The Squeeze

by Paul Schueller

  “A list of who from where?” Doug asked.

  “Phone records, surveillance cameras, parking tickets, credit cards . . . like you told Tommy, I might be able to figure out if one of these guys was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’ll find out if they even passed each other on the tollway.”

  “I’m usually not a stickler for the rules, but that doesn’t sound very legal to me,” Doug said.

  “Do you want legal or do you want fast? Besides, you don’t have enough evidence on Mark or John to ever get a warrant,” Kyle said.

  “So, I will take fast then,” Doug said.

  “I have some unique services and skills and a bit of a network that might surprise you, but I only offer them in fairly desperate settings. You look desperate enough to me,” Kyle said.

  “That I am,” Doug said as his hand tremors started to fade and the tightness in his left shoulder eased.

  Kyle was still primarily interested in the tampering charges, as that was his case. He thought the pictures might help so he asked Doug,

  “Mind if I keep these photos?”

  “Hoped you would. If you find anything out that helps me, you’ll let me know?” Doug asked.

  “Of course, and good luck with those emails. I gotta run,” Kyle said.

  “See you back here tomorrow, same time,” Doug said as he pulled up his laptop and started to read George's emails. Doug preferred the breakroom to stay close to the coffee and out of his bosses’ sight.

  Regardless of what Doug now thought about the murder, Kyle thought that with the burner phone and what he could dig up on other ties between Tommy and Pat that he would have enough to get a warrant and arrest Tommy on the market charges. They needed to do something soon, even if it was the wrong thing.

  36

  For two weeks, Tommy felt like anywhere he went he was being followed or watched. He guessed that Doug and Kyle had split up surveillance duties. His suspicions were confirmed when he caught Doug and Kyle on back to back days watching from a car outside a coffee shop that a lot of people in the carbon trading business frequented. Then it dawned on Tommy that they probably weren’t really following him anymore. Maybe they were just waiting for people to show up and were finally expanding their list of suspects. Tommy realized that another meeting with Pat could happen and might be worth the risk. Tommy waited outside Pat’s office before lunch and started walking toward him. As they passed, all Tommy said was, “Big swings at six.” Pat didn’t acknowledge anything and kept walking.

  At six o’clock that evening, Pat walked up behind Tommy in the park that was sandwiched between Lakeshore Drive and Lake Michigan on the near north side. He was sitting on a park bench watching the trapeze training sessions going on. In a big city, there are lessons for everything.

  It was an early August and suffocatingly hot and humid day where the wind picked up moisture from the lake and dropped it in their laps.

  “Were you followed?” Tommy asked.

  “Hey, Tommy how are you? Nice to see you,” Pat looked annoyed.

  “Yeah, sorry. How are you, and were you followed?”

  “I was pretty careful. I took the train and got on and off a couple of extra times and didn’t see anyone. We should be fine,” Pat said.

  “Good idea. You’re getting pretty good at this.”

  “About that, Tommy. This cloak-and-dagger shit is getting old. We have, I have, more money than I ever imagined. This needs to be over.”

  “Soon,” Tommy said.

  “No. 'Soon’ can drag out a long time. I’ll give you one month at the most. At that point, I’m closing down and going home. All the money in the world isn’t worth losing my wife and kids,” Pat said.

  “You’re being overly-dramatic. Mary’s not going to leave you over this.”

  “Maybe not, but I’m not willing to put her through this any longer.”

  Pat was genuinely worried, which worried Tommy.

  “That means we’re going to need to force John’s hand. He knows I’m behind this, and he wants to teach me a lesson.”

  “This is crazy. We can walk away with millions now. Why risk it? What will it prove? You want to lose it all again?” Pat demanded.

  “I’m not going to lose. Besides, I can’t lose. I’m playing with your money,” Tommy said.

  “Right. So, I have some leverage here. Not one month. Two weeks.”

  Pat looked serious for one of the very few times Tommy had ever seen.

  “I get it. Two weeks then. That will be enough time. It has to be,” Tommy said.

