Game Theory--A Katerina Carter Fraud Legal Thriller

by Colleen Cross

  “And I’m not going to. This is perfectly legal. There’s nothing in the fund prospectus that says I can’t.”

  Technically it was legal, but was it right? “But surely your investors don’t want you to bet everything on one trade. What would they do if they knew?”

  Zachary didn’t respond, so Kat answered her own question. “They’d pull their money out.” The Euro’s graph line plunged again, reversing all of the gains from a few minutes ago.

  Zachary was just as morally bankrupt as his father—the only difference was that he didn’t cross legal lines.

  “They don’t have to know,” Zachary said.

  “This isn’t a Las Vegas crap shoot.” Kat stared at the screen. The graph line had turned red. Now it showed a one percent loss. Almost all the gains of yesterday were gone too. “Just like I said—you’re losing.”

  “Will you shut up?” Zachary waved his arms in the air. “It’s not a hunch—it’s my model and it’s working. At least it was until you interfered.”

  He waved her over to a chair opposite him. “You’re distracting me. Either take a seat or leave. If you want to watch history take its course, you’ll see what I mean.”

  Kat sighed and sat down. The last thing she wanted to see was Zachary making history. Disaster loomed as the Euro dropped another hundred points. Now the loss was two billion.

  They stared at the trading screen in silence.

  Then, just as all seemed lost, the Euro stopped dropping. Slowly it rebounded, a few basis points, then a dozen, then thirty. Now the loss was only 1.7 billion. Only.

  “See that, Kat?” Zachary’s panicked expression from a few minutes ago had changed to a smug one. “That’s me. My bet’s working now.”

  “How can you be so sure?” To Kat, the graph line angled like the steepest climb on a never-ending roller coaster. In a few seconds it would plunge off the precipice, repeating the wild ride of the last twenty minutes.

  “Momentum, Kat. It’s turning around.” Zachary pointed to a sharp trough on the graph line. “Everything works if the bet’s big enough.”

  In less than ten minutes it was up again. Now Zachary needed a billion.

  “How can it be that simple?”

  “It’s a zero sum game. Whatever I win, someone else loses. If I bet enough, I can move the market in any direction I want. When it moves, others follow.”

  The graph line continued its ascent. Now it turned green as Zachary’s fortunes continued to rise.

  “But the economists are predicting—”

  “Who cares what the economists think? Traders make the markets. Anyone who thinks otherwise is a fool.”

  “What about Svensson and the other economists? If their work is meaningless, why don’t they give Nobel prizes to the traders?”

  “You think markets are based on science?” Zachary laughed. “It’s more like poker. You can bluff your way to a fortune.”

  Zachary leaned back in his chair. He clasped his hands behind his head and smiled.

  According to the green line, Zachary was up two percent. He had made back all of Edgewater’s losses. Kat wouldn’t have believed it could happen so quickly. But it did.

  “But your model—you said it was based on quantum game theory. That it was infallible.”

  Zachary laughed. “Just marketing hype. I tell people that to impress them, and it works like a charm. After all, what I’m really betting on is greed. No one wants to miss out on a sure thing.”

  “But it’s not a sure thing at all.”

  “Au contraire. Who do you think creates the currency fluctuations in the first place? If they’re big enough, I can lock them in. I sell once all the little people follow.”

  “Just like the World Institute would? At the expense of the Edgewater investors?”

  “Sophisticated investors who know what their risks are. And if they’re not sophisticated, they shouldn’t be in the game. It’s that simple. Everyone’s out for self-interest. It’s just a matter of whose interest has the most clout.”

  “Everything’s manipulated? The end result a foregone conclusion?”

  “Of course. Everything’s decided, Kat. Just like Las Vegas. Only I’m the house.”

  Kat remained silent, transfixed by the screen. The Euro continued its climb, seemingly unstoppable. Zachary hadn’t just recouped all of Nathan’s losses; he had also made an extra billion.

  “I’m back.” Zachary clapped his hands together and let out a whistle. “Not only is the fund whole, but I’ve made a profit. And a nice little fee for Edgewater. How do you like those odds?”

