The Second Rising
Page 11
“Damn birds,” he muttered to himself.
Stratus slowly made his way out of the lot before letting loose, the tachometer spiking up, letting out a high-pitched hum. He headed straight for the car wash and got the Porsche detailed. Now all that remained was to get a new suit, so he could feel respectable.
The area near the airport was urban and luckily had a retailer that sold his preferred attire. The store already had his measurements on file, and they quickly fitted him into an exquisite Armani suit. As he walked out he now felt prepared for the day, although he questioned the purchase, because he’d likely encounter roadblocks, in which case his suit would meet a similar fate as his last. To hell with it. Dressing sharp calmed him and helped him concentrate. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
Stratus slid back into his shiny silver sports car and typed Bedrock Financial into the car’s navigation system. As he made his way to the expressway he glanced at the clock and realized he’d better not waste any more time if he was to meet with someone high up within Bedrock.
Slowing down slightly he eyed the expressway pay lanes. He chose one that was now empty, and tossed his fee into the pay bucket, then up shifted in one fluid motion. The toll operator sprinted out of his booth and yelled at what he thought was a law breaker. Breathing in the Porsche’s exhaust, he coughed out his harsh rhetoric, shaking his fists until he heard the exalted bing behind him, indicating the driver had paid his dues in full.
Seeing the stomping mad attendant in his rearview mirror Stratus laughed. At least the lazy bastard is getting some exercise today. The expressway’s big swath of lanes was bordered by large trees crowding the densely forested route, making for a speedy, scenic, unimpeded trip.
With the sun just beginning its descent to the horizon, Stratus made his way off the expressway and into the labyrinth of glass skyscrapers in downtown Hartford. The shiny capitol always seemed so fresh, modern, and new, a juxtaposition from the rural woodlands he had just passed on the way.
The sun’s rays reflected off the shiny building creating bright bands of light on the street. Stratus was relieved when he was finally in shadow on the eastern side of the Renaissance building.
He eased his Porsche down below the building into the underground parking structure. Stratus pulled up to the first gate, got out, handed his keys to the valet attendant, slipping him a fifty-dollar bill, then entered a nearby elevator. Stratus looked over the directory then pushed the button for the thirty-fifth floor labeled Bedrock Investments.
The elevator’s interior was mahogany, one wall adorned with a large mirror. Stratus adjusted his clothing and straightened his hair, thinking of what he’d say to the corporate big wigs to convince them to help. The elevator was swift and smooth, reaching the floor it pronounced its arrival, “Bedrock Investments,” followed by a ding.
The doors opened to an ultra-modern lobby and he stepped out swallowing deeply to equalize his ears from the rapid ascent. A blonde woman sat behind a curvy metal counter with round holes punched in it, making it look like a folded piece of Swiss cheese.
“How may I help you sir? Are you here to see someone?”
Pushing her sleeve back to check her watch, the receptionist looked at him inquisitively, as if little traffic came to her desk,
“I’m here to see someone in management,” said Stratus.
“Someone, or do you mean anyone? I don’t have any appointments scheduled for today.”
“I don’t have an appointment, and yes, anyone will do, I am a fellow banker wanting to discuss some sensitive information.”
“I have some bad news then; all of our executives are away on business.”
She’s a tough one, I’d better switch gears. He walked all the way up to the counter and turned on the charm, accompanied by his perfect smile.
“Ms.….?” he inquired.
“Forester.”
“Ms. Forester I realize you’re just doing your job as gatekeeper here, but it’s imperative I speak with someone now. If not an executive, someone from the securities division, certainly you could round up an executive roaming around,” Stratus said with a wink.
The woman blushed slightly and looked away from the handsome, finely dressed Stratus. Finally giving up a smile, she responded, “Well, perhaps I could round up a stray for you, but we don’t make a habit of allowing random strangers claiming to be bankers without seeing ID. Mr.?”
“Yes, how foolish, the name’s Stratus Lattamus,” he said as he took out his banker’s ID and showed it to her.
She looked it over carefully, then her eyes met his. “Aquarius huh? That explains a lot. Interesting, well follow me Mr. Lattamus of Foundation Bank.” She handed his ID back, and Stratus rolled his eyes while she was looking away, then followed her down the wide hallway.
“Confident you’ll find someone so quickly, I thought no one was around?”
“No, but our chief securities officer Haywood is always on site; she doesn’t like interruptions or distractions though.”
“She? It’s not every day you run into a securities tech woman.”
Ms. Forester paused at the door. “Try not to be such a distraction now,” she said with a wink and a smile. She opened the door to a large office and announced his name and title before quickly withdrawing back to her desk. The awkward silence was broken by a Stratus-initiated handshake. He sat down on the other side of her desk and began to speak, but she was already glued to her computer screen.
“Ms. Haywood? … Ms. Haywood!”
Her fingers tapped away on the keyboard while she looked up at him and held up her index finger from her free hand. Stratus waited for what seemed like forever, and just when he was about to yank her laptop away from her, she finished her typing.
