Otherworld Businessman Chapter 2

 

Chapter 2

“Hello, is this the residence of Samuel Ran?”

A reporter was standing at my doorstep. It was six in the morning and I had been woken rudely by the doorbell.

“Um, yes,” I said.

The reporter shoved a mic into my face. “Tell me about the mysterious gold coin collection you found in your backyard.”

“I, ah, I was using a metal detector and it just went off behind my shed,” I said.

I had, of course, purchased a metal detector and dug a convincing hole behind my shed before going to bed the night before. It looked like my efforts paid off.

“Tell us more,” said the reporter.

“We’re live, we’re live,” I heard the cameramen say to each other.

This was getting out of hand.

“I don’t have anything to say,” I said. “I found it. That’s all.”

“What are you going to do with the estimated five hundred thousand dollars the collection is worth after selling it?”

“Get a better car,” I said. I put my hand in front of my eyes. “Please, no more.”

“We have more questions!” said the reporter.

Two more news vans parked in front of my house. I backed up without finishing the conversation and slammed the door. I then slid to the ground behind it and placed my face in my hands.

This was not good. Not good at all. I got up and turned on the TV in the living room, changing it to the local news channel. There I was, talking about the find. This was the local news station, so I hoped my story had stayed that way. I sat down on the couch in front of the TV and groaned. This was not a good start to my adventures in the other world. If this portal was made public, who knew what would happen to me and that world? It would be a disaster of the highest ordinance. I decided then and there to be stealthier about the stuff I brought back from that world. I would have to do a better job of laundering the gold I got. Maybe even to the point of going underground. The less questions asked, the better.

I sighed and turned off the TV. Peeking through the window, I saw at least five news vans and at lest a dozen reporters. I shut all the blinds and pulled all the curtains.

I still needed to actually sell the coins I had. I would go to the same place as before, of course. Everyone knew about my find now. There was no use hiding it. The only thing going for me was the fact that this gold was untraceable, being from an alternate reality. So there was no way they would think I stole it from somewhere. It wasn’t Earth currency.

I took a few deep breaths. I would have to deal with those reporters eventually. Standing up, I approached the door, and then hung my hand over the doorknob. I needed to prepare myself for what was about to happen. I grabbed the bag of coins from the table next to the door and took a deep breath. Into the wild!

I opened the door to a flurry of camera flashes. I shaded my eyes with my palm. The number of reporters was staggering. I was definitely more than local news at this point. I remembered all the other stories of people finding a large amount of gold on their property. I just hoped that the law would be in my favor for this one and I would get to keep the money I made through the sale of the gold.

I walked towards the driveway, where my car was parked.

“Do you have any statements?” said a reporter, holding a mic towards me.

“No, I told you, I’m not saying anything,” I said. “You can get the story from the coin shop owner. Greetsie’s Coins.”

“Is that where you’re planning on selling your find?” said a reporter.

“Yes. No. I mean, yes. Please stop bothering me.” I got into my car and closed the doors. The reporter walked beside my car as I pulled out, pointing a camera at me.

I drove with an entourage to the coin shop, which was indeed called Greetsie’s Coins. I brought the bag through and was faced with three policemen. One of them held out a badge.

“I’m sorry,” said the policeman in front. “We haven’t found any evidence of foul play, but we do want to make sure that you know this transaction is being recorded. Mr. Greetsie has agreed to buy the coins from you at spot plus thirty percent. We’re here at his request to make sure that there are no problems with the transaction.”

I placed the bag of coins on the table. Mr. Greetsie, the person I met yesterday behind the counter, began counting the coins. Cameras went off outside the shop, though the reporters had not been let inside. Mr. Greetsie continued to count the coins with an intense expression on his face.

“Three hundred and two coins at about an ounce each, totaling three hundred and ten ounces. I will pay you spot plus thirty percent, up from ten percent in our initial negotiations as I believe these coins, though of unknown origin, are valuable to collectors.” He handed me a contract. “Sign this. Gold prices are currently one thousand, eight hundred and twelve dollars an ounce. That comes out to seven hundred and thirty thousand, two hundred and thirty-six dollars.” He reached beneath the counter and pulled out a suitcase of cash. “I’ve liquidated most of my assets to make this purchase in cash,” he said. He handed me the suitcase.

I held it. It was heavier than I though it would be.

Here I was, living out one of the things on my bucket list, namely holding a suitcase full of hundred dollar bills.

