Terminal Connection (14 page)

R
on looked around Sansome Bank. It had a classic layout, a huge circular room with walls of glass with cherry wood desks to his left and matching teller booths to his right. A bank employee stood behind each counter and desk, actually a software construct, in conservative male western dress—suits, ties, and bleached, white shirts.

He glanced at the figures of stock and cash in the account Austin had wanted to launder. This would be interesting.

Ron walked to one of the windows so he could think. Through the window, he saw a replication of San Francisco Bay. The perspective was from the top floor of a building on a clear summer day.

He had lived in San Francisco one summer early in his career. In all that time, he never saw a clear summer day. Fog was the city’s built-in air conditioning. Even when it got remotely warm, fog would roll in across the Golden Gate Bridge through the narrow opening to the ocean.

From this vantage point, Ron saw both the Golden Gate and the Bay Bridges. Ron chuckled. No vantage point in San Francisco allowed you to see both bridges.

Since the war, Ron had used his
financial services
to subsidize his many side ventures. Over the years, he learned a number of methods to launder dirty money. It was a simple scam involving the concurrent purchase and sale of future contracts.

These future contracts were bets on the direction of the price of some commodity, financial asset, or an index on the stock market. The contract might involve copper, U.S. government bonds, or the NASDAQ stock market index. The
long
party bets the futures market will go up. The
short
party, on the other hand, bets it will go down. Thus, there was always a winner and a loser. If the price went up, the long party would win and the short party would lose. If the price went down, the long party would lose and the short party would win.

To launder the money Ron would play both sides of the same bet, being both the long and short party. He would place Austin’s embezzled dirty money in a foreign, usually Swiss, bank account. He then would open two
clean
domestic accounts with nominal balances. One would be under Austin’s name and the other under Ron’s name. Ron would then bet so that the Swiss account with the
dirty money
was always on the losing side of the transaction while the domestic accounts with the
clean money
were always on the winning side.

When the futures settled, the dirty money simply transferred to the clean accounts. Austin’s account, which wagered ninety-five percent of the bet, would receive ninety-five percent of the money. Ron’s account would receive the remaining five percent, minus brokerage fees. Then the Swiss account would disappear, leaving no trace. Thus, the money would be transferred to Austin and Ron’s accounts, hidden from the tax collectors and other prying eyes.

This transaction, like every transaction, had the same three problems. First, Ron needed enough clean money to counterbalance the purchase of futures with the dirty money.

Second, the transaction fees would be excessive. Brokers’ commissions could easily account for two percent of the transaction. Under normal circumstances, this was not a problem. However, since Ron’s cut amounted to five percent minus expenses, these fees could account for over half of his profits. Ron had solved this problem by finding a broker that worked for a flat fee of 20K for large deals.

The third problem was that he could not control the market. If the price moved the wrong way unexpectedly, the process would work in reverse, sucking clean money into the dirty account. Usually, Ron could offset this by selecting a flexible settlement date and choose a market that was cyclical. For example, natural gas demand was high in the winter but low in the summer. Motorcycle sales were the reverse.

But this case was different. Ron didn’t have time. Austin would soon die. Ron could only maintain control of the funds for a couple of days. He surveyed the amount of cash and stock in the account again. Then he got an idea.

The account Austin had given him held more than seventy percent of the outstanding shares of Nexus. He simply needed to have the dirty account buy short, and in doing so, bet that the Nexus stock would fall. He would then dump enough shares to deflate the price of Nexus stock and wait for Austin’s date with the reaper to send it to the cellar. When Ron settled with the clean money and bought back the shares, he would make a handsome windfall profit.

Ron sighed. Ever since Austin had shafted Steve, Ron knew it would be a matter of time before Austin hung himself. Austin just needed enough rope, and perhaps a nudge. Patience was difficult, but revenge was a dish best served cold. Austin’s death had to appear as bad luck—really, bad luck.

Ron approached the first teller.

J
an, construct the flow,” Steve said. Above the green, crisscrossed lines of his home office, twenty walls of platinum appeared, suspended in the air, each etched with a spreadsheet representing the accounts at that institution. Red laser beams shot out from the spreadsheets’ cells. The red lines branched and merged. They created a vast network, representing money that flowed from account to account, institution to institution.

