it only gets darker

I’ve been meeting someone regularly.
He’s in the business of securing liabilities and securing liabilities which have been secured by other parties securing liabilities.
Confused?
Thot so.
In plain English, his world is about underwriting risks, looking at catastrophe profiles and ratings. The boring technical, engineering and actuary stuff. The types who require the super-human intelligence {and/ or perseverance} of having double major combinations of actuary-law, actuary-engineering, engineering-law.
The not so boring bit is about the places his work takes him, from far flung Timbuktu to the volcanic plateaus of New Zealand and everything in between that involves oil reserves, navy bases, glaciers, low-land flood prone areas and the occasional belly dancers.
The interesting bit {in a morbid spooky way} is catastrophe happens right after he leaves a place!
And by this I mean riots, civil uprising & war, mass shooting, jihad bombing, random bombing … and if one to trace back his early days you could include IRA bombings … basically the not so nice things we human create. 
It doesn’t end here.
Floods, tsunami, volcanic eruptions and bush fires makes his lists too … accounts that are often delivered by him in a nonchalant manner.
It has long transcended from “are you sure, or not?”, to funny {purely from the way he relates the stories}, to troubling, to being borderline frightening … to the point that I get slight goose bumps riding in the same elevator shaft as him.

NO.
One of the ways that I do not fancy dying is having G-force dislodging my innards and pushing it upwards to my mouth with my knees snapped upon landing … {ok – that’s graphic!}   

In any case, I’ve stopped asking him: “where’s your next destination?” 
But, things have just gotten worse of late… and got me thinking.
His company had just bought an office block and they have moved in. Rather nice except for some tacky China-made micro fibre fabric that was used to upholster the custom made semi-circular benches at the floor that houses way too cramp meeting rooms with inadequate power sockets.
The thing is, being Malaysians, we have to ‘bless’ places and appease the ‘beings’ whom we may have intruded upon. And so for his case, his good ol’ bomoh {“muslim like shaman”} was called to the task only to die two weeks short of the ceremony.
As he was relating this and casually saying he must find a replacement bomoh quick as he should visit Scotland soon before the year closes in, a phone call was received.
Our meeting ended abruptly. Calls were made to organise a flight – pronto.
He’s been summon to a funeral in Scotland.
The coincidences does not end there.
A mention of the carpenters working on the office and in my house a week ago, and today my carpenter calls in to inform he’s unable to continue with the installation works.
His brother had died.
Am I dealing with a ‘Damien‘, of The Omen series?
Is it all too convenient that he’s in the business of profiteering from risk arising from loss-event ratios? … or shall I say negative gains in the words of actuaries?

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