by Joe Corso
twenty–two million dollar’s worth. The rest I put into a special account. I know that you said you might not return for a while, years even, but to be honest, I began to doubt if you’d ever come back. You did well, though, with your money, I mean, I am happy to announce.”
“What kind of interest did I get?” Lucky asked.
“Your thirty–three million is now eighty–five million. It was placed into a growth account that doubles every five years.”
“Mickey, put that suitcase on this chair,” Lucky said as he pointed to a chair near Flackstein’s desk. “Open it up, Mickey. Thanks.”
“Holy cow,” was all the banker could say. Lucky grabbed four stacks of one hundred dollar bills.
“I promised you fifty thousand dollars if you did right by me. Count out two hundred fifty thousand dollars. That’s for you.” Flackstein sat back heavily into his seat taking out a handkerchief to wipe his brow and catch his breath.
“First certified checks, now suitcases,” Flackstein said. “Never a dull moment, when you enter my office, Mr. Campo.”
Lucky laughed.
“You know that I can’t take money from clients. You’re about to give me a heart attack with all your surprises and your little bag of tricks, but I cannot risk my position here.”
“Look, Flackstein,” Lucky said, “I have three suitcases full of cash here. Use this money, like you did before, to buy stock. Get a pencil and a pad and write this down. Microsoft will have a public offering in a few days. And I have a hunch that I’ll want some IBM stock in my portfolio soon, real soon.”
“How much IBM should I buy?” Flackstein asked.
“Forty thousand shares sounds about right.”
At that moment, Lucky leaned over the suitcase and pulled out several stacks of money and set them in a chair in the corner of Flackstein’s office.
“There’s two hundred fifty thousand all in one hundred dollar bills. I know ‘cause I counted it before I came here. I am not leaving here with it. So you can decide what to do with it, but if you’d like a little advice, if I were you, I’d take it and invest in the stocks I like and let it sit. Don’t touch it. Act as if you never had it. Do that and in ten years you will be a very, very wealthy man. Trust me when I say this. In 2013, IBM will be worth one hundred
sixty–seven dollars a share and that’s not counting the splits and interest from dividends.”
“But how can you possibly know all this? No one has a crystal ball and with stocks, it’s risky. How can you know what a stock will be in 2013? That’s what . . . twenty-five years from now? What are you Mr. Campo, some high level executive who gets insider tips? That’s illegal you know.”
“So’s taking someone’s money . . . unless it’s a gift.” Lucky looked at him and really didn’t want to have this conversation. He just wanted the guy to take the money. Truth be told, he liked having people on the hook. It was a layer of protection. That’s just the way it works in life. In order to ensure loyalty, there has to be a reason for it.
“Do you think I would personally put that much money on a stock if I didn’t know what it would do beforehand?” Lucky asked. “I just gave you one hundred million dollars plus the two hundred fifty thousand that I gave you as a gift. Now count it out, give me a signed receipt and I’m outta here.”
Flackstein ambled over to the chair, took the “gift” money, placed it into the bottom of a cardboard box that was holding files, and picked up the phone to call for a security guard to watch over the other cash and asked for a manager to serve as a witness.
Chapter Six
Director of China’s Secret Police Quiang Shan sat staring at the thin folder his deputy had just handed him. He had read it four times and still couldn’t believe what was in the report. Shan lifted his head. His dead eyes bore like laser beams onto Quon Zhixin’s countenance. He was making Zhixin very nervous.
“And you received this from our friend in America?” he finally asked.
“Yes.”
“Can this be verified?”
“Everything in the report is on a flash drive that contains a video. But before he sends it, he wants the money you promised him sent to an account in the Cayman Islands. Everything’s in the report.”
Quiang thought for a moment. There was a lot more money that Shan had access to, in a special account put aside for just this sort of ‘acquisition’. Still, he must be certain that he would get a return on his investment, one that would satisfy his superiors. If this turned out to be a trick, he would have a lot of explaining to do.
