by Nicky Webber
Logan grinned, shaking his head from side to side. After a few moments, he continued. ‘Can you believe this? He doesn’t give a dam about his fathers!’ They both chuckled.
‘It’s incredible,’ said Fred. ‘All this upset and subterfuge, and he’s cool with us both.’
‘Maybe the co-parenting thing with the three of us paid off after all? He seems delighted to have two fathers,’ Fred said, still astounded by Hawke’s reaction.
‘Amazing. So, are we cool too? Coffee?’ Logan asked, turning and flipping the switch on the cappuccino machine.
‘Sure, I need something to calm my nerves!’ Fred responded. ‘But I still can’t understand why you and Maddy were so stuck on keeping the whole thing under wraps all this time.’
‘I think we were also caught up in some kind of madness, too. Fred, I just don’t know what to say. I can’t explain it. I’ve never wanted to lie to you, and I won’t ever lie again. That’s a promise. Scout’s honor. But what are we going to do about Maddy?’ Logan asked.
‘Yeah, she needs to know all the boys are totally chilled!’ Fred slapped Logan on the back. ‘If she knew we were all rolling with the punches, she’d come straight back. Like you said to me last night, it is what it is, and nothing about the three of us has diminished.’
Logan nodded, swung around, and continued making the coffee.
‘While you were chatting to Hawke, I remembered an old online email account Maddy used to have,’ Fred said.
By the look on Logan’s face, he knew about it, too.
‘Really?’ Fred said. ‘So, you’ve not written to her on that old email address then?’
‘No,’ Logan replied. ‘Haven’t used it in years. Why don’t you give it a go? After that, we are out of options, and maybe we should contact the local police.’
‘That’s right Buddy, and they’re going to take us seriously!’ Fred had to suppress his mild annoyance as he stalked from the room to email his wife.
As he sat at his computer and logged into her old online email account, an email from Maddy was sitting unopened in the inbox sent over seven hours ago. Her words were a conflicted mixture of contrite and tormented.
Dear Fred,
By now, you will understand why I could not speak to you in person. I also hope you and Logan have discussed and sorted things out amicably.
I needed to have time to think things through and question my motives for keeping such a humiliating secret all these years. This entire situation has proven more difficult than I ever comprehended. I feel like I have seriously lost my way and compromised my love and relationship with both you and Logan. This was something we did not expect. In my naïve ignorance, I pleaded with Logan to maintain absolute silence. Now in the harsh light of brutal hindsight, I see what a crippling burden this secret lunacy was to all of us, including dear Mila.
I blame myself. I made Logan promise, which was also an unrealistic expectation and demand on him. I am the pivotal parent who drove these actions, and I take full responsibility for them. Neither you nor Hawke deserved to find out like this. For now, all I can offer are my apologies, and my love, hoping you, Logan, and Hawke can forgive me.
Yours always,
Maddy
Two days later, Hawke and Fred met at a local bar after work. There had been two lots of discussions between the pair, and it appeared the tension over Hawke’s paternity had eased. It was a Wednesday night, and a few people were standing at the polished timber bar counter, while others sat at small round tables scattered around the darkened room. Several groups of customers were happily drinking and chatting as they showed Hawke to a table in a quieter rear corner of the room. Fred imagined that this was because Hawke wanted to discuss his biological father, Logan, in more detail. It was a surprise, when he quickly discovered, Hawke had other intentions. They each clutched a bottle of beer and, after exchanging initial pleasantries, Hawke launched into his motive for calling the meeting.
Hawke leaned across the table, lowering his voice and said to Fred, ‘I have a fool-proof answer to all our problems.’
‘Answer for what?’ said Fred, looking confused.
‘You know what we've been talking about?’ said Hawke in a harsh whisper. ‘Me telling you we could make a fast buck and get out of debt.’
‘Really? You can't be serious?’ Fred leaned back in his chair, regarding his son's face.
Hawke shrugged his shoulders, raising his eyebrows, and looked intently into Fred’s eyes.
