Dale Brown - Storming Heaven

by Storming Heaven [lit]

  "I can get you what you want and keep the cash in this organization flowing, but only if I call the shots," Lake went on.

  "I was fully exposed when that LET hit the terminal, Henri, fully exposed. I lost everything! Now this damned psycho pulls a knife on me and tries to pin the blame on me. Well, go ahead and fucking kill me, Henri, because if you don't do it, some japanese or South African investor's hit squad is going to do it." "He wants to die so bad, Henri, I will be glad to oblige him." Ysidro laughed, brandishing the knife again. "No bean-counter is going to tell me what to do." "You broke faith with this organization, Harold," Cazaux said in a low voice. "The Army doesn't wait for clearance from a banker before beginning operations. You knew that. Your duty was to keep the funds safe and secure, not engage in wild investment deals." "Henri, you can't keep eleven million dollars in cash in a shoe box under the bed," Lake said. "You're running an international organization, and you can't efficiently run it with cash. You wanted real estate, business assets, licenses, government contracts, visas, letters of introduction, legitimate tax returns--you can't use bloody cash to pay for legitimate stuff.

  You can launder a little bit of the stuff offshore in bank accounts, but sure as shit, the FBI or Treasury will eventually track it down, close down your U.s. operations and probably your overseas accounts. If you want legitimacy in the United States you have to dive deeper, get more creative, do more mainstream stuff. And you can't do the same routine two years in a row, or even two months in a row, because the government tracks that stuff quarterly." "I am tired of this sheep's bleating, Captain," Ysidro said.

  He reached out with the speed of a cobra and grasped Lake around the neck, digging his fingers deep into the financier's flesh. "Allow me to put an end to it." "Let him go, Tomas," Cazaux ordered.

  He pulled out his.45 caliber automatic. "If he is to die, I will do it." The sight of the gun pleased Ysidro, who released Lake and stepped back to watch.

  "Speak, Harold," Cazaux said. "Say your last words quickly. Tell me why you should not be executed for what you have done." At first Lake couldn't breathe, which made him panic even more, but the sight of the big pistol squeezed the air out of his lungs.

  "I got one thing to say, Henri, and if you don't like it, you might as well blow my head off, because my career on the Street is dead anyway.

  I've got an eighteen-million-dollar loan coming to me later today," Lake said--not pleading, not whimpering, just stating a fact.

  "I can turn that into fifty million dollars if you follow my--" "You got our money?" Ysidro asked, grabbing Lake by the lapels instead of the neck this time. "You better hand it over, beancounter.

  "Henri, you want to start a series of operations against U.s. airports, repeating the attack on San Francisco International," Lake said, ignoring Ysidro and looking at Cazaux's fiery eyes. "That's fine with me. All I'm asking is that you let me pick your targets for you." "You're fuckin" crazy, bean-counter!" "No, I'm not. Listen to me, Henri. I lost over one hundred million dollars when you attacked S.f.o last night. But someone made money on that attack, Henri, big money. They make money because they predict in what direction a group of stocks will go." "This is bullshit, Henri," Ysidro said angrily--he had lost track of this conversation long ago. Money, women, and action were the only activities Tomas Ysidro really understood-- everything else was bullshit. "He's talkin' buying and selling fucking stocks with our money. Off this sonofabitch, man." "It's not bullshit," Lake said. "I've got it all set up.

  Attack U.s. airports if you want to-- just attack the ones that I tell you to do, or give me a few days' notice before you begin an operation against an airport. Give me time to get my contracts lined up. I guarantee you, Henri, we'll make millions every time we do an operation.

  Best of all it's one hundred percent legitimate. One hundred percent!" Cazaux looked as if he wasn't listening, and Lake closed his eyes, not wanting to see the muzzle flash of the big.45--2 instead he heard Cazaux say, "Speak, Harold." Lake opened his eyes. The.45 was lowered.

  Cazaux was staring at him, but Lake knew he now had his attention. It was now or never, Harold.

  ..

  "Listen, Henri, here's how it works. We do a put-option contract.

  his "What the hell are you talkin' about, man?" "listen, dammit," Lake said. "I'm talking about fast money, one hundred percent legitimate.

  I'm talking about turning a few thousand dollars into hundreds of thousands or even millions.

  "Let's suppose you own one hundred shares of stock that you bought at seven dollars a share, but now it's selling on the market at ten dollars a share," Lake began. "You're not going to sell your stock unless it drops below eight dollars a share because you bought it at seven and you'd start losing money-- was "What is this shit, Henri.

  . ?" "I want your stock, but I don't have the money to pay for it," Lake went on hurriedly. "I think your stock is going to go down to five dollars a share soon, but if I wait until then, you'll sell your shares to someone else at or above seven.

  And besides, I still don't have the money to buy your shares even at five dollars a share. But I'm still not out of the game, because I'm willing to pay you cash for an option to buy your stock. Follow me so far?" Cazaux nodded, but Lake knew he was getting only a few more seconds, and only because he had been a loyal lieutenant of Cazaux's for so long.