Steve stepped back. The network continued to grow and spawn new connections. Austin had wired the funds from bank to bank, funneling money to god knows what. What did it all mean?

“My friend, I didn’t know you were an artist.”

Steve turned.

Ron stood next to him. “Why did you page me?”

Steve pointed to the collage. “Did you know about this?”

Ron studied the collage. He traced the red lines connecting the cells of the spreadsheets.

“How bad is it?” Steve asked.

“Where did you find this?”

“Austin had a second set of books. Is it bad?”

Ron stared at the data.

“And?”

He nodded. “He’s tapped a lot of equity.
A lot.
Do you have historical data?”

Steve nodded. “A couple of years, in fact.”

“Computer, animate transactions from yesterday to today.”

Like arcs of electricity, the red lines leapt from cell to cell. Pulses of light shot down the lines showing the direction of flow.

“It looks like the funds don’t rest for more than a couple of minutes in any account.” Ron watched until the replay ended. “Have you contacted anyone besides me?”

Steve shook his head.

“Good. Don’t tell anyone just yet. Give me a day. Let me see if I can untangle this mess.”

“Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Ron placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, my friend. I’ll take care of it.”

Ron opened a portal and left.

“Jan, close Austin’s accounting books.”

“What a day!” Steve mumbled. He sighed in relief. Two obstacles were flattened. He had taken control of the books and had dropkicked Austin’s ass out of the company. It felt good; but his week was not over. The recall and the release of Brooke’s Healer lay ahead. His work would spill into the weekend. Brooke would not be pleased.

Whoosh.

Steve spun around and saw Allison step through a portal.

“Allison!” Steve smiled.

“I only have a moment. I’ve got to get to my hotel, check my messages, and get ready for dinner. Our reservations are in an hour at my hotel, the Fairmont, in the Kona Room. I’ll see you there.”

“Sounds good,” he said and Allison exited.

“Jan, get me the address for Fairmont Hotel.”

Steve walked past reception, down a short flight of steps, and into the dinning area. Golden marble encircled a large pool and island full of tropical plants and birds. Thunder rumbled and synthesized rain fell into the pool.

Allison sat at a table that overlooked the pool. Her hair swooped up and soft wisps fell, framing her Amerasian face. She wore an all white, sleeveless pantsuit. The plunging neckline exposed her golden skin. The contrast of her black hair and green eyes took his breath away.

He walked up to the table. “I’m impressed. I’ve lived here for a couple of years and never heard of this place. How did you come across it?”

“Remember what I said about focusing on other things?”

He nodded.

“Well, there you go.”

Allison took him through the four-course meal. Each course brought with it a new kind of meaning to his senses. He relished it all, savoring it, anticipating more. As she spoke to him in their dimly lit corner, he realized it was not just the place that aroused his senses. He craved her increasingly. He could not remember ever being lost in someone like this. Allison’s voice broke his musing.

“Does that interest you at all, Steve?”

His gaze drifted to her lips. “It sure does.”

She laughed. “I love it.”

What was she saying? He had no clue. “I’m sorry. What was that?”

“I said, do you want to stop by my room before we go to your place. This time, I think I should pack an overnight bag. You’re just up the street. We could walk there.”

“Sure.”

She nodded.

“What a day. I fired Austin, finished my project for Brooke …” He paused and took her hand in his. “ … and I’m dating the most beautiful woman this side of the Internet.”

Allison opened her mouth to speak, but stopped short of words and smiled instead. They paid the bill and walked to the elevator.

“Allison?”

She met his gaze.

“Did you enjoy dinner?”

She nodded and slipped her hand into his.

The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside.

Upon entering her apartment, she said, “Make yourself at home.” She headed down a short hall. “There’s a great view off the terrace—check it out if you like.”

Unlike Allison, the accommodations were simple, nothing fancy. Papers and files covered the dining room table. Steve wondered about her work.

Allison called out from the other room. “Did you check out the view outside? I’ll just be another minute.”

He turned from the paper work and strode to the terrace. Steve unlocked the door and stepped out onto the terrace. Only a few miles away, Mt. Diablo towered above the Walnut Creek skyline. He shouted back to her, “Wow, you weren’t kidding. This is gorgeous.” He imagined what it would look like at night, the glow of the city probing into the dark recesses of the mountain. “Hey, do you bike or climb? I know some great trails up there.”

