Big Money

by James Hudson

  “I bet you’ve been waiting for us!” George grinned.

  The man turned around. “Actually, I drink three cups myself,” he said.

  George raised his eyebrows. The man spoke with an American accent. He smiled.

  “Which state are you from?”

  “Texas. Nice to meet you, Mr. Hartley. I’m Dan Coleman.” The man extended his tanned, wrinkled hand.

  “I bet you used to be a farmer for a long time,” George said, smiling.

  “No, but I enjoy lying on the sand for weeks.”

  “You hate rainy London, don’t you?”

  “I work hard and try not to pay attention to the weather.” Mr. Coleman put three cups on the desk.

  George glanced at Sarah. She was standing behind the men, having lowered her head.

  “Your employee is not afraid of guns,” George grinned.

  “Yeah, she’s a brave girl,” Dan Coleman nodded. “Come on, choose the cup. I joked that I would drink three cups myself.”

  George picked up one cup and mixed up the drinks, having poured a little coffee into the other cups.

  “Now, let’s drink, guys!”

  Mr. Coleman smiled knowingly. “If I were you, I would do the same.”

  “And what would you do if you were Sarah, Mr. Coleman?” George asked.

  “Oh, that’s not an easy question. But yeah… Sometimes, I imagine myself as a woman. It is really hard. I even tried to imagine what a woman feels during sex.”

  “Wow!”

  “I’m serious, Mr. Hartley. If I’d been a woman, I would’ve seduced you.”

  George burst out laughing.

  “I would’ve been a fat, exotic, crazy woman from Nigeria who’d never worn underwear…”

  George went on giggling. Mr. Coleman managed to stay serious.

  “Why do you think I would’ve been attracted?” George asked.

  “Nigeria is an oil-exporting country. Interesting, huh? I could’ve led you to some African leaders. Nigerian oil, Mr. Hartley!”

  “Wow! Not bad at all!” George nodded. “So, what’s your proposition?”

  “Sit down, Mr. Hartley. And you too, Sarah.” Mr. Coleman pointed at the chairs. “We know a lot about you, Mr. Hartley.”

  “Who is ‘we’?” George asked tiredly.

  Mr. Coleman lit up a cigarette.

  “I thought you led a healthy lifestyle,” George remarked. “Coffee, cigarettes. It’s so boring!”

  “You’re right!” Mr. Coleman nodded. “Maybe I don’t want to live a long, healthy life.”

  “If I were you, I would prefer having a clear mind because some bastard has almost destroyed my mind. And I don’t like it. Were that you?”

  “Brilliant!” Mr. Coleman grinned. “You seized the initiative so easily. I’m not surprised you’ve always been a perfect negotiator and dealmaker.”

  “You’ve dodged answering my question,” George squinted his eyes. “Were you one of the men who tried to eliminate me?”

  “All right, Mr. Hartley. Jokes aside.” The tone of Mr. Coleman was cold. “I represent the interests of American financial group—”

  “Sitting here in the back room of the greengrocery?” George grunted. “What documents do you have here?” He grabbed one of the folders. “Wow! Fundamental analysis of the global market?”

  Dan Coleman cracked a smile. “I’m from the American financial fund. We became interested in your activity since your operation in Saudi Arabia and Yemen. When you outflanked us, you thwarted our plans and made a lot of money, having caused turbulence in the financial markets.”

  George frowned. “How did you find out all that?”

  “We found that Houthis’ leader Abdullah. We Americans interrogated him.”

  “Oh, so it was you whom I’d deceived?” George grinned. “You represent that financial fund which closed a bargain with the CEO of the Saudi Arabian Oil Company Mr. Hassan…”

  “Yes!” Dan Coleman exclaimed. “We lost money because of you!”

  “Holy shit!” George laughed. “Why didn’t you kill me then?”

  “We still want our money back,” Mr. Coleman said grimly.

  “Oh, I see… So, you’re the only one who wants me alive, right?”

