by Sam Waite
Sentiment did not affect my instinct for self-preservation.
If the crack I had heard when I hit Cervantes on top of his head meant that there was a fracture at the coronal suture, he was not a threat, at least not until he had recovered in a hospital. If it was a less severe injury, then Marie and I would have an exposed rear. Just to be safe, I broke each of his arms at the elbow.
Then we went to find Geir Oddsson.
Chapter 34
Despite a faux gallant protest to Marie about her coming along, I wanted her with me, precisely because of the danger. We each held a pistol as I led the way up the stairs.
At the top was an open sitting room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a walled garden. There was no sign of anyone. The sitting area extended the length of the house, with three doors on one side and two on the other. I tried the door to Sabine's study first. It was unlocked, and the room unoccupied. Marie kept behind me as we tested the other doors. Only one was locked.
I knocked.
There was no answer.
"Geir, you've got no one protecting you now. Open the door, make things easy."
Silence.
I slammed the side of my fist against the door. "Let us in Geir, before I break in. I'll be angry if I have to do that."
"I'm armed Mick, and I'm calling the police."
I shot two bullets into the door's lock, kicked it open, and kept well to the side.
Good thing I did. The shotgun blast filled the doorway and took a few chunks out of the frame.
Marie poked her pistol through the door and fired a round blindly. Oddsson dropped the shotgun. I rushed in before anyone else picked it up.
There were no soldiers in the war room, but besides Oddsson and Alexandra, there were a couple of faces that I hadn't expected to see. Wu and Gatineau.
In an absurd display of surrender, Oddsson held his hands up and backed away from the shotgun. "I was afraid, Mick. You would have done the same."
"I wouldn't have dropped the gun."
The room looked like a control center for a major bank. There were the same Bloomberg terminals that Bizet had, but he also had Reuters.
"Excuse me," Gatineau said as though nothing more untoward had occurred than a spat between siblings. He walked to a computer, made an entry and spoke into a phone. One word. "Correct."
"Don't do that again," I said.
He raised an eyebrow.
I almost made a scary snarl and said, "I really mean it," but I decided to watch instead. I stood next to him as confirmation of a transaction flashed on the screen. "That's interesting."
"Actually, this is none of your affair. You will never leave France. I will see you put away for the rest of your life." He must have read my mind a second ago, but he didn't quite get it right. He made a sneer that wasn't scary.
While I was occupied, Wu looked like he was eager to make a dive for the shotgun. The only thing that stopped him was Marie and her pistol. He was obviously smarter than the guys downstairs.
To remove all temptation, I picked it up. It was pump action. "How many shells?" I asked Geir and loaded one in the chamber. He didn't answer.
"I'll use them until I run out, then. Marie, would you keep count." I aimed at the computer Gatineau had used.
"Four! Five! Four!" Oddsson's voice was strident. That was very unlike him. "It has a five-shell capacity. One has been fired."
He'd used the passive voice. Like it wasn't his fault the gun had tried to kill Marie and me.
"Mick."
There was that velvet alto, a little bit throaty. Despite the circumstances, Alexandra still aroused an animal urge in me. She walked close. I could smell her faint perfume, hints of tangerine and peach.
"What is this about?" she said. "You said you knew who killed Sabine. There was shooting downstairs. We were afraid for our lives. Geir's action was courageous. He was trying to protect us, not hurt you."
"You're rambling." I touched my finger to her lips.
"You know about the trading."
"I've known for a while."
"Do you have any idea how much money is involved?"
I tipped my head to one side. "A lot."
"Billions upon billions of euros or dollars for each person in this room." She glanced at Oddsson. He jerked his chin, a reluctant nod. "That includes you, Mick."
"Guess it's lucky I got here on time. What about her?" I pointed my chin toward Marie, but Alexandra ignored me. She was focused, now.
"I don't understand why you think anyone but Trevor killed Sabine."
