Part 1
Banking was a cut-throat game. If you were not willing, to strike someone down, they wouldn't hesitate, to kill you. This game is not for everyone, so it came, as no surprise, to me, when Mike decided to retire. I am guessing, he was ready, to cash-in, all of his chips. His final-job, was trying to figure-out, what the Waterman Brothers, gained from the death, of their "Uncle".
I knew, their uncle very well. He is the person, who taught- me, all of the tricks of the trade. Every slide of hand-con, he was always standing behind me.
But, it was no real shock, when he died. His health, had always been, an after-thought. Ron and I had been pressing him, for years, to get him, to try and clean-up, his act, but he never listened. I guess the lure of McDonald's and Colonel Sanders was too appealing. Now, if we wanted, the same piece of the action, we had to get through, the horde of other, investment banks. All of them were like sharks. If they sensed blood, in the water, they would strike.
That is why, Ron told me, to step down, as CFO. I knew every trick they would pull, I was an asset to them, and they knew it.
My job went to Derrick. The nobody, who went to the Cayman Islands. I was nothing more, than a guppy. A guy, who sits, in a dusty, hot-room, and answers the phones, Hoping, and praying that, I make a sale for the company.
But like, I am always saying, everyone who works for the company is a winner. They are all warriors. unwilling, to take no, for an answer, I stared at my wall-paper, of Jordan Belfort. I thought, to myself. If that guy, could grow, from being nothing but a yuppie, into a successful stock-broker, than I could do the same. I snuck at a peaks, at the man, who was sitting in my chair. The man, who was drinking my coffee. The man, who was talking to the young, secretary which I liked, and all that I could think about, was how was, I going to bring that prick, down a peg or too.
The phone-rang. Breathing echoed, through the cheap-speakers. I nervously asked
"Is there, anybody, on the other end of the line?"
I heard, footsteps, behind me, and his hand, reached down, and dragged the phone, from mine. A sickly-sweet smile was firmly planted on his face. He confidently stated
"I am going to give you, a piece of advice, so you better listen carefully, because, I am only going to say it to you, once. Hang-up, the phone. The person on the other end of the line, obviously doesn't understand, that this is not, some kind of hot-line. "
I knew my place, and hung up the phone.
My small, apartment, wreaked, of rotten-eggs. My house-mate, seductively, walked out of the shower, in her towel. She reached, her hand into the fridge, and gently said
"The one thing, you have to understand, about the real-world, is that when you have to eat, you have to eat. And it does not matter, what you have, in the fridge, it is going to be going into your mouth. I guess, that lesson, would be hard for a person like you, to understand, coming from being the big shark, in the ocean, to being one of hundreds guppies fish, swarming around this whale of a boss."
I grabbed my wallet out of my pocket
"You know, you don't have to live like that. If you want me to, I can grab you, something from the shops."
She grabbed, a black, lace-bra, which dangled, from the faded-green, easy-chair, in the centre of the room. She smiled, and placed, the wet-towel on the ground. She collected, her neon-green, underwear, from the top-draw, and made her way, to the Oak, Kitchen-table. She got a couple of coasters, from a small, wooden-draw. I heard them, clang-down, on the table.
She leaned close to me, and whispered
"When you get back, we have to discuss, what you are going to do, with your life. Because, you are not going to be moping, around this house, feeling sorry for yourself, what do you think, your idel would do."
The cladding on the building across the road glistened in the mid-day sun. I stepped through, the steel, double-doors, and into the lobby. The building was infested with guppies, all egar, to make the sale of the century. Fire, seeped from the cordless phones. Shadows shuffled breathlessly, to a small, silver bell, in the centre of the room. The face-less man, grabbed a small, metal-hammer, and smashed the glass. The sound echoed through the still-air. For the first time, silence, infested the air; before cheers, erupted like volcanoes out of the silence. A young-man, wrapped his hand, around me, and dragged me, to the elevator. He stared, knowledgeably down, at a small, piece of paper, before anxiously whipped, the sweat from his brow.
He reached his hand-out, and gently said
"You must be the new recruit. I am sure; you have seen the bottom-floor. We call them the machine. They are the engine, which allowed, all of us, on the upper-floors, to enjoy our luscious life. I know that you want to be like me. I can see it, in your eyes. But, sadly that is not how life works. You have, to work your way up, from the machine-room, up to the drivers-seat."
He pointed, to a black, steel-chair. The padding, was slowly falling-out, at the sides, and the wheels, where firmly bolted into place. He grabbed, the cordless phone, and gently continued
"This is your life-blood. This is how, you get paid. You take the calls, and you make the trades. Once, you have made a trade. You make your way, over to the bell, in the corner of the room, and you ring it. It lets the other people know, that the gig is up. They have lost. Here, at this investment- bank, we like to think of banking, as a game of survival. The strong, will ascend to the driver's seat, and the weak, will burn-out, and walk right-out, those double doors, they came through. The question is what type of person are you? Are you, the weak, or are you the strong."
The young-man, pointed, to a small door, at the back of the building, he gently said
"This is where; you will take your mandated time-off. Half an hour. No more, no less. This is not, some kind of resort. There is no, free towels, and beautiful beauticians, inside of that building. You are always on the clock. Time, is money. And the more time, you spend in the lunch-room, socializing, with your "friends", the less time, you are on the floor, making a trade. Meaning, that the people, up in the driver's seat, are making less money, making them, more inclined to fire you."
He finished the tour, by gently saying
"I am sure, that you are going to be, more than fine in this place. Maybe, in a couple of years, you can end up, like me. Showing guppies, around the fish-bowel, and watching them, slowly drown, and bob to the surface."
The red-light of the clock, flashed slowly. Every second felt like an eternity, waiting for, my phone to ring. My eyes darted around the room. I saw, hordes of young, guppies; make their way, to the bell, to ring it. I stared down, at my phone, and then, I saw it. My phone blinked. I anxiously picked it up, and heard, heavy-breathing, on the other end of the line. The breathing dissertated, and the shadowy figure, spoke.
