Currency

by L. Todd Wood

  An Asian man came to the open door of the aircraft. She saw the corners of the mouth of one of the guards curl up into a small smile. Then she was really afraid.

  Kate was pushed onto the aircraft, which promptly taxied to the main runway for an immediate takeoff.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kingston, Jamaica

  Connor left the office building and looked around for his driver. The sun was beating down on him as he left the air-conditioned environment, but it felt good compared to the cold inside. This was a short-lived thrill however. He began to sweat immediately and took off his jacket. The locals could always tell the briefcase bankers by the suit coats they wore in the heat, businessmen who came to the island for a few days at a time but lived elsewhere. Connor knew this but wore the jacket anyway. He felt naked without it. It had been drilled into him over the course of his career.

  His driver was parked down the road and began to return to the building as he saw Connor exit. Well done, Johann, he thought. At least his driver was on the ball.

  Connor had wrapped up his business in Jamaica and was planning on terminating his trip early. World events were preventing him from staying out of the office any longer. Personal client meetings would have to wait. He was eager to get to the airport.

  The car pulled up to the curbside, and Connor opened the door and entered the cool air of the backseat. He used Johann every time he traveled to Kingston, as he was reliable and efficient. Jamaica was one of the few jurisdictions where he allowed himself the luxury of a driver. In less dangerous areas, he was usually found driving with a map pinned to the steering wheel, finding his way around. He actually preferred it that way. He liked to know the terrain he was working in and refused to use a GPS.

  He tried Kate’s number on his phone. No answer. He hadn’t tried her for several hours, since he was in meetings all day.

  Kate hadn’t called. There were no missed calls from her on his phone. She was due in Washington D.C. the previous day. Connor was worried. This wasn’t like her.

  It took thirty minutes to travel the distance to the airport. Kingston was divided into the new and old sections, the newer being constructed to provide a better business environment. It was a little bit safer and more professional, but it was still a challenge to get around without incident, hence the driver.

  The check-in at the airport was uneventful. He sat in the terminal in Kingston, waiting for his flight to New York. There were not many others in the gate area, so the flight was most likely not full. He tried Kate again. She wasn’t answering her texts either. Something was wrong. He could feel it. The passengers in the waiting area started to stand as the agent began to call for boarding the flight.

  Connor made a decision.

  He left the departure terminal and went back through security to the ticket counter. The immigration officer gave him dirty looks.

  “I want a ticket to Nassau, Bahamas, today!” he told the ticket agent.

  It was time to confront Alex.

  New York

  Keshwar Rajim was very busy; he was now taking the opposite side of the trade. His biggest client usually came in with bids for the U.S. treasury auction on a regular basis, very large orders. However, this had stopped completely. Now it had turned around altogether. He was a seller. As they say in the business, a motivated seller.

  In the last twenty-four hours, he had sold three hundred billion short and long bonds. It had been a challenge for Keshwar to find buyers. There was a buyer’s strike.

  The thirty-year bond had fallen over ten points in the last few days. Interest rates in the United States were skyrocketing. This would make it extremely difficult for people to buy cars, homes, and other big-ticket items. It would increase costs for business and reduce investment. This in turn would stagnate employment. The economy would drift into a slowdown and an economic recession. A larger and larger amount of the tax revenue of the country would have to be used for paying interest, which would necessitate the need for more borrowing. It was a vicious circle and would crowd out other funding priorities.

  For Keshwar it was thrilling. He made money either way. He also didn’t care about the consequences to the Americans. It was not his country. He would make enough to exploit the situation for his own gain and then return to India a wealthy man.

  The Americans made their own bed, he thought.

  He had an idea who was behind his client. Again, he didn’t care. He was getting rich executing these trades. Even though his vig was very small on a treasury sale, the size made up the difference. Keshwar thought of the quote from Groucho Marx who when asked why he bought treasury bonds as one didn’t make much money, replied, “You can if you have enough of them.”

  The Bloomberg terminal alerted him to a new chat coming through.

  His client was at it again.

  “Sell ten billion ten-year U.S. treasuries,” the message said.

  The only thing Kate knew for sure was that she was on some type of boat. She had been sedated on board the jet and woke up bound and gagged in some type of compartment. Her back hurt, as she could not stand up and stretch. She had no idea how she had gotten there. She could feel the waves rocking the vessel slowly. It must be very large, she thought. The sea was not pushing it around.

  The one thing she did know was that she was hungry. It was a long time since she had eaten, but she didn’t know how long. And she had to use the bathroom. The plastic ties cut into her wrists and ankles. The drugs were wearing off. Her limbs were asleep. The pain was becoming intolerable.

  At some point later in the night, the door opened and she was dragged out of the closet. Under a blindfold, her eyes slowly became accustomed to the light peeking in. She was right; she was on a boat of some sort. Soon after she was allowed to use the toilet and given some water. The ties on her hands and feet were taken off for this and then replaced.

  She was then taken into a stateroom. Her legs gave way beneath her. Whoever was behind her held her up under her shoulders. She could feel the movement of the ocean under her feet, the sound and vibration of the power plant more noticeable now.

