Ryan took a series of large gulps of vodka from the glass, finishing
half of it, and lit another cigarette. Blowing the smoke toward
the ceiling, he said, “I’ve got something I need you to do.”
“What?” I asked.
“I want you to call the Bank of France.”
“What?! It’s probably the middle of the night over there.” I
complained, “Besides, I don’t have their phone number.”
“Damn it! Just do what I say!” he demanded. “Call an international

After much ado, I got an operator to dial the number for me.
“Now what?” I asked him, while waiting to be patched through.
“Tell them that you are speaking on behalf of Ryan Moran, and
you want to speak to the bank’s president,” he replied.
I rolled my eyes but did as he instructed.

Eventually, someone from the bank got on the line addressing
me in French. I did not think that this was the best of times to practice
the language, so I told him I needed to speak to someone who
spoke English, “Please … uh … S’il vous plait.” I heard a moment
of commotion in the background until, eventually, someone who
spoke English—albeit, with a thick French accent—came on the
line. I relayed the message to him and went through yet two more
people, all the while hearing the name “Ryan Moran” being spoken
in the background. Then the line rang several times before it was
finally picked up by a man who said, in a slow and still-sleepy voice,
I explained to him that I needed to speak to the bank’s president
on behalf of Ryan Moran.
I heard him slowly mouth the name over a couple of times,
“Ryan Moran…? Ryan Moran…?” Then he said, in English, “Ah,
yes, I’m the president. What is it that Mr. Moran wants?”
I relayed this to Ryan, and he shouted across the room, “Tell
him that I want to order five very large crude carriers, each capable
of carrying three hundred thousand deadweight metric tons, okay?”
I relayed the message to the bank president who responded,
I looked back to Ryan and nodded.
“Tell him that the lines of credit have already been established
by Erika,” Ryan stated.
I again relayed Ryan’s message to the bank president, who once
more responded, “Yes.”
“Now what?” I asked Ryan.
“Hang up,” he said.
“Just hang up,” he instructed, curtly.
Dutifully complying, I said, “Thank you. Goodbye,” and hung
up the phone.

“Why don’t you go to sleep now?” I suggested.
“No,” he said, as he took another large gulp of the vodka, “Get
me my AA ‘Big Book’; it’s in the bedroom.”
“You can’t do that!” I replied.
“Why not?” He asked.
“Because you’re drunk, that’s why,” I said.
“Isn’t that who it’s for? Drunks?” He asked.
I couldn’t deny the logic, so with a shake of my head, I got him
the book.

He continued to drink, reading aloud chapter after chapter
from the ‘Big Book’ until finally, after a couple of hours, he collapsed
from sheer exhaustion with his head upon the desk. Only
then was I able to put him to bed.

Control Switch On | The untold story of the most powerful man in the world – RYAN MORAN – who shaped the planet for peace.

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