  Las Vegas odds. In favor of the house, naturally.

  Kat stared at the screen. “Time to lock in your profits?”

  “In a few minutes.” Zachary turned to Kat. “Now—about my divorce settlement. We’ll need to rework the numbers, go back to court. Victoria’s not getting a red cent.” Zachary was more concerned about the dollars than Victoria and Nathan’s affair.

  Since the divorce settlement had been based on falsified numbers, Victoria was entitled to even less than she had been awarded. But could the case be re-opened?

  “I can have something for you tomorrow.” Kat rose and turned to leave.

  But Zachary wasn’t listening. He hunched over his computer terminal, biting his lip until it bled. “What the hell—?”

  Kat stopped and leaned over to view the screen. Though it wasn’t her money, she still felt physically sick. The graph line had changed from green to red. Once again it plunged in the wrong direction.

  This time, Zachary wasn’t the house. Edgewater’s reversal of fortune was just as sudden as the gains. Someone else had bet even bigger.

  And won.

  Chapter 65

  Kat stood in the foyer of the land title office late Friday afternoon and checked her watch. Hillary should have arrived thirty minutes ago. Would she actually show before the office closed for the weekend? Of course she would. Kat’s plan gave her no other choice if she wanted to avoid criminal prosecution.

  Not that Kat wanted things to go that route. A case like this would take years to wind through the courts. Maybe even more years than Harry had left. Kat didn’t like to resort to blackmail, but it was the only way to ensure swift justice for Harry.

  Five minutes later, Hillary stomped up the front steps and pulled open the door.

  Kat’s stomach knotted like it always did when facing off against her cousin. Would Hillary actually do what she had asked of her? Hillary’s promises were empty ones, so Kat had taken steps to ensure her cooperation.

  “Did you like the video?” Kat had emailed Hillary a copy of the Garden Heaven video with instructions to meet her here. The pesticide receipt and empty containers were further evidence to support Hillary’s intent to poison Harry.

  “Don’t you threaten me.” Hillary scowled. “I’m here. Isn’t that enough?”

  “It’s not a threat,” Kat said. “It’s a promise. If you ever do anything like this again, I will expose you. My copy goes to the police.”

  Before the cops arrested Hillary, there was something she needed to do. The wheels of justice turned too slowly to fix some injustices she intended to put right.

  Kat had insisted on meeting Hillary here to be absolutely sure that Hillary did remove her name from Harry’s house deed. That meant nothing short of official confirmation that his property had reverted back to his sole ownership. She wasn’t about to take Hillary’s word for it.

  “Let’s go inside.” Kat held the door for Hillary.

  Ten minutes later, all the paperwork had been completed. Hillary had removed herself from Harry’s house deed, and Harry’s ownership was restored.

  The police would deal with the funds Hillary had stolen from Harry. Not that Harry would ever see it again. The money had already been spent, and trying to recover it from Hillary was futile. But at least his house was his again.

  Hillary stood by the door, fumbling in her purse. She looked a mess. Her black hair wa
s teased out and tangled, and her mascara-smudged eyes kept flitting to her watch.

  “Late for something?” Kat asked.

  Hillary’s eyes narrowed. “You should be grateful I signed it. I didn’t have to.”

  Yes, she had. “Don’t expect a thank you.”

  “You’re going to regret this, Kat.”

  Kat doubted it. Hillary’s threats had scared her once, but now they rang hollow. Hillary was not only full of empty promises, but empty threats as well. Like Nathan Barron and Gordon Pinslett, Hillary Denton was out for herself. They circled like sharks for the kill, consuming their prey and gaining every advantage they could. Only their tanks got smaller and smaller, until they were the only survivors. Sharks couldn’t survive alone for long.

  Chapter 66

  Twenty minutes later Kat arrived home, exhausted but happy. Harry was expected to make a full recovery and would be discharged soon. You couldn’t put a dollar figure on that.

