T. Bunn - Drummer in the Dark

Burke cut the connection. He went through the motions of following Hayek’s orders, trying to stifle the argument he could not bring himself to present to his boss. That they were overextended, dangling on the precipice. And the unknown was still out there, the menace still not entirely checked.

He dialed Thorson Fines’ home number. When the man answered, Burke said, “Be ready to start buying more dollar-long contracts.”

“But the new money hasn’t arrived.”

“It will.”

“When?”

“This morning.” Burke almost added, soon as the markets crash. But there was no need to reveal his hand. “Right after the markets open. Five billion will be transferred straight into your accounts. Remember, use Interbank only. Fully leveraged. Max out every credit line.”

Fines hesitated. “So it’s really happening?”

Burke hung up the phone. He said to the empty office, “I hope so.”

He unlocked his lower drawer and brought out the secret folder. The phone was answered by a voice more wheeze than sound. “Harris Forex.”

“This is Burke.”

A swift intake, then, “Back in five.”

“Make it less.” But the man had already hung up.

When Burke’s phone rang, he took a long moment and breathed hard before answering. It was not a big step in and of itself, except for the fact that he was afraid. Of what, he could not say. He was doing as he always had, following his master’s directions. But today the fever was not present, and he saw his actions with the cold clarity of one who was utterly divorced. Or perhaps one who had already lost. Still, he had no choice. So he answered the phone with a simple, “Yes.”

“Okay.” The sound of heavy breathing signaled a swift dash to a pay phone outside the building. “I’m here.”

“It’s a go.”

The breathing stopped, then restarted. “Go?”

“Exactly as we discussed.”

“And the money?”

“As promised, the second half will be paid upon confirmation that the insert has gone as planned.”

“I can only write the pieces and put them out, I can’t guarantee the papers or television will carry the spots.”

Burke started to say that it wasn’t the papers he was concerned about, then decided that was one point he definitely did not need to pass on. “Do what you can.”

Wednesday

The FBI jet landed at National beneath a dawn hammered from blue and palest gold. Jackie had spent the journey reviewing the data with Colin, going through it all one more time, committing as much of it as possible to memory. But now, as she watched them taxi away from the main terminals and over to where a convoy of dark cars and gray-suited officials awaited them, she found it hard to conjure up her own name.

It helped marginally that Wynn was the second person up the stairs, behind the welcoming agent. He gave her a hug fierce enough to still some of the jitters, at least momentarily. “You okay?”

“No.”

“You look fantastic.”

“No I don’t. I’m wearing the same clothes I’ve had on for thirty-six hours, I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since I left Rome, and I’m so full of burned coffee they could plug me into the airport system and light up a runway.”

The cleft of his chin turned ax-blade deep, his smile was that big. “I’d say that pretty much sums me up as well.”

She reached back into the plane and pulled Colin through the door. “This is the man himself. Colin Ready, meet Congressman Bryant.”

The young man stammered, “I’m not certain I’m ready for all this.”

Wynn nodded agreement. “Who is?”

A voice from down below shouted, “I’m waiting!”

Wynn stowed his grin away. “Heads up.”

Jackie glanced over his shoulder and saw a man who made Carter Styles look good enough for the cover of Vogue . “Who’s the frog?”

“Gerald Bowers, Federal Reserve Bank.” Wynn gripped her hand and led her down the stairs. “This is not turning out as I’d hoped.”

The man waiting for them danced on the tarmac like an overhot junebug. He could not keep still, not even as his eyes tracked Jackie’s progress over toward him. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You called me in the middle of the night to say I’ve got to shut down the nation’s entire financial system because of her ?”

“If you’ll just-”

“Hang on, I’m not done here. You claim Hayek is planning to push our financial markets into meltdown, and your only basis for this pronouncement is a hacker and a lowlife flunky who’ve committed a serious felony by breaking into a fund’s trading system? How on earth do you know Hayek didn’t just plant the data, waiting for them to sneak in and steal it?” Bowers choked on his rage, then shouted, “Whatever those jackals in Congress end up doing to you isn’t nearly enough!”

Jackie slipped her hand out of Wynn’s, and closed the distance between them. “It so happens that I’m not the lowlife in this picture, bub.”

The man turned a choleric purple. “Young lady, get out of my face or I’ll have these agents introduce you to the local penal system.”

She moved in closer still, forcing him to stare up or back away. “You try that condescending tone with me once more, and I’ll use your tie for a noose.”

Bowers rounded on Wynn. “This is our contact? This is the star lead? A woman with no credentials you’ve got the hots for?”

Jackie reached over, gripped the little man’s lapel, and swung him back around. “If you’d manage to shut up and listen for two seconds you might learn something you can use !”

Wynn offered, “Why don’t we all ease off a notch here.”

Jackie ignored Bowers’ futile slapping at her grip, and kept him drawn in close. As the agents hustled toward them she hurried to say, “We know the data wasn’t planted because we used a trader’s own entry code to tap into Hayek’s mainframe!”

Two sets of arms pinned her and dragged her back. She might as well have been chained to stone peaks. She shrieked at the man, “Hayek isn’t running two funds. He’s got three .”

“Wait. Let her go.” Bowers shrugged his jacket straight. “What are you talking about?”

“First you tell these goons to back off!”

“It’s all right, gentlemen. We all just got a little carried away.” Bowers took a single step forward. “Three funds.”

“That’s right.” Jackie turned and called back up to where Colin still stood in the doorway of the jet. “Get on down here!”

He showed no interest in budging. “I’m just fine where I am, thank you.”

“Colin Ready is the one to explain the details. I just interpreted what he found.”

“Let’s just stick to you for the moment.” Another cautious step. “Three funds.”

“As far as I can tell, it’s the old shell game. Hide the pea with sleight of hand, right?”

A trace of the man’s bullish nature resurfaced. “We’re talking billions of dollars here, young lady.”

“The name is Havilland,” Wynn snapped. “Use it.”

Jackie took small comfort in Wynn’s presence. “Hayek supposedly has all his resources committed to the dollar, and he’s bought billions.”

“Correct.” The bank official showed the root cause of his ire, drawing out a handkerchief, wiping his hands, massaging the cloth until it knotted up and disappeared. “We can’t even determine how much he has acquired. But what makes it worse is how the entire market has followed suit.”

“Which is exactly what he planned. Today Hayek is planning to dump his dollars. Soon as the market opens. All of them.”