  Mr. Coleman shrugged. “We don’t know all your enemies. We used the closest person to you to watch you. It’s Sarah.”

  George flashed a glance at Sarah. She lowered her head and blushed red. Sarah is working for the Americans, George sighed.

  “Sarah covered your ass, actually,” Dan Coleman remarked. “Regarding the operation in the hotel… To tell the truth, we sent our people to eliminate the people of Walter Schmidt. They saved you.”

  “They died, saving me?” George asked, shocked.

  “Well, not all of them. Regarding you, Mr. Hartley, we tried to collect as much information as we could. We got in touch with your main partner—”

  “Emma Robinson!”

  “Yes. The woman in the wheelchair. She didn’t want to tell us anything about your latest epic plan for a long time… But then, she told us what she’d known. The facts absolutely terrified us. We had to act immediately to prevent the catastrophe.”

  “What are you talking about?” George asked nervously.

  “Actually, we had two choices: to kill you or to deprive you of your memory,” Mr. Coleman said slowly.

  44. Speculation of the Century

  “Come on! Say it!” George barked.

  Dan Coleman sighed. “We know you lost your memory. Now, we can tell you… So, the main thing you were preparing… Oh, Jesus… That would be the main machination of the century. Don’t you really remember anything?”

  George shook his head.

  “You were gonna hack the Twitter account of the American President!” Dan Coleman exclaimed.

  “No shit!” George was stunned. “And?”

  “As I said, we don’t know the details. Emma Robinson mentioned that you had come into contact with Russian hackers. And you were about to blackmail some founders and employees from the American company Twitter. They could provide you with the username and password to the Twitter account of the American President. You, Mr. Hartley, posed a real threat to American national security.”

  “I doubt it,” George grinned.

  “Let me tell you what you could do. The American President uses his Twitter as one of the most effective weapons in a media war. He conducts information warfare against his political opponents. He also uses it to threaten, to startle, and to create fake news. Yeah, that’s what a lot of financial players do. Including you, Mr. Hartley. Financial players often want to exercise influence on the stock market. Russians are completely reckless… They would never be responsible for their actions. They would be glad to hack his Twitter and…

  Just imagine! 3 a.m. The American President is sleeping. You, George Hartley, and Russian hackers hack the account and post something like, ‘I made a decision to send troops into Iran.’ The Asian markets would immediately plunge. Who would make hundreds of millions of dollars? You and the hackers! Or something worse like ‘I’m gonna execute a nuclear strike against Russia.’ People would believe this fake news, this lie! For several hours, millions or even billions of people would be shocked! When the American President woke up, he would have to apologize, refute the information. But you would’ve already done your dirty work.

  So, Mr. Hartley… We couldn’t let you do it.”

  “Did you poison me, Mr. Coleman?” George asked in an even tone.

  “No, Mr. Hartley. Walter Schmidt did that. We Americans couldn’t intervene in British internal affairs. Walter Schmidt believed that he’d poisoned you to death. But only one bottle contained real poison.”

  “You mean there was another bottle?” George asked grimly.

  “Yes. One bottle contained diluted poison, the other one – real poison for Emma Robinson—”

  “You poisoned her?” George jumped from the chair.

  “No. Walter Schmidt d
id that,” Mr. Coleman replied coldly.

  “But who ordered him to do this? Your fucking fund?”

  “Oh, take it easy, sir,” Mr. Coleman frowned. “You should thank us that we saved your life.”

  “Thank you, moron? You’re all murderers!” George clenched his fists. “Where are my employees?”

  “Walter Schmidt abducted them. He wanted to find out the information about your crazy Twitter-plan.”

  “So, he interrogated them, tortured them?” George shouted. “Did you order that too?”

  “No, no! I bet they’re fine. We fake-buried you in a closed casket, Mr. Hartley. Reporters wrote about you in the newspapers. Officially, you’re still dead. As I said earlier, we wanted you alive because we wanted our money back.”

  George hid his face in his hands. “You erased my memory, morons! How are you going to cooperate with me now? I don’t remember anything!”