  She was led to a chair in the middle of the room still blindfolded and tied up again very tightly. Her forearms were fastened to the arms of the chair. The blindfold was abruptly pulled off.

  The first thing she noticed was the room. It was very opulent. The second was that she was now alone. Whoever had been there was now gone. It took a while for the sedation to completely wear off. She couldn’t recall how long this took, but eventually her faculties returned.

  She sat this way for over an hour, or so she guessed. The ties cut deeper into her skin and were very painful.

  She was scared but her resistance training kicked in. Her trainers had prepared her for this. That is, if anything could prepare her for this type of situation. She resolved herself to intense pain and fear. Once you lose the fear, you can do anything, she thought.

  The door behind her opened.

  Someone walked up to her and stood behind her. After a few moments he said in a low, frightening voice, “We want some information.” His accent was Asian.

  He then reached down and carefully inserted an intravenous tube into her right forearm. Hyoscine-pentothal would cause indescribable pain. The subject would feel as if every nerve ending in the body was on fire. Kate had been administered small doses in the resistance training she received. Large doses could cause death.

  She felt the liquid enter her body. Then the pain began. Kate began to scream.

  Nassau, Bahamas

  Upon arrival at the airport, Connor rented a car, as he usually did when in the Bahamas. He was driving to the hotel along the highway that led into the city. The vehicle was in better condition than typically was available. The radio worked as well as the air conditioner, and the rattles were kept to a minimum. But he scarcely noticed as he
drove along the coast.

  It always amazed him how pastel blue the water was in the summer sun. The color contrast to the white beach was striking. Several developers were building homes at the top of the hill abutting the road and the sea, but the houses were far from finished. They were working on those two years ago, he thought. No one’s in a hurry here.

  The brand new walkway along the ocean was crumbling into the sea. That too never changed. The same old potholes filled the road, and the Bahamian feel was as good as ever. Don’t worry, be happy. He reached over and put on his dark sunglasses to block out the glare. He tried to relax but tensed up again as he thought of Kate. It was no use. He needed to find out what was going on with her.

  The Bahamians in the English tradition drove on the left side of the road. The steering wheel was on the opposite side of the car. He had driven in the Bahamas so many times now he was a natural. Maybe one day I will build a home here, he thought.

  His phone rang and it startled him. He reached for it lying on the passenger’s seat beside him. It was always strange to reach to the left for the passenger’s seat but he was more than used to it now after all these years.

  “Hello?” he answered.

  “This is the White House calling,” the operator said. “Please standby for the president.”

  Connor was shocked but of course held on. Has to be a joke, he thought.

  “Connor, this is President Walker,” the voice said a few seconds later. “We haven’t met, but Kate gave me the run down on you and what is going on. She works for me you know.”

  Connor couldn’t decide if this was real or not. He decided to play along. The voice sounded real enough.

  “Mr. President, how can I help you?” said Connor.

  “Kate’s missing,” replied the president. “I’d like you to tell my chief of staff everything you know, okay? She has been like a daughter to me.”

  Conner tensed up in the car. He was aware in the back of his mind that something terrible had happened in the back of his mind but did not want to admit it. He had to face the fact now.

  “Yes, Mr. President, of course. I have been worried and care for her as well.”

  “Yes I believe that Connor. She has told me. That is why I am talking to you. I’d also like you to fly to Washington as soon as possible so we can discuss this in person. We want to debrief you. I’m really concerned about her. I think she is in trouble. I’ve got some intelligence on this I don’t want to discuss over the phone.”

  “Yes, sir. I will leave tomorrow. I’ve got some business here I have to attend to first.”

  He hung up the phone and stared at the sea in desperation. Then he became very angry. He had to confront Alex.

 

  Connor waited on the deck overlooking the cricket field, sitting at a table on the upper floor of the club. The Bahamian sun was setting, casting a shadow over the arena from Fort Charlotte above him. If the situation was different, he would have enjoyed the scene very much. The local English old men were flirting with the native Bahamian girls serving them. Laughter echoed across the open space. For a moment he let all of his cares go.

  He loved it here, in spite of the corruption and in spite of the crime, which was no worse than the Bronx. The islands were in his blood. He took another swig of his beer and quietly took in the scene. He was waiting on Alex.

  Soon he walked up behind Connor.

  “Hello, my friend,” he said. Connor turned around and stood, shaking his hand heartily, not betraying his feelings. Or at least he tried not to. He wanted to read his friend’s reaction to seeing him.

  “Have a seat, Alex, let me buy you a beer.”

  “Of course. I’ll let you buy me more than one!” He signaled to the waitress, and she went back inside the bar for his usual drink.

  “How’s the fishing?” asked Connor.

  “Well I may have to start fishing full time, with these markets. I’ve never seen so much volatility.”

  “Yes, brutal is a better description. I’m getting too old for this.”

  It was like old times. For a moment there was no tension between them.

  “So how is your lady friend?” Alex asked inquisitively after a few rounds of small talk.