"It's a bit more than 'think.' I pretty much know."
"How could you. Nothing else makes sense."
"I knew Trevor. I'm not saying he was incapable of murder, just that he was incapable of a stupid murder. Killing Sabine out of jealousy would have been decidedly stupid. He fled Paris suddenly. The only thing that could have caused him to do that is fear. Of what?
"He brought two vials of oil back from Venezuela. A very careful analysis of the sulfur-eating bacteria they contained might have shown that they did not perform as advertised. That knowledge would have upset plans to coerce OPEC to price oil exclusively in euros, which is what started the dollar's fall."
As if on cue, Gatineau made another entry in the computer, while I watched. "Correct," he said when Hall recited details of the trade.
"Exhibit 'A.'" I snatched Gatineau's mobile phone out of his hand.
Oddsson tensed and stepped toward me.
I pointed the shotgun at his chest.
His expression showed he didn't believe I would shoot him.
"I most assuredly will, Oddsson."
I put the phone in my pocket and pushed Gatineau away from the computer.
"Trevor and Sabine were killed because they threatened the success of your enterprise. There is nothing stupid about that. As Alexandra just said, billions of dollars or euros were at stake, but even more important for the funder, China's ambitions to deliver a devastating blow to the U.S."
"That's ridiculous!" Wu sounded angry. "If America's economy is weak, it hurts us."
"In absolute terms, I suppose it would, but not in relative terms. In the nineteen eighties, when it looked like Japan might surpass the U.S., a survey asked American businessmen which they would prefer: U.S. growth at five percent and Japanese growth at four percent or U.S. growth at ten percent and Japanese growth at fifteen percent. A great majority selected the lower growth rate, because it put them ahead of Japan. The researcher was surprised, but more recent studies showed the same economic motivation in abstract tests. You must know the saying, 'My enemy cuts my flesh; I cut his bone.' That, Mr. Wu, is human nature."
Wu's face reddened. "What do you really want? Money? You want the biggest share?"
"Money is something that we can accommodate," said Gatineau. He indicated a clock next to the Reuters terminal. "In ten minutes and forty-five seconds, we will have earned in excess of thirty billion euros. You may keep my phone if you like. We are at the center of our target range. My last instruction to Mr. Hall was to delay the clearance of all transactions that would upset our plan. We really don't need you. Offering you a share is simply an act of good will."
I looked at Marie. Her body language was saying, "Let's think about this."
"It would cause a lot of havoc wouldn't it?"
"Nothing the world can't recover from. Do you remember 1971? Nixon was forced to abandon America's promise to sell gold internationally at thirty-five dollars an ounce. That destroyed the Bretton Woods accord that fixed currency exchange rates. For a day or two after that you could scarcely find any bank that would exchange currencies. Now the world's no worse for it. It caused some temporary difficulties, but no one bled over it."
"That's one of the differences, isn't it? Sabine and Trevor have died over this. That run on gold you mentioned? It was led by France wasn't it? There's a similarity. Another one is that when the status quo was lost in 1971, there was no going back to a gold standa
rd. There won't be revisionism this time either, but the stakes are bigger now. If China absorbs Taiwan, it will be a free democracy gone forever. If the dollar loses its status as the international currency, it will not regain it."
"Pshaw," said Gatineau. "You're naÏve, if you think any of this will make a difference regarding your almighty dollar. It's going to happen. If not now, then later. Americans will bring their own house down. You are poor husbands of your wealth. You print dollars carefree to pay your debts, while the rest of the world has to work for its dollars. That has been going on for so long that you have forgotten what it means to earn more than you spend in the global market."
While Gatineau was talking, I studied the computer display. He stopped talking when I took out my own phone and called Jim Burroughs. He sounded like he had made good on his plan to knock back some boilermakers. "How much would it take raise the dollar just past the strike target?"
"Are you still trying to save the world, Sanchez?"
