by Sam Waite
"No earthshaking consequence?"
"There would be turbulence in the forex market obviously, but as for the general economy, the only noise would be from John Q. Public. He'd end up paying more for Armani suits. Oil would get a lot cheaper for Europe and Japan, since it is priced in dollars. That would give their companies some advantage over Americans and help offset the advantage of a weak dollar in foreign trade. It might cause oil prices to go up some, since the U.S. would be bidding against stronger currencies, but the dollar exchange rate is not a major driver of petroleum prices."
"Nothing debilitating to the general economy then?"
"A large percentage of international trade is priced in dollars, so the U.S. can pay its bills in its own currency. Other countries often have to buy dollars to settle up. So in that sense, it doesn't matter much to Americans what the exchange rate is. Where are you going with this?"
"Just now, I had an idea that China Petroleum might be connected with the forex deals in order to hurt America's Pacific fleet. Exchange rates wouldn't do that though would they?"
"You worry me, Sanchez. There is some kind of big time thing going down, and I don't understand exactly what it is. Don't go wiggy on us. We might need your help."
"Talk to you later." Before I hung up, I heard Burroughs say something about someone not being the brightest bulb in the box. Whatever that meant.
My flash of inspiration connecting a weak dollar with a weak Pacific fleet didn't seem bright at all. "Exchange rates go up, and they go down," Burroughs had said. In other words "So what." Dollars more per ton of bunker fuel was not going to curtail the U.S. navy. Even so, I wasn't ready to abandon the motive just yet.
I called McNulty and told him Burroughs wanted a copy of the financial instrument and why he needed it. Could he persuade Mumby to provide details?
"How much persuading?"
"Whatever it takes."
"I don't think we have enough money to bribe the lad."
"Try intimidation. If that doesn't work, knock him out. Break his arm. Break both arms."
"I could get into trouble for that."
"You'd be saving the free world."
"Hardly. I'd be saving the almighty dollar."
"Same thing."
"No, it ain't."
"You're right. How about for an extra five thousand?"
"Euros or USD?"
"Pounds."
"Crack, snap and pop, Sanchez."
I was pretty sure McNulty understood I wasn't serious about the broken arms. Nevertheless, I wondered briefly whether Mumby's company paid private medical for its employees.
I checked with Alexandra to see how she was doing with the recordings. The one for Ruiz had hardly anything on it, and his colleague's had nothing interesting. While I listened with Alexandra, McNulty called back.
"That was quick."
"I won't be able to get the information you wanted, at least not from Mumby."
"What happened."
"He had an auto accident this morning. It was fatal."
A sliver of fear knifed through my spine. I felt exposed to a powerful malevolence that I could sense but could not see. It was close, watching.
"Are you still there, Mick?"
"Just thinking. Why Mumby? Why now?"
"Speed is often a factor, careless driving, maybe he was texting." McNulty's voice whispered with cynicism.
"I talked to someone today who has been tracking the forex market. He's an expert with the means and knowledge to monitor money flows. He said investments directed toward our known strike date dropped off sharply about a day ago."
"And Mumby had probably been the prime mover of that cash."
"Right, the investments had been placed. Whoever was making them no longer needed Mumby."
"Tom Hall, the man in LIFFE, might be interested in that observation. It was a dicey piece of work, lot of surveillance at his house, but I got a bug inside. For naught. He hasn't been home. I can pick him up outside his office. Might be able to scare something out of him. Ask him what he thinks about Mumby's fate."
"Hall might be a core insider?"
"I can try to find that out."
"You mean we can find out. I'll be there. Don't do anything on your own. It's too dangerous."
"Being born is dangerous. This might be your Chinese connection. Legend says those who buried Genghis Kahn were killed so they couldn't reveal the location of the grave. Then the soldiers who killed them were slain."
"Kahn was a Mongol."
"Who conquered Peking and got Sino-fied. Be careful Mick. Someone out there might think you know too much."
Chapter 23
"We'd better move." I wasn't sure anyone besides Oddsson knew I was here, but if someone had been looking for me, I would have been easy to find.
"Why? Where?" Alexandra said.
I told her about Mumby and the contact in Maduro's office. As she listened, the birthmark on her cheekbone darkened. It was an emotional reaction that either I hadn't noticed before or it had not occurred.
"You're afraid?" Fear, maybe was what it took to alter the hue of her nearly invisible flaw.
"For now, let's just say cautious. We can move to a hotel. It's only for a few days."
Alexandra closed her eyes. "Then what? What do I do after you leave?"
Reverse punch to the midsection. I felt the force of that question deep and hard. The truth was, I hadn't thought about it. Things had happened in ways that I couldn't have anticipated. Still, I should have had an answer. Alexandra opened her eyes as I stammered for time. "Once the strike date passes, I think it will all be over."
"Fini?" There was a hard cast to her eyes.
This time the punch landed below the belt. What was fini? The threat? The fear? Us? Her darkened birthmark was fading and the warm persona that had emerged over the last few days was reverting to the marble goddess. I opened a space in my mind for Grandmas Sanchez and Fitzgerald to show up. I needed their advice. They came, but all they had to offer was condolence.