"I am not sure, whether or not, you can help me. But I heard, from a couple of friends of mine, that they had a couple of really good stocks, that they thought that I would be interested in."
My eyes nervously darted the room, searching for an answer, to his question. I felt, a hand on my shoulder. The young-investor softly spoke
"Tell him, what is on the piece of paper, in front of you. That is the pre-approved script, which they want us to say, to generate the most amount of sales."
I stared, down at the piece of paper, before gently answering
"Here, at the Webster Group, your money is our number one priority. We want everyone, who calls us, to be a millionaire, just like the drivers of this company. To step into the driver's seat however, you have to have the want, to take a big punt, and risk it all. Do you have, the winning edge, Sir?"
He nervously mumbled
"I think, I do."
I leaned into the mic, and said
"Sir, you are going to have to say it, with a bit more, conviction. We have, dozens of people, who call this company, everyday, hoping to get a slice of the money. So either, you are a ruthless killer, willing to do what it takes, to take the big coin. Or you are a weak, loser. If it is the second one, I want you to hang up the phone, this company and I, don't have time, for people like you. If it is the first, then, I want you to say it with some conviction. Like you really mean, what you are saying."
The man, confidently said
"I Do."
I flipped the page, over and read the second half of the script
"If you invest today, you will be getting a peice of a very lucrative pie. Few people have seen this, in the wild. This exotic-bird, has been slowly rising in stock-price, over the last three weeks. "
The man, asked
"Why, has no-one, offered me, this before."
I turned to the final page, and read the closing statement of the speech.
"The reason why, no-one has ever mentioned this company, before is that it, has not been on anybody's radar. This client is new to the game, and came to my company, for a chance, to head out into the calm-waters, before bracing, the high-winds, of the stock-market. "
I shut, the piece of paper, and gently continued
"I will let you in, on an investment secret. It does not really matter, to the drivers if you, buy the product or not. But it matters, to me. So if I may. Can I ask for your name?"
He breathlessly said
"James."
I calmly continued
"James, the stock you are about to buy, is some of the best in the market. This stock is something, which will be quickly snapped up, if you don't buy it. And when you look at the New York Times in the morning, and see that the stock-price has doubled, you are going to look at yourself, and wonder. Why the hell, did I not buy, the stock, when I got the chance? So here is the question. Are you going, to be a loser for all of your life, or are you going to be a winner. Are you, going to be the guy, who is sitting in the stands watching, the Super-bowl. Or are you, going to be the quarter-back, throwing the winning-pass, down the touch-line. The choice is down to you."
James fumbled with his pencil. Before, gently asking
"How much, is it to buy, a share."
I laughed, and said
"A share. Buying one, share, is the way that losers play, the stock-market. We have a word for you, in the industry. We call you, day-traders. You like to sit behind your computer screens, and buy low, and sell high. Maybe, if you are lucky, you get a couple of dividends, from the company, but that is not your goal. Your goal is to buy when no-one, wants the share. To buy, when it is at its lowest-point, and to sell it, when the stock-price, is at its highest. Giving you the best opportunity, to make a quick-turn-around. That is where; you have been going wrong, all of your life, James. You have been, playing the conservative game; you have been playing like a loser. The winners, like to have a couple of horses, in the big race. They like, to hold onto the stock. Maybe the stock tanks. Maybe, something happens, that is out of your control. But maybe, you make enough money, to buy, that fancy, sports car, for your wife. Maybe you have enough, to buy, that house in the hills, you have always, been dreaming of. Maybe. Just maybe, you have enough to put your daughter, through a high-end college.
The stock-market is a game full of sharks. You can either be the guppy-fish, swimming around, in the fish-bowel, waiting to drown, and bob to the surface. Or maybe, you will be the hunter. Eating the weak. I know, which one, I want to be. So the question is, James. Are you going, to buy one, loser, share, or are you going to buy a hundred."
James, softly said
"I might buy a hundred shares."
I placed, the phone-down, and made my way, to the bell. I grabbed that hammer, and smashed the glass. I pulled the lever down, and yelled
"I am the shark, in this fish-bowel!"
I sat back, down, and waited for another call, to come through my phone.
Hordes, of young investors, in tanned-suites, made their way, to the lunch-room. A brash, and muscular man, brushed past me, and smiled, and said
"You were good on the phones. But don't forget, where you are. You made one trade. You are still the guppy, of the fish-bowel, and we are still the sharks, ready to eat you alive."
I laughed, and placed my hand, on his shoulder, and softly stated
"I will give you, a raise, when I am in the driver's seat."
The man, stood silent. The words, evaporated from, his mouth, I smiled and continued
"I am sure, you are a great investor. But you don't, have a chance against me. Maybe, in a couple of years, you might be, as good as me."
The plastic-chair squealed, as the young-man, gently guided the chair, out of the table. He grabbed a bottle, of mineral-water from the fridge, and smashed it down, on the table. The carbonation bubbled to the surface. The pressure, slowly built-up. The fizzy-water exploded, like a jet boat. I mockingly said
"Maybe, before going to the super-bowel, you have to learn, how to throw the football."
He replied
"You think, you are some big hero. You come into, my arena, and act all tough. When in reality, you would still be holding, onto air. I gave you, the winning pass! And you act, as if you are Tom Brady. You need to look, outside of your bubble, and see, what you really are. You are a charlatan."
I softly responded
"I will keep that in mind, when you are still standing in the same place, while I am driving, my sports-car, into the parking-lot. I am going to give you, some free advice. It does not matter, how you get the winning touch-down. All that matters, is that when the clock, is at 0, you are ahead of the score-board."
The cream, cordless phone, in the corner of the room, slowly rang. My girlfriend, on the other end, of the line, nervously whispered
"I think you have to come home."
My girlfriend, placed my phone-down, on the table, and gently asked
"Who is she? And why is she texting you, about a child?"
I gently answered
"I had a life, before I met you. She is just a name, on a long-list, of mistakes, I made in my past."
She coyly asked
"Are you going, to meet her?"
I anxiously asked
"If I meet her, will you be, here when I get back."
She gently retorted
"I am not sure."