“Yes sir?” she blurted out.
“Well now that I have your attention I’d like to speak with you about a series of questionable transactions at our branch that share a common thread with Bedrock.”
“That’s what this interruption is all about? Why am I hearing this from you and not someone from Foundation corporate or securities office?”
“Ma’am I’m investigating a lead from information obtained from a Leo Krueger’s account and an account holder of yours here. A certain amount of discretion was necessary, which is why I came in person. I believe Bedrock’s Evelyn Sullivan has wire-transferred funds to Mr. Krueger for less than respectable purposes. I need to know of any recent transactions by her.”
While he was talking she had glanced at her screen once, followed by more vigorous typing while she kept eye contact with Stratus.
“Not possible, you wasted your time coming here. Send an email next time. It’ll save you the trip.”
“Ms. Haywood I just told you there’s possible illegal activity on your customer’s account. You’re saying Bedrock’s position is, ‘we’re not concerned, call someone who cares?’”
“I’m saying Mr. Lattamus, there’s no possible way we’d divulge account information to another private entity without government intervention, even if you do believe this to be questionable activity, as you say. I’ll make a note of it, although I believe that’s moot as her account is no longer open. Is that all?”
Haywood had returned to her frantic typing and her eyes were back on the screen.
“Ms. Haywood, I don’t have time for this,” Stratus reached across the desk and pushed her laptop closed. She sat in disbelief, annoyed at his actions. “Look this isn’t routine, this is important. Mrs. Sullivan isn’t just involved in illegal exchanges of money, she isn’t even Mrs. Sullivan. That name is false.
Her name is Ms. Likvold I’m told, not that that will help, she’s a ghost. I need every transaction within the last month, anything unusual that you can spot, and I need it now, no exceptions. I’m your government intervention.”
Stratus reached into his inner breast pocket and showed her his Pentagon credentials. Her irritated looked turned to that of shock; she had been so short with him.
Stratus reached back across the table once more and folded open her laptop, the screen reflecting a blue login screen off her glasses. “Get to work ma’am, I don’t have a lot of time.”
She brought her hand back to the keyboard and began typing, her professionally curious nature was now heightened.
“What does the Pentagon want with---”
“Do me a favor, and don’t ask questions. You don’t want to know the answers. After I leave it’ll be as if I were never here.”
“You won’t have to shoot me, will you?” she said with a smile. Her attempt at humor mixed with sarcasm fell on deaf ears, met only with the straight-faced Stratus.
“If you stop asking unnecessary questions, I’ll make an exception.”
Unsure if he was serious, she replied, “So serious Mr. Lattamus, that’s a shame, and here I thought for a second you’d end up being a delightful distraction. Seeing as how I’m your dispensable prisoner now, I’d better get your information.” A series of rapid clicks of her mouse and she found what he wanted.
“Well there’s not much to tell, only a few transactions, although they are for large amounts. There’s the one to Leonard Krueger, and five to various companies ranging from $35,000 to $100,000. Ah, here’s another personal check to a Mr. Naublock, make that two actually.”
“Anything recent, before the account was closed?”
“Nothing, the last transaction was to Mr. Krueger.”
“Damn!” Stratus sat frozen making sure he didn’t miss anything. “The account was it closed, and the funds withdrawn or was it transferred to an external account?”
“Well now that is interesting, it shows as an international transfer to a bank in Iqaluit in Nunavut, Canada. That’s a little out of your jurisdiction.”
“Amount?”
“$55,300,000.”
“And that didn’t trigger any red flags or cause you to freeze the funds, that should have taken awhile for it to clear.”
“It did, but I cleared it myself, that’s why I recognized the name. It was clean. It appears you are chasing a ghost.”
“Humor me with one more search, a Mr. Artemus Sullivan.” He checked his watch to see what time it was; the sun had now set, which meant that he’d be staying the night in Hartford. He waited for Haywood to finish her search; he was fishing in the dark on this last search, but while he was here he figured he’d leave no stone unturned. Her fingers finished tapping, and she stared intently at the screen.
“I have an account under that name”
“You’re kidding?”
“No, I’m not, and WOW this account’s holdings are damn huge. It makes Evelyn’s account look puny. This account is chalked full of transactions, some as recent as today.”
“I need the names of the recipients of the last five transitions from that account.” said Stratus.
“This is strange.”
“What is strange?”
“This appears to be a holdings account. Everything’s incoming, and there are no transactions going out recently, plus the account is loaded with Class One earmarks.”
“In English please.”
“Class One is the top clearance level within the bank, only I and a few others are privy to these types of transactions for security purposes. It’s by regulation.
“Top clearance level for what purpose? Money is money. Who cares if bank personnel see these transactions? Who would require such regulations?”
Before she spoke it dawned on him; he realized he knew what would fall under that category, and his face betrayed his shock.
“State or federal government regulation Mr. Lattamus.”