"We need to survive until then." We packed light. I considered whether to take Sabine's car, call a taxi or walk to the nearest bus stop or train terminal. Sabine's car could be identified and followed. It could also be an escape vehicle, if we needed one. I decided to take the car and watch for a tail. After leaving the apartment, I drove through a maze of narrow streets, some scarcely wide enough for two cars to pass. No one followed that I could see, but if there was a "they" out there hunting us, they might be using more than one car.
I doubled back, found a main thoroughfare and made an illegal turn around a boulevard at an intersection. Once I was satisfied we were clear, I got a room in a three-star hotel on the fringe of the Opera district. It was tucked away, but had multiple escape routes and was a quick sprint from two subway entrances.
I had been focused on driving and watching for followers, so Alexandra and I had not spoken since we left Sabine's. The pressure of healthy paranoia is easy enough to handle with sardonic wit. The problem was I couldn't be sure paranoia, healthy or otherwise was the primary problem.
What to say? Nothing. As she looked out a window of the hotel, I ran my fingers along the back of her neck to her shoulders. Too tight.
"Lie down."
I sensed the release of tension in her shallow sigh as I pressed my thumbs into the center of her trapezoid muscles. I moved my hands slowly along the top of her shoulder blades, and then down along their interior and bottom edges. I located the eighth vertebra, placed my thumbs on either side and pressed. I continued lower, working deep into the tsubo pressure points that induce sleep. When I pressed just above her hip bone, her sigh was deep and long.
She pushed up and reached for the buttons of her blouse. Instinctively, she knew clothing inhibited the flow of ki.
I lifted her hip, unfastened her trousers and pulled them off. Her body lacked athletic tone, but still had the pliant firmness of youth. With only a wisp of nylon at her hips she lay still in surr
ender.
As I kneaded the back of her thigh I sensed her entering a dreamy limbo in the shadows of consciousness. It was a state that opened a visceral communication between receiver and giver that transcended the intellect. Alexandra was capable of trust, but I believed it was only because she felt in control, even when she submitted, whether to my thumbs or to silk scarves. "Fini?" That question echoed in my memory.
I would never understand the marble goddess who could become warm but still remain untouchable, by me or probably anyone else. I realized I knew why.
She laughed convincingly, but she never giggled. The child at the core of her being had not survived the transformation to adulthood. What a stunning force she would be with just a touch of playful mischief.
What had become of the little girl? I wasn't likely to find out, but I wondered what person or event had left a hollow in her soul.
I tucked Alexandra under the sheet, undressed and lay beside her. She draped her leg and arm across me and slept—in trust, but not in innocence.
Chapter 24
I awoke to a glow of sunlight and Alexandra's dainty snore.
Why hadn't I chosen a path that would have made mornings like this a common occurrence? Even I didn't know exactly. Curiosity must be high on the list.
Avenging angel? Some of that, I expect.
Justice and righteous indignation? Not so much.
Mostly, I guess it came down to self-verification. Anquiro ergo sum. I investigate, therefore I am. How ever that mix was put together, I needed all of the above to get me out of Alexandra's bed and onto the phone.
I called McNulty to see if Hall had been home. Not only was Hall home, he was on the phone right then. McNulty said he was listening and would call me back. When he did, he had a lot to say.
"The lad is nervous. I mean shaky-voice nervous. He was on speaker phone, so I heard both sides of the call. Hall was ordered to stay home and wait for a courier."
"Any idea what's being delivered?"
"They were speaking in code, but it was pretty evident that it was some sort of instructions. I don't know precisely. The most interesting thing might have been the caller."
"Why?"
"He had a Spanish accent."
The package was due sometime in the early afternoon. I might not be able to get to London before it arrived. We'd have to work around that. McNulty and I forged a plan on the fly. I hung up and told Alexandra I had to leave.
"Take me with you."
First I skip out on sailing, now I skip out altogether. Alexandra and I needed some quality vacation time, but as soon as I would be ready, she would have to go back to work.
"It could be dangerous."
"There's that word again. I'd be with you. I'm not afraid."
"Well I am, and not just for you. I need to be able to move quickly and flexibly. I might have to run or—"
"Fight?"
"I just have to be flexible. You shouldn't get into this."
"Just let me go as far as London with you."
"No."
"You can drop me somewhere, do whatever it is you're going to do and pick me up when you're finished."
"Not a good idea."
"I'm scared to be left alone, Mick!" Alexandra gripped my arms. "I don't like being away from you. Are you even coming back tonight? You don't know, do you? What am I supposed to do? Sit in this room and wait for the sound of a key in the lock, like at Sabine's?"
"If something happened—"
"Yes! What would you do if you came back and found out something had happened to me here?"
She won. It was an eventuality I did not want to think about.
