“I understand, kiddo. It’s not easy trying to hang with an exploration geologist, and you’re right. I’m nowhere near ready to settle down and start a family.”
“Thanks for understanding, Trace. Good luck in the future and please be careful.”
She hung up before I could say anything else. Not exactly out of the blue, but still not a hell of a lot of fun, either.
The next day I called Will and told him about Tina.
“Well, hell, amigo. What’d you expect? You’re on the road most of the time, and if she knew about all the shit going on with killers, the FBI, and the mob, you’d have been out on your ass a long time ago,” Will said with a chuckle. “Besides which, you’ve still got me, Wally, and the Virus to pal around with.”
I laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. What in the hell was I worried about?”
“Exactly. Be at the First Inn at noon. Lunch and beers are on me.”
I did paper-work in my office until around eleven thirty. I was just getting ready to head over to meet Will when Wally called.
“Hey, Wally, how’s it hangin’?”
“Down, slightly to the left, and quite large.”
I laughed. “Uh-huh. What’s up?”
“Well, I just got off the phone with Jerry Smyth over at Charter Engineering.”
“Yeah, how’s he coming with the engineering report?”
“Good. He’s sending you a zip file with the final draft for your review.”
“How’d the numbers look?”
“Awesome. Try five hundred twenty million pounds of drill-indicated uranium.”
“Jesus, we just hit the big leagues. What about gold and copper?”
“It’ll be in the report, but he said the values are damn good too.”
“Wow! Great news, Wally. Let’s push to get this puppy on the Toronto Exchange and start trading with the big boys.”
“I’ve got everything lined up. All I need is the final, signed, sealed report.”
“Good work, compadre. I’ll get on the draft like a duck on a June bug.”
I called Cyrus on my way to the First Inn and filled him in.
“God-damn, Trace. We’re peeing in the tall grass with the big dogs now.”
I laughed. “Yes, sir, we sure are. Listen, I’m about to go have lunch with Will. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay, Trace. Say howdy to Will and keep up the good work.”
I walked into the First Inn and spotted Will at a table. I looked around to see if Tina was working but didn’t see her. Probably a good thing.
“She’s not working today, Trace,” Will said, noticing me glancing around. “Lucky for you.”
“My thoughts exactly. By the way, I just got off the horn with Wally. The final draft of the engineering report is on the way.”
“Did he say what kind of reserves they’re giving us?”
I looked around and rubbed my hands together, stalling.
“Come on, Trace. It’s good . . . isn’t it?”
“Only if you call half a billion pounds of uranium good.”
“Holy shit! Are you kidding me?”
“Not a pound, partner. Five hundred twenty million drill- indicated pounds. Plus the gold and copper values.”
“Jesus, when this gets out, the shares will go to twenty bucks.”
I nodded. “How’s it feel to be rich?”
Will took a big pull of his Tumbleweed Ale and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Not too goddamned bad.”
After lunch I went back to my office and called Jim Lee’s cell phone. With the time difference I figured he’d be in bed. The phone went to voice mail, and I left him a detailed message. I was pretty sure who my first caller would be in the morning.
As I closed up shop for the day, I couldn’t help wondering what the Pantellis would do if they knew about the results of the reserve report. The Chinese would have about as much chance of buying their shares as a fart in a whirlwind.
Al and Crispino wouldn’t know about the reserve report until I put out a news release to the Vancouver Stock Exchange and our shareholders. But they’d already made their decision.
“Are you sure, big brother?” Pino asked.
“Yep, I am. The Chinks smell money, and so do I. We’ll hold our shares and take the ride.”
“Okay, Al. Works for me. Besides, the casino’s already written off Rosenburg’s debt. Hell, we’ve basically got no cost basis in his shares. How can we miss?”
“My thoughts exactly. As Rosy used to say at the crap table, ‘Let it ride.’”
“Beau, we may have turned up something,” Agent Allen said, looking at a fax from the FBI’s Las Vegas field office. “Seems our boys in the Vegas office have had an eye on the Comstock for some time.”
