayed by the conviction of the self-righteous and a salting of guilt.

And from that, the whisper Scott Villard put in Bill Collins' ear began to take root.

The evidence (If you consider Bill Collins using all the information Villard provided him as evidence?) slightly disturbed Bill Collins too. He had sharp instincts from having been a County Sheriff for ten years, and everything Bill Collins found--or didn't find--pointed to something shady, something underhanded, and something un-American.

On paper, or not on paper, Monty Perdi had all the hallmarks of a villain, hiding from something and Bill Collins in his trusting arrogance, looked no further than what Scott Villard had provided him.

From whispers great injustices are often done--one wrong word, one biased insinuation, or one lie can ruin a person for life simply because he didn't live his life under the same rules--or in Monty Perdi's case couldn't--that the rest of society lived under. That Monty had done no harm didn't seem to matter to anybody. The moment he became the other that was all that mattered to them.

One whisper--this man is a terrorist sympathizer--destroyed the life of the person known as Monty Perdi, although Monty Perdi wasn't a man. Monty Perdi was an ape.

Yes, democracy once represented a wonderful ideal--now, maybe not so much.

Chapter 3

The Pickle Jar

Have you received the summons yet? The text message from Ben read.

Yeah.

It took long enough. When did they send it? Early November?

You know how Congress is, slow. Just the investigation itself takes time. They'll consider the angles and try to drum up the right amount of support before they present it to the other congressmen. They can have all the evidence in the world and yet one whisper-campaign can derail even the most well-thought-out presentations. Without the other representatives' support someone could drop Jimmy Hoffa's body on the chamber floor and he might still be declared missing.

LOL. You know, I bet a few of them congressmen never let the facts--or the unfacts--get in the way of a splashy show. It seems to me that to keep their jobs, they sometimes make up outrageous stuff just to get people to sit up and take notice.

Fear is a powerful tool of the reelection process. And I know cause I've supported a few candidates in my time. Some of the men judging me, my donations help elect. And one of them knows this cause he anonymously informed me of the summons.

Really?

Yeah.

Well, hang in there.

I am, but … I don't know what I'm gonna do? The moment I step in front of that committee, I make a laughingstock of everyone--the representatives, the American people, the laws of the land. I'll make them all look like utter fools.

So, what are you going to do? You can't run. Can you?

Heck no, I'm no fool. I'm gonna do what any intelligent, wealthy person in the US will do in a case like this--I'm gonna stay down here on the beach and let my lawyer fight this thing. That will buy me some time; keep me from making fools of everyone. Especially myself.

So, you're gonna stall?

What other choice do I have?

You could fight this thing.

No. I think I'll stay on the beach.

When did you get down there?

Flew in on a jet weeks ago. Told my lawyer I had business out of the country. And before you go laughing, it was the truth.

Sure, but I bet it don't hurt to have a private island to hide out on.

Sometimes you don't need to bribe an official, just pay the taxes on seven million dollars. That buys you a lot of sway. By the way, I need to text Hector and thank him for working on my throat. I don't think it's healing right, but that ain't Hector's fault.

Is he still trying to finish Mrs. Proctor's genetic experiments? You'd think all his physics work would keep him busy enough.

Shrug. "You know how Hector is. Got a PhD and doesn't leave the house anymore. Always got something going on. And dragging Walter into help half the time. For an in-vitro-genetic experiment and a Neanderthal, Walter handles being Hector's assistant fairly well."

Walter handles everything well.

Oh well, adopted brothers.

I think you're the one that's adopted. Did Hector really perform surgery on you?

Yeah! Who else am I gonna get to do that? And I had to beg him to do it.

And you still can't talk?

Not really. I worry that I'll damage my vocal cords if I start talking, and so I haven't tried yet. If it had worked, I would've called you instead of texting. That would've been insane!

Completely. Are you gonna make it home for Thanksgiving?

Nope. I'll still be strategizing with Bill Franklin and my lawyer, a man named Jacob Cohen. I'm racking my brains for a solution to this thing but for the life of me, I can't conceive of a way out of this. Eventually, I'm gonna have to go before Congress. And it's making me a nervous wreck. I have a ton of fear sitting on my chest. I'm losing sleep and at times, I'm just a big bundle of raw nerves. This is gonna be so bad.

You are in a pickle.

Quite a pickle, indeed. Within the US, my future looks dismal, and once my secret is out, no refuge will wait for me anywhere outside it either. And I'm scheduled to appear before Congress in one week.

Good luck. You're gonna need it.

Chapter 4

Washington--the One in DC

On December the fifteenth, the third day of the scheduled committee hearings, Monty Perdi still had not shown up. And his no show rankled the waiting Congressmen.

Mr. Cohen? Your client is aware that we will hold him in contempt of Congress if he doesn't appear before this committee? That comes with jail time, by the way, the Congressman from Wisconsin said.

