by James Hudson
Now I understand that we both made a mistake. I mean I agreed to work for him, even though I didn’t like him at all. And he probably thought I was a guy who’d been disappointed with life. But I was just devastated. I’d lost my parents. He didn’t care about my real feelings. I understood he needed people who didn’t give a shit about his fund, about any activity at all. No professionals – just slaves who would do some crappy job like lambs without asking any questions, who would not remember the guests who would come to the skyscraper.
But I was not one of those people. I was really interested in what he’d been doing all the time. Because very soon I concluded that he wasn’t really interested in what his employees had been doing. As if he kept out something of the public eye.
4. The Secret Recordings, July 16th
I forgot to tell you that the main condition to work for George Hartley was a prohibition to disclose any information about the fund. Under penalty of death. When I heard that, I was so intrigued that I couldn’t sleep the whole night. You would probably think that the employees cared about the activity of our company? Was the activity illegal? Were they really interested in why the offices were located in the secret wing of the skyscraper? We even had a special elevator!
No, nobody cared at all. Colleagues of mine were so passive that even I, who’d rarely smiled, was shocked that nobody didn’t talk to me in the canteen. They definitely knew I was a new hire. Only one girl turned out to be a talker. I liked her at first sight. Her name was Lana. We talked for a couple of minutes. The next day, I met her in the elevator and asked her to go out with me. Actually, I didn’t have any intentions to become a friend of hers. Believe it or not, I wanted to find out something about George Hartley.
The evening we’d been together was marvelous. I realized that Lana was the exact person whom I’d always wanted to find. She had long nutbrown hair and smelled peach and honey. And her eyes… Big, sad, beautiful eyes – that was all I needed.
Lana was a lonely girl, an orphan. Like her colleagues, she was apathetic about her job. Hartley paid her a lot. But infinite sadness in her eyes… I couldn’t say for sure what was the reason for her sadness. She didn’t remember her parents – they died when she was two.
We went out twice, and I felt that I fell in love with her. She was a mystery to me. Imagine a guy who’d been sitting in front of the computer all his life and now met an alive person with emotions, feelings, and the mystery. Lana liked me, but I understood I was so indecisive, so green. She became my friend I didn’t want to lose.
So, back to work. I had access to all the computers in our company. I could look at the browsing history of any user, or I could even control any computer remotely. I wasn’t actually interested in the financial markets, foreign exchange, futures, etc. until one day, George Hartley asked me politely to fix his printer. It didn’t print the document. He was angry. All the time I was there, he was trying to drag me away from the computer screen. That was ridiculous. I didn’t give a damn about the content of that document. I just wanted to get the printer fixed as quickly as possible and get the hell out of there.
In ten minutes, I managed to print the document. I glanced at it for a second to be sure that the print quality was good. But he probably thought I was trying to remember what was printed there. My boss jumped at me and ripped the document from my hands. I could see he barely restrained himself from hitting me in the face. I remember I grinned at that moment. He didn’t like it at all.
I rapidly left his office and thought that he must’ve known that I had access to all the computers in the company. Did he forget about that?
I returned to the server room, dying of curiosity. A new mystery, huh? Yeah, that evening, I became a spy. I got access to his computer and downloaded all the documents from his hard drive to mine. I printed them all. It was not classified information – just economic data, charts, latest economic news, etc. Actually, that document I’d printed for him was an air ticket to Saudi Arabia. I was stunned when I read it. He also booked a 5-star luxury hotel, and it cost, as I remember, as a luxury mid-size car. Like my new-brand Jaguar XF I’d purchased.
Yes, my financial situation had incredibly improved. I’d bought my own apartment in South London by the time. George Hartley paid me a lot. You’d probably ask me why did I start spying on him? Did I need anything? Well, probably, I needed emotions. Or, more likely, I wanted to prove to Lana that I was not an ordinary young man.
I could see George Hartley drive up every morning to the skyscraper. He was hideous. Very suspicious. What would you do in my place? A mysterious boss pays you a lot of money almost for nothing, hides every detail of his activity. He wanted us to be stupid, silent, dumb creatures who were not allowed to know something very important.
So, I started collecting all the information I could find about him and the company. I could feel it would be extremely dangerous. I stayed in the evenings in my server room, pretending that I was repairing computers. Actually, I printed a lot of documents and read them after. We were not allowed to take away any flash or hard-drives outside. We’ve been scanned every time before leaving the skyscraper.
In my server room, I had a lot of computers. One day, I decided to hide the most interesting documents in one of the machines. I unscrewed the computer case, removed the video card, the cooler, the hard-drive and put in my secret folder right there, close to the motherboard. I didn’t use that computer – it was my safe now.
5. The Secret Recordings, July 19th
That’s me, Jason! Thank God, I can do these recordings. I still believe that I’ll use this information against him. I want him to die, to make him bankrupt. You’re surprised by these words, aren’t you? Well, listen to the following story.
It happened two weeks ago. But I still can’t forget it. I was sitting in the canteen with Lana. We talked, looking at each other. I couldn’t stop admiring her. She laughed a lot that day. It was unusual. I want to remind you that I haven’t heard any laugh in this skyscraper yet. People around us were like zombies.
