Saving Jason

by Michael Sears

  “Didn’t the feds catch on eventually?” Larry asked.

  “I suppose they might have, but the market got there first. The bubble burst. This little bank was caught holding tens of millions of worthless shares. They closed the doors one night and never came back.”

  “And what happened to the stars of this little drama?” Larry asked.

  “Scotto retired,” Brady said. “It was around that time. Maybe a year or so later. He moved to Florida.”

  “I think he finally discovered that markets go down as well as up,” I said. “Nealis stayed in banking.”

  “I’m amazed that he could even get hired after that,” Larry said.

  Virgil and I looked at each other and laughed. “When a crash like that happens, it wipes out a lot of people. So everyone is forgiven. Clean slate for all,” Virgil said.

  “And when you blow up large, everyone thinks you must have been a player, so you become even more valuable,” I added.

  Larry shook his head. “I don’t think I understand your business.”

  Virgil gave another sweet-and-sour laugh. “Neither do I.”

  I got up and took another bottle of Pellegrino. “Jump ahead a decade or more to our current situation. Nealis is now a top banker, specializing in biotech, the next hot thing. Only, he’s at a large, reputable firm. He can’t play his old tricks. Competition is cutthroat, inside the firm as well as outside. He knows he’s never going to get pegged for the top slot, and while he’s making good money, it’s not crazy money. And he wants crazy money.”

  “So he agrees to come work for Becker Financial?” Virgil said. He was definitely coming around.

  “A firm he already knows a good bit about from his old friend’s youngest son. His ‘cousin’ Joey.”

  “Who is running his own little scam,” Brady said.

  “Right,” I said. “But I think Joey was a reluctant conspirator. Check the old employee records and you’ll probably find that those guys in New Jersey were part of the original crew from twenty years ago. They traded in those same micro-caps because they knew where all the bodies were buried. They just needed someone to help park the securities who wouldn’t ask a lot of questions.”

  “This is a good story,” Brady said. “But that’s it. A story.”

  “Admittedly. But I can point your people to the right records. And once on the trail, they’ll find more.”

  “But you haven’t tied Nealis to Scotto, to murder, or to any other current crime,” he said.

  “What was Scotto’s first wife’s name?”

  “What? How do I know?”

  “I do,” I said. “Rosa.”

  “And?”

  “Rose Holdings is the company that owns that bison ranch–slash–truck garage out in Manorville. The only document referencing that name is the deed on that piece of property. Rose Holdings, with a post-office box address in Lawrence, Kansas.”

  “Why Kansas?” Virgil said.

  “Because Scotto and Nealis thought no one would ever look there.”

  Matt Damon’s voice came from the laptop. “And Kansas has only recently digitized all of their old incorporation records. I found the file this week. Take a look.”

  The screen flashed and a document appeared. Larry and Brady leaned in to examine it. At the bottom was a list of the owners.

  “These are all Scotto’s old partners. Now they’re all with him down in Boca. Sitting around the pool smoking cigars,” Brady said. “Can we get a printout of this?”

  “Virgil?” I said.

  He nodded. “Send me the file.”

  “So what are these old guys up to now? And what’s the connection to Nealis?” Brady asked.

  “Rose Holdings is behind almost all of the purchases of large blocks of Becker stock in the last six months. They’re about to take over the company.”

  “Wait,” Virgil said. “Nealis has been fighting the board on this for months.”

  “Right. You told me two of the board members were making noises to give you the boot and install Nealis at the helm way back in June.”

  “Yes.”

  “And that Nealis held them off. He sided with the rest of the board, right?”

  “Yes,” Virgil said. “And he sided with the rest of the board when they demanded a shareholder vote on the question.”

  “Exactly. Meanwhile, his old buddy and his friends are busy scooping up shares. He might have lost a board vote, but he’ll be stuffing the ballot box for the annual meeting.”

  Virgil folded his hands on the table and stared at them.

  Matt Damon spoke. “When a sinister person means to be your enemy, they always start by trying to become your friend.”

  Brady spoke to the laptop. “You’ve got a paper trail? I mean, you can demonstrate that all of the trades lead back to this Rose Holding. That’s what you’re saying, am I right?”

  I cleared my throat. “Before Manny answers that question, Marcus, I need to caution you. We’ve come to a point where you have to make a decision.”

  Brady looked up at me in surprise.

  “Some of the information Manny has gathered has been the product of unorthodox means.”

  Brady squinted at me, trying to give me the federal agent hard-ass look. I knew him too well.

  “And the solution to Virgil’s problem—and mine—will require other unorthodox activities. I would not want you to compromise yourself in any way. We can break here and you can take my story and leave. You are free to make of it what you will. Tell it to Blackmore, research it on your own, or forget you ever heard it. As you wish. But if you stay and hear me out, be forewarned.”

  “You’re not threatening an FBI agent, are you, Jason?”

  “No, Marcus. Just the opposite.”

  He turned to Larry. “What about you?”

  “Attorney-client privilege will only cover me so far,” he said. “But I believe I can best serve my client—and my friend—by staying here and giving my best counsel.”