  “And another thing, you have to tell me more than ‘buy this’ and ‘sell that.’ I’m not your bitch. I’m your friend.”

  “That’s exactly why I’m not telling you more. You find notes, messages, put two and two together, whatever. You’re safer knowing less,” Tommy argued.

  “That’s crap. Regardless of what you’re saying, I am completely screwed, going to prison screwed if this goes bad,” Pat said.

  “You’re still better off not knowing more,” Tommy said.

  “Bullshit. Share. This is probably our last time to talk about this,” Pat said.

  Tommy thought for a couple of seconds, and realized that Pat was the only real friend he had, and he deserved to know more. “Okay. I think John has been on the losing side of most of your wins. I don't think it bothers him that much to lose some money here or there, so I think he’s trying to set us up for the right time to bet really big. It’s going to happen soon, I can feel it, and he’s only going move if he’s sure he can win.”

  “How is he going to be sure?” Pat asked.

  “I don’t know, but he’ll have something big. Maybe some news will break that he figures will move the market in his direction.”

  “How am I going to know?”

  “You’ll hear something in the wind or maybe from me,” Tommy said.

  “That all sounds too fuzzy.” With an arched eyebrow, Pat struggled to wrap his brain around how all of this would work.

  “It won’t be,” Tommy said.

  “Okay. I assume it will be more funky communication about what you want me to do,” Pat said, his face still contorted with confusion.

  “Yeah, but I may not always be able to reach out. You might get to the point where you just need to do what you think is right,” Tommy said, figuring the pressure from Doug and Kyle might get to the point where communication will be nearly impossible.

  “Count on that being selling. I much prefer holding money to some digits on my computer screen that represent carbon credits,” Pat said.

  “It might not be that simple,” Tommy said. “But I’ll try to stay in touch. We really shouldn’t worry as much about seeing each other. They know the connection through Jenny. Besides, we run in the same circles now.”

  “We’re bound to run into each other, right?” Pat said.

  “Yeah, just small talk, though.”

  “Speaking of small talk, saw you out with some guys from McKinstry the other night. Looked like you were all pretty loaded.”

  “I wasn’t. Maybe I acted like it a little, but I have to be alert, or I won’t get the info we need.”

  “How you swinging that? You have special liver function or something?” Pat asked.

  “No, I talk to the bartender ahead of time and tip him or her big to make sure I get the virgin variety of whatever we’re drinking.”

  “Do you play that trick on me?” Pat asked.

  “Hell, no. I love to drink. I just save my liver for my friends,” Tommy said.

  “As pathetic as that sounds, it might be the nicest thing you ever said to me.” Pat smirked and appreciated the break in tension.

  “You’re welcome,” Tommy shot back and smiled. “Thanks for everything. I will get you out of this mess. I promise.”

  “Well, let’s hope so because I can’t handle much more,” Pat said.

  One look at Pat’s face, and Tommy knew that was true. His eyes were glassy and sagged on the o
utside edges. It looked like tears were pooling in the corners, ready to flood the bags under his eyes. Tommy turned and walked north. Pat headed south. Neither looked back at the other. As Tommy walked, he dialed his cell phone and when the person picked up, he said, “Hey, Susan, can you help me? I couldn’t tell from our conversation a few days ago since you kind of hung up on me.”

  “Well, that should have been a clue. I really can’t help or care anymore what happens,” Susan said. “It’s too hard to get through, too hard to watch. You know why I can’t do this anymore. You know I fell in love with you. Trust me, I didn’t want to, and never thought I would, but I did.” Susan was obviously hurt.

  “You made it clear that love was off limits,” Tommy reminded her.

  “I did, but then I thought maybe you loved me, too, and were only holding back because of this history with your dad and attorneys. But that’s not it, is it?’

  “Of course not. Do you really think that I’m that shallow? I do have to admit that when we first met, your profession was a little insurance policy against me getting too serious,” Tommy quipped, but then knew, even over the phone, that that his effort to lighten the mood fell flat.