“Get him on the phone now. Route the call through our export company’s number. Before I send him a million dollars, I want to impress upon him the consequences of information that is ‘meaningless’.”
Quon Zhixin called Sam Irwin’s cell phone. The shrill sound of the phone snapped Irwin out of his latest daydream, the one with swaying palm trees and the blue waters of the Caymans, beautiful girls sun bathing in topless bikinis. He looked at the caller ID, smiled nervously and picked it up after the first ring.
“Irwin here.”
“Mr. Irwin, this is James Lee, President of Taiwan Imports. I was calling to see if that item you said I might be interested in was the real item, an original. Since we are dealing across the ocean, it is imperative that we are given assurances that this is completely authentic before we send our payment to you. If we receive the item and it is not what it was purported to be, we will be forced to take action that will result in seriously unpleasant consequences for you. Is that understood, Mr. Irwin? Do you still maintain that your product is original?”
Irwin took a deep breath and did his best to mask the fear in his voice. While he had no idea that his friend Mr. Lee was Quiang Shan, the brutal Director of the Chinese Secret Police, it was still most unpleasant to be threatened. This was serious business. Irwin was well aware of how the Chinese conduct their governmental affairs.
“Hold on for a moment. I want to check for privacy,” Irwin said. He placed the phone down onto his desk and walked over to the door to his office, opened it, looked to his left, and then to his right to make sure that no one was within hearing range. Satisfied, he locked the door and glanced at the phone, hesitant to pick it up again. At that moment, it hit him. He was so close to being a wealthy man that sheer terror filled his body – the fear of saying or doing something to screw it all up. He picked up the phone.
“Mr. Lee, what man would willingly subject himself to unpleasantness? If I did not have what I say I have, I would not have contacted you. I am not a man who sends out faulty merchandise. It is original. It is worth your time. I am not someone who desires to look over his shoulder every waking moment of his day, either. After seeing the product, I’m sure you will thank me. You understand of course that this product, like any merchandise, must be paid in advance before I can ship it? That was our agreement the night we had dinner together. We agreed to a price. When I receive confirmation that it has been paid, I will immediately ship it to you the fastest way possible for international packages.”
Shan told Irwin he was placing him on hold for a moment. Shan could think of nothing else to say to Irwin. This, like all other collection of information, was where instinct kicked in. Shan could either buy the product or cancel the order. He needed to see the video. He clicked back on the phone.
“Mr. Irwin, the funds are being wired to your account as we speak. You should have confirmation in a few moments. I’ll hold on until you receive them. Let’s hope that I can say ‘It was a pleasure dealing with you’.”
Irwin kept a watchful eye on his computer screen. As soon as the funds were deposited, it would show in his account. Seconds turned into what seemed to be an eternity as he kept hitting ‘refresh’ on his computer screen. Moments later, there it was – all one million of it. The zeroes almost jumped off his screen. The sum of one million dollars received and deposited into his Cayman Island account.
“I am leaving now for the post office,” Ir
win said to Shan. But instead of leaving immediately, Sam Irwin had one more thing to do. He clicked the ‘transfer funds’ button and rerouted the money to a different bank, into another account. Irwin reached into his desk drawer and grabbed the FedEx envelope holding the flash drive. He unlocked his office door, took the steps at the end of the hall one flight up, and walked to the mail room where he dropped the envelope into the cart holding the day’s outgoing mail. He returned to his office and followed that up with an email to Mr. Lee that included a tracking number. He fidgeted with the other flash drive that remained on his key ring.