"The dollar has been static, because the trading system is on hold. I have access to a direct feed to LIFFE, and we have time to change things. Tell me what to do."
"All right, but all they have to do is make a counter trade. They have more money than we do."
"I can stop it. Don't ask how."
Burroughs gave me a trade order. I entered it in the computer, but didn't send it. There was still time for Hall to figure out a ruse and make a new trade.
"What are you doing?"
I glanced at Oddsson. "Sabine's death had nothing to do with jealously, except perhaps on your part."
"What are saying? I have proved to police that I was not at home when Sabine died. I had nothing to do with it."
"You didn't kill her, but I wouldn't say you had nothing to do with it. I just can't understand how you could have let it happen. She said she loved you as much as the day you married. You said so too, but she meant it."
"Sabine was a tramp. You know that."
Free spirit came more readily to my mind, but then I hadn't been married to her. Oddsson obviously had been hurt more than he let on, but I wondered if the hurt was more to his ego than to his heart. "You said you'd learned to live with her."
Oddsson's voice was soft. "I'd learned to live with our money. She earned it. I invested it, and quite well."
"But you didn't kill her. Neither did M. Gatineau. Nevertheless, her death did involve someone who was worried about the success of this endeavor, especially about the oil samples. Alexandra sent the vial to Winchell's Houston office instead of the test center."
"To protect the trading, yes," Alexandra said. "But that doesn't mean I..."
Oddsson was done listening. He rushed me, shotgun notwithstanding.
I didn't shoot him. I hit him in the chin with the butt. That must have hurt for an instant before he went unconscious, but at least he wouldn't have to hear what else I had to say to Alexandra.
"You called Wu to tell him to steal the sample I gave to David."
"Mick, if you're thinking I killed Sabine... How could you?"
"I don't. It was too good. It had to have been done by a professional, someone like Cervantes."
"Then what are you accusing me of?"
"This house is very secure. All you did is make sure the door was unlocked when Sabine invited you into her home. I expect you went to the study with her and waited."
Alexandra's face drained of color. The birthmark was a livid orange against her ashen complexion.
"Mick, you can't do this. Not after we were..." She was crying now. "People will lose fortunes if this doesn't go through." She clenched her fists. "Do you know what they'll do to me?"
I had an idea.
"We could still be together, Mick. Together and rich beyond anything you could dream of. Please."
I glanced at Marie. She looked like she was rooting for Alexandra's side, at least a little bit. The bad guys had made us quite an offer, but that isn't what made it a hard call. I looked back at Alexandra. Even in anger and despair, she was a beauty.
"I have a sleep dysfunction," I said. "I don't dream much."
I pressed "Enter" on the computer and waited until a "Transmission OK" message was displayed. As soon as it did, the dollar started rising.
Alexandra shouted, "It isn't too late. We can make another trade." She rushed to the keyboard and started typing.
"Be careful." I put the shotgun's muzzle against the computer and shot it through the motherboard. There was a similar computer next to it. "This must be the back-up." I aimed at it.
Alexandra put her arms around my neck and squeezed. "Don't."
With Alexandra wrapped around my neck, Wu got brave and made a move. Marie stopped him cold.
I almost laughed when I saw what she had done. The barrel was shoved between his legs from behind. In a large enough population of men, you'll find at least one character who can stare death in the eye without blinking. Aim south and we all flinch.
"I shot your big friend four times," she said.
A noticeable tremble ran through Wu's body.
"She did," I said.
Marie marched Wu away from the door and ordered him not to turn around. Gatineau just stood like a dismayed schoolboy. For all his power, violence was not his element. It was mine and I hated to use it against Alexandra. She left little choice. I wrenched her arms from around my neck and shoved her to the floor. Then I shot the computer. Marie and I went out and closed the door behind us. We hadn't gone far before the door started to open.
I fired the shotgun. It's a fearsome weapon.
The door closed quickly. I handed the gun to Marie. There was one shell left.