  While she did get his house back, there was no escaping the fact that he was now saddled with debt. It was tragic, really. The fact that Hillary would face fraud charges was little consolation.

  Kat kicked off her shoes at the front door, dropped her coat on the stairway banister, and headed upstairs. She was still astounded that Zachary’s trading fiasco earlier today had ruined what little was left of Edgewater Investments. Why he had gambled away whatever he had left was a mystery. He had barely avoided personal bankruptcy himself. Maybe he just wasn’t used to losing. Too bad it was the investors’ money he was playing with.

  Kat reached the top of the stairs and froze in her tracks.

  Someone was in the study. The chair creaked, the way it did when someone sat in it and swiveled. Whoever it was also tapped on the keyboard.

  Kat spied a broom in the open hall closet and grabbed it. She brandished it above her head as she peered inside.

  The intruder sat at the desk with his back to Kat.

  She was about to turn and run when the chair suddenly spun around.

  “You’re here!” Jace grinned and jumped out of the chair. He stopped and held up his arms in surrender. “Don’t hit me.”

  Kat dropped the broom and rushed over to embrace him. “You’re out of the hospital? I thought you had to stay a few more days. Why didn’t you call me?”

  Jace pulled back to study Kat. “I figured I’d surprise you.”

  “They discharged you already? But I thought—”

  “I’ve got to get my story out, Kat. Before someone else does.” He kissed her.

  “You checked yourself out? With a concussion?” Kat pulled back and touched his forehead. Jace’s bruises were turning purple and he looked like a crash victim.

  Jace didn’t answer.

  “Jace, you should have stayed in the hospital.” She pulled on his good arm. “I’m taking you back. Just tell me what you need done and I’ll do it.”

  Jace shook his head. “I feel fine, and besides—I need to—and want to—do this myself. I want to see Pinslett and the rest of these guys nailed.”

  “You’re not usually one to hold a grudge.”

  “I’m not letting them get away with this, Kat. They can’t keep taking whatever they want with impunity. Laws are meant to be followed by everybody—including the rich. Even Hillary.”

  Kat couldn’t argue with that. “I know, but you should at least rest. We can pick up on your story once you’re recovered.”

  “Too late.” Jace smiled at her. “Pinslett can’t hide the truth. He might own a lot of radio, television, and newspapers. But he can’t control social media. Look.”

  He pointed to the computer monitor. “My story’s gone viral—it’s everywhere. Pinslett can’t deny his involvement in the mortgage fraud. I’ve got the proof.”

  Kat studied the screen. It was true. Pinslett had hastily organized a press conference. For once the media tycoon was on the defensive.

  “And my story’s finally out there.” Jace smiled. “I’ve got something to say, and Pinslett can’t stop me. Now that it’s in the public eye, the authorities are forced to investigate it. Unless they want a public outcry.”

  Kat studied the video clip, a repeat from a news conference earlier today. Gordon Pinslett sat at a table with several of his media henchmen at a long table. The Sentinel logo was displayed prominently on the wall behind them.

  A defiant Gordon Pinslett denied any involvement in the fraud, insisting he had no part in the mortgage fraud and real estate flipping.

  But even without the proof, Kat could spot a liar. He was stammered as he struggled to find the right words to get the reporters off his back.

  “I don’t see what’s changed. He’s still denying—”

  “Wait for it, Kat.”

  The story moved to a second clip, just minutes ago. Kat listed to the reporter voice-over as Pinslett was led, handcuffed, out of the main doors of his media conglomerate. Half a dozen reporters stood at the entrance, peppering him with questions. The disgraced media tycoon ignored them. He dropped his head as he was ushered into the waiting police car.

  “My story came out during his news conference. Once it was public, it couldn’t be ignored. Even the traditional media had to report on it. No one’s above the law. Not only that, but Roger Landers has the goods on him too. Apparently Pinslett asked Landers to stop the story.”

  “Landers fire-bombed our house? I’ll kill him.”