The park was desolate and quiet. The birds chirped, echoed in the distance. I sat on the cold, steel-bench, and waited, for my ex-girlfriend. A young-woman, wearing a red-hoddie, walked towards me. I looked down, and saw, the reflective, neon-green, tape, along the side of the pram. I stared, at the young-boy, and nervously asked
"Is he mine?"
She nodded
"I am surprised, you don't remember me. You had just made, a massive-profit, and you were looking, to celebrate. So you hired my former, company. I could see, the engagement ring, on your finger. And I thought, that would deter you, but it didn't, it incentivised you. And then, I was alone. In the waiting room, of the hospital, hoping you would support me. But I guess, I was just another mistake, to you. And you turn up! For some unknown, reason. I don't know, why you didn't ignore, my messages. Why you didn't do, what you have done, for the last twelve years. Why, did you come back?"
I softly replied
"I didn't know, about the boy. That shocked me, into action."
She sarcastically laughed
"Who would have thought, that after all of those years, all I had to do, to get you, out of hiding, was to wheel out, our son. I don't think, that is true. I think, this is damage-control. You get this monkey, off of your back. And you, carry-on, with your life! That is not, how people in the real-world, work. Maybe, if you stepped out, of your mansion more, than you would know that."
I shook my head
"You destroyed that idea. I got fired, from my job, because of you. So now, I am at the bottom-run, of the totem-pole."
She pointed, to the child and asked
"I guess, you want this whole-saga, to be over."
I nodded eagerly
"Yes."
She gently answered
"I have to attend, a business meeting. I will be away, for a couple of weeks. And so, it is your job, to look after, my son."
The young-boy, protested furiously, as I placed him, in my arms. A sickly sweet smile rose gracelessly, onto her face. She kissed, the young-boy, on the top of the head. Before calmly saying
"Be Good."
I strapped him, into his pram, and made my way home. I didn't expect my girlfriend, would be there. I knesled, the young-boy, in front of the television, while I cooked dinner. The lure, of a beautiful-woman, with ice-powers, slowly calmed him, down. Once, I heard, let it go. I knew, it was all, I was going to hear. Disney had this talent, of torturing parents, and soothing the young. They created, ear-worm classics, which burrowed into the base of your brain.
I placed the food-down, and watched the film. The young-boy asked
"Why has my mother, never told me, about you."
I shook my head, and soothingly stated
"That is not important. What is important, is you explaining, why this girl, Anna, is going to marry, a guy, she barely knows."
The young-boy paused the film, and asked
"Is that what you do? Avoid answering, the tough-questions."
I coyly replied
"Yes. My job, is not allowing people, to rationally think. I am in the high-risk, world of, stock-brokering. Or at least, I was. Now, I am on the floor, taking the calls, and making trades. I am a guppy-fish. And that, is all because, of your mother. So play, the damn film, and don't ask me, any more questions."
The young-boy whispered
"It is not my mother's fault. You took advantage of her. And when you didn't get the outcome, you wanted. You left. The only reason, you are bitter now, is because your dream, is down the toilet."
I smiled, and stated
"You are right. I should have never, had that second drink, at the party. I should have never made a pass, at a beautiful-woman. Maybe, if I hadn't done that, then I would have been, more successful. But, I had an error of judgement, and I am being punished for it, now."
The boy gently asked
"Do you honestly think, I am a mistake?"
I anxiously replied
"I think, I made an error. And you were the result. Maybe, if things had gone differently, or maybe, if I was a better-man, than what I am, I would adore you, like a son. But, at the moment, we are two strangers, forced together. Now, this house can either be, a War-zone. Or we can get along. The choice is down to you. "
He smiled
"There you go. Spinning your web. Waiting for me, to give you, the answer, that you are craving. Sadly, this is not some, stock-trade. I am not some nieve buyer, for you, to sell to. You don't get to dictate, the terms of service, to me. I think, you should stick, with the role, you are good at. Standing on the outside looking in."
I whispered
"I guess, you have made your choice."
Interlude Office -9:00
A beautiful lady, poured, the punch into her jug. She gently turned to me, and asked
"Is it alright, if I have a drink. I have worked hard, all year."
I anxiously pointed, to Mike and said
"It is not my party. But I am sure, it will be, alright."
My eyes darted around the room, in search of Ron. Ron's office-door was closed. I pried, the door open, and saw a handful of young-women, lying on his desk. A white-powder coated the Oak-table. I shut the door, and calmly said
"I hope, for both our sakes that, what I am looking at, are not drugs. The biggest deal, of our loves, is ahead of us, and I need, the whole-team, firing on, all cylinders."
He laughed
"You know, this is not going to affect me. I am like a rock star. But sometimes, even the best rock stars, need a little something, to keep them going."
I shook my head
"We are not having, this conversation. You need, to get rid of the show-girls, and get to work, on the pitch."
He questioned
"What are you going to do, Mr Tom Brady?"
I pointed to the guests, in the main building.
"I am going to tell them, the show is over."
The crowd slowly moved. The young-women asked
"I am so glad, for the opportunity, to be invited to the party. If your company needs anything else, you give me, a call."
I asked
"Are you, the event co-coordinator?"
She smiled
"I have been, for the last, two years."
I placed, the note in my pocket, and ushered her, out of the building.
9:30
The phone-rang. I nervously answered it, and heard the breathless voice, of Waterman senior. Mr Waterman is the biggest catch, in the investment world. He runs his bank like the military. If you don't make it through the selection process, he placed you, on the scrap-heap. You are, untouchable, after that point. It is best, to cash it, your meal-ticket. This big-fish, had heard about, our bank, and wanted, to make an offer. He wheezily stated
"I think, you really have something son. I want to help you, to be more than a little-fish. But, for me to help you, you have to do something, for me."
I calmly stated
"Name your price, and it is done."
He laughed
"And that is how you become, a predator, like me. I have a couple of stocks, which I think, would look good, on your books. These are grade a, type-stuff. The only issue, is it, has to be, off the books. No-one, outside of this room, should know, about it."
