Silver Justice

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by Blake, Russell


  Under the table, her foot traced along his calf, settling the matter for the moment.

  “You have a nice ostrich, too,” she purred.

  “Did you know that an ostrich can hit a top speed of over forty miles an hour?” Richard asked conversationally. “Compare that to a human, who in perfect shape might hit high twenties.”

  She took a bite and smiled. “Wanna race?”

  Chapter 28

  Silver sat at the window, waiting for the inmate to arrive. Howard moved slowly and appeared to have aged fifteen years in the last month. He seemed surprised to see her, and then his face composed itself into its customary tranquil expression. He picked up the telephone handset, and she did likewise.

  “Well, this is an unexpected surprise,” Howard said. His voice sounded strained, and something else. Thick.

  “I’m full of them, Howard.”

  “Yes, I suppose you are. How is Kennedy?”

  “You got her hooked on Sherlock Holmes. She spends half her time now either reading stories or reading about him on the web. I had no idea there were so many sites devoted to a fictional sleuth.”

  “He was always a favorite.”

  An uncomfortable pause stretched until she broke it.

  “How’s the writing coming?”

  “Good. I actually got an agent, and we have a book deal. Big advance, too. Quarter million bucks. Too bad I can’t spend it in here.”

  “That’s great, Howard. Sounds like you’ll get the word out.”

  “That is what I’m hoping. The agent says they don’t put up that kind of money these days unless they plan to push it.”

  “How far along are you?”

  “About three-quarters of the way through. I’m now tackling the Federal Reserve. Most people don’t know that it’s a privately-owned bank that was created by the most powerful bankers of the era in 1913. Rockefeller, J.P. Morgan, Warburg, Lehman…”

  She let that go by, preferring not to get into another disturbing discussion about the financial system.

  “How are you doing, Howard?”

  “I better write the last quarter fast.”

  There wasn’t much more to say to that. They both knew he’d never stand trial for the killings.

  “At least you have three squares a day.”

  “If I wasn’t dying, the food would do it. It’s a really cruel and unusual punishment.”

  They bantered a little more, and then the guard approached on Howard’s side of the glass, signaling that the visit was over.

  That was the only time she ever went to see him. Silver had been hoping for some kind of closure, but in the end, she was only left with more questions.

  ~ ~ ~

  Kennedy gripped Silver’s hand as they got out of the taxi, the anticipation palpable in her excited gaze at the grounds of the Metropolitan Opera House. Outside, huge banners celebrated the spring season of American Ballet Theater, including a full-length version of Giselle, which was their destination tonight.

  They were half an hour early and already had their tickets, so as they watched the crowd of festively-dressed urbanites make their way to the theater, they played one of their favorite games, which involved guessing the story of a randomly selected person and then describing in great detail the specifics of their life.

  Kennedy nudged Silver and gestured discreetly at a young woman with a dramatic, long, black dress, dyed black hair cut in a rough shag and full-sleeve tattoos on both arms proudly displayed as she walked with a young man wearing a stylish brown velvet suit cut in a zoot fashion.

  “Her name is Alexandria. Alex for short,” Kennedy started.

  “She’s a pitcher for the Yankees, but she–”

  “Mom!” Kennedy protested.

  “Sorry. Alex is an international spy working for the Bolivian secret police, who’s used her fame as a Latin pop singer and soap opera star to gain access to her real target, Antoine Duperry, the world famous clothes designer who is a favorite of the president’s wife, as well as a frequent guest judge on a number of second-rate talent shows.”

  “Antoine, who moonlights as an usher for off-Broadway plays, uses performances of ABT as his launching point for his more wild designs,” Kennedy continued without missing a beat.

  “Alex knows that Antoine has grown suspicious of her, but she is committed to gathering intelligence for the top secret Bolivian takeover plans of North America.”

  Kennedy paused, pulling Silver to a stop next to her. “Time out. Where is Bolivia? Are you making that up?”

  “No, Bolivia is where bowls come from. Hence the name. Bowlivia.”

  “Like Latvia. Where lattés come from?”

  “No, that’s Starbucks. Don’t you know anything?”

  They exploded into giggles, both feeling more than slightly silly.

  “Here, honey, let me straighten your outfit. It looks kind of like you fought your way out of the closet by putting on clothes. Did you even brush your hair?” Silver kneeled down in front of her, adjusting her top, which had shifted in the cab.

  A shadow swept over them, created by the spotlights mounted on the front of the theater as they pointed down at the crowd. Kennedy’s eyes moved over Silver’s head, and Silver finished her emergency fix, ending by smoothing Kennedy’s hair with one hand before standing and facing the new arrival.

  “Took you long enough,” Silver said to Richard, who was wearing a tuxedo in honor of the special occasion. “Although you’re forgiven because the penguin suit shows special creativity and effort.”

  “Could I have the check, please?” Kennedy added helpfully.

  “Be careful when you’re parking my car,” Silver added.

  Richard smiled good-naturedly and took them both by the hand. “At these prices, it better be the best basketball game I’ve ever seen, or I want my money back.”

