The Great Game

by D. R. Bell

  David asked, “Who else was here on that day?”

  “Let me see … it was a fairly large meeting. Mike was there, so was George, Jim, Suzy …”

  “George?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry. George Youngman was his consultant on international issues, Mike Black his chief of staff, Jim Zorn his campaign manager, and Suzy Yamamoto his senior advisor.”

  “And all but George were killed in Philadelphia?”

  “Well, there were others, too. We’ve known George for a long time. He was not in Philadelphia because his daughter was giving birth.”

  “What about John Trimble?”

  “Who?”

  “John Trimble, the head of Mitchell’s security detail,” Platt explained.

  “Oh yes, surely he was there. I didn’t think of mentioning him, security people were always there.”

  “When did he join Mitchell’s staff?”

  “I think about a year before. Wasn’t John killed in Philadelphia, too?”

  “We are not one hundred percent sure of that,” Maggie said. “Do you know who hired him?”

  “Oh my God, I don’t know for sure. I think it would have been Mike Black.”

  “Do you remember what he looked like?”

  “Of course. But we have pictures of Mitchell with Trimble in the background. Would you like to see them?”

  “Yes, please,” David said.

  Jenny came back and showed David a picture taken on a lawn in front of a building, probably an office of some kind. Mitchell Williams was in the center with a big smile on his face, shaking the hand of an elderly woman. A man standing behind them had a different hair color and a larger nose, but he was the “Thomas Mann” that had a beer with David in the Seattle airport.

  Platt reminded everyone that they’d taken enough of Mrs. Williams’s time. Jenny made them promise that they would let her know what they found out.

  Saturday, 4/30/2022, 3:24 p.m. CDT

  Platt raised the limo’s privacy divider.

  “So was that the man you saw at the airport?” asked Maggie.

  David nodded. “He colored his hair and probably had a plastic surgery, but I am sure that was him.”

  “Then Petr’s story may have been true.” After a pause, Maggie spoke again. “And there is another thing. As Jenny said, why didn’t SEC pick up Jonathan’s investigation after he was killed? They are the SEC after all!”

  “I wondered about this as well,” John commented.

  “There was something that Frank Gorman told us about Jonathan,” David said. “According to Frank, Jonathan left CFTC because he came across something important that his superiors did not want him to investigate. He didn’t want to go along, and that’s why he left.”

  “I know he didn’t get along with the management at CFTC. What is your point?” John asked.

  “My point is that Jonathan may have come across something that his superiors at SEC did not want to pursue. That would explain why nobody picked up the work.”

  “And we now know for sure that there was a connection between Williams and Schulmann,” said Platt. “But we are not any closer to figuring out which one was the real target and who was behind the assassination. After this morning’s talk with the FBI guy I started leaning to Schulmann being the primary target. But Jenny shared some things I did not know about Mitchell, but I’m sure there were some who did. Mitchell must have had a lot of enemies.”

  They rode for a few minutes, digesting the thought. Then John pulled out the files. “We better learn about Ms. Suzy Yamamoto before we get to San Antonio.”

  Maggie opened her copy of the file. The face of a pretty young Asian woman was looking at her. Born in 1979 in Cupertino, CA. Straight-A student in school. Graduated from Berkeley in 1999 with degree in finance (“did it in three years,” noted Maggie), and from Harvard Law School in 2004. Met Chris Maidel in Harvard where he was studying in medical school. She stayed in Boston, probably waiting for Chris to finish school, worked in a law firm. They moved to Virginia in 2006 following his graduation. She worked in another law firm for a while, then in 2010 started at CFTC. They moved to San Antonio in 2015, Suzy joined Williams’s staff, her husband got a job at a local pediatric hospital. Two girls, Annette, born 2012, and Josephine, born 2015.