I nervously asked
"What happens, if something happens to you?"
He coyly thought
"You mean, once my son's, get my money."
"Yes"
He gently whispered
"I will cover the fall-out. My bank, will be more than happy, to take the wounded in. Patch them up, and send them, back to the front-line. So what do you say? Are you willing, to take a big risk, and be a hero? Or are you going, to play it safe."
I pointed, to Mike, and mouthed the words
Draw-up, the paper work
I grabbed the phone, from the table
"You have yourself, a deal. We are drawing up the paper-work, now, and will send it through to you, in the morning."
10:00
The old-man, lay in his bed. He swiftly ushered, the boys out of the room, and hoarsely stated
"Trust me; you are making the best decision, for your company."
I shook my head
"I only made this deal, based on the promise, you could protect me. You are the reason, I drafted this deal. It has nothing, to do with my company."
He smiled
"We can argue, about semantics, once, we crack-open, the million-dollar, wine."
"Is the stock, really worth, that much money?"
He smiled
"It is worth, so much more."
I nervously asked
"If it is so lucrative, why are you going, to give it to me?"
He laughed
"You think, I am going to give it to you, for free. Not on your life. The stock is a present. A token, of trust. Now you have to give me something, in return, because, that is the kind of relationship we have."
"Was that always the deal?"
He nodded
"That is why; I said it was a risk. But, a risk worth taking."
I signed the paper-work, before placing the piece of paper, in front of him. I cruelly stated
"If you ever, play that game with me again. The damage, might be something, you cannot overcome."
He shook his head
"Are you threatening me?"
I whispered
"Why don't you just call it, giving out my terms, of service?"
He gently asked
"Do you think, you are the first-person, to threaten me? In this line of work, you have to expect people, are out for your fame. They want what you have. Sometimes, people are willing, to threaten you, to get it. But, I will give you some advice. If you want to play that game, you have to have the ability, to pull the trigger! You have, to be cut-throat. Or you could be, the one lying in the dirt, with nothing.
That is how, I became rich and powerful. How I got, all of this! And why people like you, will never have anything like this. You want to be famous, for simply being born. Sadly, that is not how, reality works. So get out of my house, before I tare-up, that piece of paper."
11:00
I placed my hand, in my pocket, and pulled out the young-women's, phone number. I confidently stated
"I am going to give you, the time, of your life. I will be, at your house, in ten minutes.
The young-women, drunkenly whispered
"I am not sure, if that is such a good idea."
I nervously asked
"Why, is that?"
The muffled music muscled its way, through my phone. I heard the crack of gravel, underfoot. The young-women, softly said
"Me, some of the girls, decided, to celebrate my recent achievements."
I gently pondered
"What achievement was this?"
She gently whispered
"I am a high-school teacher now."
I curiously asked
"So there is no chance, of me, coming over to your place."
She softly stated
"I could get rid of them, for half an hour."
11:30
The young-women, held me, in her arms, and whispered
"Is it weird, that I am feeling this way? I fell as though, nothing else, in the world matters. The only thing, i see is you, in my arms."
I smiled
"I have, that affect, on women."
I stepped inside of her fortress, and felt her body, against mine. I satisfied, left, to look for bacon. I stared, at the cabinet, and asked
"Are you, on the pill?"
She shook her head
"I had, it when I was working, with the company. But after I left, I thought I would not need it."
I grabbed a pregnancy-test, and whispered
"To ease my mind, can you take the test."
Hospital – 9 months later
I don't know how to feel. I stared, at the image, of my un-born son, and whipped the tears, from my eyes. I gently whispered
"I have to make a couple of calls. I will be back soon."
I sat, in my car, before heading out, into the night.
Her voice twinkled through the phone. But, I ignored her. I saw my son, as a fatal-error. And I didn't know how to come to terms, with this new reality. Maybe, if I did not, acknowledge it, and then it would fade away.
I thought about, what she was feeling. Staring, at her un-born son, with twinkling eyes, she didn't know that I was not coming back. She would have, to walk down, this tretrious-road, alone. I was alone, and I had, no-one else, to turn to. I had two options. One; wait for the storm, to blow-over. Hope, that the media-fury, is not dire. Or, I could do the hardest thing, and call him.
Office – 10:00
I gently said
"I think, you need to sit down, Ron"
He shut the door. He whipped the sweat, from his thick-black, hair. He placed, his muscular-hands, on the desk, and calmly stated
"Before you tell me, I think I need, to bring in, a couple of witnesses."
A horde of PR managers, made their way, into the small-office. A tall, tanned, young-man, brushed, his blonde-hair, away from his face. His tattooed, snaked down, the side of his arm. The snake-head, exploded out. The young-man, placed, the black, tape-recorder, on the table, with a thud. He softly stated
"Please be advised, that this is an financial-conversation. I have been asked, in here, by Ron, to observe, and report."
I gently whispered
"The girl, who was at the party, last night, is having my child. I am, the father. "
The young-man, leaned closer, and asked
"Why are you, coming forward now?"
I calmly responded
"I am not sure, whether; I am ready for the responsibility, of being a parent. The easiest thing, for me, to do, is to not, pay, child-support."
Ron, leaned over, to the young-man, and asked
"Can, I have a moment, with him."
They exited the room. Ron, leaned closer to me, and shook his head
"So, that is your answer. You are having a child. And you have, to accept that. You made a mistake, and you have to live, with it. No-one, is ready to be a parent. But once, they hold their children, in their arms, everything fades away. Don't make the same mistakes, which I made. "
Young women's house 11:00
I dropped, a note, on her door-step, that read
I am sorry, I cannot be, the man, you want. But, I will always, be there, for you.
I got in my car, and left.
I stared, at her window, and wondered whether, if I, entering, through the door, would complicate, our fragile-relationship. I saw, destruction. Beer-bottles, cracking the stained-glass, window. Blood, smeared on the floor. I saw, the hope, diserpate, from her eyes. But, I know my place. My place was with the rats, in the street. What would happen, if I was courageous, instead of cowardliness?
