Sad News in the Inbox

The inbox is a sad place some days.  Over the last few days, it would seem that a distant relative has died, leaving significant sums of money unclaimed in the Ecomas Bank of Lome-Togo. 

Also, there would seem to be $22 million waiting for me in the Standard Chartered Bank of Ghana, the proceeds of which, I can have 30%, from the selling of rails, steel, copper and crude oil, as long as I’m willing to help.

This doesn’t include the missive from Edward Peters and Associates, encouraging me to help them transfer money that might be confiscated by the Bank as an unclaimed inheritance.  Of course, I’ll be listed as the next of kin.

Golly, a distant relative (a P.Eng no less) never before known, living in Togo, kicked it and left no inheritor.  If only I could remember…

Ah yes, Uncle Estes Smith.  A distant cousin of my grandfather, who, in the 1930’s fought with the Republicans in Spain.  He was wounded in a battle near Barcelona and was sent to El Taref province in Algeria to convalesce.  In the hospital, as the days passed and the patients recovered, boredom set in.  Gambling was rife in the wards and through the clever turn of a 9 of Spades, Estes Smith wound up owning the majority share of a bordello in Casablanca.

Upon discharge from the hospital, Estes traveled to Casablanca and ensconced himself in the proprietor’s suite at Le Chat Noir, a luxurious whorehouse catering to the very kinky whims of Captains of Industry, Diplomacy and Politics. 

Unbeknownst to Uncle Estes, agents of the German National Socialist Party had installed an elaborate and very well engineered electronic eavesdropping system in the various rooms of the house.  One Tuesday Uncle Estes confronted a youthful Aryan man fiddling with some mysterious boxes in the basement and uncovered the rig.  A .45 calibre gun was involved, to Estes benefit, as Casablanca was a troubled city in those days and Uncle Estes was nothing if not prepared for trouble.

In exchange for his life,  Johann joined Estes as a partner, with an equitable split of the work:  Johann would do all of it.  Estes would take the data not concerned with the war and Johann would have the political information. 

Johann didn’t know that Uncle Estes worked informally with the British Security Coordination office in New York City, as Uncle Estes was a one-time gin crony of William Stephenson.  Not only was economic information being transmitted surreptitiously to the Hydra receiver near Oshawa, thence to New York, but political information regarding the opening of a Second Front during the war (Operation Torch) came back to Le Chat Noir to be ‘found’ by the dim-witted Johann.

After the War, Uncle Estes moved into a life of leisure.  The war had been good for Estes, as using information from Le Chat Noir, had allowed him to almost completely corner the market on vanadium, a strategic metal for the arms industries on both sides.  There were rumours of blackmail of Vichy officials who had patronised Le Chat Noir, but that was also said about the general staff of Allies after the Torch landings.  Apparently Estes travelled to California, in the post-war years, tiring of Casablanca. 

There seems to be a gap or two in Estes’ history, the Hollywood Period, perhaps for good reason.  There were rumours that he was involved with the same woman who was a companion of Efrem Zimbalist Sr.  Some of the rumours involved a company called EG&G and Howard Hughes, but nothing was ever said to confirm or deny things.  Nevada and Havana were occasionally mentioned in the very infrequent letters.

It would seem that after his Hollywood period, Estes returned to Africa, as the “coordination of aviation” for both the Belgian Congo and Rhodesia, which might explain some of the Howard Hughes rumours.  There are stories of DC-3’s landing in areas where there were no airports and uniforms for the pilots from a warehouse in Langley Virginia.

If Uncle Estes wound up in Togo, with a fat bank account, then I wouldn’t be surprised.  If the lawyer in Togo told me that Uncle Estes died while boinking two double-jointed, bisexual, Peruvian gymnasts, that wouldn’t surprise me either.

Perhaps I should communicate with Barrister Anwuru Ben Obodo, Esq, regarding Uncle Estes’ Estate.  Uncle Estes must have died a decade or more ago.

Or, perhaps we’ll just let sleeping dogs lie. 

Godspeed Uncle Estes.  We hardly knew ye.