‘I'm deadly serious. You know I’ve thought of an awesome idea. A way we can do this and make a few dollars with nobody ever knowing.’
Fred rested his elbows on the table, stretched his neck out towards Hawke and in a shallow whisper said, ‘Don't be ridiculous! You're talking about committing a criminal act. Are you expecting to spend the rest of your life in jail?’
Hawke mimicked Fred, with his arms crossed, leaning on the table and pushing his face towards his father’s. ‘It's dead simple. I promise. Between the two of us we can make this work,’ Hawke hesitated. ‘I've thought about this long and hard, and I can explain, so you understand what I mean.’
‘It doesn't matter how easy it is or how much you expect to get away with. The fact of the matter is that it's illegal. You get that, right?’ Fred’s voice was rising with anxiety. ‘This is no joke.’
‘I know. I'm not joking,’ Hawke replied.
‘It's crazy,’ said Fred, uncompromising.
‘Just hear me out.’
‘Not here,’ Fred said emphatically.
They met on the weekend at the local park and walked together, discussing more details. Hypothetical details, of course, to test the concept and consider if a plan like this could work in theory and ultimately in practice.
Fred agreed to listen to Hawke but clarified that there was no way he would do anything illegal. It didn't matter how easy it sounded.
CHAPTER 25
Project Born
Both men endured two sleepless nights before they met again in the local dog park. They wandered off along the path early on Sunday morning, where there were fewer people around. Initially, they talked about the weather. Tall trees surrounded the park, and rock gardens with low flowering shrubs lined the meandering paved walkways. They sauntered through the magnificent gardens. Fred marveled at how it seemed such an innocuous scenario, reinforced by the polite domestic conversation exchanged between father and son, making it easier for the father to willingly suspended his sense of disbelief.
‘First off, Dad, I want you to listen to what I've got to say. Please don't interrupt me. Wait until you've heard the entire plan and then you’ll get it and be able to make an informed decision.’ Hawke continued explaining the nuts and bolts of how the plan could work. He had undertaken a lot of research over the past two or three months and thought it through right down to the minutest detail. The conversation took Fred bu surprise. The layers of planning and information Hawke confidently imparted astounded Fred.
‘There's even a colloquial expression for this type of heist,’ he chortled. ‘It's known as salami slicing,’ offered Hawke by way of an explanation and attempting to break the tension between them.
Fred, whose face already looked disturbed and strained with this extra burden of responsibility, suddenly understood Hawke was intent on this plan with or without Fred involved. He realized if they didn’t execute his plan, Hawke would probably include a friend and land in jail for sure. Instantly Fred knew that, while Hawke had a plan, there was also a level of ego-centered naivety about how easy this was going to be. Fred challenged Hawke to force him to see the complexities across the whole action, to bring him to his senses and drop the entire idea.
‘The slicing comes from the fact that you're taking a tiny little fraction of a sum and accumulating small amounts across a high volume of transactions.’ Hawke stumbled slightly and made a sharp grunt as his right foot seemed to lose its footing on the edge of the path.
Fred automatically gr
abbed his son’s elbow and steadied the younger man. ‘Okay?’ he asked.
‘Yup, just did something to my back a few weeks ago,’ Hawke grimaced. ‘It comes and goes. I’ll be okay,’ he reassured Fred, and pulled himself up straight before continuing with the conversation. ‘You know, we could transfer some independent business’s banking deposits and credits from various financial institutions,’ explained Hawke. ‘It’s literally a numbers game, and the minuscule amounts we would skim make it almost risk-free. It’s the ideal approach.’
‘So run it by me again,’ said Fred. ‘I want to make sure I actually understand what you mean.’
‘It's relatively simple,’ said Hawke. ‘Every transaction that goes through the bank usually has a few cents in the digital amount. Let’s talk about $2,022.55, for example. What I'm asking is for you to parse a string of code which removes maybe one cent from each transaction amount. So, the new sum that gets transacted is $2,022.54. This would happen over multiple transactions. You know the volumes. There are over a hundred transactions every minute, and we just nip off the last cent. It could be a half or a full cent or portions thereof.’