I grabbed a bottle of beer, from the opaque-white, fridge. I heard the bottle, crack-open. I stared, at my phone. She had called me, again. I couldn't hide, in the shadows forever. Eventually, I had to face, what I had done.
2
Mr Walter-man was dying. He had been dying, for a number of years. If you asked, anyone who knew him, they would have told you, that the man ate like an athlete. He always had. His philosophy was; that if you ate like a champion, then you are going to be, a champion. The only problem was he had a slow metabolism. It was an affliction, he was born, with. Fat stuck, to his body, like glue to paper. Eventually, it built up, and it was hard to burn-off. He could eat healthier food. That is, if you want, to be healthy. Mr Walter-man, hated health-foods. He said, they all tasted the same; bland, and tasteless. He preferred, the allure, of sodium, fats and oils.
A couple of years ago, the sodium, caught-up, with him. His heart, was struggling to keep up, with the amount of weight, he had put on. A rational thinker, would simply give-up, sodium, fats and oils, and get on a healthy diet. Exercises, a little bit, and lose weight. But not Walter. Walter, saw his weight, as noble. He saw, himself, as a king. And to lose weight, would be taking away, who he was. Many people, tried to lure him, to the light. But, the majestic siren of McDonalds, and Mr Sanders, had ulterior plans.
Those masked-figures were the reason why, he was dying. And the reason why, my company and I, were so worried. Our money was linked to him. Our deal, was linked to him, and with him dead, the assurances, he gave us, meant nothing.
The two boys, sat next to their "Uncles" bedside. It was hard, seeing the eyes, fall-down, their face. I raised those boys, after their parents, had left them. I wrapped my arms, around them, and gently whispered
"I am so sorry, for this tragedy. You know that, if you need, anything from me, or my friends, you just give me, a call."
They bowed their heads ceremoniously, and left the room. I felt his cold-hands, in mine. I leaned forward, and softly whispered
"What happens, if you die?"
Walter, gently grabbed a piece of paper, and gently wrote.
"I am sorry but the deal is up to my sons."
Those were his final words, to me. I walked out of the room, and sat in my car. Tears flooded my face. I dejectingly thought.
Why, did I not tell him, that I would miss him? Why, was I so fixated, with money? Money doesn't mean anything when you are dead. Money didn't mean, anything when, you were alive. Money, is something thrown around, like candy from a piñata. The more you, have the less, it really means. So what, if I lose, a little bit of money. I have got the power, to get more. One trade, would make up, the short-fall.
What really matters, to me, is that I will never, get to tell him, what he really means, to me. I will never, get the chance, to tell him, what an inspiration, he was to the way, I do business.
I raised, a cold-beer, in the office, and said
"Let him, rest in peace. He was a legend; he will be, in good company."
Ron gently asked
"Are you going to go, to the funeral?"
I nervously questioned
"And say, what. I don't know, if he would want, a business-man, like me, falling in line, with the pity-committee."
Ron, softly responded
"Who said, that you have to follow, there lead. You tell them, what he meant to you. You don't have to wallow, in pity, if you don't want to. But it is down, to you. "
I gently asked
"Is it alright, if you come with me. Because, I don't know, if I can do it, alone."
Funeral 9:00
The agent's eyes darted around the room. He placed, his walkie-talkie, up to his mouth, and made his way, to the court-yard. The mourners lined the streets. I watched, as they gently walked through, the doors, and took their seats. The mic, screamed. I waited for the wailing, to finish, before placing my papers, on the lectern. I dried my eyes. I felt, the course-paper, in my hand. I stared-out, into the crowd, and saw Ron. I confidently cleared my throat, and began.
"Walter was a magician. He had an ability, which few people had seen, and few will ever, see again. Walter had the ability, to read, the stock-market. He was the reason, why I am the man, I am now. Growing up, for Walter, was hard. Growing-up, in the rugid, outback of Australia, stifled his ability, to compete, on the same, playing field, as everybody else. That is why, his parents, decided to make, their way, to America. His father worked, in a couple of fortune five hundred, companies, before following his true passion, oil-rigging. Sadly, this would cost him, his life. His father, passed away, when a faulty-hose, broke-off, the oil-rig, he was working on.
It was down, to his mother, to raise, two hell-raisers. She struggled, for a number of years, before putting us, into an orphanage. The home, where we were place, was hell.
But, in the darkness, there was light. Walter became addicted to numbers. That is when; he made a promise to me, which he was going, to make something, of himself. And I guess, he did. A couple of years, after finding his, forever home, he started a small, investment firm. The firm, had a few loyal members, but they were not the giants, that you know. They were called Walter and Friends. After getting divorced, he invited, his first-son, into the business. He soon changed the business, to Walter and Sons. "
I stared-out, at the shocked looks, on the faces, of the crowd. I sat back down, in my seat, and leant-over, to the priest, and whispered
"Did I do alright?"
He smiled
"I think you honored your brother's legacy."
The priest placed, his bible-down, on the pew, and said
"Religion has the tough-job, of giving reason, to mysteries, that are chaotic and manic. People, turn to the word of God, and his twelve decipals, to have meaning, in their lives. They see him, as someone, free from criticism. Someone, who is impeccable and perfect, in reality, this is not the case. He has been used, to behoove, wicked onto the world. And it is our task, to attempt to understand, the dangers of his teachings. That is where, our Son, Walter, comes into the picture. Walter was a gifted public-speaker. He saw, the faults in religion, and he was willing to fix, them. No matter, the cost. That is where; he was when he died. So I would like to say, thank you, for coming. Our breveran, is staring-down, and smiling."
He grabbed, the top of the coffin, and placed down, two, metal- medals. He grabbed, the mic and said
"Sadly, I cannot give you this, in person. But these awards are for your tireless, charity-work."
Will reading- 11:00
The lawyer moved the plush-chair forward, before sitting down. The two, young-boys, sat at the back, of the room. Their hands were in their hands. I placed my hand, on Derrick's shoulder, and whispered
"I know, this is hard, for you. But it is something, you have to do."
Derrick nodded, his head
"I know, it is hard to be a leader. When I feel like this."