  Afterword

  Silver Justice contains a number of observations and opinions about financial history, the Great Depression, the 1929 and 2008 crashes, and the general state of the economic system as well as the regulatory and political systems. While this is a work of fiction, readers are encouraged to research for themselves where the truth ends and invention begins.

  Those interested in the background of the Federal Reserve should read the landmark work by G. Edward Griffin, The Creature from Jekyll Island, about the true events surrounding its creation and its functioning.

  The conspiracy surrounding the 2008 financial crisis described in the novel is largely drawn from fact – mostly tamed-down fact, as the truth is too unbelievable to be plausible to the average person. Numerous articles in the Financial Times, Rolling Stone Magazine, and a host of websites devoted to the capture of the media by financial interests document the incredible story of the looting of the nation. Of particular note are the events surrounding the demise of Bear Stearns, as well as the alumni active in the government, then and now, from one of the largest, and some would claim most malevolent, investment banks on Wall Street. It cannot escape mention that several of that firm’s biggest competitors were destroyed during the crisis and now no longer exist.

  In a 2010 report to Congress, Admiral Dennis Blair, the U.S. director of national intelligence, described one of the most significant threats to the economic wellbeing and national security of the U.S.. He noted that transnational organized crime syndicates are closely aligned with foreign intelligence services/governments that are considered to be hostile to the United States. He observes that: “…the nexus between international criminal organizations and terrorist groups [including, but not limited to Al Qaeda]…presents continuing dangers…” The national intelligence director then warned that these same transnational organized crime syndicates are “…undermining free markets…” and “…almost certainly will increase [their] penetration of legitimate financial and commercial markets, threatening U.S. economic interests and raising the risk of significant damage to the global financial system…”

  Bernie Madoff ran the lar
gest Ponzi scheme in history, for decades, while enjoying remarkable influence with the nation’s security regulator – the SEC. Madoff’s contribution to the regulatory environment includes the now famous “Madoff Exemption,” which enabled market makers to create virtually unlimited amounts of non-existent stock and sell it as though it was legitimate. An Internet search of the term Madoff Exemption yields fascinating illumination of the true state of the U.S. regulatory and market system. The SEC was warned about Madoff on numerous occasions over a period of years by Harry Markopolos, a prominent whistleblower who provided the agency with copious evidence of wrongdoing. Nothing was ever done.

  For a breathtaking deconstruction of the U.S. economic system, including the 1929 Crash, Mercantilism and the ascendance of Keynesian economic theory in the operation of the U.S. government’s economic policy, the Great Depression, and countless other necessary pieces of knowledge any informed citizen should have, read The Fruits of Graft by Wayne Jett – essential reading for anyone interested in why things operate the way they do.

  To read about how Wall Street operates, and has operated since it first started trading, I recommend Once in Golconda, by John Brooks, and The Hellhound of Wall Street, by Michael Perino - a marvellous account of Ferdinand Pecora, who ran the Pecora hearings in 1933 that exposed the biggest firms on Wall Street as criminal enterprises routinely involved in fraud, market manipulation, and every imaginable sort of larceny. It is arguable that nothing has really changed.

  Excerpt from King of Swords

  King of Swords

  A THRILLER BY

  Russell Blake

  Copyright © 2011 by Russell Blake

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law, or in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information, contact [email protected].

  King of Swords is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between the characters and real people, living or dead, is coincidental. Having said that, the backdrop and historical context of the novel is based in fact. The drug war in Mexico has been an ongoing confrontation between government forces and the ever-strengthening cartels – now the largest illegal drug trafficking networks in the world, whose primary target market is the United States.

  Thousands of police and soldiers have been killed in the last decade, as the war has intensified due to a crackdown by pro-U.S. administrations. Cartel members slaughter one another by the thousands every year, as well as huge numbers of innocent bystanders. The brutality of the turf wars that are a constant and ongoing facet of the trade is stunning; well over a thousand children have been butchered during Mexico’s ‘lost decade’, as have countless family members of traffickers, killed in retribution or as a deterrent.

  The last two Secretaries of the Interior for Mexico died in suspicious air crashes. The Mexican cartels are now the largest narcotics trafficking networks in the world, with revenues that exceed those of many nation states. Roughly ten thousand people per year die as a direct result of cartel violence in Mexico.

  The Sinaloa cartel is real. The Knights Templar cartel is also real, as is the Gulf cartel, the Tijuana cartel, and the Zeta cartel. New cartels pop up when the heads of the old groups die, and the names change with some frequency. The only constant is the bloodshed; the natural consequence of the economics of trafficking in an illegal substance that generates in excess of fifty billion dollars a year, wholesale, for the cartels in Mexico; a country where the average person makes a hundred and sixty dollars a month.

  A Description of the Tarot Card, ‘The King of Swords’

  In full regalia, the King of Swords sits proudly on his throne – with a long, upward-pointing, double-edged sword clutched in his right hand, and his left hand resting lightly on his lap. A ring adorns his left Saturn finger – representing power and commitment to responsibility. The King’s blue tunic symbolizes a desire for spiritual enlightenment; his purple cape symbolizes empathy, compassion and intellect. The backrest of his throne is embellished with butterflies, signifying transformation, and crescent moons orbit around an angel situated by his left ear, positioned, perhaps, to lend a delicate guidance. The backdrop of the sky has very few clouds, signifying pragmatic mental clarity. The trees dotting the landscape stand still, with not a rustle – reflecting the King of Swords’ stern judgment.