Fred nodded, looking down at his feet as he walked along with his hands firmly in his jacket pockets. There were a few moments of silence as both men processed the reality of the strategy. They considered the associated complexities and risk factors, wondering how robust this approach really was.
They discussed the reasons for undertaking this project again. Hawke explained, ‘I like to call it the project so that it sounds like a normal part of our day job if anyone overhears us talking.’
Fred raised his eyebrows. ‘Right, so you really have thought of everything?’
‘Almost!’ Hawke grinned at the older man.
They continued discussing the recent impacts on their respective domestic expenses and ongoing costs servicing existing debt. There was also Erik’s need for a retirement facility with frail care. It was simply not affordable, and financing it was impossible even if they sold the old man’s small house. Past medical expenses Fred covered for Hawke’s previous health treatment contributed to his sense of being overwhelmed by debt. There was also Logan’s late wife, Mila’s chemotherapy and hospital bills before she died. They had loaded the outstanding balance onto the mortgage of the house the three adults shared. Very little had been paid back over the years.
‘Yeah, I let the medical insurance lapse when I had no work a few years ago, and the debt just remains in the red. My repayments barely cover the interest,’ said Fred.
‘I thought Logan helped with my medical costs?’ Hawke queried, wondering if Fred was overplaying his hand.
‘That was the plan, but of course, when we sold both family’s houses and merged the finances, we merged the debt into the mortgage on our new shared home,’ Fred explained almost to himself. ‘Anyway, it’s okay. I don’t want you to worry, and we have enough equity in the house to carry it.’
‘Look, I don’t really understand the dynamics of how you, Mom and Logan live together, and it’s really none of my business,’ Hawke said. ‘All I know is that I have university loans to pay off, and you're carrying growing debt through no action of your own. So, this struck me as a quick and relatively easy way to win a home run and be free of financial stress for us.’
Both Fred and Hawke were aware of the enormous risks in progressing with their planned project, and so continued talking about alternative legal ways of attaining the same positive cash flow result. It was apparent the project solution was the fastest and most effective plan for clearing their joint debts. This conundrum was at the center of their private struggle, causing both men to suffer sleepless nights of personal torment. Round and around in circles, they agonised, trying to work things every-which-way, but they always came back to the project as the smartest option. As long as they didn't get caught, which still presented the most profound fear for them both. The draw card was their desire to be financially secure for the rest of their lives.
‘What's the code you need me to write then?’ Fred finally asked. ‘It’ll be a little more than parsing a few stings.’
This is interesting, thought Hawke, who took Fred’s question to mean he was on the hook and hopefully convinced to be part of this genius opportunity. He knew the entire plan rested on Fred’s expert coding capability to swing the project into action and his ability to load the project code onto the SQL servers in their respective employers’ businesses.
‘The best thing, so that nothing’s noticeable at the banking end,’ Hawke continued, ‘would be to write code to round down all amounts in customer transfers between the banks and hold the fractions skimmed off in some other hidden holding account. It would give us a flying chance. Maybe leftover fractions will need to be transferred to an independent offshore account? You know there's been a few movies and books written about this kind of thing, but I think they've missed a few crucial points and they get caught.’
A middle-aged woman in an oversized pair of jeans and a faded T-shirt strolled past them, pushing a stroller with a young baby fast asleep. Hawke fell silent as she passed them and glanced at Fred, who appeared to be mulling things over. Once the woman was out of earshot, Hawke carried on talking.
‘We can cover off some pitfalls by using clever code and tethering it to the transaction system inside the bank itself,’ Hawke said. ‘There are millions of banking transactions over the internet processed every moment of every day, all around the world. If we pick a big enough bank, and I'm guessing the obvious is financial investment company I'm working for, would make perfect sense. They already have a strong, credible relationship with the other banks they deal with and I’m sure that’ll do the trick. This means we can both monitor things from the other side of the firewall, inside the companies we work for. They won't notice any of these minor transgressions in the data. No alarm bells are likely to spring any officials into action.’
