Marvin Peabody III came from old wealth. His old grandfather had been a skinflint who had treated his labor atrociously. Their numerous readymade clothes mills were more sweat shops than factories. This bloodline petered out with the birth of Marv the third.
Marvin was a wide eyed gullible soul. The cut of his soul’s cloth was fashioned after his mother who had been swept off her feet by his father, a dashing rake. She had been on the verge of becoming the bride of Christ.
Marvin was born within the year and there were limited rejoicings only. Number One Peabody was reluctant to open his purse strings wider than necessary. That was good as well as this child was the beginning of the end of the business and Peabody bloodline.
Marvin grew up to be a kind hearted soul. He was sanguine about the family’s black history and had decided to make all the workers equal partners in the factories and run it like a co-operative business. The wheel of justice had come full circle with him. He had been orphaned on his eighteenth birthday due to a horrific fire in the family house. He had been rushed to safety by his old nanny. Now, there was nothing to keep him rooted. He walked off, a liberated homeless rolling stone.
Marvin rejoiced in playing his violin when he needed money for a meal and a bath. He was good enough to attract sufficient appreciative dollars. Life hummed along nicely. Then something happened that changed him forever.
He had been playing his violin in the subway when he noticed a waist pouch that had been unclipped when a Good Samaritan dropped a fiver in his violin case. He picked it up and counted a twenty grand wad. He was stunned. He wanted to hop on the train and return it to the owner. The train left even before he could pack his violin. He scratched his head at a loss for a new plan.
He went to his favorite night shelter and once again searched the pouch thoroughly. In the inner pocket he found a business card. It had a travel agency’s address. He decided to investigate further. Putting away his belongings in a locker and wearing his good clothes he hurried to the place.
Marvin did not appear like the down in luck violin player of the subway. The Good Samaritan (GS) failed to recognize him. Marvin removed the card from his pocket and held it front of the GS. He took the card and handed Marvin an envelope. Involuntarily Marvin took it. Even before he could utter a word, the GS left in a hurry while talking to someone on his mobile. Mystified, Marvin came back to his shelter.
He opened the envelope and found a coded list of twenty five. He and his best school buddy Paddy Bell were nerds. He called Paddy and went over to meet him. They tried to make sense of the list at once. Finally they decoded it. In their hands they held twenty-five private addresses. Bell senior was in intelligence and they decided to share the list with him. Mr. Bell immediately called a meeting of all his colleagues. Marvin had already repeated all that had occurred a few times, succinctly. The notes turned out to be a portion of the recent heist pulled at a local savings bank. The thread was fast unraveling. Then one of the field hands recognized one of the addresses after cross referencing their significant data bases. It belonged to one of people of “significant interest” with ties to the Al Qaeda. It was one of the safe houses of the terrorists and on intelligence watch list already. The list became extremely valuable.
They decided to install surveillance cameras and other gadgets in all the other remaining 24 locations. In short span of a month they had gathered enough intelligence to abort a planned attack on the white house.
They had struck gold via Marvin. This was major breakthrough for them.
They recruited Marvin and Paddy who accepted with alacrity.
Marvin had finally found his calling.