USA, Inc. (A Mike Wardman Novel: Book 1)

by Larry Kahaner

  Two charts appeared on the screen. “The chart on your left shows stock symbol BEAR, which represents assets of the state of California. On your right is HBLK, the Texas equities. As you can see, the opening-day charts jumped in the morning on positive anticipation. But then, a few minutes ago, you can see the fast drop. That’s when reports of disturbances on the Mexican border were making the rounds of social media.”

  “It dumped. Share prices fucking dumped,” Kane said to himself. He began to snap his fingers, both hands, in a rhythm that mimicked a song he remembered the lyrics of, but not the name. He took a sip of his drink.

  “Both equities have halted trading,” the anchor said. “For most traders, it’s a moot point. The equities are privately held and sold only to traders of high net worth because of the unique, and some would say volatile, nature of the companies. What’s interesting, I think, is that we wouldn’t normally cover a private-equity transaction, and certainly not on an ongoing price-by-price basis. But the two states asked us to do this to assure people of maximum transparency. Because of SEC rules, they have to wait a little longer before they can issue an initial public offering, an IPO that I think will see strong demand among most traders and investors. The comptrollers of Texas and California both tweeted statements saying that halting trading is in the best interest of shareholders.”

  Kane’s stomach felt like iron. He couldn’t watch any more. He turned off the sound just as he heard the ship’s engines roar. The horn emitted one long blast, and Kane watched as they pulled away from shore.

  “I must get out of the trade,” he said out loud to the empty room as he dialed the phone. If I don’t get out now …

  Suddenly, a small boat running alongside caught his attention. The large ship was gaining speed, and the smaller vessel struggled to keep up as it bounced on the Affinity’s wake.

  “Faster,” he yelled to the captain on the phone. “I’m giving you an order. Maximum speed.” The boat surged. “I want men with rifles on deck, now!”

  A man and a woman, both carrying M-16s, popped up on deck and eyed the interlopers.

  “If they get any closer I want you to shoot. They’re pirates,” Kane said.

  The man mouthed the word “pirates” to his partner and chuckled. Still, he kept his weapon trained on the small boat and its occupants. They watched as the driver handed the wheel to the other man and held a bullhorn.

  “Federal agent! Heave to.”

  The guards lowered their weapons.

  “No!” Kane ordered. “They’re not federal agents. They killed Hicks. They’re the ones who robbed the house.”

  The guards looked at each other, tilting their heads as they darted back to the small boat and then back at Kane.

  “I’m telling you, they are not federal agents. Don’t let them board the ship.” Water sprayed the deck. Kane wiped his face. “There’ll be large bonuses for you.”

  The guards held fast to their stations as the man with the bullhorn repeated his orders.

  • • •

  “It’s no use,” Mike said. “They’re not going to stop. Stay with them, Al, and don’t give them a reason to open fire.”

  Evelyn gripped the console next to Al as Mike grabbed the marine radio.

  A few minutes later, a coastguard helicopter appeared overhead. A Maryland DNR and coastguard vessel arrived just after and crowded Kane’s boat until the captain idled the engines. As it smoothed to a stop, the two guards dropped their weapons on the deck and moved to the aft section with their hands in the air.

  The trio boarded and found Kane standing in the salon, frantically talking to someone on his cell phone.

  “Chapman’s dead? How could that be? I just saw him yesterday. How sad. Who else can I talk to about my account, and—”

  “Give me the phone,” Mike ordered.

  Kane ignored him. Mike lunged for the mobile phone and wrested it from Kane’s hand.

  “But—but you don’t understand. I have to close my trade. If I don’t—”

  “If you don’t, then what? You lose a shitload of money? This isn’t only about money, Kane. It’s about the future of this country, and you fucking know it.”

  Mike dialed Burke. “I need to talk to the commerce secretary. Can you arrange that?”

  “He’s pretty high up from my grade level. What’s this about?”