  Saturday, 4/30/2022, 4:28 p.m. CDT

  It was raining when they got to the house by half past four. Chris Maidel was waiting for them on a covered porch outside. He looked to be in his mid-to-late forties, thin, medium height, prematurely grey, with kind but sad eyes. Chris was wearing old blue jeans and a plain white T-shirt. After the round of introductions, the four of them sat around a rectangular table in a small living room, with John and David on one side, Maggie and Chris Maidel across from them.

  John started. “Mr. Maidel, thank you so much for agreeing to meet with us. As I explained on the phone, we are trying to investigate some of the circumstances around your wife’s death.”

  Chris said, “Please understand that this has been hard on me, but it’s been much harder on our … my girls. They are just now coming to grips with the situation. Josephine has been waking up every night screaming for Suzy until a month ago.” His voice broke. After composing himself, Chris continued. “I arranged for the neighbors to take Annette and Josephine to the river walk, together with their kids. They will be back around six. I will help you with anything I can until then, but I must ask that the meeting be over before they get back. Now, please go ahead; what do you want to know?”

  “Mr. Maidel, do you remember Jonathan Schulmann?”

  “Yes. I know Suzy worked with him at CFTC, and we saw him a couple of times socially. He was a nice man. I am sorry he was killed.”

  “Jonathan was investigating the 2019 crisis for SEC. We believe that he may have come upon some information that may be related to what happened. We are trying to find it. David is a computer expert. While we’re talking, would it be possible for him to take a look at any computers that your wife used?”

  “Certainly. Her laptop was in her room in the hotel, away from where the blast was. It survived the explosion and was returned to us. It’s just sitting there, I haven’t really touched it since that day. I presume that the FBI inspected it, but you are welcome to take a look. Please follow me.”

  Maidel took David to a small cluttered office with three tables. One was piled high with what looked like medical magazines, one was neatly organized and had a Dell notebook sitting on top of it, and one was in the corner with what looked like an older all-in-one Dell desktop.

  Chris pointed to the notebook. “Here’s Suzy’s laptop.”

  “Is there a password?”

  “Yes, it’s Chris0317. March 17th is my birthday.”

  “Do you use any online backup?” David asked.

  “Yes, we’ve been using FileBox service for a number of years. It’s tied to my e-mail chris.t.maidel@gmail.com, password Suzy0211.”

  “Did your wife ever use this computer?” David pointed to the all-in-one.

  “Very infrequently. It’s an old computer that we didn’t get rid of because it was working, and you never knew when your laptop would crash. It does not even have a password. You are welcome to look at it.”

  David thanked him, thinking that there was a pattern to their passwords. Maidel went back to John and Maggie.

  Like most computers, the laptop held a combination of personal and work stuff: lots of work documents, music, photos, a couple of movies. David ran Mohun’s program for “Schulmann.” Quite a few e-mails came up, dating back to 2018. It was clear that Schulmann and Yamamoto had kept in touch. A number of e-mails had been erased. Yamamoto must have used more than a “delete” button; the erasure was fairly thorough. David was not sure he had enough time to try restoring them. He went through the e-mails that remained, some dealt with arranging meetings or calls, some with business issues. He copied them to the USB drive. Then he ran queries for Changzoo Tongren and Novaya Energya. Searches came up empty. David
then logged into FileBox and ran searches there but came up with nothing except for copies of some archived e-mails he’d seen already.

  David moved over to the desktop. It was indeed not used much, most files were dated 2018 or earlier. Just to be thorough, David plugged the USB drive into the all-in-one. The search for Changzoo Tongren produced two partial matches. Not sure if it was an accident or a sign of an attempted erasure, David searched for Novaya Energya. One partial match came back. David analyzed the hits from the program. Whatever file there was, it must have been erased with a commercial program. The erasure was thorough, some fragmented data survived, but not nearly enough for him to reconstruct the file.

  “David?” John’s voice called. John and Maggie were standing by the door to the study. “I just got a call from Jim Brobak, my friend from the Dallas FBI office. Unfortunately, we have to leave now. I’ll explain on the way.”

