Without Warning

by Darrell Maloney

  He told Sarah, his secretary, “Tell him I can’t see him today and tell him to make an appointment.”

  “He says he works for a bank and he’s here to offer you a line of credit of a quarter million dollars.”

  Wait. What?

  Mr. Lee suddenly had Pete’s attention.

  He didn’t just tell Sarah to send Mr. Lee in.

  No, that just wouldn’t do.

  Someone of Mr. Lee’s stature deserved to be greeted personally with a big smile and a warm handshake.

  Sarah should have told him sooner how important Mr. Lee was. Why, it was just rude of her to keep him waiting so long.

  Pete rushed into his secretary’s office and greeted Mr. Lee warmly.

  He would have fallen to his knees and licked the man’s shoes, but that would have been too much.

  Just a bit.

  Seconds later Pete was back at his desk, brushing aside the pesky bills that had given him a headache just five minutes before.

  “My secretary said something about… a line of credit?”

  “Yes, Mr. Myerson,” Lee said in flawless English without a hint of an accent. “I represent the Chinese-Asian Bank of Beijing. We like to invest in the dealings of small businesses all over the world. The way we do that is to loan money that might not be available from other sources.

  “Our rates are competitive. One half point over the American fixed rate on the date the loan is signed. And we’re prepared to offer you a line of credit of two hundred fifty thousand.”

  “Dollars or Yuan?”

  “Dollars.”

  Pete felt as though his guardian angel flew through the window and landed upon his shoulder.

  He wanted to say, “Where do I sign?”

  But wait.

  This can’t be right.

  People you don’t know just don’t waltz in unannounced and offer to loan you money you desperately need but never asked for.

  This is incredibly fishy.

  Pete decided to pump the brakes just a bit. Just to make sure this was legitimate.

  It sounded too much like one of those “payday loan” places that helped a guy who was a little in debt get a whole lot in debt.

  He’d better ask a couple of questions, just so he wouldn’t look like the fool he was quite willing to be, but wasn’t willing to look like in front of his newest best friend, Mr. Lee.

  “Would you mind telling me, Mr. Lee, how you found out that I was going through a temporary financial shortfall and needed an influx of cash?”

  “Well, certainly. You defaulted on three loans over the last several months.

  “It is common practice for banks and savings and loans to sell the rights to defaulted loans to other parties who might have more resources in collecting them. Were you aware of that practice?”

  “Um… no.”

  Lee opened his briefcase and thumbed through some papers.

  “We’re talking specifically about your loans from South Georgia Community Bank, for a combined total of eighty seven thousand dollars. The South Georgia Community Bank has written off those loans as unrecoverable.

  “But they’re peddling the bad debt to collection agencies and other banks which have more aggressive collection resources, for less than half the face value, at thirty five thousand. That way they get at least some of their money back.”

  “Aha!” Pete thought to himself, but didn’t say out loud. “I knew this was too good to be true.”

  To Lee he said, “So… you bought the bad debt and you’re going to make me pay it before you approve my loan, is that it?”

  “Oh, no, Mr. Myerson. Not at all. You see, we’re not interested in old debt. It’s not what we do. But you asked how we found out about you. I mention the bad debt merely as a means of answering your question.

  “We passed on your bank’s offer. But once we realized you’re having cash flow problems we took a look at your overall business.”

  “You investigated me and my business?”

  “Yes. But fear not, there’s nothing shady about it. It’s standard practice in the banking business when someone is being considered for a line of credit, whether they asked for it or not.”

  “And what did you determine?”

  “We determined you have a good business which simply got away from you. And that with some cash you can pay off some debts and hire some more employees, maybe upgrade your vehicle fleet and other equipment. And that once that’s done you’ll be in a better position to capture a bigger share of the plumbing market.

  “After all,” Lee concluded. “Atlanta is growing, and all the new residents will need toilets. It seems to us your share of the market will only get bigger as each year goes by.”

  -45-

  Lee made a great sales pitch. Actually, he wasn’t really selling anything. He was offering money to someone who desperately needed it because of his own incompetence and ineptitude. It was more an anti-sales pitch.

  Lee had been doing this for several years now. Not for the Trojan Horse program, because that was a new project. But Beijing had other projects in the works for quite some time which also required finding “assets” in the United States and bringing them under Chinese control (“assets” in this case meaning people and not property)

  He didn’t understand Americans’ tendency to be wary when someone came to collect money from them, but bent over backwards when they were offered it. They never seemed to realize that nobody offers money for nothing.

  Even when they have a good anti-sales pitch.

  In any event, it made Lee’s job a lot easier. He knew within thirty seconds of meeting him that Myerson would take the bait.

  Lee had done his homework.

  He knew Myerson was a very good plumber, but a lousy businessman.

  Pete had a grand scheme of opening a branch of Myerson Plumbing in nearly every suburb in Atlanta. Eighteen of them. That meant eighteen storefronts. Eighteen vehicle fleets. Eighteen parts cribs. Eighteen teams of plumbers.

  That stuff takes a lot of money.

