“Is that legal?” Sam asked.
“Absolutely. It’s what hedge funds do all the time. But it’s risky.”
“Why?”
“Because the price of the stock might not fall. It might rise, and here’s the kicker. There’s no limit to how high it might rise. If you borrow a million shares at $10, and the price rises to $100, well you’re in big trouble. If it rises to a $1000 a share…” he whistled. “And there’s no upper limit. It could get to a million dollars a share. At least in theory. Infinite losses.”
“But if you knew for sure that the price would go down…” Amber began to get where this was going.
“Exactly. If you had prior knowledge of something that would cause the share price to drop… say you knew that a bomb was going to go off on one of the company’s sites. Well that removes a great deal of the risk.”
“And that’s what they were doing?” Amber asked looking at West for confirmation. “They were planting the bombs and – what’s it called? Shorting the stock?”
“Exactly.” Chow beamed.
“How much were they making?” Sam asked.
“Not that much, which in a way was the genius of the operation. Shorting is perfectly legal, but not,” he smiled at Sam Wheatley, “as a result of insider knowledge. So if it’s done too aggressively, or too frequently it’ll usually attract attention. Magnuson and Richards were keeping the level low. They were shorting, but not huge amounts, they were going under the radar.” Chow sat back, assuming his audience had understood. But Amber protested further.
“But why? I still don’t understand why they were working for this Jacques Bellafonte guy?”
“That’s what we wanted to know,” West took over. “We finally got there last night.
“James Richards and Lily Bellafonte started seeing each other when they were both still in high school. On the face of it, they’re both rich kids, but actually they’re in different leagues. Her family’s money dwarfs his. And though her family generally approve of him, what they don’t know is how he’s played around behind her back. Sleeping with other girls, pretty much anyone he could it seems. Somehow Jacques Bellafonte got wind of this a year ago, and began blackmailing him. Either he helped out in the scheme to wrest control of Fonchem, or Richards’ relationship with Lily Bellafonte would be blown out of the water.”
“What he didn’t figure on is just how willing Richards was to take part – hence the shorting,” Black cut in. “It became a way for him to make enough money to keep up with his much-richer girlfriend. Albeit while destroying her wealth along the way.”
Amber happened to glance at Billy as Black was speaking, and saw him flinch at the word ‘girlfriend’. She turned back.
“What about Oscar? Why did he do it?”
“He’s James’ oldest friend.” West said. “The pair of them grew up together, running minor scams. Stealing wallets, boosting cars. They didn’t need to, but it seems they got a kick out of doing it anyway. But after a while small time crime doesn’t quite cut it. He saw this as his chance to break into something much bigger. Bigger risk, bigger rewards. And a bigger thrill too.”
The room was quiet for a moment, and West went on.
“He also appears to be very much the brains of the pairing. At least, he’s doing the better job of trying to cut a deal to get out of this. I’d say we’re very lucky to have stopped him now, before he moves on to bigger and deadlier operations.”
“Have you got enough to stop them all?” Sam Wheatley asked, and Black couldn’t suppress a laugh. “Oh yeah. We got more than enough.”
“So is that it,” Amber asked, looking around. “Are we done?”
West shook her head. “No. There’s one further part which we have to keep front and center.”
“What?”
“All the other bombings were carried out on unmanned sites, and they seemed timed to minimize the risk of anyone being harmed. This one was different. A man died.”
“Oh. The security guard?”
“Correct. Keith Waterhouse. He had a wife, two children.”
“And you need to know whether it was James or Oscar who actually set the bomb? So you know who killed him?”
“Exactly and we suspect it was actually neither. At first they each blamed the other, but then a new name came up. Henderson. Does that mean anything to you Billy?”
Billy looked up, as if he was surprised to still be there. Or that anyone else remembered he was there. Amber watched him, worried again for how down and tired her friend looked.
“No.” He dropped his head back down to the table. West kept her eyes on him a moment before going on.
“Karl Henderson works directly for Jacques Bellafonte, but doesn’t have a role within the company. Instead he seems to fill the role of general fixer. A problem solver. We know he was there on the night of the bombing, Magnuson gave him the bomb before Billy even traveled back to Lornea. His role was to plant the bomb and then help Magnuson and Richards get away. But it seems he may have deliberately targeted Keith Waterhouse.”
“Why?”
There was a folder resting on the table, and West opened it now. Inside were color copies of photographs. Carefully she pushed one across the table to Billy, then a second to Amber and Sam. They showed a section of beach, and when Amber looked more carefully she saw a few dead seahorses lying on the sand. Billy’s photograph showed a different section of beach, but still had the dead animals.
“Do you recognize these photographs Billy?”
Billy’s expression answered before he did. He nodded, but then went back to looking disinterested and tired. West carried on anyway, speaking more to the others.
“They were sent to Billy anonymously in response to his campaign against Fonchem. We found the same images on a camera belonging to Keith Waterhouse, taken a few days after the site suffered a very minor leak – well within the limits allowed by the Environmental Protection Agency. Waterhouse also sent the images to the manager of the site, wanting to be sure it never happened again. It seems news of his concerns may have reached Jacques Bellafonte or Karl Henderson, and he wasn’t the sort of employee they wanted when EEC took over the site. The bombing was an opportunity to take him out of the picture. They took it.