“Damn, wouldn’t it be nice if one hand knew what the other was doing?” Monroe replied.
“Be that as it may, we may have a lead. It’s the old disgruntled employee shtick. Seems the Comstock canned a croupier for palming chips at the craps table. In return, the gentleman filed a wrongful-termination suit. Somewhere in all the BS was a passing reference to the Pantellis possibly pulling the old ‘skimeroo.’”
“Really?” Monroe said, now giving his full attention to Agent Allen.
“Yep. One of our Vegas field agents picked up on the reference during a review of the grievance. If the Comstock hadn’t already been on their radar, it’s likely nobody would’ve noticed the accusation.”
“Get out there, Wilson. See what you can come up with. This could be the opening we’ve been looking for.”
“Color me gone, sir.”
If there was a quality Lei Chang did not possess, it was patience. He hadn’t heard a peep out of the Pantellis. Lei cursed in Chinese and flipped open his cell phone.
“Hey, Mr. Chang,” Al said. “What can I do for you today?”
“Mr. Pantelli, we’d like an answer on selling us your Montana Creek Mining shares.”
“Uh-huh, well, I’m afraid I’ve got bad news for you, Mr. Chang. My brother and I have decided to hang on to our shares. We think there’s a lot more upside in the share valuation.”
Chang’s face flushed, and he bit down on his bottom lip to keep from exploding.
“Perhaps a higher offer would change your mind?”
“No, sir. We’re going to run with Trace on this one, but thank you for your interest. If anything changes, I’ll get back to you.”
“I see,” Chang replied, the bitterness oozing from his voice.
Pino walked into Al’s office just as Al was hanging up on Chang.
“What’s up, brother?”
“That was Chang. I told him, in polite terms, to go fuck himself. We aren’t going to sell him our Montana Creek Mining shares.”
“How’d he take it?”
Al laughed. “Not too damn good. But then I really don’t give a shit how the commie bastard took it.”
“Made you mad, huh?” Pino said with a chuckle.
Al smiled at his brother. “Yeah, I guess he did. He’s a condescending little prick, isn’t he?”
“Uh-huh, he most certainly is. Would be kind of fun to kick his slant-eyed ass.”
Al laughed. “Hell, he’s probably a kung fu mother fucker. He might kick both of our asses.”
“Maybe, but I doubt he’d kick Mr. Colt’s ass.”
“Righty-roo, but I don’t think we want to go nuclear with the Chinese,” Al said, laughing harder.
I finally got the zip file to open and was working my way through the draft-engineering report. Smyth had done a 4.0 job. A full-blown engineering report on a mining property, is something akin to a PhD dissertation. I couldn’t wait to see the bill for this monster.
Wally’s numbers were right on. We were looking at around a half billion pounds of drill-indicated uranium reserves, plus the gold and copper values. But few would look past the uranium reserves; they were that good.
I made a few minor edits and e-mailed the whole mess back
to Smyth. In a week or so, we’d be able to file the report with the Vancouver Stock Exchange and apply for our listing on the TSX, a major milestone for Montana Creek Mining.
I sat back in my desk chair and realized I was caught up, for now. Fish had the drilling program under control, and Wally was on top of the TSX listing. Of all the times for Tina to give me the deep six. Here I was with a bit of free time and no girlfriend to share it with. The situation required drastic action. So, I called Cyrus.
“Cyrus, it’s Trace. Got half a minute?”
“Sure, Trace. What’s up?”
“Nothing serious. I’ve got a little downtime and was thinking about disappearing for about a week.”
“Uh-huh. Need the condo?”
I laughed. “Only if you’re not using it.”
“Hell no, I’m not using it. Grab Tina and head on down. I’ll call my property gal and tell her you’re coming.”
“Tina won’t be coming, Cyrus,” I said, explaining the situation.
“Well, I can’t blame her. Hell, you’re always on the god- damned road. What’d you expect?”