Mr. Collins, my client is out of the country and I'm not even sure he has been contacted yet. You have to give him a reasonable amount of time. My client is a busy man and if you summoned him at a time when he was working on one of his distant projects--some of which require treks into the wilds of Africa--where phone service might not exist, how can I tell you that he has received the message? He works preserving the habitats of mountain gorillas. It's impossible for me to answer if I don't know.

Jacob Cohen's normal clients consisted of upstanding citizens--or so he presumed--not terrorist sympathizers. The man's obstructionism was wearing thin with Jacob too, and Monty's actions only increased the lawyer's doubts of his innocence. But what could he do? He had no way to know if someone had contacted Monty Perdi, yet no way to check if it was otherwise. For the last week, he'd had no response at all from Mr. Perdi.

Well, I don't care if he lives on the moon, Mr. Cohen. You need to get him in here. The serious nature of the charges leveled against him need to be addressed by him in person.

I'll do my best, Cohen said.

"No, sir! You will not do your best. You will get your client in here. If you don't produce Monty Perdi in these chambers after the Christmas break, I'll personally bring you up on charges of contempt for Congress!"

Jacob doubted the charge would stick but didn't want test their power. He sent one last text message before he started preparing his defense. Get here now! Or find a new attorney!

Chapter 5

Private Thoughts

Monty lay on the beach of his private island and pondered the latest text from his lawyer.

He grabbed his phone and began texting. Ben, you out there?

Yeah.

I've got three more weeks to come up with a plan and I've still not found a way to escape my fate.

You could run?

Untenable, but then, neither is appearing before Congress. Either way, I lose.

Have you come up with a plan?

After weeks of deliberation, I've explored all the possible outcomes of my next move and have concluded it sucks--or it's harebrained. I'm still deciding. But I've acted on it.

You're talking about the experts?

Yeah. I sent the e-mails this morning. When I comprised them--goodness it must have been two years ago--they agreed then but I don't know about now?

I don't know what to say? Good luck? It's not a bad plan. I don't think it will seal the deal but it might push people in the right direction.

Monty chuckled before he texted Ben again. I planned on handling this diplomatically--in my dreams. Offer them irrefutable proof of my intelligence and my goodwill towards the US and let them decide. I only wanted a fair hearing. But that's not gonna happen. I know it.

When are you coming back?

Later today.

And we'll see you at Christmas?

Yeah.

Well, I hope things work out for you. Can I tell Lyse and 'em?

No, don't. I want to tell them at Christmas. I'm looking forward to seeing ya'll again. I've been a bundle of nerves for weeks.

Are you better now?

Much better. I've quit gritting my teeth, the knots in my shoulders are gone and my entire body feels like … like … a hammock now. I swear, all this resting has about killed me!

Great stress will do that to a man or an ape.

That's true. I really need ya'll right now--just for the emotional support. I need my circle of friends. As Monty read that, he thought that maybe it didn't come off sarcastic enough to convey his meaning.

Well, maybe we can give you some help. You know how it is when we get together. Sometimes magic happens.

Well, right now, I need some magic, a lot of magic, like a full class from Hogwarts Academy.

Come on home. I'll be your Dobby.

Monty chuckled; he hadn't done that in a while. You kind of look like him, around the ears.

Hey, at least I don't have trim my nose hairs with a weed trimmer.

Monty laughed again. At least, I can see my feet when I lean over.

At least, I can pass a banana without drooling.

At least, you can't either! By then Monty was doing the ape equivalent of chortling, without the hooting part. His throat wouldn't allow it.

Okay, I give up. Hey, do you know how to do emoticons? I've got Lyse's phone and I can't find them on here.

I don't know. I deal with adults all the time, not eleven-year-old boys.

Hey, I'm eleven!

Yeah but you're special.

That's what they say about me at school.

Yeah, but that's a different kind of special.

I gotta go. Lyse wants her phone back. Bye Monty.

Bye Ben.

Chapter 6

Settling Accounts

Later that day, Monty took his rented jet back to the United States, to Tennessee and the mansion he used as a base of operations. For three days, he put his business affairs in order. He made contingency plans with Hector, his adopted brother, and consigned all of his companies and holdings over to Ben Wildermuss, his best friend, to cede control of them when Ben reached legal age, barring any problems the boy might have.

He contacted the four vice-presidents of each division in his company, telling them to run the company as they saw fit, just don't run it into the ground.

Not that Monty believed they would; he'd chosen the men for their prudence and judgment, and felt he was leaving his company in able hands. Barring greed, things should be okay.

At the end of the week, he contacted his lawyer, Jacob Cohen, and told him he would appear before Congress on the agreed upon day--his last day before they charged him. A day he couldn't help thinking of as his last day of freedom.

Worried, Monty believed his plan had a chance of success, but doubted he would prevail.

Chapter 7