I was satisfied that Lana laughed a lot. I could see interest in her eyes. And it boosted my self-esteem. For me to make someone laugh was a real personal breakthrough. Right at the moment when Lana pushed me cheerfully in the chest, George Hartley he walked past us. He squinted his eyes. Hatred! I swear I saw hatred in his eyes!
Was he jealous? I don’t know. That was strange. In my opinion, he could attract any girl he wanted. He was rich, charismatic, extremely self-confident. What else do women need?
Now I tend to believe he could’ve been informed I’d been spying on him.
George Hartley bought a cup of black coffee with cognac. Actually, we weren’t allowed to drink alcohol at work. But he could do it. He quickly left the canteen, not looking at us.
Ten minutes later, when we returned to work, he suddenly called me and ordered me to bring a microphone for his computer. Yeah, that time, it was an order. I was surprised. Why would he need it? But I fulfilled his request and ascended to his floor.
He met me with a strange smile on his lips. He reminded his golden rule to be patient whatever it would take. I remember I smelled a rat at that moment.
I followed him. We went through a narrow hallway and entered his office. I was petrified of what I saw. My mouth opened wide. I bet my eyes were stupid. It was Lana. She was naked. And she didn’t look sad at all. She cast a glance full of disdain at me. Oh, I’ve never seen a more scornful glance in my life.
George Hartley, this creepy monster, smiled at her and showed her the microphone I brought. She grinned happily. He ordered her to lean forward and get down on all fours. Then he grabbed her by the hair and started raping her.
Two hulks – Hartley’s security guards – came up to me. George Hartley squeezed the microphone in his fist and… Oh, Jesus! I couldn’t avert my eyes from Lana. She stared back at me, and I swear, at that moment, I felt that she was not a mysterious girl anymore. I knew what was hidden inside her.
She was beautiful, though. I saw her naked for the first time. It’s embarrassing to admit, but I have never touched her bare skin. He was touching her everywhere. Was it actually a raping? I’m afraid, no! She obviously enjoyed the process. I concluded later that she’d always dreamt about a powerful man. And she got what she wanted. And I was just a spineless worm.
Since then, my eyes have been full of anger. I couldn’t forget that moment. For me, it was the most humiliating event in my life. I swore to myself to eliminate him. But I didn’t want to throw myself onto the embrasure. I had to act smartly.
I started studying the main subject of the activity of my boss – the financial markets. I’ve read several books, listened to dozens of lectures and podcasts on the subject of stock markets, investing, trading, speculating, and so on. I was happy to discover soon that I understood almost everything that was in the economic news. I could easily read Hartley’s documents as well.
Three days ago, the turning point took place. A very important guest visited George Hartley at noon. How did I know that? I’d installed a tiny surveillance camera at the entrance to our secret wing. The video was recorded onto a hard drive in my server room. The video files were password-protected.
So, the guest was about Hartley’s age – about forty. Ordinary businessman in an expensive black suit. He would’ve never attracted my attention if he’d just left us. But I saw that Hartley showed the guest to the door right to the place where my camera had been installed. It recorded their short conversation. The guest suggested twice to send a letter to George Hartley by e-mail. But my boss rejected it. He exclaimed twice that there couldn’t be any agreement.
The guest was discouraged. He could hardly restrain his emotions. Then he turned on his heels and quickly walked away.
I watched this short video at least ten times. Once I paused it when the guest heard the rejection, and zoomed in his face. It was frenzied. I thought that the man would be ready for everything to take revenge. And I made a decision to find that guest and offer him my services. I thought I’d gathered enough intriguing and pertinent information for him.
The next day, I connected remotely to my boss’s computer and checked his mailbox. Yes! The guest sent the letter after all. George Hartley hadn’t read it yet. I downloaded the letter onto my computer and marked it as unread. His name was Walter Schmidt. I printed the letter and read it at home before going to bed. What do you think? I couldn’t fall asleep then. All I could feel was that my life had been so miserable and meaningless!
So, Walter Schmidt suggested my boss George Hartley to take part in a venture. Walter Schmidt wrote that he’d just founded a newspaper, launched a nice-looking website with tons of articles which had been actually copied from different sources and pasted on this website. But common people could think that the newspaper had existed for a long time. Everything was fake from the beginning. Mr. Schmidt hired just one reporter. It was a young man who had actually never been a reporter. That fake-reporter would conduct an interview with the CEO of a major iron and steel company two days before the publication of the annual financial report.
So, the CEO would answer the questions, praise the company, assure the investors that everything would be OK, make optimistic plans for the future. Our reporter would post both exclusive text and video interviews on the website. The next morning the investors and traders inspired by the optimism would start buying stocks. They would believe both the reporter from the newspaper and the CEO. The annual report is expected to be great. The fake rumors about increasing the dividends would be spread. So, a huge amount of stocks would be sold to investors and traders. But who would sell it anyway? If there’s a buyer, there should be a seller.