  “The attorney general is about to go on television and report on Mexican mobs massing on the border. He’s planning on telling a lie that will destroy the country.”

  “And what’s the commerce secretary supposed to do?”

  “He and the AG are equals. He’s going to advise him to tell the truth about the people on the border being paid to be there, and that they’re not a threat. If he does otherwise, the US is in danger of financial collapse.”

  “And what if the AG doesn’t listen?”

  “Then the secretary needs to talk to the president and tell him to dismiss the AG immediately, before he can make his speech.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Dead serious.”

  “If you’re wrong, it means my reputation. You realize that, right?”

  “If you get fired, lose your pension and your standing in law-enforcement circles, I’ll buy you a beer,” Mike said. “How’s that?”

  “You’re a humorous fellow,” Kane said.

  Mike glared at him. “You shouldn’t be eavesdropping on other people’s conversations.”

  “The AG will never listen to you. He and I have a deal. Besides, do you know how long it will take for your request to go up the chain of command?”

  “I got a shortcut,” Mike said. “Al, give me your phone.”

  • • •

  Mike looked outside and saw coastguardsmen handcuff the two guards, captain, and three crew members and walk them onto their crafts. He gave them the okay sign, and the boats took them away. The CG helicopter took off.

  “It’s just us,” Mike said as he pressed his pistol against Kane’s temple.

  “Don’t do it, Mike,” Al said.

  “He’s not worth it,” Evelyn said.

  “Nobody will ever know,” Mike said as Kane turned pale. “Nobody will ever know.”

  The four stood like mannequins for several minutes until Mike finally broke the silence.

  “Turn the sound up.”

  They watched as the top story remained the Mexicans massing in border towns and the governors trying to quell the fears of their citizens. The share prices plummeted, and trading was halted to keep the panic from spreading and the prices reaching zero.

  “Oh, my God,” Kane said as he watched the charts, now frozen in time.

  Mike asked, “Why did you kill the people on the Judy Bee, the surveyors, and—”

  “I did nothing of the sort,” Kane said. “Let me explain something to you. When you’re in such a position as I am, sometimes the people who work for you take matters into their own hands because they think it’s what you want. I never said to kill those people. Why would I?”

  “Because they knew about your plan for states to be run like businesses, but it was too early in the scheme for any word to leak out, and for you to have gotten all of the money you needed.”

  “You’re a smart one, Agent Wardman.”

  “Do you want to tell them, or should I?” Mike asked.

  Kane shrugged. “We have a few minutes until trading starts up again and the AG makes his speech.” He smiled. “You know what? I will tell you. I’m rather proud of the whole plan.”

  Mike kept his gun pointed at Kane.

  “Do you want to lower that?”

  “Nope.”

  “Yes, well. About a year ago, I was having lunch with the attorney general, who is an old college chum of mine. He was complaining about lack of funding, and how he didn’t have the manpower to handle all that the president and Congress asked of him. Congress wasn’t being cooperative—stuck in gridlock. So I told him I could help, and all he had to do was say
a few words at a press conference. He would get money for his agency and I, well, I would do fine. Anyway, the plan was in the works when some overzealous people took matters into their own hands, and—”

  “Hicks?” Evelyn asked.

  “Yes, Hicks. He took extreme measures when, in fact, nothing of the sort needed to be done. The plan was so compartmentalized that no one person could put all of the pieces together, but that idiot didn’t believe in subtlety. He believed in scorched earth, and decided on his own to eliminate anyone having any involvement with the scheme.”

  “What about Hearst?” Al asked.

  “He didn’t kill anyone, as far as I know. But he did keep tabs on what was going on for me. He may have also helped to arrange manpower for Hicks.”

  “And the surveyors?” Evelyn said.

