Free Tomy and the Planet of Lies by Erich von Däniken Page A

offer. I needed to consult with my younger brother. The commandant informed us that the coming evening marked the start of Ramadan, the holy month of fasting. The Moslem faithful were prohibited from drinking or eating, and even smoking, from sunup to sundown. Only after nightfall was the prohibition lifted, so we shouldn’t be surprised if it got loud on the streets after eight o’clock. Then he consulted with the two security service men and Chantal. I thought I could tell from their body language that two were in favor and “Ali” was against. Finally, “Ali” gave me his business card. I couldn’t read the Arabic writing, but the numbers for his telephone number were legible. With a serious look on his face, he stressed that we couldn’t afford to make any mistakes and if we had the slightest problem, we should contact him immediately using the number on the card. There was a 24-hour answering service and they spoke English, he added with a touch of pride. They really need us! I thought.
    By now it was around three-thirty in the afternoon and it made no sense to set off now. We said goodbye to the commandant and the two officers from the secret service, promising that we would see them again in Teheran in the Intercontinental Hotel. Although I didn’t really have the slightest doubt that some department or other from the secret service would have their eye on us constantly anyway.
    We decided a relaxing evening would be the best way to recover from the stresses of the day, but Chantal’s continued presence rather spoilt that for me. She had elected to stay with us. Pensively I unpacked the bags from the car and extended our reservation for one more night.
    The next day, we met at eight for breakfast. Chantal explained that she would have to leave us as she had to go back to her company in Teheran, but she would meet us there. She gave Tomy a parting kiss, the sort that you only give when something special has happened. Outside a car with a driver and tinted windows was waiting for her. She couldn’t—so she told us—come with us, or even go alone. That sort of thing would be impossible for a woman, especially during Ramadan.
    Returning to the breakfast table I shuddered.
    â€œWell, little brother how was it?” I asked Tomy.
    â€œThe body found it particularly pleasurable,” Tomy smiled, “but the experience was enough for me.”
    â€œ What? ” exclaimed Marc. “You never want to do it again?”
    â€œProbably not, unless this biological mass,” he indicated his body with some disgust, “requires it.”
    Marc shook his head and laughed. Then he grasped Tomy’s hands and I suddenly realized that it was the first time he had touched him since he had come into being. “You can bet your bottom dollar it will,” he replied with bright eyes.
    We set off a short while later, heading in the direction of the town of Kerman on the edge of the Dasht-e Lut desert. On the way, Tomy explained, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, exactly how Chantal had seduced him. In more detail than we really wanted to hear, to be honest. To start with, she had asked him about his past and he had told what he knew. She had also asked him what his name was, and he had answered that he had none, he was just known as Tomy. She believed this about as much as she bought the story of his creation. The only thing she was willing to accept was that he had a special ability to impose his will on other people, and had gone on at some length about PSI abilities. After ‘the deed’ he had wanted to tell her about his home planet, but she had just wanted to cuddle and called him “a silly boy with too much imagination.” She had advised him to keep both feet on the ground; otherwise, he was likely to have serious problems. “Are all women like that?” he asked. Marc said no—but I was tempted to say yes.
    During the