  But Mr. Coleman ignored his question.

  “Walter Schmidt was interested in machination with stocks of some Cancer-Fighting Company.”

  George nodded. “What about Ross?”

  “Ross is interested in hacking Twitter of the American President too. Both Ross and Walter Schmidt tried to worm the secret out of you. They both believe that you remember everything and that you play the fool. We are telling you all this because we’ll be staying by your side. Actually, we still don’t know whether or not your employees know something about the Twitter-hacking operation. We just can’t let Walter Schmidt draw out the details. He’s a moron. He’s not smart. And he’s envious. That evening when he poisoned you, he had a big party after that. A lot of alcohol, girls, and even drugs. He can’t be a global financial market player for sure.”

  “OK, what’s the plan?” George asked harshly. “Do you want me to kill Walter Schmidt?”

  Dan Coleman smiled. “We don’t have a plan. We’ll be waiting for your reaction for two days. You’ll make up the plan.”

  George chuckled. “You should face the music for your actions.”

  “I don’t like your tone, Mr. Hartley.” Dan Coleman frowned. “Stop talking like a victim! We covered your ass, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t return the favor. We can’t trust you completely. Actually, we’re not totally sure you’ve lost your memory. You act like a person who forgot his past. But your instincts are the same. We can’t read your mind. What if you’re simulating—”

  “Idiots!” George cried out. “You deprived me of my memory, and you charge me with that! I had a lot of employees working in the skyscraper. Now they are abducted and tortured or have already been killed! You think I did this?”

  “Good question!” Mr. Coleman grinned. “Do you want me to reveal one of your secrets? So… your employees were financial analysts – they analyzed stock markets, currency markets, and so on. Why do you think you needed them? You did all the work yourself, Mr. Hartley. Your fund existed in order to distract attention. Smoke and mirrors… Sometimes, naïve reporters wrote articles about your fund. They truly believed that you analyzed markets and made decisions to invest money. And your employees believed that they’d been doing useful work. Only a few of them dig up dirt on you.”

  “So, I have two days to react, right?”

  Dan Coleman nodded.

  45. No Time to Sleep

  George Hartley left the so-called headquarters of Dan Coleman and sat on the bus to get to the hideout. The American financial fund had already rented a small apartment for him. It was located five miles north of their office. When he got to the place, he didn’t even explore the apartment – he lay down on the sofa and tried to fall asleep. But that was not so easy.

  He suddenly missed Sarah, her neat body, her submissive eyes, readiness to fulfill his dreams. Did she simulate all that? George couldn’t believe it. He was very angry with her. But at the same time, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. She works for the Americans. She tried to seduce me, and she failed. Dan Coleman didn’t let her go when I left their office half an hour ago. Is he going to fire her? George grinned. Anyway, the Americans ordered to kill Emma Robinson, my closest partner, the girl whom I had wanted to marry many years ago.

  For the sake of national security, the Americans had to poison me. Yeah… I could’ve caused mayhem if I had hacked the Twitter-account of their President.

  Anyway, they still want to get their money back. And I can’t refuse. They will find me In the farthest corner of the earth… They are waiting for me back, waiting for a new brilliant machination. What could I propose? How could I survive?

  Jesus… What if they find that I have a family? I still don’t know what Katie is gonna do. Must be something nasty and sensational. Yeah, she’s a reporter. And both Katie and my wife think I’m a monster. Probably, my child thinks the same way.

  George grabbed the laptop and opened it. He was surprised to discover that there was a Wi-Fi hotspot without password protection. He connected to it and refreshed the news page.

  A minute later, he clutched his head. He saw hundreds of news reports on terrorist attacks in the hotel last night. The police mentioned the name of the main suspect. It was Katie – the student who had rented the hotel room for George. The investigators made the assumption that Katie was somehow connected with Asian terrorists. According to their version, she gave terrorists the room key and left the country right before the attack.