  Brady thought about it. “I want to help.”

  “And you can help. But I need you to trust me.”

  “If it backfires, I’ll lose everything.”

  I turned to Virgil. He looked up and nodded. “I’m sorry, Jason. So much of this could have been avoided. It is my fault. I will do whatever it takes to make things right.” He turned to Brady. “We can protect you. If Jason’s plan blows up on us, I am comfortable testifying that you left the room at this point and did not return.”

  “No,” he said. “I don’t want anyone to lie for me. I’ll stay. I’m all in. Bet the ranch. Or however you want to say it. Tell me what’s next.”

  I took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Thank me when it’s over. What’s next?”

  Everyone leaned in.

  “Manny? Why don’t you go first.”

  71

  Rose Holdings doesn’t own the shares in its own name, of course. But Rose owns a host of blinds, almost all of which are numbered accounts. I will provide you with the names, addresses, and banking information for each of these subsidiaries. Your people will have to be told where to look. Believe me, they’re not going to stumble across it.”

  “They’re pretty good,” Brady said.

  “Then let them try,” Manny continued. “You’ll be available to give out hints, though, if they need it.”

  “I can’t use anything you got illegally. Any good defense lawyer will get it all thrown out.”

  “I would,” Larry said.

  “It will be entirely up to you as to how much information you share or whether you choose to reveal the source,” I added.

  “It won’t be the first time an FBI agent has had to shave the facts when on the stand,” Larry said.

  Brady bristled. “We’re not all as crooked as you lik
e to think, counselor.”

  “No,” Larry answered. “Only about a third or so.”

  Virgil half rose from his seat. “Boys! Boys! No fighting. We’re here to work together.”

  “You’re right,” Larry said. “Forgive me, Agent Brady. You are being asked to take a wider view of the ethics of what is being discussed, and I respect your willingness to listen.”

  “Thank you,” I said. I looked at Brady. “You okay?”

  “I’m good.”

  “The weak link,” I said, “is Scott the younger. Joey is out of his depth and afraid to admit it. But he is loyal. We won’t get him to talk unless he thinks it’s all over—that there is no longer any good reason to keep his mouth shut.”

  “Agreed,” Brady said.

  “But if we can get him to talk, we can roll up Nealis, the old guys in Florida, and maybe even the young muscleheads that keep coming after me.”

  “We need some kind of leverage,” Virgil said.

  “Leverage is the key,” I said. “Look at it in reverse. If Brady’s people arrest Nealis, the old man, and his cronies, then Joey will panic. Then Blackmore can bring him in, offer him a deal, and squeeze every drop out of him.”

  “This is the chicken and the egg story. We can’t arrest them without hearing what Joey has to say,” Brady said.

  “Larry, what would happen if Nealis votes shares he doesn’t own?” I asked.

  “That’s illegal. Major fraud.”

  “But he does own them,” Larry said. “Or at least Rose Holding owns them and he will have the proxy.”

  “So we need to get Rose to sell. That’s all.”

  “And how do you propose to convince them to sell before the meeting?” Virgil asked.

  “You said it. Leverage. The old man and his partners don’t have enough money to pay cash for all those shares. They bought them on margin. Borrowed money.”

  “That sounds right,” Virgil said.

  “We trigger a margin call. If the price drops enough, the banks will call in their loans. When Nealis’s friends don’t come up with more money, the banks will sell out their positions in Becker Financial. If Nealis tries to vote those shares, Brady arrests him.”

  Larry laughed. “That’s quite a plan. And only a trader like yourself could come up with it. I love it.”

  Virgil looked confused. “You would need a substantial drop in price to pull this off. I mean, not just a point or two. How do you propose to do that?”

  This was the part where I was afraid I might lose some support. Manny had assured me that it was doable, but the plan was like playing catch with a hand grenade. Or an atom bomb.

  “We’re going to crash the stock market,” I said.

  72

  I think I’ll have a beer,” Brady said. “Anyone else?”

  Larry got up and joined him at the buffet. “I think I’ll try the wine.”

  I was exhausted and exhilarated. They had all approved the plan, but they had made me explain every step. I had tried, but it wasn’t possible. The markets don’t run on logic. It’s fear and greed. And all I had to do was create enough fear to get the markets to drop by a hundred points on the S&P about a half hour before the close. A flash crash. Stocks would pop right back, but not all stocks would rally equally. It had been done before by a guy with a laptop. He’d done it for profit and gotten caught. I was going to do it to catch some bad guys. And I wouldn’t get caught.

  When a move that large and that sudden occurred, all the financial stocks would stay under pressure. Though the general market would rebound, there would be lingering fears that the bank stocks would be in trouble simply because of the volatility. I would need to keep the lid on only one of those stocks.

  “It’s important that we all keep our heads through this,” Virgil said. “We cannot profit from this. No one makes a trade based on the plan. No tip-offs to your favorite aunt or sleazy brother-in-law. Nothing. The regulators will be looking at every trade connected with a market move like this. We can’t have anything that could trace back to any one of us.”