“Do you think you’ll catch him?” Sam Wheatley asked.
“Catch him? We already have. Karl Henderson and Jacques Bellafonte are both already in custody.” West smiled. “We arrested them this morning. It’s over. This whole thing is over. And Billy, you’re free to go.”
Billy stiffened again at the sound of his name, but still his expression was sad. Amber wasn’t sure how much of the preceding conversation he’d understood. He’d hardly spoken a word.
“You know Billy,” West went on. “From what I’ve heard about your adventures since we last met, this is kind of an undramatic ending, compared to your normal work. No gun battles, no sunken boats, no major explosions!” She smiled, and tried to coax a smile out of him too. But Billy didn’t smile. Instead he stayed quiet, looking down at the table, and an awkwardness spread through the room. Finally though he did speak.
“Yeah maybe.” He looked up at last, his eyes level on West’s. “Or maybe I’m just growing up.”
The meeting went on for some time, and by the time it broke up Amber saw from the clock on the wall it was already eleven o’clock. She hadn’t slept since the previous night, and suddenly she felt exhausted. And after five days without leaving either the FBI building or the hotel opposite, she was finally allowed to go home. Along with Billy.
“Where are you going to go? What are you going to do?” She asked Billy, as the FBI agents gathered up their papers and prepared to leave the room.
It was Sam Wheatley who answered. “He’s coming back to the island with me. Just for a week or so, until we sort out what should happen next. How about you?”
“I should get back to work.”
Sam looked at her for a while, then nodded.
“Stay in touch Amber. Do
n’t be a stranger.”
Chapter Sixty-Three
One Month Later
I don’t go back to college right away. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t have the time to do any work. I have to give loads of statements about what happened, both to the police and the FBI, and when they’ve finished, the TV news and newspapers really want to speak to me as well. For two days they camp on the road outside the house, and we can’t really go outside, but then Dad has a smart idea. He gets me to do an interview with the Island Times, explaining exactly what happened, and how I was living on the Caroline for over a month in the winter. But he tells the journalist we have to do the interview actually on the boat, and he gets them to take lots of pictures. And then, at the end of the article he makes them write about how we’re trying to fix her up, but how we can’t because so many of the parts are too expensive. And then he gets me to set up a GoFundMe page. And pretty soon after that the donations start coming in. Sometimes it’s money, just ten dollars here, or twenty there, but mostly it’s actual boat parts. The island is full of boat people, and boat yards and chandlers, and boat people are almost always really kind. And so when the fuss dies down, we spend the next few weeks trying to fit all these pieces together. You might think spending more time on Caroline is the last thing I would want to do, but actually it’s really nice. It’s spring now, and it’s beautiful down there on the marshes, and it’s just me and Dad, working hard and not even really having time to speak, or even think much, except about which bit goes where, or whatever job it is we’re working on. By the time we’re finished the boat is freshly painted, with sanded and varnished decks, and polished brass work, and she looks amazing. I mean she looks a bit odd too, like a sort of jigsaw-boat made from a dozen other boats, but she’s sturdy and clean and ready to sail, and I think she looks beautiful.
The only interruptions come from Agent West, who visits a few times to keep me up to date with the case, as she calls it. Because James and Oscar both confessed, they don’t have to go to trial, but Jacques Bellafonte wouldn’t admit to what he did, so he will have to face a trial. And for a while she thought I was going to have to be a witness, which I didn’t want to do. But in the end I don’t have to. James and Oscar both know more about him than I do, so they can do it. And because they won’t be sentenced until they give their evidence, Agent West is confident that they’ll do it properly.
But both Dad and I know I can’t stay forever. And as Caroline looks better and better, a bit of me gets sadder and sadder, until Dad has another good idea. He decides that instead of me taking the ferry back to the mainland, we’ll take Caroline. It’ll be her maiden voyage. At least maiden for us.
After that it’s less bad.
It’s a beautiful spring day, when we finally untie Caroline from the jetty in Bishops Landing, and motor down the creek towards the sea. Dad gets me to steer the whole way, and as the creek widens into the estuary, we pull up the sails. The new mainsail is a dark red color, it comes from a really old, traditional-style boat, and the foresail comes from an old racing yacht, so they’re not exactly matched, but together they work well, and we cut through the water nicely. As we meet the sea there’s a swell, but she rides it well. We take turns to helm, and we play music, and drink coffee and sing and play silly games, like I-spy, and guess the animal, which I always win, because Dad only knows the most basic fish, and I hit him with really obscure crustaceans and mollusks. But he doesn’t mind, and then he starts to win by making up animals that don’t exist, but that his Mom used to make up stories about. It’s nice, because he doesn’t often talk about his family.
It doesn’t feel like eight hours later that we have to start the engine again to motor into the marina in Boston, and I get the sad feeling again, but only for a while because I’m really hungry by then, and it’s nice when we do get in, to go for a meal and eat lots. After that Dad asks if I want to sleep on the boat, or go back to my apartment.