“Yeah, I got the message. But still, she was one hell of a gal.”
“Uh-huh, well, que sera sera, pardner. Listen, the Caymans are full of hot women. Hey, wait a sec. You liked Dominic Rinquet, didn’t you?”
“What’s not to like?”
“Exactly so, my boy. Look, I know her at least as well as Wally does. I’ll call her and set you up. First date is on me. After that, you’re on your own.”
I laughed. “Okay, Uncle Cyrus. “I appreciate your help, and the use of your condo.”
I hadn’t thought about Dominic since we’d met on Grand Cayman. I’d sensed some good karma between us, but we’d both backed off and stuck to business. This time, I reckoned, might be different.
I flew from Spokane to Houston and then grabbed an Island Air 737 to George Town. Upon arrival, I took a cab to the Colonial, checked in, and called Dominic.
“Hey, it’s Trace. Are you busy?”
“Do you mean at the moment, or tonight?”
“Both,” I said with a chuckle.
“I’m free tonight. By the way, your uncle called and filled me in on your situation.”
I laughed. “By my uncle, I take it you mean, Cyrus?”
“Uh-huh. He said you were heartbroken, worn out from work, and needed some R & R.”
“The latter two are true. My heart’s okay. Tina and I were good buddies, but I guess I always knew she wouldn’t put up with my job and travel.”
“Okay, enough of that. Where are you taking me tonight? And I warn you, I’m starved.”
“What’s the old quote? ‘Forewarned is forearmed.’”
“Good looking and well-read too. I am impressed. Are you at the Colonial?”
“Yep, me and a bunch of movie actors. There goes Bart Yancey now.”
“Uh-huh. I’ll be in the lobby at seven sharp. Jack’s is fine. I’ll make the reservation.”
I chuckled. “What? I don’t have enough clout to get us in?”
“You got it, babe. See ya.”
At seven sharp I was in the lobby. Dominic strode in, wearing white-linen slacks with a navy blouse. Every guy in the lobby turned to look. Eat your hearts out, fellows, I thought, as she shook my hand and kissed both my cheeks. I’d been right on the previous trip’ she was an eleven.
“Hi, Trace. I’m very glad you decided to come back to the island.”
“Ditto, Dominic. All the cards just fell into place, and of course Cyrus offering his condo, didn’t hurt.”
Dominic nodded and laughed. “You know he’s got a terrible reputation. They call him Cyrus the Virus.”
“Yeah, so I’ve heard. But I can tell you, he’s changed.”
“Uh-huh,” Dominic said, pulling me in the direction of Jack’s. “Come on, Trace, let’s eat.”
We ate a wonderful meal of sea bass accompanied by an excellent sauvignon blanc. To cap off the feast, we ordered steaming mugs of Caribbean coffee, a blend of dark rum, whipped cream, sugar, and coffee.
“Wow,” Dominic said, using her napkin to dab a bit of whipped cream from her upper lip. “Excellent meal, good coffee, and pretty-fair company.”
I chuckled and took a sip of the coffee concoction. “Thanks, Dominic. I can’t think of a meal I’ve enjoyed more, or better company, either.”
“How’s the ocean-view from Cyrus’s condo?”
“You have to see it to believe it,” I said, grinning mischievously.
“Let’s take a look.”
We watched the moon come up over the Caribbean from Cyrus’s balcony. Followed, against my better judgment, by skinny-dipping in the surf. I don’t know if it was the cool water, the fear of a sea turtle looking for a dangling tender morsel, or the thought of a tiger shark taking off a leg, but my equipment was definitely shriveled when we got back on the beach.
Dominic noticed my plight and laughed softly. “I think I can remedy that.”
Damned if she wasn’t right.
The next four days were paradise in paradise. We made love, swam, dined, and lounged around in tee shirts and shorts, watching old movies we’d rented from a local vendor. We’d both fallen hard for each other and were already planning my return trip.
