The Twelve (17 page)

Financial Collapse

2000–2004

M
AX FELT THE BUBBLE BURSTING.

By the year 2000, he had taken positions in a number of Internet startups.

In 2001, by the time vesting was completed and he was able to exit these companies, he saw $30 million in paper options shrink to $30,000.

That amount didn't even cover one month of living expenses at Summit Farms, and Grace wasn't pleased when Max informed her that there would be no restaurant, vineyard, or horse training facility and that they would have to sell the house, move back to California, and start again.

“That will never happen,” she said calmly but forcefully. “The big earthquake is coming, and it's not safe to live in California. I'm not moving, and we are not selling Summit Farms.

“You put the home in my name,” she continued, “and I'm not going to sell.”

Max tried to reason with her.

“You know that was just to protect you in case something happened to me,” he said, trying to damp down the panic he was feeling. “We need to sell, and we need to do it now. I need your help,” he said earnestly.

“No,” she said, and she turned away from him. “I'm late for my riding lesson. Figure something out. This is not my problem.”

With that, she walked out the door.

***

Max went to see his attorney, who confirmed that, with the house in Grace's name, Max could not in fact sell the house. However, he suggested that Max discontinue mortgage payments on the property.

“Won't that ruin my credit rating and put the home into fore-closure
?
”

“Probably, but it's also likely to get Grace to sell or at least work something out.”

So, Max did as his attorney had suggested. Then he moved back to the townhouse he maintained in Dana Point, north of San Diego.

It took several months before Grace became aware that the mortgage payments weren't being made. Her response was swift and final. She filed for divorce, asking for $75,000 a month in alimony payments.

An extremely messy divorce ensued, which ended up costing Max hundreds of thousands of dollars in legal fees. Grace found a way to sell Summit Farms, pocketing 100 percent of the monies.

Max was stretched too thin. He was concentrating on finding ways to generate more money through MAXimum Productions and didn't realize what Grace was doing until it was too late.

But MAXimum was suffering. Since the attacks of 9/11, the demand for technical training films had diminished. The company's financial reversals were causing real pain for Max, a pain that lodged in his back.

***

Max had been working with Jeff Charno, founder of the Relaxation Company, a small audio publisher that specialized in exotic music and spoken-word audio books. They attended the Book and Film Exhibitors Association meetings in Los Angeles, and Jeff noticed that Max looked terribly uncomfortable.

“I don't think I ever told you,” Jeff said over dinner, “but before I started the Relaxation Company, I was a chiropractor. It looks to me as if your back is out of alignment, and if you'd like, I can recommend a former classmate of mine in Dana Point, who I think you should see. He'll get you straightened out in no time,” Jeff told Max. “I'll e-mail you his information.”

Thus, when Max returned to his office he found an e-mail waiting for him. When he opened it, he was surprised to see that the address for Jeff's friend was just two blocks away from his office.

More startling was the name of Jeff's friend.

Dr. Alan Taylor.

Max had been so preoccupied with the divorce and trying to recover from the dotcom downturn that he had forgotten all else. Yet it seemed as if fate had not forgotten.

Dr. Alan Taylor was one of the Twelve.

Max made an appointment and decided he would observe Dr. Taylor before broaching the topic of the twelve names.

A week later, he entered a turquoise-painted office and met the doctor, who was over six feet tall, with thick sandy brown curly hair, a sympathetic smile, good humor, and a mild disposition. A very patient man, Dr. Taylor seemed rarely to get excited. He exhibited an intellectual and analytical side, and seemed skeptical of most people and most ideas.

Though a practitioner in Southern California, he did not appear to believe in New Age jargon and fads, which surprised and delighted Max.

Alan explained how he worked, had Max fill out some paperwork, and within five minutes Max was on the treatment table having his limbs manipulated.

“With a few treatments your back pain should be gone,” Alan reassured him.

Much to Max's amazement, this proved to be true. Alan had a unique technique. Once Max was on the treatment table, the entire realignment technique took less than two minutes, and already he felt much better.

***

After a few weeks of treatment, Max decided to share the story of the Twelve.

“Dr. Taylor, do you believe in near-death experiences
?
” Max asked one day, after an adjustment.

“Call me Dr. Alan—everyone else does,” the doctor responded. “But to answer your question, no, not really. I've had other patients tell me about these types of experiences, but I am sure there's a logical explanation. Either you are dead or you're not dead. Near-death makes no sense.Why do you ask
?
”

Max decided to press on.

“Because I had such an experience when I was only fifteen, and your name was one of twelve I saw in my near-death state,” he explained.

Dr. Alan thought about that for a moment, and when he spoke, there was no sign of condescension in his voice.

“Seems unbelievable to me,” he said. “But from what I know of you, you're a pretty practical and grounded guy. So tell me more.”

Max went into a detailed description of what he had seen and felt, and the mystery of the Twelve became the topic of conversation on every subsequent visit—although neither of them could identify any prior connection they might have had, and Alan had no connection with any of the other names. But caught up in the excitement of the Twelve, he offered to help Max find the other five, if he decided to seriously pursue the search.

“Thanks,” Max responded, “I may take you up on that. Let's see how things develop.”

That ended their exploration of the Twelve, at least for the moment, and their conversation returned to topics of golf and women, surfing, and keeping Max's back and spine in alignment.

***

Although Max's physical pain was gone, the financial chaos had not abated. The marital settlement into which he had entered was based on the high income he had enjoyed prior to his divorce. Currently, however, the alimony he gave to Grace was more than his income, and the settlement ate up all of Max's property and savings, as well.