  He overextended.

  He falsified financial statements and inventory sheets. He borrowed money he could never hope to pay back.

  He should have stuck to being a plumber and working for somebody else. But his dreams quickly overpowered his common sense.

  It was the Chinese who came up with the saying “an extra charm in one’s back pocket makes it easier to sleep a night.”

  They like having a little something in reserve to make sure things go according to plan.

  You see, they’d done their homework well. They not only knew about Pete’s business misadventures.

  They knew everything else as well.

  They knew about the townhouse in Buckhead, one of Atlanta’s most exclusive communities. He’d purchased that at an exorbitant price, mostly for the address.

  Lee also knew about the ranch house in Marietta, the half interest in two strip clubs in Alpharetta and the condo in Lawrenceville. Pete’s wife didn’t even know about the condo, since it was for Pete’s mistress.

  Lee had photographs and videos taken from inside the clubs and the condo of Pete, philandering with the dancers.

  It was those photos and videos which represented the extra charm in Mr. Lee’s back pocket.

  Or, to use a more familiar American term, the “ace up his sleeve.”

  Mr. Lee would pull out the photos and videos only if he needed to fight dirty to get his new American asset to play ball.

  So far, though, he didn’t think he’d need to.

  So far he was playing Pete like a fiddle. Pete was like putty in his hands.

  That’s four old idioms on a single page.

  That’s probably a record.

  Anyway, if Pete ever began to waiver in his quest to cater to Mr. Lee’s wishes, Lee would produce the photos and videos and threaten to share them with his wife, his preacher, his employees and others.

  Mr. Lee didn’t think he’d ever have to do that.

/>   From what he’d seen so far Pete would be a very compliant Chinese asset.

  “My office will do the necessary line of credit paperwork,” he told the still-incredulous Pete sitting in front of him. “I’ll be back tomorrow for all the necessary signatures.”

  He stood up to leave, and even turned toward the door.

  He smiled before he turned around. He always enjoyed the moment when he got to spring the trap.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” he said as he turned to face Pete once again.

  “Perhaps there is a way you can help me. I noticed, when we surveyed your various properties, that you own a storage lot near Piedmont Park. Is that correct?”

  “Why… yes, I do. I use it to store shop equipment and long pieces of pipe.”

  “Our bank is renovating our Atlanta branch late next year. I’m afraid someone erred and ordered some of the furnishings much too early. They arrived yesterday and I’m afraid we have no place to put them.

  “I hope it’s not a problem, but would you mind if we dropped the shipping container in your lot? We’ll place it in the back corner of the lot, where it’ll be out of your way.

  “Well, I’m not sure my insurance company will…”

  “And of course we’d compensate you fairly for allowing us to store it there. Perhaps by knocking a quarter point off your loan’s interest rate?”

  “By all means, of course you can park your container there. It’ll be no problem at all. Just let me know when it’ll be brought out and I’ll be there to unlock the gate.”

  Mr. Lee smiled again. Pete thought he was being cordial, as Chinese businessmen almost always are.

  Lee was actually smiling because he caught his fish and reeled him in.

  Americans are such suckers.

  This little endeavor cost the Chinese government a quarter of a million dollars, sure.

  But China is a nation which manipulates its currency at will. It would cost them much less.

  And no matter what it cost them, it was a small price to pay for turning one of the largest cities and business centers in the United States into dust.

  -46-

  PanAm 211 lumbered into Los Angeles a bit after five p.m.

  The big diesel-electric locomotives didn’t like creeping along at five miles an hour. They were like sports cars. They were equipped to race the wind and it’s what they liked to do.

  Ask a Corvette what it would rather do: sit all shiny and new on a showroom floor, or get out and run and collect bugs in its grill.

  If it answers you, don’t tell anyone. And be sure you look around to make sure no one saw; men in white coats might come and drag you away.

  But even if it doesn’t answer you the answer is clear.

  The Corvette was made to roar.

  So is a modern locomotive.

  A typical locomotive packs enough power to drag thousands of tons of cargo uphill. Locomotive engines are used as back-up generators in baseball and football stadiums around the world.

  That’s because, in the event of a power outage during a night game, a regular generator won’t do. Only a locomotive engine can light up the stadium’s lights, run the concession stands and brighten the parking lots in one fell swoop.

  Putting a leash on such raw power is like hobbling a race horse, but it must be done.

  The Los Angeles train yard is one of the biggest in the world. Trains go in and out of there dozens of times a day. Cars are switched and re-routed, engines are repaired and sent back out, crews are switched or rested.

  And every loco in the yard chomps at its bits to get back out again. To get back on the open rails once again and to open its throttle wide.

  It’s like every dog on every leash in every park in America.

  It wants to run.

  Jordan and crew enjoyed pulling into the Los Angeles yard. It not only represented an extra day off to rest and relax and have some fun.

  But it also gave them a totally new train to take back east with them. It broke the monotony. It gave them more work to do, sure.

  But railroad men and women are like the locomotives they drive.

  They don’t want to be shackled. They want to get out there and do something worthwhile.