  “That was indeed a shame. When the eastern state governors began their financial inventory, they insisted on knowing precise borderlines. Every few years, states accidentally find that their borders are not where they thought they were. North and South Carolina recently learned that surveys done in the late 1700s were off by several miles, but instead of fighting in court, they negotiated new boundaries that took into account the value of businesses and houses that were in the wrong places, so nobody was hurt. But the other state governors, in their own ignorant way, thought that if anyone asked why they were checking boundaries, it would uncover the master plan. It was they, and not me, who ordered the surveyors killed.”

  “But the Judy Bee. I still don’t understand why they were killed. They weren’t doing surveys,” Evelyn said.

  “But they were,” Kane said. “The captain of the Judy Bee was contracted by several states—New Jersey, Delaware and Maryland—to do surveys of water boundaries between them, because it was thought that Delaware Bay may contain some valuable gravel.”

  “Gravel that your concrete company could use?” Mike said.

  “That was just a coincidence, but a fortuitous one. Let me say again that although my company was the contractor, the states hired us, and I never ordered anyone killed.”

  “Was it the governors who gave the orders?”

  “Possibly.”

  “You’re a liar,” Mike said. “About everything. You gave the orders. You killed all those people.”

  Kane shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “The real problem was you, Agent Wardman. When information filtered north to the secretary of commerce that one of the people killed on the Judy Bee was a close friend of yours, the AG heard about it and became worried. He wanted to know everything you were doing. Hearst had told his superiors, and it went up the FBI chain of command that you were an indefatigable investigator and would not let this rest until the killers were caught. I don’t want to give you a swollen head, Agent Wardman, but the attorney general of the United States was concerned about you and what you would learn.”

  Mike lowered his gun.

  “Now what?” Kane asked.

  “Now we turn you over to the authorities.”

  Kane laughed. “Really. You can’t pin any of these murders on me.”

  “You did order Hearst to kill us,” Mike said. He looked at Evelyn and Al.

  “And yet you’re still alive,” Kane said, smiling. “Is Hearst around to corroborate your accusation?”

  Mike didn’t answer.

  “I thought not.”

  “There’s always bribing a public official.”

  “Good luck with that one,” Kane said. “I could use some fresh air. Do you mind if I walk around?”

  Mike frowned.

  “It’s not as if I can go anywhere.” He pivoted and swung his arms around. “We’re several miles from shore, and I’m a lousy swimmer.”

  “I’ll go with him,” Al said. “I could use some fresh air, too. Besides, I’d like to have a private conversation with Mr. Kane.”

  Mike handed Al his gun. “Take this.”

  With the room to themselves, Mike asked Evelyn, “What do you think about all this?”

  “We did what we wanted to do. We found my sister’s killer. It was those two mercenaries.”

  “But you don’t believe Kane, do you? That he had nothing to do with all this?”

  “I’m not naïve, Mike, but does it matter anymore? Marilyn is dead and so are those other people, and it was all about money. Remember how you told me that sometimes finding a murderer doesn’t bring closure? Well, you’re right. You think it’s something you want, something you can taste, but as it gets closer, it becomes less satisfying. It shouldn’t be, but it is.”

  Mike pulled her in. “I know,” he whispered.

  Their lips met just as they heard the gunshot.

  Chapter 63

  Al lay unconscious on the deck. The helicopter rotors were almost at full speed when Mike sprinted to it and wrapped his arms around the landing skids, leaving Evelyn behind to take care of Al. He knew as soon as the helicopter rose that holding on to it was a crazy idea. The pilot tried to shake Mike off by flicking the chopper from side to side, but Mike held firm.

  The downward thrust of the blade made his arms ache. He could barely catch his breath. Kane leaned out the door and pointed a gun at Mike. Their eyes locked. Mike saw the muzzle flash, but couldn’t hear the report over the noise. The bullet hit his bicep and he released his grip.

  He fell into the water and sank.

  Deeper. Deeper. Deeper.

  The water got colder. His vision became blurry. His lungs felt like they were going to explode as he let out a final stream of air.