On the drive to London, I ran through possible complications in my mind, while Alexandra looked through a guide book for a hotel. She found one that didn't require much of a detour. She also wheedled out of me the basic objective and McNulty's and my plan to achieve it. When she'd got that information, she proposed a slight variation or rather a solution to an issue that was still a sticking point.
"Say it. Aren't you glad I came?"
"Yes."
Hall was a fly that McNulty and I had intended to catch with vinegar, or if necessary, a fly swatter. Alexandra proposed the easier way. Honey.
McNulty was watching Hall's house. When I called, he said the courier had already delivered a manila envelope. He gave me the address, and I keyed it into the car's navigation system. Before we set out for the rendezvous with McNulty, I took Alexandra to a specialty shop.
Mission accomplished, I called again to tell McNulty about the new plan. He didn't like it until he saw Alexandra. He pursed his lips and let his breath out slowly in a quiet whistle.
When McNulty broke into Hall's home to install listening devices, he had disabled the security system at the entry point. We would use the same method to go in the back while Alexandra distracted Hall at the front.
She practiced her spiel. Door-to-door sales solicitations were hardly welcomed, but with certain products, it was so much easier. Especially if you are a man, there are items that you simply cannot purchase over the counter. How would the woman in your life look in this? She held a sheer nightgown against her shoulder. Or this? She pulled her blouse open to the fringe of lace on her bra. Then she produced a catalog. That should keep Hall occupied while McNulty and I searched for a manila envelope.
He had already identified an upstairs office as the most likely place for Hall to put the package. When we heard the doorbell, McNulty and I slipped through a back window and climbed the stairs. The envelope on top of his desk contained only four pages. We made duplicates on Hall's photocopier and got out in less than five minutes. I called Alexandra's cell phone. It took her another seven minutes to wrap up her sales pitch.
"Did he buy anything?"
"He thinks he did. What was in the envelope?"
I wasn't certain, but I had a good idea. If I was right, there was only one person I wanted to share the information with. Jim Burroughs.
Chapter 25
It wasn't that I didn't trust McNulty or Alexandra. It was just that the fewer people who knew, the less likelihood of failure.
When we got back to Paris, I called Burroughs. "You have what?"
"Think of it as a communications protocol for making trades. Example, 'Take four bottles from the cupboard and store them in the basement.' That would indicate a forty-thousand dollar buy-and-sell transaction. It also identifies the buyer and seller."
"And?"
"It was sent to Tom Hall, for use on the strike date."
"How is that supposed to help? Is Hall going to be making public announcements in code?"
"Let's assume I can get a real-time transmission of Hall's trading instructions. Would that help?"
"You're going to tap his phone? How?"
"A phone tap would be outside my skills. For now, just assume it's possible to get details of trades in advance."
"OK, if you knew what the other side was doing, you could trade against them in the cash market and prevent futures bets from paying off."
"Theoretically, it could work if I had enough money. Even without an exact copy of the instrument, we are assuming that they expect the dollar to fall thirteen percent four days from now. More specifically, it is supposed to start dropping two days from now. For that to happen, you have to think major event. As for fine tuning the dollar's trading level, I could nullify their moves if I had advance information on what they were doing. I would also need access to many billion bucks in cash, which I don't have."
Neither did I. Burroughs and I spent a little time speculating on what sort of event could make the dollar plummet. War wouldn't do it, since the dollar was considered a safe haven in troubled times. If the trillions held by foreign governments and central banks were suddenly dumped, the dollar could become Monopoly money in the global market, but there was no incentive for that to happen. We ended the conversation with promises to call if either of us thought of a reason to unload dollar holdings.
I checked with Pascal to see if there was any news on the Venezuelan.
Pascal said Ruiz had been met by the Saudi, who led him to a Mercedes Benz limo.
"I didn't hear anything they said, but I definitely know what they were talking about."
"What was that and how do you know?"
"They were talking about oil. That's a good guess anyway, but if you doubt that, listen to me. I followed them to a chateau about halfway between Paris and Versailles. When they stopped, those two got out, along with two other men dressed in white desert robes. Saudis garb up like that. Most other Arabs go Savile Row. That place wasn't just some country home. I checked later. It was built in the seventeenth century. It has two hundred acres and two private lakes. Those guys are at the top."
So far that didn't tell me much. Venezuela was a founding member of OPEC, so a Saudi connection was normal.
"I hung around to see who else might show up," Pascal continued. "Another limo brought in two more Arabs and two Asians, maybe Chinese."
That bit was news. Maybe the emirs were interested in the liquefaction project. It would have been fun to have listened to overfed billionaires discuss sulfur-eating bacteria.
Pascal said he had nothing else to add. When I cut the connection, I saw that I had a voice message. "Call me." It was David.
"I'm leaving for Taiwan at the end of the week. I want to see you."
"When will you be back in Paris?"
"I'm not coming back. Can you meet me or not. It's your fault that I have to go."
I was beginning to feel like the grim reaper. Maybe it was just coincidence, but something bad had happened to lot of people I'd associated with Trevor's job. We agreed to rendezvous at our old corner café.