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Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Not Always: Part VIII to X

Part VIII – Tom and Marissa Dance To Another’s Tune

Five days since the conversation at Breaker’s, the silence was broken by a cell phone, one hour after the close of the NYSE and NASDAQ.

Sitting in the firm, with the backdrop of a sunny New York day in the earliest throes of summer, Marissa answered her cell in the midst of an after-hours trade.

“Marissa Martin, HZM Securities,” as she clicked on a soon-to-be traded stock, pulling up its technicals.

“Ms. Martin. This won’t take long. I have a few requests to make of you.” The man responded in a South Wales accent.

“Well, let me know where your playing and I’ll give you the advice--and make it work.” Marissa responded confidently.

“I’m playing with Kate right now AND I’ll be the trader today.”

“Excuse me! What about Kate! Who are you?”

“For our purposes, I’m the Englishman. But for your daughter’s sake, my requests are your number one priority. You agree?”

“Yes. Whatever you say,” Marissa looking at Kate’s recent recital picture on her desk as pain swelled up inside her.

“Excellent. Now, here are my requests in this order. Do not deviate or Kate might not fair well in the next few days. First, you will start amassing a position in Southern BioOil in 50,000 share blocks of options, spread wisely. This will continue until you and your close partner Tom amass 2,500,000 options by next week’s end of trading.

“Second, you will receive two one-way tickets by courier at noon tomorrow. Take the flight as instructed with Tom.

“Third, and most importantly, do not attempt to contact the police, FBI or anyone else. If you do, it will be noted as a non-compliance and your daughter’s life well…you can imagine.”

Marissa replied. “Please don’t hurt her. I’ll do anything you ask.”

“Then these requests should not be a trouble. I would not want to seem unreasonable.” The Englishman said.

“It will be difficult to amass this position, I have to receive approval on such a move.”

“Cash out your other positions, and do it wisely. I suggest you do everything necessary if you want your girl to see you again.” The Englishman retorted.

“Ok, I understand you… Please don’t hurt her.” Marissa hesitantly replied.

“Good day, Marissa. We will be watching.” The Englishman hung up.

Marissa begins to cry as the sunlight hits a salty tear falling to her desk.
------

The Englishman looks over at Bobby, and then hands him a key ring with two keys. “One is to the garage entry, the other the main entrance. Drive out now and keep to the freeway. No stops. The house is 3 miles off the exit. Should take you 90 minutes.”

Bobby has heard this before. “Why are you going to this trouble?”

“Just keep the girl safe. We are not looking to kill her. She helps our bargaining position with the traders.” The Englishman snaps the pre-paid analog cell phone, throws the pieces in the Hudson, and gets back in his black BMW.

Bobby stands on the empty dock, for a moment, then gets into the 2006 Chrysler 300. Kate is knocked out in the trunk. Bobby starts the journey to Connecticut.


Marissa calls the babysitter. No answer. She runs down the hall to Tom’s office past Tina DeBois’s desk. Tina smiles as Marissa passes by oblivious to what is going on around her.

When she gets to Tom’s office, he’s typing a letter. Marissa shuts the door and explains.

Part IX – Louisiana Lighting

“Sum Bitch!” Delaney ‘Fatback’ Fox yells out as he is prone to do when sitting around discussing money, women or sports. “I’d be a might disappointed if that boy ever did anything redeeming in his whole life.” Discussing the latest crime NBA star Marvin ‘Money’ Mathias committed.

“Well, that’s why I never bet on Nuggets. Too much drama going on there.” His wildcat expert, Dr. Tom, takes another sip from the margarita. The day is hot; but it’s Louisiana in July.

“So, what the verdict on P-bas. They in?” Delaney said, changing the subject.

“ Oh, yeah. They are willing and able to take us to the next level.” Dr. Tom replies.

“You’ve been able to kept it amongst friends…Halcofuel that is.” Delaney shifts his weight on the plush chair. He takes another hit from the scotch on the rocks, then a puff from a Cuban. His Hawaiian attire not out of character for him.

“The secret isn’t too widespread. Just the lab rats. But they are lab rats for a reason. Real smart, just not very immoral.”

“Yep. Gotta appreciate those gooks, with their PhDs and broken English. Know a lot, but can’t understand them a lick.” Delaney looks off into the distance. His Southern BioOil wells are pumping up 200,000 barrels a day. But that is going south fast. With Halcofuel, he can stay in the game a whole lot longer. Billions are well within reach.

“Will make the deal with Petrobas in a week. Should go through without too much fuss. Hell, look at Exxon-Mobil and Conoco-Phillips those got clearance and they had plenty that should have mattered, to someone.”

“Those dumb sums of bitches in Washington only care about how much they get paid to screw over Americans. Buying them is easier than a $20 hooker on Meth.”

“Is Hyrum getting it done?”

“Old Hy has his best bird dogs fetching for him. Course they won’t be around to bark to anyone. I hate seeing good dogs get put down.”

“Naturally,” Dr. Tom finishes up the margarita and pushes a button for another round.

Part X – Hyrum and The Englishman

The Englishman was sitting quietly at the corner table of 5-star restaurant. The meal was enjoyable, and insanely expensive, but that matter nothing to him. The wait though, did.

Hyrum Hass came in late as usual, with a flair for playing meet-n-greet on the way to the corner table he had reserved nearly every night. The Englishman was not amused.

“You think you could be a bit more discrete this time,” the Englishman said.

“No one fucking cares here. Most have their own illegal things going on.” Hyrum retorts mildly.

“Not like this.”

“Well, how did Bobby do?” Hyrum asks.

“The babysitter is going back to Venezuela with the cash. Seems she needed it more than she even let on before. The plane ticket clinched it.” The Englishman picks up a fork, spins it in his Italian concoction of noodles and takes a bite.

“Good. How’s our chip?” Hyrum asks about Kate.

“Bobby's got it working fine. No worries.” Bobby called via a cellphone earlier.

“So, you want to manage the future arrangements for Brazil trip?” Hyrum half suggests with a slight hand gesture.

“ Sure, I’ll make it look good. I know a few people at the terminal that can get the access to secure place to do it. They will go quickly, I promise.”

“How much?”

“It’s a million.”

“Done.” Hyrum then calls over a waiter and orders his meal.
Author's Note: This once again is a work of fiction. It does not represent any reality. And it probably doesn't represent good fiction either.












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