Chapter Seven
12th Century England
Queen Alexandra and Princess Krystina were escorted to the second floor of the abbey by Father Henry, the Abbot’s assistant. Their sergeant protector walked behind Father Henry and in front of the ladies. Even though the women were most likely safe inside a church, it was still the sergeant’s duty to remain stalwart in his protection of his royal subjects. They walked the long, hall, high above the nave, the longest nave in any English church. They walked until finally they came to the end of the hall where Father Henry knocked once on the massive door and opened it without waiting for an answer. The Father escorted the women inside. Standing in front of a very large window was the Abbot, deep in concentration, as he tinkered with some sort of mechanical device. He appeared to be having difficulty inserting a tiny part into the device’s intricate movement. With each attempt, he became more frustrated by his inability to get it just right. The ladies stared at the Abbot and this rather large device and tried to make it out. It was suggestive of some sort of timing device. At last, the part slid into its slot with a satisfying click.
“Ah,” he said, “victory.” He released his hands and smiled, completely satisfied. “Please forgive me, Your Majesty,” he said looking at Queen Alexandra, “but my mind is consumed with a way to more accurately understand our hours. I have visions in my mind. This little device, a key, will propel the device to give it energy. When this ‘clock’ is finished, it will serve to display astronomical information, such as relative positioning of the sun, moon, zodiac constellations.” He stopped, smiled and apologized once again.
“Forgive me again, Your Majesty. I surrender my time to you. My thoughts invade my mind and then my tongue, I fear, invades it too,” he said with a slight chuckle. “My apologies for any disrespect shown the Queen and the Princess.”
“Have no more words about it, dear Abbot,” the Queen replied.
“Well then, I’m Richard of Wallingford, Abbot of St. Albans in Hertfordshire. A courier has advised of your journey. What is it that requires my hand?”
The Queen spoke first. “Dear Abbott. . . ” She hesitated trying to formulate the correct words. “The Princess, my sister, is with child and of foremost importance, is our request for your blessing of the child and the Princess. Also of interest is our request that you might find favor and construct a chart of the signs for the baby.”
The Abbott was a pleasant man, known to be slightly eccentric, but generally always happy. He flashed a broad smile that displayed a few missing teeth. He was anxious to please the Queen.
“Please, let’s advance,” he said as he guided them to the other side of the room where his desk, or what he used as a desk, was situated. “Please understand that in order to do justice and construct a chart properly, I must have an exact date and time of birth. This provides me information such as the positions of the stars and planets at that time.”
The women’s faces fell. Seeing this, he smiled and said, “Oh no. We must have none of that. Please know I choose to not disappoint. There are other ways, but it will not serve as the most accurate, but provide rather a few general thoughts. But for you, Princess, I will chart. Let us then compare the two and observe their revelations.”
The Princess smiled. So did the Queen. What a shame it would have been to have traveled all this way only to go home empty handed, devoid of any new knowledge of what the future might hold.
“Please have a seat here by the window and afford me some time,” the Abbot said.
He took out a quill and asked the Princess about her personal birthdate and the exact time of her birth. He then directed his attention to a globe–like structure that appeared to have planets revolving freely around it.
“A little invention of the Abbot. It assists the construction of the natal chart,” he smiled and said sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders almost apologetically.
He turned to a shelf behind his desk, reached up, took some charts and laid them on his desk. He studied them intently, all the while making notes on parchment paper. When he was finished, he said to the Princess, “Your chart has met completion. Later, I will move forward on your child’s chart and do the best I can based on the approximate date of birth.”
The Abbott studied the parchment then looked at the Princess and began.
“You, Princess, from birth have been gifted with great qualities, those that others may envy. We have the Sun and Mars with Moon and Pluto, all strong signs, characteristic of those who walk with confidence and are secure with the decisions they make. You feel when others feel and rely upon instincts to serve you well. They do. You use them wisely. Mercury is rising. Mercury is the sign of intelligence and clarity. The Princess knows what she wants and cares not what others think. You are strong, independent and in control of your mind.”
The Abbott paused a moment studying his writings. Then he continued.
“There is quite a lot to tell you. Are you sure you want me to continue?”
“Yes,” she replied instantly. He had her interest. She couldn’t wait to hear the rest of what he had to say.