I nodded
"I know. But, you have to be strong, for your younger brother."
The paper creaked, as the lawyer, shuffled through, the documents. He placed, the micro-phone, close to his mouth, and confidently stated
"Welcome, to the reading, of Walter Waterman's, will. These, are the wishes, of Walter Waterman's, and these have to be respected. Without further ado, let's get down, to business. Walter would like to give his business, to his dear-son, Derrick. May he continue, to make it prosper? To my youngest-son, I give my finances. And finally to my friends, I give my ashes. May they be washed, breathlessly, over the sea. That is all."
I gently asked
"What about; his house, his car, and other assets?"
The lawyer, flicked through the pages, before nervously saying
"His other assists, will be given to charity, for private-use."
I met with derrick, in the parking-lot outside. The sun, dipped below, the clouds. Rain-drops, softly skimmed, along the top of my clothes. I calmly asked
"I don't know, what your father told you, about my business. But, I was curious, to see, if you wanted to work, together on a deal."
Derrick questionably queried
"A deal. As much, as I love your business model, and what you have done, I cannot offer you a deal. I have, to figure-out, whether, i have enough money, to offer you, a proper-deal."
The rain fell like bullets. Lighting struck, like shot-gun shells. Derrick, placed his manicured hand, on my shoulder, and calmly stated
"But, I am sure, we can work something out."
The car door opened, and he sped-away.
Office 12:00
Derrick softly spoke
"We have a deal. You will get a couple of shares in the company."
I nervously asked
"Is it even legal, for me, to own shares, in your company?"
Derrick cackled manically
"People own shares, in companies, all of the time. It might seem, a little odd, but it is not going, to raise any red flags. Besides, what are you really gaining, from a couple of shares?"
I reflectively replied
"You are right, you know. Give me, a couple of stocks, and maybe a drink, down at the sports-bar, to ease my pain."
He softly stated
"A couple. Come on man, live a little. Take, a bit of a risk. You only have one life to live, so live it fully. How about this for, a deal. I will give you, ten percent, of the stock, and ten percent, of our newest stock, the lucrative deal, we have been working on, for a couple of months. Plus, a couple of soft, easy-money makers."
I anxiously answered
"That sounds like, insider trading. I now have access, to a top-secret, stock product, that I can use, to my companies advantage. I know, you like to live on the edge, but you have, to have a limit. A point, where you say, that is that. "
He chuckled
"I have a point. Once, I reach a point, where my money, can't buy me, out of trouble."
I exclaimed
"Do you think, this is a game? There are rules, in life. That people obey. The second you step-out, of line. Bam! You are one, of them. The ones, who view the rules, as a guide. And see, money as a means, of escaping the consequences. "
He softly replied
"And you don't think, like that. You are honourable. You are higher than thou. People, in this industry, scrap, for every inch, they can get. If you get the chance, to get an edge, they take it! With both arms. But, I guess, you are just too mighty, to fall into the same, pit-falls, as all of us. Meer mortals."
I gently said
"As much, as I dislike you, i need you."
Walter Whitman office
He sat, at the adjacent desk. His gold-ring, glistened, in the light. I whipped the beads of sweat, from my brow. The young, investor smiled, and whispered
"I guess, you are unflappable."
I placed my hand, on the black, cordless-phone, and was relieved, when one of my old-clients, called. The old man's voice, quivered, on the other end, of the line.
"Ron told me, that he had to get rid of you. I am sorry, that your ex dropped that child, onto you. But, as you might know, I don't do, pity-calls. I have some serious news. My ex-girlfriend, use to date the guy, running the FBI. He, is curious, about a deal you struck, with Derrick Walter.
Tell me, all of this news, is nothing but the work of the rumor mill."
I shakingly said
"Sadly, it is not a rumor. When he was striking, the deal, all I could think about, was what would happen, if it got out. But he assured me, it was all taken care of, and that there, was nothing, to worry about."
He softly coughed
"And you believed him. You took his word, and failed the first rule, of being an investor. Due diligence. You're buying, a lucrative stock, therefore, the risk increases. You have, to make sure, that no-one, is going to be affected, when the fall-out, eventually comes. Now Ron has to prepare for the fire-storm, which is coming his way."
I nervously asked
When is he coming?"
"You know, I don't know that. But, I know, if your company, has any chance, of survival. You, have, to make peace with Ron, and head into, the belly of the beast.
I laughed
"So you think that Derrick is incapable of writing the ship?"
The old-man, cleared his throat, and snidely stated
"Derrick is a second-string quarter-back, who is on, the starting team. He, doesn't have, what you have. He is not a winner. I hoped, for the companies' sake, that he would be, able to be one. But, you know, the right words, to say to your team, to make sure, they are safe and sound."
I gently asked
"What, am i going to say, to give this, the full care, and attention, it needs?"
The telephone creaked, as he walked, into the room. He shut the door, behind him. He exclaimed
"I don't care! What you say. Tell him, that you need time, to bond with your son. All that matters is that you get to that office! So you can talk to your investors, before the news scares them away."
I anxiously asked
"How bad is it?"
"Down 20 points."
I calmly asked
"How much, have you lost?"
He tearfully responded
"Two thousand, and some change."
Office 9:00
Ron had aged, ten years. Grey flakes, highlighted, his large-beard. His withered face, contoured into a smile. He gently opened the office-door. I saw, the mark, where his wedding-band, once proudly rested. I wrapped my arms around his frail-body. I stared out, at the horde of gumpies, working the phones. I leant-forward, and whispered, in his ear
"The old man, has lost two thousand, and some change, from my mistakes. Did you know that?"
Ron viciously shook his head
"I knew, the second, the FBI got involved, our stock, would tank. But I never, thought, it would end up like this.
I gently stated
"You know, what has to be done."
Ron smiled
"They are not going to allow you, to waltz, back in."
9:30
I grabbed derrick, and dragged him, into the office. I leaned in close, and explained
"The FBI is like a bulldog. They will rip you apart! If they get the chance. So what are you going to do, to Wright the ship."