  “Relax, Kat. Pinslett asked him to, but Landers didn’t do it. He did, however, record the conversation, and dozens of others he’s had with the guy. All very incriminating. Landers might be self-serving, but at least he’s transparent about it. He only wanted the story—an exposé on the World Institute, just like I did.”

  “What about all that stuff about Svensson’s murder?”

  “Fishing for a story, I guess, or trying to throw us off the scent. At any rate, it’s something the police will sort out.”

  Kat kind of doubted that. Just as she figured, Landers was still trying to steal Jace’s story. But Jace was right. Landers really was harmless compared to Gordon Pinslett, Nathan Barron, and the rest of the World Institute. And with Jace’s story now public, there was little Landers could do to steal his thunder.

  “You did the right thing, Jace. Even if it did cost you your job.” She hugged him. “Do you really have no hard feelings towards Landers? He gave us up.”

  “Maybe, but I kind of feel sorry for him. He’s so desperate for glory that he’s willing to fabricate a story out of thin air. He’s ruined as a journalist. Who will take him seriously now?”

  Chapter 67

  Angelika reclined in first class and smiled at the man beside her. He beamed, blushing at the attention. Fiftyish, confident, and assured. Would his impression change if he knew her secrets?

  In a few short hours she would be back in London, away from Hideaway Bay, the World Institute, and Nathan Barron. Away from the man who had stolen her trust and betrayed her.

  She wiped her hands with the moist cloth as the flight attendant removed their trays. She never doubted Nathan would cop a plea deal to save his own skin. He would have given her up in a minute if it gave him an advantage. He left her no choice but to kill him. She hated messy endings.

  By now housekeeping would have discovered Nathan hanging in the closet, his belt a makeshift noose. Another broken, ruined man. Another tragic suicide. There had been a rash of them at Hideaway Bay lately.

  Was it the gloomy weather? Nathan Barron’s financial ruin? Guilt over betraying his son? The Ponzi scheme had surprised her, but it fit her plan perfectly. Whatever the cause, Nathan’s suicide would fuel speculation for months. Then he would be forgotten.

  She had done Nathan a favor. Instead of facing criminal charges and hordes of irate investors, he was in his final resting place. She had put him out of his misery.

  Murder was such a harsh word. Mercy killing was more like it.

  Nathan. How could she have been so wrong about him?


  Angelika had met him on the African plains. Selous, Tanzania, on a hunting trip. In that remote and wild place, he had serenaded her. She had fallen hard for him, drunk from his attentions, enveloped in his circle of power. She would do anything, even kill for him.

  And she had.

  Nathan understood the dance between hunter and hunted. Each was necessary to sustain life, to live it. Like the special relationship she had with her victims. Svensson had trusted her completely, even at the moment of death.

  After flip-flopping over the cause of Svensson’s death, the coroner had ultimately ruled it a suicide. Angelika liked those best.

  No loose ends.

  Angelika glanced over at her seatmate. He faced the window, his back to her. Outside the indigo sky flew by, stuck somewhere between night and morning as they travelled east.

  People never appreciated everyday life, or considered when or how it might end. Hunting taught her that.

  But Nathan had fooled her. She thought their partnership was special; he as one of the most powerful men on the planet, and she, the professional assassin no one ever expected. She didn’t fit the stereotype, but that was part of her success. No one ever expected a female assassin, much less a young and beautiful one.

  Until he stood her up in London. She had delayed Svensson’s hit as punishment. She hoped for a panicked call from Nathan, but none came. So she travelled with Svensson to Canada, to Nathan’s conference, hoping to up the ante before she killed Svensson at Hideaway Bay. There was something intimate about spending the last few hours of a man’s life with him. Especially when he had no idea that those last few hours had come to pass.

  Besides ignoring her, Nathan also stiffed her on the final Svensson payment by not topping up her prepaid credit cards. The cards were convenient and untraceable, useful for carrying large amounts of cash across borders. Non-payment was bad enough, but Victoria was the final straw. Did Nathan really expect her to do all his dirty work while he played around with that Botox bitch? Angelika hadn’t counted on another woman.