Arms reached around him and pulled him close. He turned and faced her and held her. “How did you do that? I didn’t even hear you.”

The golden glare from the sunset streaked over her face and hair. She winced a little.

“Hey!” He said, brushing the hair from her face. “Where are you?”

She looked up at him, a light smile surfacing over her lips. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

Steve bent his knee to get to eye level with her and block the sun. “And?”

She looked past his shoulder. With one finger, he steered her face to meet his gaze. “Do you want me to leave?” He bit his lip. Too serious.

“No, I was thinking you might be the one wanting to leave.”

Steve shook his head. “That is the last thing I’d want.”

She sighed. “You just fired Austin who brought me in. Where do I stand? I’m half expecting that you’d say you no longer need me, that you’ll handle it from here, and …”

Steve laughed.

“Why are you laughing?”

He stifled his laugh. He had never imagined seeing her this way—so vulnerable, so sexy. “I need you.”

Her fiery green gaze softened.

Steve pulled her close and ran his left hand through her hair. Her hair flowed to her shoulders. He kissed her shoulder and ran his lips along their curves. Her skin felt warm and soft. Steve kissed her neck and smelled her. His heart beat faster. He moved his face in front of hers. “Do you feel this too?”

She whispered in his ear between nibbles. “Yes.” Her soft nibble switched to a gentle bite.

Shivers shot down his spine. “That feels really good.”

She moved her lips down his neckline. Her lips kissed his neck, the light strokes of her tongue shooting sensations to all parts of his body. His lips found hers. He gazed at her closed eyes, and kissed them. “You are so beautiful, Allison.” Steve scooped her into his arms.

She looked up at him with her green eyes. This time they looked lighter. He carried her from the terrace to the bedroom.

She stood on the bed and drew him toward her. “That’s better.” She loosened his tie and released it from her grip as it slid to the floor. She unbuttoned his shirt, reached in, and touched his chest. Edging her hands over his shoulders, she pushed his shirt down.

Steve slipped his shirt all the way off. His eyes focused on her plunging neckline. “I like you being taller too.”

Steve reached up and gently pulled one of her shoulder straps down. She slipped her arm through as he pulled the other strap down, exposing her breasts. His gaze lingered there and followed her neck to her face. His gaze locked into hers. He stroked her breasts with his fingertips.

She closed her eyes and breathed in. Her body trembled.

His tongue and lips kissed her nipples in slow, tiny circles. He wanted to make up for last night’s stupor. They moved together, like a slow dance.

Her breathing varied from shallow to deep. He locked his gaze with hers again and together they removed the rest of their clothing, never breaking eye contact. They were in complete sync, lost in each other now.

She laid down on the bed, her back turned to him. He touched her neck and traced his finger from her shoulder, down to the small of her back, just above her cleft.

Allison rolled over and faced Steve sideways. His gaze caressed her and lingered over the curves of her body. He stroked the inside of her thighs with the palm of his hand. He then traced two fingers from her right knee, up her thigh, then over and down her left thigh. She took in a quivering breath. Back and forth, he teased her.

She looked up at him, her gaze intense. Her expression was almost pleading, and then she closed her eyes slowly and opened them again, just as slowly.

His neck and shoulders flexed as he moved closer, and she was gazing steadily back at him again. An impassioned fire overwhelmed him, a fire that ignited for both of them.

Two hours later they lay in bed, resting in each other’s arms. Steve’s Nexus let out three short beeps. He checked the LCD display: 8:56 p.m. He turned to Allison. “It’s Brooke. She’s probably wondering where I am. I don’t get out that much.”

“I would
never
have guessed that,” Allison said. Her face glowed and her eyes sparkled.

He sighed. “Well, I better give her a call.”

Allison rose and went to take a shower. After the call, Steve joined her. “Brooke just wanted to check in. She sounded a little suspicious. I told her we were working late.” He grabbed some soap and lathered up.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I promised to take her to lunch tomorrow. She’s going to bed now.” He reached around Allison and patted her behind, followed by a little pinch.

Massaging shampoo into her long ebony hair, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye with a questioning look.

Steve took over, washing her hair. “It’s so nice, I just can’t help giving it a little pat n’ pinch.”

She grinned. “Well then, by all means, help yourself.”

“You know, I could get used to this.”

She smiled.

The water streamed down as they came together again.