Fred turned and looked directly at Hawke, aghast at the audacity and confidence he displayed. He had thought of everything. Fred said nothing, wanting to see how far his son would take this project plan.
‘Last week, I ran some spreadsheet calculations,’ Hawke continued, figuring Fred’s silence was one of interest and acceptance of the project. ‘I’ve worked the numbers. We would only need to do this for about nine to twelve months. My estimations, which are conservative across the volume of banking transactions, would mean we’ll have at least a million dollars in the offshore account. The only real problem is getting the money transferred back into the US without raising suspicion over money laundering.’ Hawke paused, regarding Fred’s demeanor, assessing how the older man was taking in all this information. ‘But I'm working on that. I've got a few ideas.’
They ambled along the pathway in silence. A young Lycra-clad jogger ran past with her ponytail swinging from side to side as her feet beat their stride along the walkway. A couple of kids were throwing a ball to a black and white collie dog eagerly fetching and dropping the ball into the children’s outstretched hands.
After about three minutes, Hawke finally broke the silence. ‘So, do you think it could work? Would you consider working with me? Do you think with the right code we could make it happen?’
‘Sure,’ Fred responded, still grappling with the concept. ‘But we must remember GREED could catch us out. If your estimates are correct, then we need to pull out before twelve months, before we’re exposed to bigger risks when annual internal audits come into play.’
‘Yup. That makes perfect sense,’ Hawke said without hesitation.
‘If you just look at this coldly and unemotionally. I’m thinking about how it could work in the real world,’ said Fred, as if he was working through a regular business problem during his day job.
‘It'll depend on the number of transactions going through the system, that's why if we can get into the transaction funnel from one of the major banks or even the Fed…’ Hawke sounded excited by the prospect.
Fr
ed immediately interrupted him. ‘No way! How the hell would we get into the Federal Reserve?’ His voice rose slightly higher with increasing alarm.
‘Well, I'm just saying, if you can do it for a few transactions, you might as well do it for millions of transactions. After testing it on a few transactions in a trial run, and if it works, why not go hard out and run it across as many as we can? There’s quite a lot of money that quickly adds up,’ responded Hawke.
Fred stood still and turned to look at Hawke, who stopped in his tracks too. ‘Yes,’ said Fred, ‘If we talk fractions of sums on many accounts it would be harder to trace and probably fly under the radar until enough people reported errors in their accounts. Who's going to notice one cent missing? I can see how this could hang together.’
‘You initially suggested stashing the money safely in the Cayman Islands,’ Fred continued. ‘Does that make sense? The Caymans itself would let off alarm bells at the Securities & Exchange Commission. It’s usually drug money and illicit laundering. We need to be careful. We have to be smarter than that.’
‘Well, it can go to any of those tax haven countries,’ said Hawke. ‘I'll do some more investigating and make better suggestions on that front. We only need to run this for six months if we go for the higher volume financial transactions. We get in and get out and wrap it up and we’ll have the money to cover all our debts.'
‘I know. It’s never-ending,’ Fred paused. ‘Okay. I guess it’s a plan. Let me think about it. We need more discussion.’
They continued walking on together. ‘I know,’ Fred exclaimed. ‘We need to set up a fake cash business. The whole idea of moving money off-shore is way too obvious and risky.’
‘What? Like ticketing or something?’ Hawke suggested.
‘Even better,’ smiled Fred. ‘Forget about tax havens. We could set up a local fake children’s day care business with a head office in some backyard suburb with about five day care centers across LA. The CashGuard guys who regularly collect the cash from the central office will secure it in their vault at their headquarters. We then send fake invoices to CashGuard for the money we want, taking just a portion and always making sure there is enough to cover fees, business tax and VAT for our company Panda Bear Holdings.’