  Tommy continued, “I’m sorry. I really didn’t know until your breakup text, and then I just didn’t know what to do.”

  “Well, now I know you don’t love me, and I need to move on.”

  Dejected, Susan just wanted to hang up.

  “All right, then don’t help me, but can you help a friend of mine who I got messed up in this? His name is Pat Marcum. That’s it then. Closure, I promise.”

  “I can assure you that you will not want to cross paths with me again. Ever.” Her tone scared Tommy a little, and he wasn’t sure whether or not he should feel threatened.

  “Now, what can I do for Pat?” Susan asked.

  “Help him be ready for whatever the police and feds throw at him.”

  “How can I do that?”

  “You know people at Ross & Associates; they’re his attorneys. Maybe just call them up and have them prep Pat. If nothing else, have them remind him to never say anything without counsel.”

  “Good advice that seems to have escaped you, over and over again,” Susan said.

  “So, can you help me, uh, Pat?”

  “It’s one call, and I have an idea for them, too. Yes, I’ll do it.”

  “Thanks, and I won’t bother you again.”

  “Just let me know how it all turns out for you,” Susan sighed. They both lingered on the phone for a second or two. Then, Susan hung up.

  A couple of days after his conversation with Susan, Tommy was sitting at his kitchen table in the middle of the afternoon, thinking about her again, and what he had inadvertently done to her. If Jenny wanted nothing to do with him, would he be bitter and resentful? Tommy hoped not, but wasn’t the most mature guy around and was certainly capable of such a reaction. Suddenly the intercom buzzer sounded, startling Tommy out of his daydream. He very rarely had visitors, other than food delivery people and Doug. He considered ignoring it, but answered anyway. “Yeah, who is it?”

  The voice shot back crisply and professionally. “This is Jake Olemeyer. I’m one of Pat Marcum’s attorneys at Ross & Associates. Can I come up?”

  “Yes, please do,” Tommy said and buzzed Jake into the building.

  Tommy was puzzled by why an attorney would show up at his door unannounced, but when Jake got to Tommy’s unit it was clear that this was an unusual circumstance. There was no small talk, just the nervous energy of a young associate way out of his element.

  Jake started. “Mr. Gardner, it’s highly unusual that I would be here talking about our firm’s client, but I have been instructed to show you something.”

  “Instructed by whom?” Tommy asked.

  “By my boss. I don't know exactly what’s going on here. All I can figure is that my career is the most expendable. Can I just show you a video clip and leave? Please?” Jake asked, obviously stressed.

  “Yes, go ahead.”

  Jake opened his laptop and had a clip cued up. It was Pat connected to a polygraph, sitting in a conference room that Tommy assumed was at Ross & Associates. Pat looked nervous and fidgety. No one else could be seen in the video. After a few seconds, an individual off-camera started to ask questions. “Mr. Marcum, can you state your full name, please?”

  Pat said, “Pat Marcum…Patrick Marcum…Patrick Hilliard Marcum.”

  “Hilliard?!” Tommy said and smirked.

  “What day were you born?” the voice asked.

  “January tenth,” Pat said.

  “What year?”

  “Is that important?” Pat asked.

  “Sir, do you know Mr. Thomas Gardner?”

  “No, well, yes, a little,” Pat said.

  “Have you seen or talked to him recently?” the voice asked.

  “No, well, yes, a little,” Pat said.

  “Have you talked to him about your commodity trading business?”

  “No,” Pat answered.

  Jake shut off the video, closed his laptop and started packing up to leave. “There’s more, but I think you get a feel for things.”

  “That’s it?” Tommy said. “Well, did he pass the lie detector?”

  “He flunked with flying colors.”

  “So, the polygraph showed he was lying regarding the last question?” Tommy asked.

  “It showed he was lying about that question and every single one we asked him. His name, birthday, kids’ names, and wife’s name. He got so worked up that the test showed that he’s lying about everything.”

  Tommy smirked. “So, he kind of passed, then?”

  “Not how I would look at it,” Jake said. “The guy is a twitchy mess.”

