EMOMM’s

He was running late and slicked back his hair with a lick and a promise, tucked the contraband into his shirt pocket, shot his cuffs then strode confidently toward the reflective view of himself, and the mountains behind, knowing the doors would open automatically to a calm oasis.

Normally, he would have slowed to marvel at the semilunar shape of this ‘extreme engineered’ architectural wonder on the southern peninsula of Antwerp, with the silver pools seemingly pouring their gleaming mercury into the surrounding ocean, but there was not time today. He had business to conduct.

The ‘Chameleon’, as he thought of himself, blended into the European business community seamlessly, through years of studying the art of camouflage and subterfuge, being who he was not. He breathed deep, achieving a perfect state of ataraxia, the calmness settling his body and mind. He anticipated this meeting for 12 days and was ready to take control of his life.

Knowing the zeitgeist of past generations was on his side, inspired him to push the button for the 101st floor. His Grandfather once owned this property and rightfully it should belong to him, and he was not adverse to reaping the profits of his wife’s lifelong labour. Serendipity played a major role in his recent discovery and he believed all things happened for a reason. He was about to regain his inheritance and much more importantly his social status.

March 12th was an unusual day and one he planned to celebrate for the next 50 or so decades! Usually his wife’s secretary would have filed the paperwork immediately, with her odious praxis of neatness and efficiency and he would never have been the wiser. He was not above snooping through the papers on her desk, given the chance and it was his good fortune she was called to an emergency meeting of the master minds. Privately, he called his wife, her sister and their secretary the ‘EMOMM’s’. They were forever holding emergency meetings. The invoice did not match the order and now he knew how they were funding their enormous building costs. Finding the key to the apartment though, was pure genius on his part.

When the phone call came at 7 am this morning, it produced a mantic sense of power knowing his plan was coming together. She was waiting with the money. ‘LOM’! He was a master at coining acronyms and every sign, name or phrase was fodder for his brain. YKWIM - ‘You Know What I Mean’ was his latest and greatest. Right now, “Lots of Money” was exactly what he wanted, what he would take to reimburse himself for the supposed error which cost him his inheritance. And he had the goods to deliver, but more importantly he had the key.

He stepped out of the elevator and was greeted by the secretary as though she had never met him. So, the subterfuge was working. With his hair darkened, a slight change here and there to the facial features, the right clothing, the ‘air’ of the professional businessman, et voila, he was the ‘Chameleon’. She offered him coffee and the sapid flavor of the strong savory brew reinforced his feeling of power and strength.

As the secretary went back to her desk, excusing herself to answer the phone, he sauntered to the window to admire the view. Surreptitiously, he pulled from his shirt pocket the cellophane wrapped package of halva and casually dropped it into the fruit bowl on the sideboard. The key was solidly embedded in the honey coated sesame seed confection.

He was so brilliant, he complimented himself - they’d never notice it, but the cops would once he suggested where to look. They’d find it, and when they went to the apartment they’d find everything necessary to put the EMOMM’s in an extremely tight spot - an 8 x 10 foot spot in the State prison.