  "We agree to do the deal. I pay you fifty dollars earnest money, and we write a contract that says that if the stock goes down below eight dollars a share within the next two months, I have the option of buying your shares at any time within that two months.

  If the stock stays at or above eight at the end of sixty days, the contract expires and nothing happens, and you keep the fifty--" "I thought you said you didn't have the money to buy the stock," Townsend interjected. Of the senior staff, Townsend was by far the most intelligent and worldly of them all--Lake knew he had to not only convince Cazaux that he was honest and sincere, but he had to explain everything carefully to Townsend or it would not work.

  "I'm not buying your stock, Tawney," Lake replied. "I'm buying an option to buy your stock.

  If the terms of the contract are not met, I don't have the option. If they are, I can choose whether or not to buy. If I buy, I've got to have the cash.

  But the contract I hold has value--I can sell it to someone who wants the stock, for cash. I'm not trying to own the stock--all I want is cash." Lake had totally lost Ysidro by this time. Most of the others were watching Cazaux. The arms dealer was carefully paying attention, and Lake believed he understood what was happening and where Lake was leading him. Townsend was starting to get confused. "But how can you get the bloody cash," he asked irritably, "and why do you have to pay someone to buy their stock?" "I'm paying them to pledge their stock, to put it aside until the contract has either been executed or it expires," Lake explained.

  "Your stock is at ten. I think your stock is going to go to five, and I'm willing to pay you cash to promise to sell it to me and no one else if it goes below eight. You basically think I'm nuts, but you want my cash, so you agree to the deal, take the cash, sign the contract, and put your stock in escrow. The cash I pay you is yours no matter what happens." Townsend nodded that he understood.

  Ysidro took another swig of bourbon, belched, and a few other staff officers fidgeted uneasily, intrigued but bored and anxious to get this over with.

  "But how in bloody hell will you know if a stock that you've written this contract for will go down like that--" And then Townsend stopped--and Lake knew then that the English terrorist was on board.

  "So you're suggesting..." "We target our attacks in order to drive the price of the stock in the direction we want," Lake explained, a broad smile on his face now. "We want United Airlines stock to go down, so we hit a United terminal or repair facility. The price of the stock hits rock bottom, and we clean up.

  "We can play this game the other way, too," jake went on. "If airlines go down, other airline-related companies like ai
rplane manufacturers and petroleum companies also go down, and oil prices and other transportation stocks, like auto manufacturers, go way up.

  We write a contract to buy auto or railroad stocks at a certain price, or write a commodities option contract to do the same with oil, or gold, or aluminum. When the stock or the commodity zooms past the strike price, we execute." "So what about the federal authorities?" Townsend asked, a trace of old English civility creeping into his voice now that he better understood Lake's plan. "If we start making money like you suggest, won't the federal regulatory agencies become curious?" "Yes," Lake admitted, after gauging Cazaux's expression. More than information, Lake felt, Cazaux was looking for honesty, and if Lake ever had to be one hundred and ten percent up-front, it was now.

  "I don't think you can do this for very long--eventually someone will question all these coincidences..." His voice regained a lot of the confidence and steel that he had lost since the incident at S.f.o.

  "But I think we can plan Henri's three strikes against carefully selected targets, take the proceeds, close up shop, and get away clean before the Securities and Exchange Commission alerts the Treasury Department and the FBI." "Now you've got three American federal agencies chasing us.

  ?" "These options trades are done tens of thousands of times a day," Lake explained. "Hundreds of millions of dollars in options are traded every business day. The federal agencies have rules and enforcement officers examining these trades, but it works slowly, and they look for the big fish. Besides, we're not stealing the money-we're just diverting it, spreading it around, with most of it spread in our direction. Lots of other traders will be making money, and the guy who just lost money one day will make it all back, plus a little extra, the next day or the next week. This sounds like big bucks, gents, but it's small potatoes--most big-time traders need to make ten million a day just to keep their spurs.

  "We'll be outgunned by the really big traders, the super-big investors and brokers and even some governments. That's the time we take our profits and step back. We'll be lost in the confusion --a perfect opportunity to escape. The feds will go after the elephants, and they'll let the ants scoop up the crumbs and shoo--except our "crumbs" will be counted in the millions, maybe even the tens of millions of dollars." "Henri, this bastard is givin' us a snowjob," Ysidro said, totally lost and completely exasperated by Lake's attempted explanation.

  "We gotta get the money this asshole stole from us back, that's the fuckin' bottom line." Cazaux looked at Ysidro, then Townsend, then at Lake, nodded solemnly, and said in response, "Harold, your plan of action has merit, but it still does not erase what you have done-- risk this entire army's very existence by compromising our financial resources. It is nothing short of treason and conspiracy. However, because of your long years of service to us and because I feel your plan should be considered by the general staff, you will not be tried of treason and conspiracy for a period of twelve hours.