  With his last bit of strength he clawed up, trying to make for the surface.

  He felt something. Metal. A fish hook stabbing at him. He grabbed it with his uninjured arm and was pulled up. The director flopped Mike on the deck as if he were a large salmon. Burke turned and waved an okay to a groggy Al, who was being supported by Evelyn.

  A few minutes later, Mike sat in a salon chair wrapped in a heavy towel. Evelyn was slicking back his wet hair while Burke examined his arm. He wrapped the wound with a towel and kept pressure on it.

  “Where’s Kane?” Mike asked.

  “His chopper was last seen at the far end of the local airport, where he and the pilot took off in a hurry.”

  “The pilot?” Kane said. “Shit, he hid on the ship and wasn’t arrested with the others. Everyone forgot about him.”

  Burke continued. “They didn’t file a flight plan, just disappeared. They turned off their transponder. Right now, he’s probably somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean.”

  “Hey,” Al said, “the attorney general is about to speak.”

  They watched the television as the AG stepped to the podium.

  They didn’t see Mike slip outside to the deck.

  “Good day, ladies and gentlemen,” he said to the audience of reporters. “I’m here to announce that …”

  A young woman handed him the phone. “It’s urgent, sir,” she whispered.

  The AG clinched his jaw.

  “It better be,” he said, as he stepped to the side. “Excuse me, everyone.”

  The screen said the caller was POTUS.

  The crowd grew noisy. The reporters had never seen a press conference be interrupted. They smelled blood. They shouted questions until the press aide asked them to quiet down.

  Standing by himself behind a curtain, the AG spoke into the phone. “Yes, Mr. President,” he said in a lowered voice.

  “It’s Wardman.”

  “How did you—”

  “I have Kane in custody,” he lied. “I know everything.”

  “But—”

  “You know what you have to say,” Mike said, “and you better fucking say it.”

  “How dare you talk to—”

  “Do the right thing,” Mike said, “or I’ll do more than expose you and Kane. I will kill you. I think you know this about me. I never give up—and I keep my promises.”

  “You can’t threaten the US attorney general.”

  “Too late,”
Mike said. He hung up and returned to the salon. All eyes were on the TV.

  Trembling, the AG returned to the podium. “I apologize for the interruption. I’m here to report on the massing of people on our southern border. I’m happy to report that there is no danger. I’m told by my staff that it is part of movie, obviously a big one.” The audience laughed. “All of the people you see on your TV screens are actors. I’m not sure which movie it is, but Homeland Security and Border Patrol are reporting that they have begun dispersing. I’m sorry that I can’t take any questions. Thank you.”

  He walked off the stage.

  A crawl on the screen bottom announced that trading had commenced, and shares shot back to their original opening price.

  • • •

  “That worked out well,” Mike said as he tussled the towel in his hair. “Kane’s scheme was more clever than we thought. At first, we all believed he was buying shares—or more precisely, options on shares in Texas and California. But what we didn’t know at the time was that he was betting on their failure, not success.”

  “What do you mean?” Burke said.

  “When Chapman was dying, he said something about Kane and ‘put.’ That’s when I got it. Kane wasn’t buying options known as calls, which rise along with the stock price; he was buying options called puts, which are bets that a stock will go down in price. It seems counterintuitive, but you make money when you sell high and buy low. Chapman was trying to tell us that Kane was buying puts. Kane ensured that the price would drop by hiring thousands of Mexicans to fill the border areas, which, as we saw on the television, caused the price to tank almost immediately. He would make money by buying back the put options at a lower price. He would further insure his success by having the AG announce that the threats were real, which would keep the stocks at the low level longer, giving Kane ample time to cash out at the lowest price. At first, he was worried about the halt in trading. But after the AG’s announcement, he would have all the time in the world to close out his trades.”

  “So Kane lost a fortune?” Burke said.

  “Yes. Hundreds of billions. The put options are worthless.”