I actually got lucky about that too. The university nearly rented it out again, when they thought I was dead, only then the new student dropped out of college, so she didn’t move in after all. And then Dad got back in contact with them, and said I’d still need it, because I wasn’t dead after all.
I tell him I’d better go back tonight. Or I might not go at all. He just looks at me and nods.
But in the end it’s less weird than I thought it would be. Dad comes with me, and I don’t know if he had too much beer with dinner or what, but he’s full of energy, and suddenly really funny. Guy and Jimbo and the girls are all there, just watching TV, and they’re full of questions about what happened. And I answer some of them, but Dad does most of the talking. And Dad can be kinda cool when he wants to be, with the way he tells jokes and goofs about. We ended up talking until two in the morning, and Guy even offered him some of his drugs, but Dad said no. Dad’s cool like that too.
The next day I had to go into college to explain why I missed so many classes and tutorials, and find out what was going to happen about it. Dad offered to come with me again, but this time I said I wanted to do it alone. It wasn't just me and Lawrence, it was a proper meeting with the head of the Marine Biology faculty, and two other professors. One of them was Professor Little – do you remember him? The one with the extremely interesting invertebrates, the pistol shrimp? I had to tell my whole story again, and they asked a load of questions, and only when I’d finished did they start asking about my class work. I’d missed about a third of my classes, and I thought they might make me repeat the whole year, which would have been really boring. But they didn’t. Lawrence showed them the grades of the work I had done, and they said I could go into the second year, just as long as I complete all the work I’ve missed. So I’m going to be busy. Oh, and I won’t have Lawrence for my tutor next year either. Professor Little said I’ll be with him. So that’s cool.
I still have to attend my weekly class at the Harvard campus, and it’s two weeks later that I bump into her. Lily, I mean. I suppose I knew it would happen sooner or later. It’s almost exactly like the first time we met too, on the same corner, only this time I’m not running and I don’t knock her books to the floor. Instead we both just stop. And Lily speaks first.
“Hi Billy.”
I don’t know what to say. She’s sent me two messages since it all happened. The first said she was glad I was still alive. The second asked to meet up. But I didn’t reply to either.
“Hello Lily,” I say, and I step to the side, to get around her, and back to my next class, but she puts her hand on my arm.
“Billy, can we talk? Please?”
“I have a class.”
“Come on. You’ll catch up.”
“I am catching up.”
A hint of a smile shows on her lips, and then fades away. I try not to watch, because my stomach is churning like I’ve had eight cups of coffee. She’s still so beautiful. It’s like I’d almost forgotten how beautiful.
“Let me buy you a coffee.”
“I don’t think I want a coffee.”
“Something stronger then? Come on Billy. We really should talk.”
I want to ask what we have to talk about, after she got back together with James just one week after she thought I’d died. But at the same time, I guess it’s inevitable that we talk sometime. And I do have someone in my next class I can get the notes from now. Do you remember her? The mature student, Linda Reynolds?
“OK. But I’ll just have a water.”
“Great. Come on.” Lily leads me across the square to where there’s a coffee shop.
I sit down in a booth by the window, while Lily goes to get drinks. She gets me a coffee, even though I said I didn’t want one. Plus a bottle of water. I stare at both of them.
“I guess you want to know what happened?”
“Not really.”
But she tells me anyway.
“I told you about how Dad runs the company, it wasn’t bad. He didn’t put profits above everything else, above envir
onmental standards. At least, not completely.” She pauses and takes a sip, her blue eyes watching me. I have to look away.
“But the way Jacques ran his business, it was always different. He was only interested in money. He didn’t care if people got hurt, or if it did any damage. That’s why his company grew bigger than Dad’s, over the years. They had massive arguments about it. About what the right way to do it was. About what Arthur would have wanted. But that’s why Jacques wanted to take over so much. Jacques could make more money buying another company, but he wanted to prove his was the right way, that Dad was wrong.”
I really don’t care about this. But one thing does interest me. “What’s going to happen? With your uncle’s company buying your dads, since he did it all illegally?”
Lily takes a while to answer. “I’m not sure. Dad’s in meetings with lawyers trying to figure it out. They think it depends if Jacques is found guilty or not. If he is, they’ll try and reverse it. But it’s hellish complicated. Whatever happens, the lawyers are going to get most of it.”
“He will be.” I say.
“What?”
“He will be found guilty. That’s what Agent West says.”
“Oh. I hope so.” Lily takes another sip. “Do you hate me?”
I can feel her looking at me, but I can’t bring myself to look back. In the end I force myself to.
“No.”
“But you’re angry? Or upset? That I got back with James? After you…” She doesn’t finish the sentence, even though I don’t answer.
“You have to see it from my perspective. I thought you’d destroyed my family’s company. I thought you’d betrayed me.” She reaches across the table, her head is tilted to one side and her hair is hanging down on one side like a curtain. “And James and I… We’d been together so long, it just felt natural. I believed him.”
“And you didn’t believe me?”
“You weren’t there, Billy. You weren’t there to give your side. Maybe if you’d… If you hadn’t disappeared?”
The Island of Dragons (Rockpools Book 4) Page 31