It was tough to say good-bye at the airport, but business was business. Wally had our listing on the Toronto Exchange confirmed, and I needed to be in Toronto next week for the opening bell. And our first day of trading on the big board.
Chapter 63
Agent Wilson Allen had been working out of the La Vegas FBI field office for nearly two weeks. The local FBI office along with the Criminal Investigation Division of the IRS were hard into investigating the Comstock Casino.
Agent Allen called his boss to report his findings.
“Special Agent Monroe, it’s Wilson Allen here.”
“Morning, Wilson. Anything new?”
“Well, I’ve reviewed both of our investigation here in Vegas and the IRS-CID findings. I think it’s pretty clear someone is skimming some of the casino profits.”
“Black Chip, LLC?”
“That’s the consensus around here.”
“Any luck on tracing ownership of Black Chip?”
“Negative, sir. So far the Cayman authorities haven’t been much help. I think it’ll take an indictment of the Comstock to get them to act.”
“Do we have enough to go in front of a grand jury?”
“With the croupier’s testimony, I think so.”
“Put him in protective custody. I don’t want another potential witness against the Pantellis to get knocked off. Coordinate with the local authorities and raid the Comstock. Seize their computers and grab all the employees in sight.”
I invited, Wally, Will, James Lee, and Cyrus to join me for our first day of trading on the Toronto Stock Exchange, usually just called the TSX. The exchange would have an opening bell ringing ceremony announcing the addition of Montana Creek Mining Corp. to the nearly fifteen hundred other companies listed on the exchange. It was a big deal for the company, and our shareholders.
Our cash-burn rate with just a single drill operating left us in good shape financially. I felt the founders and our biggest investors should enjoy this milestone, so I pulled out all the stops.
Will, Cyrus, and I flew in together and would meet up with Wally and Jim Lee at the Frederick Arms Hotel, one of the finest hotels in Toronto. I excluded the Pantellis from our little soiree.
As Will, Cyrus, and I collected our luggage and cleared customs, we ran into Jim Lee.
“Hey, Jim,” I yelled, waving to get his attention.
Jim waved back and pointed to an area beyond the crowed customs area.
In a few minutes we all met and shook hands with Jim.
“Where’s Wally?” Jim asked.
“He’s flying in directly from Vancouver,” I replied. “No customs hassles for Wally. He’s a native.”
We all laughed and then head
ed out to the curb to hail a cab.
“Frederick Arms, eh?” Jim said.
“Yep, I decided we should go first-class on this one,” I replied. “Not too many times in a career do you get a listing on a major exchange. I thought it deserved a little ceremony.”
“Speaking of ceremony,” Jim replied, “you fellows will get to ring the opening bell in the morning, and watch Montana Creek Mining start trading with the big boys.”
“You’ll be there too,” I added.
“True, but I’ve been there before when IUC got listed here in Canada,” Jim replied. “I’ll be in the background. I want you all front and center. As you said, Trace, it’s a very special milestone in the company’s history.”
At around seven we all met for dinner.
“I hope none of you mind,” Jim said, “but I went ahead and made us reservations at the Rancher’s Restaurant, here in the hotel. “Best Kobe beef in Canada.”
Jim was right; the Kobe beef was primo. As were the several bottles of cabernet we washed it down with. After the meal we adjourned to a nearby lounge for brandy and to discuss a little business.
“Anything new on the Chinese front, Trace?” Jim asked.
I laughed. “Damn, sounds like we’re discussing the Korean war. Nope, all quiet on the eastern front. Not a peep since their visit to the Sullivan Mine. I made it crystal clear to Chang I have no intention of selling my shares, at this point in time. And since neither of my legs have been broken, I suspect the Pantelli family may have told Chang the same thing.”
Jim snickered. “Who was it who told you we had an eclectic bunch of shareholders?
“Uh . . . that would be FBI Special Agent Beau Monroe,” I replied, with a chuckle.
Deadly Lode (Trace Brandon Book 1) Page 25