  David said, “I need a few minutes.” He looked for online backup programs, only FileBox showed up. David clicked on Google and chose Gmail. A page came up asking “ysuzy79” to enter the password.

  John stepped in to remind him. “I’m sorry, we can’t stay any longer.”

  David quickly copied what he could. They thanked Chris Maidel, who seemed happy to see them go.

  Saturday, 4/30/2022, 5:43 p.m. CDT

  Maggie was already in the limo.

  Platt made sure that the privacy divider was up. “Did you find anything?” he asked David.

  “She may have had the file, not on her work computer but on a little used desktop.”

  “May have had? Is the file still there?”

  “No, if it was there it was erased too thoroughly for me to recover. What about you and Chris?”

  “Not really. We talked about Schulmann and Williams, and whether there was anything he could remember. I think he just wants to put all this behind him.”

  “So why did we have to leave?”

  “Jim Brobak called. Tokley alerted someone that we were inquiring about Schulmann. Jim received a call asking why I was looking into this and who my two associates were.”

  “OK, Tokley did mention that this was highly irregular.”

  “Jim was concerned. First, the call came from high up. He did not know exactly how high, but the caller outranked Jim and made it clear that he was acting on someone’s orders. Second, the speed with which they were on it, especially on the weekend. Something didn’t smell right.”

  “What did Jim tell them?”

  “What I told him. That Schulmann was my old friend and I belatedly wanted to find out more about what happened to him. Jim did not know who my “associates” were. I mentioned that I’d be in Japan for the next few days. He thought it would be good to leave for a while. He also thought that if they are that interested, they might already be trying to track us. That’s why I left in a hurry. I did not want to involve Chris Maidel any more than we already have. I think you should come to Japan with me.”

  Maggie did not like the idea. “Why? You said that they don’t know our names.”

  “That’s right. And this is another reason for me to hurry up and leave, so they can’t easily question me about that. But it won’t take them long to track you back to the Fairmont and get your names, probably just a day or two. Judging from Jim’s voice, you are not safe.”

  The limo came to a stop. Platt lowered the privacy divider. The driver said, “We are here, at Stinson Municipal Airport.”

  “Thank you. Give us a few minutes please,” Platt said and raised the divider again.

  David thought out loud. “John, I appreciate the offer. We probably still have a bit of time, and I figure we are not quite done here yet. There are still possible leads with Jim Zorn and Mike Black.”

  Platt retorted, “They will be looking at the same leads.”

  “And frankly, I don’t know what I will do in Japan,” David said.

  Platt turned to Maggie. “What do you think?”

  “Thank you for the offer, but I agree with David.”

  Platt exhaled. “OK. I’ll be in Japan for the next four days, but please contact me with anything. And keep a low profile. Don’t go to the Marriott. I’ll tell Cathy to cancel the reservation. There is a taxi stand just ahead. Have them take you somewhere. Pay cash when possible. Do you have cash on you?”

  David said they had cash and thanked him for all the help.

  “Just the opposite,” John said. “I should be thanking you. Both Mitchell and Jonathan were my friends, and I did nothing to investigate their deaths. I hope to hear from you soon.”

  Saturday, 4/30/2022, 6:04 p.m. CDT

  “Manuscripts don't burn.”

  — Mikhail Bulgakov, The Master and Margarita

  They stepped out of the limo. David and Maggie got their bags, said good-bye to Platt, and started walking to the taxi stand. “Do you think we made a mistake by not flying with John?” David asked.

  “Perhaps, but I also wouldn’t know what to do in Japan,” Maggie replied. She sighed. “I thought if Schulmann shared the file with anyone, it would have been Suzy Yamamoto. Is this the end of the road?”

  “Not necessarily. There were traces of the data on the desktop. She was not a computer expert. What would you have done in her shoes?”

  “I think I would have used an online backup but different from the one my family uses.”

  “And how would you make sure that the service was not discovered?”

  “I would use a phony e-mail and get a free service, so there would be no credit card statements.”