  Other places they stop for overnighters: Delta or Salt Lake City or wherever, a couple of cars might be dropped or added as they sleep away the night in a local motel.

  In Los Angeles, though, their entire train is taken away from them. All they keep are the locos. The overseas-bound freight is taken to the port of Los Angeles for loading onto ships.

  Southbound freight is transferred to a train headed to San Diego and then to Phoenix. Northbound freight is transferred to a northbound train headed through San Francisco and on to Seattle.

  Empty containers headed back to Asian nations are sent to the port; and in exchange one full container after another are loaded onto rail cars for the eastbound leg.

  It’s an endless cycle of rearranging full and empty rail cars, done mostly by computer.

  Yard men get computer printouts which tell them to disconnect railcar 6749330 from side 19 and connect it with the train on thru-line 7. Then to take rail car 76222054 from side 23 and connect it with the train on side 18.

  They don’t know what’s in most of the cars. They just do what the computer tells them to do.

  When the crew of PanAm Railways 211 returns from their day off they don’t know what to expect, other than their train is ready to go.

  Sometimes they bring in a train of 76 cars and leave with 107.

  Sometimes they bring in a train of 91 and leave with a load of 67.

  The only thing they can be certain of is that what they bring in will be different than what they leave with.

  It can be a monotonous routine after awhile, as all jobs can be. But these men and women have something that other jobs don’t have.

  They get to work on the railroad.

  And what boy doesn’t grow up dreaming of riding the rails?

  Many railroaders claim they’d do the job for free, just for the pleasure of doing it. They’re full of bull poop, of course, since the “pleasure of doing it” doesn’t pay their bills. But they’ve still got one of the coolest jobs in America. And they still get a thrill to see children lined up as they pass by, waving at them.

  Jordan stood in front of the number four car and waited for Amy and Damien. They were walking his way about a dozen cars away and laughing hysterically.

  Damien fancied himself a budding comedian and even did gigs at stand-up clubs occasionally.

  He was always trying out new routines and testing new jokes on the rest of the crew, which helped keep the mood light.

  Sometimes, miles away from the nearest city and rolling along, he’d get on the train’s two-way radio and tell a very bad (and usually disgusting) joke or two. Damien was train 211’s version of a pesky kid brother and a class clown, rolled into one.

  True to form, he offered one up for Jordan when they closed ground and he was within earshot.

  “Hey Jordan, do you know why I’ve given up on understanding women?”

  Jordan looked at Amy, who rolled her eyes and shook her head.

  That told him the joke was bad.

  But he played along anyway.

  “I don’t know, Damien. Why?”

  “Because women understand women and they all hate each other.”

  Amy was right.

  “You got a gig tonight, Damien?”

  “Yeah. At the Laugh House on Rampart Boulevard. You guys wanna come? I’ll get you in for free.”

  Amy said, “I’ll pass. You told me every joke on the trip. I’ve already heard them all.”

  Damien looked to Jordan, who said, “No thanks. If the rest of your jokes are that bad, I don’t want to hear any more.”

  They walked toward the yellow and blue crew van, where the rest of the crew was already waiting for them.

  -47-

  The best part about the day off in Los Angeles wa
sn’t that it broke up the routine, though that was pretty nice in its own right.

  No, the best part of the day off in Los Angeles was that it gave the crew a chance to play tourist.

  Jordan had been on this milk run for several years.

  He’d been to all the amusement parks.

  He’d been on all the studio tours.

  He’d ridden atop a double decker bus and taken a tour of the movie stars’ homes.

  He’d placed a red rose at the spot the Black Dahlia was found.

  He’d been to all the cemeteries and paid his respect to dead movie stars. Been to Angels baseball games and seen the games of the various pro football teams as they bounced in and out of LA.

  He’d even gone to Merv Griffin Studios and tried out for his favorite game show.

  He actually got on the show, shook the hands of Vanna and Pat, and got to spin the wheel. He didn’t win, but the memory of having played was enough for him.

  Now that he’d pretty much done everything there was to do, he was considered an “old pro” when it came to being a tourist in Los Angeles.

  Others went to him constantly and asked him to play tour guide.

  He didn’t mind.

  It gave him something fun to do and helped relax him.

  He did have one caveat of the requester: “You have to pay my way in.”

  On this particular day he was taking Amy and Damien to Disneyland.

  But they had to go early, because Damien had to report to his comedy gig at four p.m.

  All day long the three took in the joys of the Magic Kingdom. Although Jordan had been there several times before, he found out what millions already knew. One cannot get too much Disneyland.

  There was only one thing that annoyed him, and it had nothing to do with the park.

  Every time the three of them stood in line, whether it was for food, a roller coaster or a show, Damien tried out his comedy material on the other people in line.

  “Hey, it’s how I polish my routine,” he told Amy.

  “No,” Amy countered. “It’s how you give people headaches.”

  He finally stopped, then pouted for awhile.

  Jordan and Amy were relieved when he finally parted company and left the park at four p.m. to get ready for his show.