  George opened the mailbox and quickly typed, ‘Dear Katie! You can’t return to London! Don’t even think about it! Just watch the news! You’re in serious danger. I’m sorry that I set you up with this hotel room. I promise I’ll get everything straightened out. You’ll get back and continue studying at the university. I’ll reimburse your expenses. Just tell me how much you’ll need. I’d really love to see my family. I’m thinking about them all the time. Say hello to them. I deeply apologize for what happened. I’m gonna do everything for my family. They will live a healthy and comfortable life.’

  Katie instantly replied as if she was waiting for the email. ‘Fuck you, monster! I don’t believe a word you say! I’m coming back with your wife and son. But don’t even think about seeing them. I’ll hire a lawyer! I’ll disclose every single detail of your dreadful tricks! Here’s the article that will expose you as a monster!’

  George clicked the hyperlink. ‘A wife of a famous financial markets’ trader has been found dying of hunger and poverty in the streets of India.’ The story was heartbreaking. Reading it, George couldn’t believe he’d really been such a die-hard capitalist. He’d given up moral principles to pursue profits.

  George suddenly remembered the fact that he was still officially dead. They all say that Amy is my wife. Not an ex-wife, not a widow. But being dead, I can confute the information about myself! George grinned.

  He opened his YouTube channel and Instagram and deleted all videos. After that, he wrote an email to the editor of the newspaper requiring to remove Katie’s article with reference to several financial newspapers that had covered George Hartley’s death about a week ago.

  Then he closed the laptop, feeling that he can’t fight against sleep anymore. His eyes closed automatically. The laptop fell out of his hands on the bed. He must’ve slept for an hour when suddenly a loud noise made him open his eyes. It was very annoying. George had a sensation as if his eyes were full of sand. He moaned and sat up in bed. The loud noise repeated. It was an aggressive rap on the door.

  46. Betrayal

  George quickly jumped off the bed and grabbed his coat. He checked the pockets and realized that the pistols had vanished. His heart sank. Dan Coleman and Sarah couldn’t steal the weapons at their office. He remembered that he was squeezing them, sitting on the bus. And he had them when he came here. George checked his bag – the documents and the money were untouched.

  Another loud bang on the door made him twitch. George sneaked up to the door and found no peep-hole. He walked into the kitchen and looked out of the window. No black cars, no men in the black coats. Third floor. About
thirty feet down… There is a risk of breaking legs, he thought, sighing.

  Meanwhile, the knocking stopped. And somebody inserted a key in the keyhole. There was no time to ponder. Suddenly, a stupid idea came to George’s mind. He flung the window open and turned around and walked toward the lower kitchen cabinet. He opened it, pulled out an empty waste-bin, and threw it out of the window. Then he rolled himself up into a ball, like a hedgehog, and crawled inside the cabinet.

  Somebody had already walked into the apartment. George heard the voices of two men. They spoke with a British accent.

  “Fuck! He’s gone!”

  “Jumped out?”

  “Obviously.”

  “Damn it! So, we’ll leave this thing just in case if he returns.”

  “Wait! I guess he knew we were after him. He’ll never come back. We can’t carry it down the street anyway.”

  “You’re right! But at least, we can scare the shit out of him! Tomorrow he’ll read about it in the newspapers.”

  “I got an idea. Let’s put it in the flush toilet!”

  “I like that!”

  Both men laughed and walked toward the bathroom. They stayed there for about a minute. Then George heard that the men left the flat, giggling and singing some cheerful song. George waited for ten seconds, got out of the cover, and dashed for the exit. Run!

  Outside, he saw two tall men quickly turning round the corner. He raised his head and glanced at the window of the cozy apartment. At the moment, a horrendous explosion thundered. The windows were blown out. The thick, black smoke started pouring out. Someone screamed inside the building.

  George ran toward the bus stop. He was outraged. He came close to dying. And he did not doubt that only Dan Coleman and Sarah knew his location.

  He hopped on a bus. The driver looked at him suspiciously. George handed a large denomination banknote.