“We can give you an escort to the bank,” said one of the police officers. “And we can be witnesses for you to make your deposit. Of course this is all going to have to go through official channels.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Do you know of any financial advisors that I can contact?”

“Smart man,” said Mr. Greetsie. He handed me a beat-up business card. “This is the guy I use.”

I thanked Mr. Greetsie and left the shop. The three cops pushed away the reporters as I headed towards my car. I got in, started it, and drove for the nearest bank.

The three officers followed me in two patrol carts. We made it to the bank and I brought the suitcase full of cash out.

Two hours of paperwork later, I had myself a fat bank account. Now I needed to see a financial advisor. I looked at the business card that had been handed to me as I sat in my car outside the bank.

“We’ll be taking our leave,” said one of the officers, before stepping away and driving off.

I sat in the car for another five minutes contemplating what I was about to do, and then I started the car and drove across town to where the financial advisor’s office was located.

Dan Timmers, was the man’s name. I stopped in front of his office, which occupied a nondescript strip mall along with a pizza place and a fitness gym.

I got out of my car and entered the office. The receptionist looked up at me and I could see the boredom in her face. “You look familiar,” she said. “Are you famous?”

“No,” I said.

“Never mind then,” said the receptionist. “Are you here to see Mr. Timmers?”
 “Yes,” I said.

“Do you have an appointment?” said the receptionist.

“No, but, uh, I kind of need to see him now,” I said.

“The nearest appointment is in a week,” said the receptionist.

“Fine, then, put me down.”

I left the office feeling a bit defeated. I needed someone who I could talk with about selling the gold I was bound to bring back from my travels in the otherworld. If I couldn’t figure out a way to sell the stuff without making a big stink, I wouldn’t be able to start a business.

After all, this first venture was exceptionally profitable. Fifty bucks worth of normal household modern goods sold for seven hundred thousand dollars worth of gold.

That got me thinking. Should I really keep this place a secret? There was so much that could happen if I made this public. The government would get involved, more people would try profiteering, and, well, you get the rest.

I then made a decision. This world needed more study to figure out what kind of a place it was. If I could use my modern connection to help the people of that world, I would. I had made enough money already to support myself for a good while and I didn’t need more. I decided that I would scout out the world and if I thought it would help I would make the door public. Then, of course, the government would get involved, as the sovereign entities within the closet were as legitimate as those of the United Nations.

However, at this moment, the door was no larger than a closet. There was no way to facilitate a true “Columbian Exchange,” or more accurately “Closet Exchange” of goods and technology between worlds. I mean, magic worked there! That was something worth studying!

I would do my legwork and then figure out how to break this information to the people who mattered.

“Hey, there, Mr. President,” I would say. “I found a portal to another universe in my closet! How about that!”

I chuckled to myself in the car and drove to the nearest gun shop. This was America so it wasn’t too difficult. I walked up to the counter.

“I need a rifle, a pistol, and some ammunition,” I said.

“Fill this out,” said the clerk.

I filled out the information for a background check. Of course I had no prior involvement with the law. When the check came back clear I bought a Remington 700 rifle and a Smith and Wesson pistol in 9 mm. I bought enough ammunition, I figured, for a small firefight. I then caught sight of a crossbow hanging behind the counter.

“I’ll take that,” I said.

Ten minutes later I was back in my car and headed for the local grocery store. There I bought more canned soda, canned goods, and plastic utensils and such, until I filled up two cartloads. I packed the stuff into my trunk. It barely fit, which reminded me that I needed a new car.

But that would be later. I needed to keep my cool when it came to buying stuff. I also went to the hardware store and bought a number of items, including a large wagon which I was planning on using to transport my goods.

With everything strapped to the car and packed tight enough to make me worry about my car scraping the concrete, I headed home.

When I got there I set everything up and transported all the goods through the closet portal. I set up the wagon and piled the goods on top. It was no problem to take the wagon down the path towards the city.

I knew I needed a “wizard’s amulet” to make my travel inside the city easier. However, I figured that I could at least get through this once like I did before.

I got into the line to enter the city. When I reached the soldiers at the gate, one of them recognized me.

“Hey, you’re that weird wizard who came here yesterday,” he said.

“Sorry, do you mind letting me through again?” I said. “I managed to forget my wizard’s pass again.”

“Aya,” said the guard. “Don’t do it again. You can get a replacement at the guild.” He waved me through.

Easy enough, I supposed. Now was where the real magic happened.