  King of Swords Reversed

  The reversed King of Swords depicts a man who is ruthless or excessively judgmental; when reversed, the King of Swords suggests the misuse of mental power, authority and drive. The reversed King of Swords can represent manipulation and persuasion in order to achieve selfish ends. He is a very intelligent character who likes to demonstrate to others his superiority, either verbally or through actions. It is best to be wary of this type of person because, although he may be charming and intelligent, he is remorseless and can do only harm. He has only his personal interests in mind and will do whatever necessary to achieve those interests, even if it means destroying others.

  Introduction

  Three Years Ago

  Armed men lined the perimeter of the large contemporary home on the secluded stretch of seashore just above Punta Mita, twenty-three miles north of Puerto Vallarta. The stunning single-level example of modern Mexican architecture sat on a cove, where the heavy surf from the Pacific Ocean flattened out over the shallow offshore reef a hundred yards from the beach. Nine foot high concrete walls ringed the compound, protecting the occupants from prying eyes and would-be intruders. Not that any were in evidence. The property and the coastline for a quarter mile in each direction belonged to the house’s secretive owner – Julio Guzman Salazar, the Jalisco cartel’s chief, and the eighth richest man in Mexico, although his name didn’t appear on any roster other than the government’s most wanted list.

  The building’s Ricardo Legorreta design boasted thirty-eight thousand feet of interior space, with nine bedrooms in the main house, separate servant’s quarters adjacent to the twelve car air-conditioned garage, a full sized movie theater with a floating floor, its own solar and wind power generation system, and a full time domestic staff of eleven. An Olympic-sized swimming pool with an infinity edge finished in indigo mirrored glass tile created the illusion of water spilling into the deep blue ocean.

  The white cantera stone pool-area deck took on a pale cosmic glow as the last sliver of sun sank into the watery horizon, making way for the dark of a late-November night. The armed men encircling the house were hardened and efficient, exuding a palpable air of menace as they roamed the grounds, alert for threats. The security detail, which traveled with Salazar everywhere he went, consisted of eighteen seasoned mercenaries who were proficient with the Uzis they held with nonchalant ease.

  Motion detectors provided an early warning system outside of the walls, where infrared beams crisscrossed the expanse between the beach and the house, ensuring that nothing could penetrate the elaborate defenses undetected. Salazar could afford the best security money could buy, and his private army comprised not only Mexicans and Nicaraguans and Colombians, but also two South Africans and a Croatian. All had seen more than their share of combat, either of the civilian variety in the ongoing drug skirmishes between rival cartels, or in full-scale armed conflict in the Balkans or Africa.

  At seven p.m. precisely, the bright halogen headlights of expensive vehicles began making their way down the long road from the coastal highway that connected Puerto Vallarta with Mazatlan, and through the enormous gates of the opulent home. Each car was allowed inside to drop off its passengers, after undergoing scrutiny from the men charged with Salazar’s protection, who inspected the SUVs inside and out. During the next hour, seven Humvees and Escalades discharged their loads before pulling back out of the compound and parking in a brightly-lit area desi
gnated for the purpose. Two armed guards patrolled the flat expanse, guns loaded and cocked.

  In the constant drug wars that were the norm on mainland Mexico, every minute held the possibility of instant death for those in the trade, and so the men on the security team were in a constant state of readiness for attack. Their vigilance had paid off many times over the past decade, when rival factions had attempted to challenge Salazar’s stranglehold on the Jalisco trafficking corridor. He’d emerged victorious from that series of ever-escalating brutal engagements, the last of which had culminated in nineteen corpses beheaded or shot execution-style in Culiacan over a three month period.

  The Sinaloa cartel was the most powerful one in Mexico, and for some time had nurtured its aspirations of expanding its lethal tentacles into Jalisco, the neighboring state to the south – Salazar’s home turf. The Sinaloa cartel controlled much of the marijuana produced in Mexico and had grown to be the largest cocaine and heroin trafficking entity in the world, handling over seventy percent of all Colombian product that made it into the U.S.. Salazar’s operation was considerably smaller, but the brutality of his tactics made him a difficult adversary to encroach upon; after ten years of unsuccessful attempts to execute him, an uneasy truce now held sway.

  The lush, planted areas of the compound were lavishly appointed. The beachside pool deck’s verdant landscaping was circled with the flicker of tiki torches – placed there for the big event that was just getting underway. An eighteen-piece mariachi band in full regalia had assembled by the massive palapa over the hotel-sized outdoor pool bar. They aired their traditional music for the guests, who were almost exclusively children and their mothers. It was Salazar’s oldest son’s seventh birthday; the party was an important event. Attendees had come from as far as Mexico City to honor Julio junior’s big day. There was a giddy sense of privilege and wealth in the festivities – the boy had been presented with a pony, along with every imaginable video game and technological miracle a young man could wish for.

 

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