All he had left was his film house, MAXimum Productions.

He was able to stop the financial hemorrhaging within his film company, but the large alimony payments prevented him from maintaining the carefree lifestyle he had once enjoyed. Strangely, though, Max didn't overly concern himself with his financial losses.

With his trademark adaptability, he had already started to change his focus from technical films to business and lifestyle films, and he began representing motivational speakers outside of the technical film area.

Among these luminaries was Dr. Ivan Varne. Ivan was the first scholar Max had met with whom he could discuss the details of Whitehead's philosophy. He was delighted to find that Ivan had a similar appreciation for Whitehead's complex metaphysics.

Over time they became more than colleagues, and were true friends.

Ivan was almost twenty years older than Max, so the relationship had a father-son feeling to it. Herbert Doff had passed away just as MAXimum Productions had started to soar, and Max was relieved that his father only lived to see his success and not his more recent financial reversals.

He missed terribly the frequent phone calls he had shared with his father, who was always both pleased and amazed by Max's numerous training film hits. With Ivan, he shared enthusiasms for art, music, and philosophy, rather than business issues, but increasingly Ivan became the person Max called when something wonderful occurred in his life.

Ivan Varne was the founder of the Club of Miracles, a philanthropic think tank dedicated to uniting humanity into a single, cohesive planetary civilization, and he invited Max to join the board of trustees as the U.S. representative for the club. Max agreed and began attending stimulating meetings throughout Europe, alongside prominent scientists as well as prime ministers and presidents.

And yet, despite the best of intentions, there never seemed to be enough funding to trigger their audacious plans. Nevertheless, the group would have a serious impact on the planet, albeit inadvertently.

Istanbul,
the City of Hope

2004

A
S THE CLUB OF MIRACLES ATTEMPTED TO EXPAND ITS ACTIVITIES,
IT
sought an alliance with a man named Erol Resu, who lived in Istanbul.

Erol was the eighth name of the Twelve, and he was a remarkable man. Max met him in Istanbul and, upon doing so, experienced a mixture of excitement and urgency.

Erol wore a suit of sky blue, was short and stocky, with sharp, dark eyes, a wry sense of humor, and a generally happy disposition. And he was a man who could not stand still—he was addicted to deal making.

Since he was so successful, however, he was simply admired as an eccentric workaholic who had an almost magical ability to make money. He enjoyed juggling several major deals at a time and refused to accept defeat. The greater the challenge, the more pleasure he got out of it.

His mother was Muslim, and his father was Jewish. He had been born in Istanbul, the youngest of five brothers. His father had worked as a fruit vendor selling produce in the market, and Erol started selling lemons at the age of six.

Immediately he stood out as a consummate closer.

He had intelligence and drive, and of the five brothers he was the one chosen to attend school, where he excelled. He earned a scholarship to go to university and decided to pursue a career in government.

Following his graduation he chose to serve as an assistant to a member of parliament, and within two years his employer had been elected prime minister. Erol was only twenty-three and yet was positioned as a person of influence and power.

His superior started grooming him to be a future cabinet member or perhaps even prime minister. The training lasted for six years, at which time the prime minister came to Erol with a proposition.

“Forget about becoming prime minister, or any such position,” he said earnestly. “That would be a terrible waste of your talent. No, with your business acumen, I have an even more important job in mind for you.

“I want you to run the oil import and export business for the government,” he announced.

Erol accepted and swiftly proved that the prime minister had chosen wisely. He thrived in this new position and generated tremendous wealth for the government. But three years later, his political party lost in the election, and Erol was removed from his position.

Nothing could have been more fortuitous. With his contacts and knowledge, Erol immediately found financial backing that enabled him to set up a private oil import-export company, and within three years he was one of the wealthiest men in all of Turkey.

Erol brought a level of contagious enthusiasm to everything he did. He had a generous heart and a sincere desire to help others. He had become one of the major philanthropists backing the Walk of Abraham, an intercultural organization encouraging Jews and Muslims to retrace the steps of Abraham on his journey through the desert to Jerusalem.

Abraham was honored in both religions as the founding father. Such a trek would require cooperation between Israel and the neighboring Arab states, with the hope that this joint venture would contribute to better understanding and mutual cooperation between peoples too often locked in conflict and violence.

During their meeting in Istanbul, the directors of the Club of Miracles were well entertained by Erol, who enjoyed life fully. He filled their every free minute with trips to museums and architectural wonders and boat trips on the Marmara Sea, the Golden Horn, the Black Sea, and the Bosphorus. He introduced everyone to wonderful Turkish cuisine, and there was always high-spirited drinking and entertainment.

When he saw how open Erol was to everything in life, Max decided to confide in him. So toward the end of the second evening, he shared with Erol the revelation of the twelve names.

To his delight, Erol not only accepted what he said, he did so with his usual gusto.

“I am certain this is important,” he said to Max. “My intuition tells me that we will not be able to unravel this mystery, however, until all twelve of the names have been identified, and all twelve of the individuals have been found.”

“Very true,” Max agreed, “and there is nothing I can do but wait for them to appear. Until then, the only name I have is Running Bear, and as elusive as he has been, I might as well have none at all.”

“It is a puzzle, and I will do all I can to help you piece it together,” Erol added. “Anything you need, just ask.”

“Why do you think this is important
?
” Max asked him. “Why were you so able to accept what I said, as outrageous as it sounds
?
”

Erol was clear in his reply.

“I have known from birth that my destiny requires me to act in certain ways. I have never questioned the opportunities that have come to me, and I will not question now.

“But I can assure you that both our destinies are linked to the unraveling of this mystery.”