Walter Schmidt was going to sell the stocks of the company. Yes, right before the release of the annual report of a flourishing company. Walter Schmidt wanted my boss to join him and sell the stocks as well. Mr. Schmidt was ready ‘to invest’ $50 million. He expected George Hartley to invest the same sum of money. That would mean they both would open short positions and would have to buy back the stocks covering it. Walter Schmidt expected the stock price to plunge. He was ready to perform an act of sabotage.
Mr. Schmidt and George Hartley would sell the stocks before the market closed. The night before the announcement of the financial results, our fake newspaper would reveal shocking news about the iron and steel company, that the results would be weak and that the company was going to stop paying dividends.
In the morning, the investors and traders would be shocked. That would cause the stocks to gap down when the market opens. Massive, massive sales. Mr. Schmidt and Mr. Hartley would quickly close the short positions buying the stocks at a lower price. They would make 2-3 million per night.
Of course, the CEO would burst into a rage. He would refute the fake news. But the damage would be done. Market traders often react emotionally and make instant decisions to buy or to sell. People tend to believe bad news rather than good news. Maybe they would dive into the details of the financial report and buy stocks again. And here we are! Walter Schmidt and George Hartley would buy stocks too. The stock price would rise, and there would be a chance to make money again. The fake-newspaper would be closed, and nobody would ever hear about it.
6. The Secret Recordings, July 20th
I got in touch with Walter Schmidt two days ago. I’d found out that he was the head of the British hedge-fund, not as big and successful as George Hartley’s, but still rather affluent. Right before the meeting with him, I had changed my look a bit. Just to be on the safe side. I bought a wig, an expensive dark-grey suit, attached a fake-beard and put on the glasses.
The meeting went off without a hitch. Mr. Schmidt was interested in what I offered him. Particularly, he wanted to know something about George Hartley’s connections in the Middle East.
So, after our meeting, I looked through all the documents I’d downloaded from my boss’s computer, and I didn’t find any information regarding the negotiations in Saud Arabia, Iran, and Qatar, where he had recently been. Either those documents didn’t exist at all, or the most important things had been kept far from prying eyes.
Anyway, I sold all the information I found to Mr. Schmidt for 1000$. Not too much. But I was extremely excited. Something new woke up inside me. I loved to be a spy. It aroused me. Yeah, you heard me right. It turned me on. Even my pulse accelerated when I was stealing the information from my boss. I realize that I was delighted to take revenge on him. I promised Walter Schmidt to provide him more inside information.
7. The Secret Recordings, July 21st
I didn’t contact the deputies of my boss. I’ve seen them rarely. And I knew they didn’t like it. But I needed to dig up any new information, something really hot, top-secret.
Lana! I still loved her… She was close to my boss, probably than anyone else right now.
I hesitated. I haven’t spoken to Lana since that episode. But I’ve still recorded the videos by my tiny surveillance camera. Lana had changed. I could definitely say George Hartley was her sponsor now. She started wearing expensive clothes. She held her head higher than earlier. She glanced at her colleagues with disdain. I still couldn’t believe she changed so drastically in a couple of days. But now, she was real. Lana must’ve always been insolent and wanted to act superior toward ordinary people. But she had never showed that. She’d been hiding that inside, probably for twenty years. Now there was no need to keep her temper in check. Money let her be herself.
I didn’t judge her. She was a free young woman. And her parents died too. I think we both suffered from loneliness and needed changes in our lives.
I developed a plan, and I just couldn’t fail. I knew where she lived. So, yesterday I hopped in my Jaguar and set off toward her apartment house. I sat in a traffic jam for an hour. Finally, I reached my destination.
Fortunately, there was an empty parking space right in front of the entrance. I waited for the little Honda. A couple of hours later, she still didn�
��t arrive. I was hungry as hell. I was sure George Hartley had invited her to the restaurant. The sun had already disappeared from the sky. I waited patiently.
9 p.m. Suddenly, I saw a brand-new light blue Bentley Continental GT. I thought that nobody would afford this masterpiece living in that shithole. Old Fords and Volkswagens were parked around there. I didn’t doubt about that Bentley. I got out of my Jaguar and dashed to the luxurious coupe.
I rapidly pulled on the passenger door handle. Lana was inside. Thank God she was alone. She wasn’t afraid – just raised her eyebrows and cast me a cold stare.
“I need to talk to you!” I exclaimed.
“I have no time,” she said between her teeth.
I looked at her and tried to figure out how much… she would cost.
“I’ll pay you 300 grand if you do me a little favor. You’ll earn this money in five minutes.”
She grinned. “What? You wanna fuck me for 300 grand?”
I barely restrained myself from getting out of her car.
“No, I want you to steal his phone numbers!” I said coldly.
“Whose?”
“I need George Hartley’s phone book,” I explained.
She thought for a minute. Then she nodded.
“I’ll do it!”
I breathed a sigh of relief. She could’ve kicked me out, but she didn’t. She was in the game too. Apparently, she couldn’t ask Hartley for this money. Big money for her. She was ready to take this risk.
“Money first!” she said and glared at me.
My heart sank. I realized it could be a trap.
“Twenty percent. I don’t trust you,” I said, but my voice cracked.
“Half!” she barked.
“Thirty percent max,” I said calmly.
“OK,” she shrugged. “Tomorrow or I’ll tell him everything.”