He shrugged
"I guess, we have to wait, for the investigation to end."
I laughed
"Derrick, if we wait for the investigation, to end, the investors, we do have, will be flat-broke. The stock-price would've collapsed. You have to be, pro-active. You have to have the ability, to sniff-out danger, and thought it, before it becomes a problem. That is your role, in this company. "
Derrick nervously asked
"How is the old-man, doing?"
I shook my head
"He is not, in a welcoming mood. He wants me back, on the team. But that does not matter. All that matters, is whether, you can you do it, or do I have to do it, myself."
"You know the rules. I cannot allow you, to take control. Think of the consequences, if something happens."
I mockingly stated
"You have got to be, joking with me. You are worrying about, law and order. While the company, I built, slowly burns. You can explain, to Ron, why the only person, who can help you, is sitting on the side-line."
10:00
Ron, shakingly spoke. He nervously, whipped the sweat, from his brow. He leant-close, to me, and whispered breathlessly
"You know, that I could not fire someone, like you. People like you, are a rare-breed. I need you, to get us out of the shitter. I don't really care what you have to do, to make it happen. All that matters, is that no-one, else knows, about it."
I nodded
"For a start Ron, you have to stay calm. The FBI, have not come, barging through those doors, and started, collecting papers, have they. They haven't, roped all of us, into a room, and questioned us, until we spurt, the truth. Ron, I know that you think that we are dead-men walking. But, unless they come, in here, and serve us, those papers! Then we are, going to fight, and that is what I want, you to think. So what do they really know?"
He closed the door.
"They know, it all. They know that we interacted with the company. They know that we got involved, in their insider trading scheme. Shit! Why did that fat fuck, had to die of a heart-attack. If that, man, had learnt how to deal with his, health a little better, then we would not be in this position. And don't get me started, on that son. "
I placed my hand, on his shoulder
"Oh, for the love of God, you have to remain calm. He was always, die. He ate fast-food, as if it was, going out of fashion. It was, only a matter of time, before, the fatty-oils, took their revenge. That is the past. It is done. What we, have to control now, is what happens, to our investors. We have, to keep them, in the dark, and feed them, shit. At least, at that point, we can retain, the investors, we have. And maybe, we might, surprise ourselves, and get a couple of dummies."
He laughed
"You have got to be joking. Do you honestly think, we are going to get enough dummies, to invest in this fraud, to even, make a profit."
I shook my head
"Ron, that is why, you are a novice, and I am the master. Forget the idea that you are ever, going to see, green again. Hell, you may even see a little bit of red. But, all that matters is that we get the heat off of us. Once, that happens, we will be able, to get our heads, of the sand."
"So, are you going to bring Mike in on it?"
I laughed
"You have got to be kidding me, Mike, is not someone, who I would want to work with. But, I think on this case, he may be our only chance, of getting freedom. Where, is Mike, at the moment?"
Ron, pointed, out into the office
"He is on the phone, right-now, trying to smooth over, some of the rough-patches."
I whipped the sweat, from my brow
"What do you mean, rough –patches, are we down, more points?"
He nodded
"We are down, a couple more points, and a few of our investors, are getting worried."
I laughed
"You have got to be kidding, with me. How long ago, did you know, about this?"
He frowned
"It was, about eight o'clock, last night. But, I did not want to get, you into the office, because, I knew that there, was nothing that we could do. For one, the market had already closed."
I shook my head
"We are on the same team, here! There is no point, lying to me. Did, they start tanking, before eight o'clock."
He nodded
"They started, tanking at around, 12. At first, it was only minor. I thought, a couple of the guys, in the office, would be able, to fix the problem. But, as it grew, I did not know, what to do. I panicked, and watched, my empire burn-down, around me. "
I exclaimed
"Why, did you not call me, there and then? At least, at that point, we could have, had a chance, to explain, the situation, to our investors. Now, it looks like, they invested, with a couple of armatures!
We both know, that is not, what we are. We have, to put that behind us, and look towards, the future. I will get, Mike, to try and mitigate, some of the damage. And somehow try and figure out, what the hell, the FBI, has on us."
"I may be able to help, you with that task."
I laughed
"I find that hard, to believe. Because, the last thing, that we want to do, is stick our heads, inside of the trap. At the moment, we are safe and that is the way, which I want it to be. I don't want, to give the FBI, another reason, to put a nail, in our coffin. All I want from you is to sit in this office, and field-calls, from investors. Personally, I don't give a shit, what you have to do. Just make sure, that they keep their money here, in our bank. Otherwise, the next line, you will be looking at, is the line, for food, down at the homeless shelter."
I grabbed, the metal-handle, of the door, and made my way, out into the waste-land, of investors. The phone-cords, dangled along the ground. Mike, sat in a small, glass-cubical. He whipped the sweat from his brow. Fire spurted out, of the other end of the phone. I didn't really know what to say to him. I was dragging him, deeper into a hole, that I was not sure, he would be able, to drag himself out of. He hung-up, the phone, and pointed to the office. Mike, slowly placed, the white-phone, in its holster, and headed into the quiet room. I closed the door, behind me. I pointed, to Ron's computer.
"I need you, to find out, what they know, about us. I don't care what you have to do, to get that evidence, the only thing, which I care about, is that, it never comes back, to this company. Because, when the dust, finally settles, this company, has to look like, the cleanest, turd, investors, have ever seen. We need, to make people forget, what happened, to us. Which is harder, than it sounds?"
Mike slowly adjusted his glasses
"I don't know, how I am even, going to break-through, the fire-wall. We are talking about the FBI, not the boy-scouts. These people, are not the type, to leave there passwords, on a yellow, sticky-note. These are the type of people, to hide that sticky-note, in a very secure-vault, behind a very, large, piece of concrete."
I whispered
"I know, how hard, this is going to be. The question, is can you do it."