  “Just making light of the situation,” Tommy said.

  “Can I go now please? I would like to avoid being disbarred.”

  “Go. Thanks,” Tommy said as his joking to make light of a bad situation faded and the reality of his and Pat’s problems started to resonate. The urgency to escalate things rose up in him again like a combination of caffeine and adrenaline. Pat might not hold up much longer, and Tommy needed to find a way to draw John out.

  37

  Tommy followed up the news about Pat with a day of meetings throughout Chicago with key commodities market players, not just carbon traders. He knew that for Pat’s sake, he really needed to move quickly. He didn’t care what Kyle or Doug saw. In fact, the more they saw the better, since most of the meetings were helpful to Tommy about historical lessons learned from other commodities, but meaningless to an investigation. He desperately wanted to understand what happened in the past with other commodities when markets were small and a significant event occurred. He needed to be prepared.

  Tommy was getting messages to Pat on an almost daily basis; an email from a hotel computer to Pat’s website contact email with just a sequence of letters and numbers, an occasional burner phone call, and a variety of other clever ways to communicate. They kept right on making money, and Tommy assumed that more often than not, John wasn’t. The thought still lingered that John was somehow trying to set them up.

  Pat had become a decent-sized player in a thinly-traded market, with McKinstry and now John as the other most active participants. The carbon markets were being manipulated just like sugar, copper, silver, and others before them, still too small to avoid such abuse. The price of capitalism, some would rationalize. Tommy had enough information to take advantage of inter-day trends, but it would take one additional big move now to separate winners from losers.

  Just the day before Tommy had noticed there had been an unusually large level of short selling of carbon credits which had continued into the morning. Now short positions were reaching record levels. It looked to Tommy like John and probably others were setting up, assuming a big downturn was coming. Tommy went for a run hoping that might create some clarity regarding what to do next. It was a sunny Friday, and the streets were filled with locals. He
stopped for some fruits and vegetables at an open-air market that he stumbled upon at the end of his run.

  Tommy went home and opened all of the windows. The fresh air invigorated him. The distant rumble of the Red Line trains was comforting.

  The taste of fresh vegetables fortified his pill and alcohol ravaged body. The numbers crossing his computer screen were intriguing. Tommy felt energized and aware beyond what he’d ever experienced. Steady short selling continued throughout the day, ending with a new record number of shorts, putting downward pressure on the market, but the price of carbon held at the Friday close.

  With so many short positions in the market, there had to be many people who could easily get squeezed into a financial mess if prices dramatically turned one way or the other. People who shorted credits had borrowed them thinking that the price would go down and that they could repay the borrowed credits by buying at a lower price. However, if the price started to go up, they might be forced to buy credits to pay back the borrowed ones and manage their losses; otherwise, the more that prices went up, the more they would lose. Every time that people want to buy in a market that is already going up it puts more pressure on the price to go up even further. Someone in this spot could get squeezed out of the market and out of money. Or, if prices went down, the same person could make big money.

  Tommy needed to help get Pat on the right side of such a market, and John wanted to do the same thing for himself. They were taking opposite positions, with John likely borrowing credits thinking that the market would go down and Pat as a buyer assuming the market would be stable or going up. Something big was about to happen, but Tommy hadn’t figured out what would trigger it. He took the L to Quincy and Wells, and then walked over to Union Station to catch the Amtrak train north. Whatever was going to happen, it wouldn’t be over the weekend.

  38

  There was a stretch of Chicago city streets that pushed up against the railroad tracks and the two traveled north together. The cars were stuck in traffic but the train shuffled along giving Tommy this strange feeling he was making up for lost time. Tommy walked out of the train station in Milwaukee to a wall of humidity as the automatic doors opened, but it was pleasant compared to the overly air-conditioned terminal. The sun was low in the late-summer sky and blinded him as he turned to his left, reacting to a beeping horn. Shading his eyes, he could see a sleek, feminine figure leaning against the front door of a less than sleek Ford Taurus. It was Jenny.