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“Everyone here is super vetted,” the Director of the FBI, Bob Bender, said. “If there are observers, they are remote, and it looks like you’re taking care of that. We sent bomb experts who are on site to check the water mains and –” He touched his ear, held a finger up –just a minute– and turned away. When he turned back his face was taut and stressed. “You were right.”
This was the country’s top security experts, so there were no expressions of outrage or fear. Except everyone’s faces were now taut and stressed.
“Mr. Black, your associates –”
“Raul Martinez, Emma Holland and Toby Jackson.”
Bender nodded. “They were correct. I sent two explosives experts from our office and two Army Intelligence experts to check out the water mains. They are indeed filled with a slurry explosive. And they found the detonator right under the main conference Hall. They are defusing it now.”
“Tell them to be careful!” Emma said, panicked. “It is very likely that there will be more than one detonator. And that they have a line back to the perpetrator’s headquarters, with a tripwire telling them if the bombs have been defused! I have no idea what frequency they could be using.”
Bender touched his ear again and smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “Found another one. And we’ve identified the tripwires and will defuse without alerting them. We’ve started evacuation. Vans are arriving and will take the delegates to the Moscone center. It will no longer be a secret meeting. It is now obvious how badly we need to have a Security and Intelligence Summit.” He turned directly to the camera monitor. “I have no words to express our gratitude to you, Ms. Holland. This would have been an attack on our country like no other. Much worse than Pearl Harbor, striking at the very heart of government. The meeting will start at 3 p.m. when everyone has been delivered to the Moscone Center, and we’d like to thank you publicly.”
“No!” Raul shouted. Not only did his neck crackle but every cell in his body went wild. “You can give them citizen citations, write a nice letter, which they will put in a safe deposit box, but no one must ever know what part they played.” Particularly Emma. She thwarted a drug cartel, probably cost it a lot of money. They would find inventive ways of torturing her, keeping her alive for days, before allowing her to die. He couldn’t even stay in the same space with the thought. “Emma, Toby, I’m so sorry. You’ve done amazing things but no one must ever know what you’ve done. These are people who never forget.”
He saw the surprise in their faces. They were totally intent on the problem itself, and hadn’t thought through the consequences. Raul had. No one could ever associate the name of Emma Holland or Toby Jackson with anything to do with the Cabo Cartel and the thwarted attack. At the thought, his balls shriveled and tried to climb their way up inside his body.
“You’ll get letters of recommendation up the wazoo, you can go anywhere you want afterward but no one must ever know what happened here.”
Tobycould go anywhere he wanted to go. Some powerhouse bank in New York or Singapore or London. He’d be compensated for this, maybe he could buy Colin a hospital he could run in the Bahamas. But Emma – Emma was staying with him.
Bender nodded. “Understood. We can easily say we had a confidential informant and then cover it up as a matter of national security, top secret. As a matter of fact, besides myself, the Homeland Security Secretary and Jacob Black, no one else knows of your involvement. But rest assured Ms. Holland, Mr. Jackson and Mr. Martinez, we know we owe you a debt of gratitude that can never be repaid.”
He disappeared and Jacob Black’s tough, dark face reappeared. “Well, I guess Bender said it all. Gotta go, because we’re going to have to corral almost a thousand people and transport them down to the city center, but my company and I owe you a lot. Our lives, for starters. One of the EOD guys told me there was enough explosive to blast us to the moon. Someone wanted to … make a statement. So, from now to the end of time, consider Black Inc at your disposal. Ms. Holland, you sure you don’t want to reconsider my offer of a job?”
Emma was white, but his words put a rosy glow in her cheeks. “Thanks, but I think I already have a job.” She looked at him, as if unsure of what she was saying. Raul kissed her on the forehead. Oh yeah. She had a job, a boyfriend and later a fiancé if she wanted.
Because he wanted it all.
Cabo San Lucas
2 p.m.
So,Marin thought as he sipped his aged tequila, it didn’t work. He had men stationed a couple of miles out, watching for a massive explosion which didn’t come. It wasn’t a technical error, he’d used only the best experts. So, they must have somehow found out. As of 9:30, the signal of his drones started degrading and he had his doubts right then.
It had been a good plan – an excellent plan –carried out perfectly, but subject to some random error and hadn’t worked.
Pity.
He’d been looking forward to retiring from the trade but it looked like he was stuck for a few more years, since he’d lost almost a billion dollars in one morning.
But money was like an irresistible river, flowing downhill. It could be dammed up, but not stopped.
Marin also had a few new experimental drugs that he’d been testing and which looked extremely promising. And profitable. El Quìmico would not be held back. And he would be staying on this side of the border for a good long while. He’d been extremely cautious but who knew if he’d left some bread crumbs somewhere?
He was a king here, and respected. Even a minute chance of exchanging his life of luxury here for a cell in San Quentin … he shuddered.
He wondered vaguely what happened to that banker. He’d used the banker’s greed against him. If fate had tipped one way the banker would have become one of the richest men in the world. But alas, fate had tipped the other way.
Too bad.
Pacific Investment Bank
San Francisco
Whittaker Hamilton IVstared at the printouts in front of him. The first of his short sales were coming due, a first tranche of fifty million dollars. The second tranche would come in two hours, another would come due at the end of the business day, another tomorrow morning. In all, over the next days, ten tranches would come due for a total loss of almost a billion dollars of PIB’s money.
He’d spent the morning glued to the news, certain that any minute some catastrophe would be announced and he could start counting the money. It never came. The deadline came and went and thereafter he was frozen at his desk, with four financial news sites open, two big flat screen TVs tuned into two business programs, and plugged into a few places in the dark web that dealt with money. They would be the first to know.