He cautiously, nodded his head
"It can be done, but maybe not in the time, that you want it done. You want, to have your pie, and eat it too, but that is not possible. Maybe, if I had a couple of months, and a couple of highly skilled, hackers. Not these boy-scouts, then maybe. Just maybe, it would be done. But that is not the case. You think that you are some, wolf of Wall Street. That you are some kind of master-criminal. When in reality, you are nothing but, a fraud with a coat-hat, attempting to empty the pockets, of the poor, and give them, nothing but peanuts, and a show. "
I laughed
"You know, that this is the mecca, for investment. People, turn to us. A trusted friend, to make sure, that there money, is held tightly. Invested, well, and maybe, they make a little money, to buy that house; they had their eye, on for years. Maybe, they buy, those women of the night, a new hand-bag, to keep, there mouth-shut, about their affairs. This investment firm, is trusted, and we earnt that trust, the hard way. With blood, sweat and tears. So yes, I want our company, to be like the Wolf of Wall Street. Maybe, that lifestyle comforts me, at night. But, it is not a crime, to want to emulate, something that is successful. If that was, the case, we would not have any Hollywood remakes."
I leaned in close
"Get, this monkey off of my back, otherwise, I will eat you up, and spit you out! Do I make myself clear?"
Mike smiled
"You make yourself Crystal Clear."
He handed me, a piece of paper
"This is what, they know. It seems, we have a problem. They know, about your call, with Walter Whitman."
I nervously asked
"Do they know, about my meeting, with Derrick Whitman?"
He shook his head
"No"
I smiled
"Then we don't have, a problem, at all. I can explain, away Walter, comfortably. But, what I will struggle, to explain, is why we got offered, that high quality share."
"Does that mean, we are in the clear?"
I calmly responded
"You are never, in the clear, when it comes, to the FBI. They will find, a way, to cut me down. But, for the time-being, we are safe."
11:00
Ron, grabbed a couple of pieces, of paper, and placed them, in front of him.
"Do you think that it is time, for plan B?"
I Laughed
"You took the words, right out of my mouth. I have been thinking about it, all of this time."
The Cayman Islands, is a beautiful place, to hold wads of money, you don't want the authorities, to get their hands, on. It is right out of the wolf of Wall Street play-book. The set-up is simple, and the greatest thing, is it is all legal. As long, as you are not trying to avoid paying your taxes, then, the island is more than welcoming, and you only pay, the minimum amount of tax.
I stared out, into the wasteland, of hungry, sharks, circling the water, waiting for their pray. A young-assistant, cowarded behind his desk, his head firmly planted, in his hands. I wrapped my arms, around him
"I know, those numbers, are hard to watch. But let me, assure you. That we are doing, everything in our power, at this company, to make sure, those numbers, looks a little bit greener."
He nervously fidgeted, with his glasses
"How are you going to do that? We both know, that there is no way, to change, smart investors minds. Once, they have found, a leak in the ship, there is no way, they are going to stay on it. You have to understand, that these, are day-traders, they are simply looking to buy low, and sell high. And at the moment, the stock-price, could not be, any lower. "
I nodded
"There is no doubt in my mind, that you are a smart guy. That is why; I need you to do something for me. I want you, to go to the Cayman-islands, and cover our asses! If you have any problems, at all, you give me, a call, and I will sort it out."
He whipped, the beads of sweat, from his face
"Do you know that it is illegal, to set-up, an account there?"
I laughed
"You have got to be joking with me. When did you, grow a concise. The reason, why you are sitting in that chair, is not because, you have a heart. People, who have a heart, are too compassionate, for this job. This job requires someone, to be, cut-throat, to never take no, for an answer. To be, a warrior. To stand, and fight, until, your body is riddled with bullets. I am not, going to allow you, to sit here, and cower in the corner. That is what weak people do. Weak people are powerless to stop, what is going on. But, strong people, get up, and fight!"
He shut his desktop
"When does the plane leave?"
I smiled
"I knew, there was a reason, why I hired you. The plane, leaves in a couple of hours. You should, get there in the morning. We have, a couple of friends, on the ground, that would be more than willing, to lay there life on the line for this company."
He nervously whimpered
"What if I get caught?"
I laughed
"Why, would I hang you out to dry? People like you, are the life-blood of this company. You are the heart that keeps, beating. You are the warriors, at the other end of the line, making me, all of my money. You will be fine. You just have to have, a little bit of faith. Faith that, I have figured this all out and faith in yourself, that you are strong enough, to complete this mission."
Mike whipped the beads of sweat away, from his glasses. I anxiously stared down, at the computer.
"Have you got through yet?"
He shook his head
"I don't know, what type of Organisation, you think that I am hacking into. But, it is not as easy, as a couple of key-strokes. This is the government. With multi-billion dollar, funding. So it might take me, a bit of time, to get through the fire-wall. But like you said, you have to have faith."
I breathed heavily
"Just let me know, when you break-through."
Ron sat at his desk. A bottle of whiskey, in his left hand, he sobbingly said
" The three Major investors, are pulling the plug, they told me, they didn't give a shit, why the numbers, were down, only that, if we did not raise them, that they would be forced out. "
"Have you considered, getting the old-man, to calm them, down a little bit. Tell him, a story. Tell him, there was a problem, and that, I am on hand, to make sure, it gets fixed."
Ron Smiled.
"That might work, you know. But, will they go, for it."
I wrapped my arms, around his shoulder, and gently responded
"I guess we will see. It is time, for him, to cash-in, his chips."
I wrestled, the whiskey-bottle out of his hands, and gently said
"Sometimes, you have, to have faith that the people, around you, have got the answers. I am the reason, why you are in this position, so I have to do, what it takes, to make sure, that you have all of the tools, in your tool-box, to fight this outbreak, and win."
"Have you thought about, being the face of the company again?"
I shook my head
"You already, have someone who the board is happy with. There is no point, upsetting, the apple-cart. But, if today, is any kind of indication, of what kind of leader he is. It will not, be too long, until I am sitting, in the hot-sea, again."
"Is he really that bad?"
I nodded
He barged, into the office, and handed me, a piece of paper
"This is what, they know. It seems, we have a problem. They know, about your call, with Walter Whitman."
I nervously asked
"Do they know, about my meeting, with Derrick Whitman?"
He shook his head
"No"