“Your wizard will need your help when you next see him. Death hovers close to him.”
This was not exactly the news Krystina expected to hear – her astrological reading ending with an enigmatic warning. The Princess sighed and held her hand to her heart, “But,” she said to the Abbott as she attempted to ask him a question.
The Abbot gingerly raised his hand to silence her. “I can say no more, except that you move forth with wisdom in your actions.”
Chapter Eight
As soon as they returned, Lucky told Mickey to call the boys.
“We’re going to have a corporate meeting,” he said. Lucky liked that – a corporate meeting with his board of directors. The following day, right after lunch, Lucky called the meeting to order.
“Okay guys, here’s the deal. I’ve appointed myself Chairman of the Board with Mickey as President of the corporation. I’ve named the Corporation – Timeless Securities Inc. or TSI as it will be called. I’ve checked with Paine Webber and our stock portfolio is a little over a billion dollars. After our meeting, Mickey and I are going to the city to discuss ways of investing a portion of our stock portfolio with our Paine Webber representative.” Nicky jumped in, “Since when did we have a Paine Webber Representative?”
Lucky answered ,“Since as soon as I got one.”
Everyone laughed.
“Now,” he continued, “I want all you guys here tomorrow at one o’clock for an update. I should have some more important information then. If any one of you can’t make it, I want you to call Mickey.”
And that was it. That was the extent of the meeting. Just a few words, but powerful ones. Who on earth knew to expect to hear the words “billion dollars in a portfolio”? It was almost surreal and numbing. The boys each left, too much in shock to really comment at all.
Lucky grabbed Mickey by the arm and stepped into the portal. They exited at the stairwell leading to the offices of Paine Webber. From there, they walked quickly over to the familiar office of Mr. Leonard Flackstein, Vice-President of Corporate Sales. Lucky opened the door and walked in as if he and Mickey owned the place – which they did, in a way. Flackstein had his back to them facing the window, his phone to his ear. He turned quickly, gave a glance and said he’d be with them in a moment. He turned back to the window. A second
later, his delayed recognition receptors kicked in and his hand, the one holding the phone, dropped to his side. He picked the phone back up and said to the caller, “I’m afraid that I have something important that requires my attention at this moment. Please let me call you back later this afternoon.”
“Mr. Caaaampo,” Flackstein said drawing out Lucky’s name, “I can’t believe it’s you,” he said as he rounded his desk and shook both men’s hands.
“You do amaze me, Mr. Campo. You don’t seem to have aged a day since we last met. I don’t know how you do it. I don’t see you for years and then you pop in as if it were yesterday.”
“Yes, well it does seem like yesterday to me, Mr. Flackstein. When did you become Vice President?”
“About five years ago and I have you to thank for it. Your portfolio, handled exclusively by me, has become one of the largest in the entire company. By the way,” he whispered, “I took your advice and bought shares in the companies you suggested and you were correct. My future is secure, just as you predicted. I thank you for that.”
“When will you be retiring?” Lucky asked without skipping a beat.
“Well,” Flackstein stammered, “may I ask why that is of interest? I could retire now if I wanted to, but why should I? What would I do with myself?”
“How much do they pay you, if I may be so bold to ask?”
“I make a little over a million a year, plus benefits.”
“How would you like to make two million a year,” Lucky quickly shot back, paused, then added, “plus benefits?”
Lucky pulled an envelope from his inside jacket pocket and handed it to Flackstein.
“It’s an employment contract to manage a billion dollar corporation called Timeless Securities, Inc. TSI is what it will be known as. If you accept my offer, you will manage this company and make the day-to-day decisions and handle its day-to-day operations. If you take my offer, you will also be one of the most influential financial advisors in the country. All you have to do is fill in the amount, sign it and have it notarized. With you at the helm, I expect this corporation to double its portfolio within the next five years, sooner if certain opportunities present themselves. Oh, and I would appreciate it if you would please check on what my portfolio is worth today.”