  Virgil had been enervated when I arrived, but this cockeyed, highly illegal, and quite dangerous plan had rejuvenated him. He may have been issuing a stern warning, but he sounded more like a pirate captain than a responsible adult. I wanted to answer him with an “Arrgggh.”

  Larry and Brady clinked wineglass to beer bottle. “If this ever comes to light, you and I will be famous, Agent Brady. Every graduating law school class will know our names for decades to come.”

  “And every police academy graduate, too,” Brady answered.

  They drank.

  A late-summer sunset was sending shafts of orange and pink light across the living room. It was late. Roger and the Kid would be back from visiting my father. I signed off with Manny and packed up the laptop. “I’ve got to get back home. The next time we meet will be next Friday before the annual meeting. If anyone comes up with a reason for us to rethink this scheme, give a call. Otherwise . . . Later.”

  Virgil walked me to the door. “I made a mistake. I see it now, the whole picture. Thank you and please accept my apology.”

  “Nealis looked too good to be true.”

  “And I was greedy and impatient.”

  I smiled at my boss and my friend. “I’ll never tell.”

  “Good luck, Jason.”

  “Better to be lucky than smart,” I said. I felt neither and I would need to be both.

  73

  Manny and I had a lot of work to do. The setup had to be seamless. We had to insinuate ourselves into the market without setting off a run too soon. We had agreed to meet in the chat room, just as soon as I got the Kid down for the night.

  A full day with Roger, my father, and Pop’s new wife, Estrella, had done the poor guy in. His stomach was bloated with vanilla ice cream. He nibbled at dinner with no enthusiasm. I imagined him sinking slowly into his pile of ketchup and fries.

  “Are you too tired for a bath?” I asked.

  He ignored me.

  Often, I could tell what he meant by the way he ignored me. He had his tells and his tics. But that night he was too exhausted to even emit subliminal signals.

  “All right. We’ll do the bath in the morning. But I do want you to wash face and hands and brush teeth.”

  He sighed. A big, long operatic sigh. A Wagnerian sigh.

  “I’ll help you,” I said.

  “I do it,” he said.

  “Fine,” I said, and then, when he didn’t move, “Are you ready?”

  “Why is Willie bad?” he said in a dreamy voice.

  “Wow. That’s a big question, sport. What makes someone do bad things? Is that what you’re asking?”

  He let his head flop to the right. That may have meant “Yes.”

  “I’m not that smart, son. Sometimes people make mistakes and then find themselves stuck and doing things they never imagined they’d be doing.” That wasn’t Willie. That was me. “I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t have good parents. Not everyone is lucky that way.” The Kid had suffered from not having good parents. His one remaining parent was muddling through as best he could, but was still woefully inadequate.

  He sighed again. A small sigh.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  He let me take his hand and lead him to the bathroom, where he surprised me by stripping off his clothes. I turned on the faucets in the tub.

  The sunburn was on his cheeks and chin, his neck and the top of his chest where his shirt did not cover, and along both forearms. Otherwise he was a light honey hue. Though I’d done my best to shelter him from the Tucson sun all summer, it had left its mark, seeping through clothes and sunscreen.

  “Does your sunburn hurt?” I asked.

  He growled. It was annoying to talk about it.

  He climbed in the water and sat do
wn, waiting for me to wash him. Though he did not like to be touched, bathing was different. Like a Roman emperor, he was content to be treated like a lesser god. I soaped up my hands and gently rubbed him all over—he hated the feel of a washcloth.

  He winced as my hand brushed over his arm.

  “We’ll put some cream on that when we’re done,” I said.

  He looked at me askance.

  “Okay. Not cream. Medicine. Gook. Good gook. It’ll feel cool. You’ll like it.”

  He let his head flop forward, resigned to a life stuck with such an idiot for a father. I lathered him up and rinsed him off quickly. While I worked, he entertained himself by making frog sounds.

  “Okay, hop out, Mr. Froggy.” I patted him dry with a smooth towel.

  “Willie is afraid,” he said when I was done.

  I wrapped the towel around him. “You are very wise, little one. I think you’re right. Willie was afraid, so he did some mean things. Were you afraid? I was afraid for you.”

  “Rrrrribit,” he said.

  “Okay, brush your teeth and I’ll get pj’s.”

  I walked into his dark bedroom and before I could turn on the light I heard the weird, lonely howl of a coyote echoing through the apartment. Again. “Yip. Yip. Aaarrrooooooo.” The Kid was a perfect mimic. My stomach muscles clenched. A chill ran up my back. Then I heard the sound of a small child brushing his teeth and I relaxed again.

  Had he been afraid? I would never know. But I was, and always would be.

  74

  The sell orders had been building up all week. Manny concentrated on individual stocks in the financial sector, as well as the banks, brokers, insurance companies, and ETFs and other funds that specialized in those stocks. He was careful to keep the offers to sell just a bit above the market so that he never actually executed a trade. I picked the stocks and the prices. He entered the information into his computer, and the program he’d written placed the orders anonymously through many different brokers, making it look like the sell interest was broad-based. The market drifted sidewise all week, which worked in our favor.