She frantically typed and unlocked the security restrictions on the account to reveal where they had come from.
“Looks like they are from your people sir, these are military deposits. I’d say he’s a military contractor and a damn profitable one from the looks of it.”
Stratus realized he was in the middle of something enormous, and he was pinned on both sides. “Well isn’t that fucking great,” he replied cynically.
CHAPTER 20
B eing cuffed and patted down in front of gathering bar patrons and his angry drunk accusers was humiliating. Matthew had elected to remain silent so his ride in the squad car was a quiet one. He knew it was not productive to speak with them and try to explain anything. His only chance was to request a meeting with his superiors.
Matthew had hoped that with his notes he could paint the picture well enough not to make himself sound nuts. After hours of their asking questions, he still remained silent, tight as a drum. His only spoken words were to ask that he be released to the National Guard, which was finally granted at 3:00 a.m.
They had nothing to keep him on and were eager to get the silent statue out of their precinct. It didn’t mean he was out of the woods, they’d likely bring charges later and it would sabotage his position in the guard unless he could straighten things out.
A dishonorable discharge would be devastating to him and there was more at stake if what he feared was true. Then there was his new wife to consider; she had implored, warned, and threatened him about his drinking and fighting affinity. He knew she would be so disappointed, but this time it wasn’t his own doing. Matthew was amazed at the BOT’s mobility and seemingly intelligent problem solving.
He hadn’t pieced together their entire plan but replacement of National Guardsmen with what he suspected were more BOTS hinted towards malicious intention.
Instead of being transported, he was simply let out in front of the police station. He would have called his wife, but he needed to get hold of the situation first. He found a cab service on his smart phone and waited until they arrived. They hadn’t given him his personal fire arm back but luckily had given him his paperwork and notes.
He looked them over on the ride to the base. Prior to last night’s event, Matthew was confident he would have been able to convince medical and his superiors to take a second look at the two AWOL soldiers that had returned. Now, he’d be compelled to explain not only the events from last night but also how they tied in to his reasons for the soldier’s second review.
If he failed to convince them to take another look at the soldiers, by association they also would think his actions last night were negligent and delusional. Matthew realized it was now early morning and his wife was probably just awaking in a panic, so he sent a text message to her. He wasn’t ready for his wife’s pissed off tirade.
He sat staring out the window, his mind drifting with thoughts of his wife’s reaction and how his meeting would go with his superior.
“Sir, hello!” said the cab driver.
Matthew’s mind cleared and the familiar buildings that made up the base came into focus.
“We’ve arrived at your destination and the meters running.”
Matthew looked at the cab driver, then to the meter, shelled out his fare, and exited.
“This might not go so well, if it doesn’t I’ll need you to drop me downtown. Twenty bucks for you to wait?”
The man in true capitalistic fashion, tapped the meter to reset it then took the twenty-dollar bill. With the meter now clocking, the cabbie said, “When the meters at twenty I’m leaving, not a second later.”
“Wow thanks. You’re getting paid to sit, you do realize that?”
The cabbie shrugged his shoulders, with an ‘oh well’ expression, then pointed to the meter that was now at twenty-five cents already.
“What a dick,” Matthew said quietly as he walked away from the cab. He approached the check point on foot and the surprised guards greeted him.
“Sergeant Davis, is that you? Never seen you come through here on foot sir. Did you gamble your wheels away?” The two men chuckled at the joke until they saw his face remained serious.
“It’s been a long night, forgive me for being short, but I just need to go i
n and say my piece to Staff Sergeant Baxter. I’m sure you’ve both heard by now.”
“Heard what sir. This isn’t gossip central, it’s the guard.”
“Never mind.” He handed them his badge and he crossed his fingers as they swiped it inside the guard shack to verify clearance.
The guard returned with his ID and handed it back. “Enjoy Sergeant.”
The barrier lifted up and so did his spirits; at least he wouldn’t be denied the chance to explain himself. Normally the place would have been empty when they weren’t conducting drills, but there had been some chatter through the Intelligence channels, and preparedness had been ramped up. This increase was normal from time to time and he was high up enough to know it was important but not high enough to know anything specific about it.
Passing through the halls with salutes from enlistees and some of his own men, he made his way to Baxter’s office. Approaching his door, he saw a man coming to a stop at an adjoining hallway, it was Victor Renique, the first AWOL soldier that had returned.
Matthew glared at him as Victor saluted and greeted him. “Sergeant.”
Matthew passed him in what seemed like slow motion, his stares met by a creepy grin from Victor. Not saluting the man was disrespectful and against the unspoken code, but then again, he wasn’t sure if he was even a man. He knocked on Staff Sergeant Baxter’s door.
“Yes?” a voice came loudly from within the room.
“Sergeant Davis here, I need a word with you sir.”
“Ah yes, come in please.”
Matthew opened the door and eyed the hallway. Victor Renique was still standing in the same position, staring right at him.