  Connor leaned forward in his chair and stared Alex in the eyes for an uncomfortable amount of time. Finally he said, “Why don’t you tell me Alex?”

  Alex looked at Connor for a moment and said nothing, but Connor saw something change in his face. His suspicions were correct. Connor knew more than he let on.

  “Tell me what’s going on, mate!” Connor said again in a feigned closeness.

  He was tired of the games.

  Alex opened his mouth to speak.

  Before he could say a word, an African Bahamian man burst onto the deck from the inside bar. It was the same man who had confronted Alex several weeks before. This time he was wielding a pistol. He ran over towards their table and pointed the handgun at Alex.

  “I told you to mind your own tings!” the man shouted and pulled the trigger.

  Alex reacted instinctively but didn’t have much time to move. He tried to duck under the metal table and only got so far. The bullet slammed into his shoulder and he was knocked out of his chair. He fell violently backwards to the ground. He would have survived with just that wound, but the man got off a second shot before Connor tackled him and knocked the weapon out of his hand. They rolled to the floor.

  He was strong and probably high on something. Connor couldn’t hold him. The man then jumped up and vaulted over the railing of the balcony and slammed into the pavement two stories below. Connor could almost hear his bones crunching as he hit and rolled. In the increasing darkness, he hobbled down to the main thoroughfare below the cricket field and hopped into a waiting car that sped away. Connor watched incredulously. The crowd near the street took no notice.

  Stunned, he considered following him but decided otherwise. He turned back to his friend. The bar patrons had fled the balcony. They were alone.

  Alex was lying prone on his back. A pool of blood lay under his shoulders and was dripping from his nose and mouth.

  “Call an ambulance!” Connor screamed to the bartender inside the club.

  He lifted Alex’s head and rolled him on his stomach. There was a huge exit would from the round right where his kidney should have been. He was not going to make it.

  He looked at Alex.

  “Why?” he asked. There was so much he didn’t understand.

  “You are American,” Alex whispered and spit blood at the same time. “You wouldn’t understand. You have had everything you have always wanted, and when you don’t get your way, you just take it. Well things are changing.”

  He coughed more blood and rested for a couple seconds, trying to regain his strength.

  “I saw my parents lose everything! My father was a Communist Party official. KGB for God’s sake and was well respected. When the Soviet Union collapsed, I saw him beg for a job to be a common laborer. We were humiliated. My mother had to clean toilets! So yes I have helped my country and others try and find your gold! Gold will be all that is worth anything. Your dollar will be worth less than the paper it’s printed on. It’s already too late for you. You have borrowed too much. America is finished!” Alex was angry to the end.

  “Who else is involved?” asked Connor.

  Alex was having trouble breathing now. The wail of the ambulance could be heard, but it was still far away.

  “China, Russia, Iran,” whispered Alex.

  Connor knew Alex was dying so he pushed for more information. The answers were only coming in short, almost silent, whispers.

  “They have started a war to bankrupt you.”

  “Then why did they try to kill you?”

  “Not them, the prime minister, for money,” whispered Alex, and then he went silent.

  “Where is Kat
e?” Connor asked with one last question.

  Alex could no longer respond. He was dead.

  Connor stood and looked out over the field and the coming darkness. The angst inside him was unbearable.

  Where was she? What do I do now? he thought.

  Hours later he sat alone. He had given his statement to the police late at night downtown at the Nassau Station. He didn’t expect they would be much help. They didn’t seem that concerned about the situation. Money had changed hands. No one was talking.

  He was still in shock that his friend Alex was gone. He was also stunned at how little he knew about the man. That was obvious now. Connor’s world was changing. He didn’t know what to expect next. The worst part of it was he was unable to extract any information on Kate’s whereabouts. Connor was beside himself with worry.

  Soon he was driving back to the hotel. Deciding he was hungry, he decided to stop into one of the few gourmet restaurants in town tucked behind the parliament building. The owner recognized him.

  “You don’t look so good,” said the owner. “Can I help you with anything?”

  “Just a quiet table my friend, but thank you.”

  His friend led him to an open courtyard in the middle of the restaurant, and to a private table. The building was old, and the vines grew up the brick walls of the courtyard towards the sky. The few patrons remaining were enjoying themselves, and the wine was flowing. It was a peaceful setting.

  Connor needed some peace. He needed to relax. He needed to clear his mind.

  The waitress brought water, and he ordered a bottle of cabernet. He needed to calm down and think. The weight of the day’s events sunk into him, and his shoulders slumped. The wine helped a little bit.

  “I have to think this through!” he said aloud to no one.

  He asked the waitress for pen and paper and started to write down what he knew. He had to make sense of everything that was happening.

  Alex had obviously been double-dealing. He said the prime minister killed him. Was that because he was looking for gold for the alliance? And the Bahamian government wanted it? Connor was aware of the brutal way of doing business in the Bahamas. One of his business colleagues was murdered after he had filed charges against an ex-minister of parliament, who had stolen money from his company. That part was understandable. It was the way things worked here. What he didn’t understand was the blatant nature of the killing. Were they trying to send a message to the other entities looking for the gold? Anything is possible, he thought.