  "In that twelve hours, while under "round-the-clock arrest, you are to turn all funds belonging to this organization over to me." "No problem," Lake said. "I can have the eleven million dollars in your offshore accounts in three--" "In cash," Ysidro said, "not any of this Jew-banker contract-note "In cash," Cazaux agreed.

  Lake swallowed hard, the back of his mind racing trying to determine the best way to transport a truckful of money to the Owl's Nest from a friendly bank. He quickly determined that it was not possible.

  "Henri, it can't be done in twelve hours," Lake said.

  "One or two million, yes, but not eleven.

  The fastest way to get the money is from the Federal Reserve Bank in New York or Boston, but we don't want to stir up that hornet's nest, which means we try going to the commercial and private banks, which will take time. Not many banks carry that kind of cash on hand, which means we'd have to go to several banks, which greatly increases the likelihood of--" "Then you will die, Harold," Cazaux said, raising the big.45 again.

  "Wait!" Lake shouted. "I can get four.

  . no, five million with just a phone call.

  I've dealt with the Win Millions Casino in Atlantic City for emergency cash deals in the past--they can divert five million to me in just a few hours, before the gaming commission inspectors count their receipts tomorrow morning. They'll charge twenty percent--" "Which you will pay out of your own funds," Cazaux said.

  "Of course, of course," Lake agreed.

  Twenty-percent interest for a one-week loan worked out to an astronomical one million percent compounded annual interest rate, but it was his only hope right now.

  "But Henri, the other six million should stay in the various offshore accounts. We can't write those option contracts with cash." The gun was still trained on him, distrust showing in every man's face around Lake. "Henri, you've got to trust me on this one. I've got a loan commitment for eighteen million dollars in my hands.

  I pay Fraga at the Win Millions Casino six million, I need four million for my other creditors, that leaves you with the rest of the--" "You will pay us fifteen million dollars," Cazaux said. "Five million now, in cash, and ten million credited to our offshore numbered accounts. You will keep the rest." "But... but I can't do that," Lake protested.

  "I've got to cover thirty different trust and escrow accounts. The four million is just enough to hold off any legal action for--" "You will agree to these terms or die," Cazaux said. "That is your only concern right now." "Henri, I can't step on the floor of any exchange or even talk to a broker unless I--" Cazaux pulled the hammer back on the.45.

  The sound of the hammer locking into place was as loud as a church bell in Lake's ears. "All right, all right!" Lake shouted. "Fifteen million for you. I agree. Five million now, ten in your accounts." He paused, looking to Cazaux and Townsend, afraid to look at Ysidro, and added, "To be used for Operation Storming Heaven, yes?" "What the hell is Operation Storming Heaven?" Townsend asked.

  "It's an appropriate name for this project," Lake said. "Comes from a quote by the Roman tribune Quintus Horatius Floccus: "Nothing is too high for the daring of mortals; they storm heaven in their folly." Quite good, don't you think?" Ysidro looked disgusted and angry enough to chew nails, but Cazaux nodded his approval. It was one of those touches that Lake knew that Cazaux appreciated--having a title for any operation he was about to undertake was important to him. Cazaux decocked the pistol and stuck it back in his belt.

  Lake had to look behind him to see what would have gotten ruined had he pulled the trigger. A nineteenth-century oil painting of Abraham Lincoln, once appraised at over a hundred thousand dollars, would have needed extensive cleaning and repairs to remove Lake's brains and bone fragments if his explanation of Operation Storming Heaven did not convince Henri Cazaux.

  Cazaux put the question to a vote of the members of his general staff--merely a formality, because almost no one ever voted against Henri Cazaux. Tomas Ysidro was the only one to vote against the plan, asking again that Lake be executed for what he'd done with the organization's funds. "I'll be on you like stink on shit, Drip," Ysidro told Lake as the staff members were given their instructions to begin planning the three attacks. "You get out of line once, just once, and I'll blow your fuckin" ass off. Cazaux will bitch, and he might even throw me out on the street, but you'll still be dead like you fuckin' deserve." Ysidro then pulled up a chair and sat right beside Lake, staring at him and taking in every last word as Lake pulled out his cellular telephone and Apple Newton P.d.a and made the first calls and satellite E-mail messages, first to his office to verify the receipt of the loan money, then to Leonardo Fraga, the vice president and general manager of the Win Millions Hotel and Casino in Atlantic City.

  Under Ysidro's murderous stare, it was hard to keep his fingers from shaking as he began the first few steps of Operation Storming Heaven.

  Beale Air Force Base, Yuba City, California Two Days Later "The board has reached an initial evaluation," Colonel Emerson Starr began.

  He was the operations group commander f
rom Mcclellan Air Force Base appointed as the chief of the accident investigation board dealing with the crash of the F-16 at Mcclellan two days earlier. "The scope of the accident investigation has been greatly reduced because of the involvement of the FBI, Marshals Service, and the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms--in essence, this board can't come up with a ruling on the cause of the crash because we haven't been granted access to the data now in the hands of the FBI. We know there was an explosion, and we know the F-16 was in close proximity to the explosion, but we don't know anything about the explosion itself.