  “Right. We know that someone, most likely her, had at least once used a “ysuzy79” e-mail account at Gmail. We can narrow down the list of online backup services. And there seems to be a clear pattern to how her family was creating passwords; likely she continued along the same lines. It’s been less than two years; the online storage company may not have deleted the file yet. I think we have a chance.”

  They came to a taxi stand, waited in line for a couple of minutes and got into a cab. The driver turned around. “Where to?”

  David held out a twenty dollar bill and asked, “What’s the nearest decent hotel with good Internet service?”

  The driver took the money. “Holiday Inn Express. They are popular with business travelers.”

  It was no Fairmont, but as the driver promised, the Holiday Inn was comfortable and had high-speed Internet. They checked in, paid cash as Platt suggested, and went for a bite to eat. Both were starving. Since the morning they’d only had light snacks in the car on the way to San Antonio. They had no car, and neither one felt like fine dining. Fortunately, there were many places within walking distance, so they grabbed some food at a casual Mexican restaurant and then hurried back to the hotel. They did not want to be out after dark, the downtown area didn’t feel safe. There were a lot of homeless people on the streets, and about three blocks from the hotel they passed by a long line at a soup kitchen.

  David was anxious to get back to his computer. He started with trying to log into FileBox using ysuzy79@gmail.com, but no such user was found. He didn’t think she would have used their regular storage service anyway. It’s likely that Schulmann’s file— if it existed—was fairly large. Which service had more liberal free storage policies? Quick comparison showed it was XBackup. He went to XBackup service, tried ysuzy79@gmail.com with Suzy0211, then Chris0317 passwords. Nothing. Maggie was hovering over his shoulder.

  David asked, “Can you get me their kids’ birthdays?”

  She checked the file that Platt gave them. “July 22, 2012 and January 9, 2015.” David tried Annette0722, then Josephine0109. Nothing. Maggie figured out what he was doing and said, “Perhaps she used the year as well.” Suzy021179 did not work; neither did Chris031776.

  The message popped up: “You have two login attempts left.” David took a deep breath and typed Annette072212. It worked.

  There were two files on the server, a smaller one named “analyzed082719” and a much larger one
“data082419.” David clicked on the smaller file. Maggie grabbed his shoulder in excitement. But the file did not open, instead the message asked for a password. “It’s encrypted,” David said. Same for the second file. Again, he went through the process of trying different name and birth date combinations of Suzy’s family, but nothing was working.

  “Can you break the encryption?” asked Maggie.

  “Yes, with brute force, but it will take months if not years.”

  “Do you think the file was encrypted by Suzy or by Jonathan?”

  David thought for a moment. Then he typed “Rachel.”

  The “analyzed” file opened.

  There were hundreds of pages of text, numbers, and tables. It felt anticlimactic. David’s first thought was how many people died in the last few days for this?

  The same password opened the larger file, but this one seemed to contain raw data. David went back to the first file. He turned to Maggie. “I’m afraid of what we will find.”

  “Me, too. But we’ve gone this far; we have to know.”

  Maggie pulled up a chair, sat next to him, and they started going through what must have been Schulmann’s research from August 24, 2019, less than two weeks before his death.

  There was no executive summary, just detailed data. It had gone well beyond what David saw in Jonathan’s early work or in Androssian’s blog. Jonathan, probably with Melchuk’s help, had done the painstaking work of tracing transactions through many levels of intermediaries. In most cases, the original large order was broken into a number of small orders sent to multiple parties, which in turn were divided into smaller orders, and so on—typically going through five, six, or seven layers of intermediaries. By the time it was completed, the initial large order would be disaggregated into thousands of small transactions, each small enough to go largely unnoticed. Schulmann in effect had done a reverse aggregation, assembling the small transactions into the original large order. In some cases a large order was initially assembled from a number of smaller orders from individual investors, and Schulmann was able to track them down to the original bank or trading accounts.