"If the door opens again, shoot, but don't hit anyone."
She nodded.
I found Tom Hall's number on Gatineau's phone and called him. He assumed it was the Winchell boss.
"What's happening? We still have time to make a trade." He quickly said something in code that I didn't understand. Not that it mattered.
I let the seconds tick by.
"Gatineau?"
"Incorrect, Tom. No time left at all."
Chapter 35
Gatineau was wrong. I didn't spend the rest of my life in a French lockup. I was in one for only a couple of months. I was a suspect in manslaughter, a flight risk, a material witness. Pascal was no help at all in my defense. In fact, he didn't even want to admit he knew me.
The guy who proved to be my patron was Bizet. He had earned a bushel off my shenanigans. As he had promised, ten percent was mine, but still he covered my legal fees out of his share. Burroughs had also done well from his investment. It wasn't billions, but from the two of them, I came out with a large multiple of a six-figure pay day. That wasn't bad, even after I paid off my team.
As for Oddsson, Sabine hadn't told him about the Orimulsion study, but he spied on her regularly as a matter of course. When he learned of China's failure to develop a cheap liquefaction process, he thought up the plan to dupe OPEC and make an unprecedented fortune by shorting the dollar in the forex market.
He had dealt with Wu's father in the past. Father Wu had been the go-to man for official approval of a China business venture that Oddsson had worked on. There were a lot of regulations involved, but the only documents that had really been necessary were U.S. bank notes passed under the table.
Wu was Oddsson's kind of man.
Father Wu had seen beyond the larceny to a geopolitical checkmate. He told China's generals about the plan and sent his son to Paris on a student visa. With Wu's support, the generals were able to strengthen their political position. Besides the build-up of military force and provocations in the Taiwan Strait, they sent nuclear submarines into Japan's territorial waters to test that nation's ability to track their undersea vessels. They also probed Guam and American Samoa and nosed around Midway, perhaps to get a taste of what it would feel like when their Green Water ambitions were realized.
The dollar had not collapsed, so Taiwan and the rest of E
ast Asia was not exactly theirs for the taking. At least not now, but that goal had become much closer.
The irony was that Wu had lost a bundle of state money, but he had still come out a hero. Even though the dollar had quickly recovered about fifty percent of its two-day loss, it was a huge setback for America.
Venezuelan President Maduro did not come out so well. That country did not have five hundred billion in foreign exchange to play with. His high-stakes dalliance had bankrupted the state.
He was arrested before he could flee the country. In an abbreviated judicial process, he was impeached, convicted and imprisoned. Gavizon was proud of his role in that outcome. I asked him to let U.S. lawmen talk to his niece to see if they could get evidence that the sulfur-eating bacteria didn't do their job in the field.
He said okay. The lawmen got what they needed. Saudi Arabia was relieved at the news. The reins of the oil market were back in its hands, but that didn't restore the dollar to its global currency status. OPEC had decided to set prices based on a basket of currencies—an average of the dollar, euro and yen at a three-two-one ratio.
That would still hurt the American consumer, but not as much. They would have to buy only half of their oil imports in foreign currency. That outcome might have been for the best. Technologies that contributed to fuel conservation were suddenly getting a lot of political backing.
About our man at LIFFE. As soon as he figured the ruse, Tom Hall collected his personal savings and slipped out of England. He made it to Argentina. As far as the Argentines were concerned, he could stay. Anyone who helped discredit the British financial system was okay by them. After all these years, the Falkland war still rankled.
In France, criminal authorities were keeping Alexandra, as well as Oddsson and Gatineau, safe from retaliation by angry investors. At least until they left prison.
I was free to go. In fact, I was encouraged to go. The French police did not ride me out of town on a rail, but they did suggest that if I were to visit Europe again I might enjoy Spain or Italy more than France. Lots of sun. Good food. I thanked them for the recommendations, found a cab and checked into a five star hotel.