Helen Hanson - Dark Pool

by Helen Hanson

  “Like a fake PayPal page that tries to get your login information.”

  “Exactly, a spoofed web page. People think they’re logging into the legitimate site and then they enter their account numbers, passwords, whatever. That’s how Dad stole O’Mara’s money.”

  “You really think Dad took the money?”

  Travis leaned on the counter. “Anytime O’Mara or a client checked his account, it went to one of Dad’s pages instead. They looked identical. It’s a classic middle-man hack. Meanwhile, Dad took everything.” He touched Maggie’s elbow. “Seriously, I mean everything. He even took their last can of Who-hash.”

  Maggie smirked, but it seemed impossible. “What about the investors who cashed out? Lots of the early investors made serious money off O’Mara’s Ponzi scheme.”

  “Dad saw every request for money in or out of O’Mara’s accounts. He’d put real cash in the real account, as needed, to keep the whole thing floating. He even spoofed O’Mara’s bank statements.”

  News like this should hurt. It probably would later. Right now, she was numb. “But the actual cash transmissions would have been encrypted. Every time you buy something on the internet, the web page has that little lock at the top to show it’s encrypted with SSL. Decrypting that isn’t an easy hack.”

  “It’s been done, but on an old revision. Dad faked the little lock too, when he needed it. But, I’ve read that the hard core traders rarely encrypt their trade transmissions. Encryption adds time to the trade even if the user wouldn’t notice the lag. We’re talking milliseconds. But those guys don’t want to wait that long.”

  She poured a steaming mug of courage. “Okay, show me.” She trailed him to the laptop and pointed at a web page. “So Dad’s compiled program files only served up this page because you hit the right address.”

  “Exactly. When we close this page, the information goes away.” He pointed to the number at the top of the page. $ 40,763,902,384.51. “Check it out, Magpie.”

  The number was too big to believe. “Daddy really did all this.”

  “Pretty freakin smart, eh?”

  She lowered her eyelids at him. “Real smart. Look where it’s gotten him.”

  “I know. It sounds bad.”

  “Bad. You’re joking right? The SEC and the FBI and the XYZ will be crawling all over our shit.”

  Travis’ glance sliced the room. “Do we have to tell them?”

  She tried to think of a way to explain this to him. But every response turned into an insult. “Okay.” Maggie got up from her chair. “Clearly the rational portion of this conversation has concluded.”

  The phone rang. She scurried to grab it on the first round. “Hello.” She caught a breath.

  “Your father is safe as long as you follow my exact instructions.”

  The words landed like a punch.

  “I want two million dollars transferred to my account in the morning.”

  She tried to find her voice. “You have my father?”

  “Expect a call in exactly eighteen hours. You and your brother better be ready to move the money, or be ready to bury him.”

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Kurt Meyers arrived at the Fender home amid a torrential downpour. He waited until the worst of it subsided and dashed to the front porch. Whatever Maggie wanted to tell him, he hoped to hear in person, but the old Subaru was missing. Between the miserable rain, cranky traffic, and his increasingly foul mood, this joy ride was a loser.

  He didn’t expect anyone to answer the doorbell. Both beagles loudly objected to his presence on the other side of the threshold. A movement at the curtain revealed an eye peering out at him. The height of its appearance told him it was Travis. The young man opened the door with apprehension.

  “Maggie’s not here.” He glanced over his shoulder as if to make certain.

  “I called earlier, but thought I’d take a chance to see if she was home. I’m so sorry to hear about your father.”

  “Yeah. Me too.” He kept the door within an easy slam.

  Travis’ entire demeanor had changed since their last meeting. Before, he was the one who seemed amenable to Kurt’s involvement—even sympathetic—while Maggie wanted him stretched across the rack. This trip, Kurt seemed to cause Travis’ discomfort.

  His father was missing, but it had to be more than that. The kid knew Kurt wasn’t involved. Maybe it was O’Mara’s money. The last time Kurt mentioned that money in this house, his spidey senses were a-tingle.

  Opportunity was closing along with the door. “May I have one minute of your time? I promise, you want me gone after sixty seconds, I’m out of here.” Travis wore something that resembled suspicion.

  “Leave the front door open. I won’t go past the foyer.” Kurt squatted down to rub a beagle face. “You can sic the wild animals on me if I do.”

  Whatever was working on Travis, Kurt wasn’t the threat. He stepped back far enough to let Kurt in and keep some personal space. His arms lashed across his chest and one of his feet danced. “What do you want?”

  “Your sister called me. Do you know why?”

  Travis hesitated.

  Kurt expected the next words to be measured.

  “We spent all night looking for my Dad. She was really upset when she called.”

  And that didn’t answer the question. “Did you hear that Patty O’Mara died?”

  Travis reached for one of the dogs. “It’s been on the same newscasts as the ones reporting my father missing. They caught the woman who did it today.”

  “I heard. Did she work at the chocolate store?” Kurt knew the answer, but he wanted to keep the kid talking.

  “She got the job after she lost her retirement money. When she found out O’Mara was still buying expensive chocolates, it wrecked her head.” Travis didn’t make eye contact.

  “It’s been tough working with some of these people. Their entire savings wiped out overnight. I sure don’t condone murder, but the anger these people feel is entirely justified.”

  The kid continued to play with the dogs. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry for Kurt to leave.

  “Did your father know Patty O’Mara?”

  Travis stared at Kurt. “No, and I think your minute is up.”

  “Did you know there’s a big reward for finding that money?”

  His eyebrow rose and fell quickly. He sniffed at the air as if to cover his interest. “I hadn’t heard.”

  Kurt was certain. The kid knew plenty. “I’m being paid a lot of money to find O’Mara’s pot of gold. If I’m the one who finds it, I’ll get the finder’s fee, too. It’s sizable. Of course, if someone else finds the money, then that person could claim it.”

  He locked his gaze on Travis until the kid eased away to comb one of the dogs. An intentional move that completely telegraphed the kid’s next play. Kurt almost felt bad. The kid was big but so young. Kurt knew exactly what the kid’s question would be. How much?

  Travis took a while in responding. The dog’s grooming seemed to keep his interest far longer than it warranted. He stood to his full height and closed the front door behind Kurt. He bent a knee and leaned back to rest his left foot against the wall. Finally, he broke the silence. “What if someone didn’t want the reward?”

  Now all of Kurt’s senses were tingling. “Why wouldn’t someone want to claim the money?”

  Travis fastened his intense green gaze on Kurt. “Hypothetically?”

  Whoa. Kurt had underestimated this young man. There was only one way to play this game. His way. “By all means, hypothetically.”

  “Well, the reason doesn’t really matter. Say the money found its way back to the investors. Hypothetically.” He nodded at Kurt. “The SEC wouldn’t really have a case anymore, would it?”

  “That scenario sure would leave them scratching a collective head. Especially now that O’Mara is dead.” Kurt eyed the kid in a new light. “But I don’t know that there would be a reason to continue the case, especially if there were no clear
tracks back to the investor accounts. Hypothetically.”

  “Tell me about Daryl Betts.”

  The name hit like a shock wave. “Daryl Betts.” Kurt tried to compose himself. “Uh, he was an investigator for the SEC who died a couple of years back. He lost control of his motorcycle and hit a tree.”

  “Was he investigating O’Mara?”

  SEC Chairman Catharine Boson fiercely guarded this secret. Kurt only knew because an informant from the DC case told him in confidence. If the news leaked, she’d lose her job. And while she deserved to, how the hell did Travis hear about it?

  “I don’t have any first-hand knowledge that he was.”

  Travis’ lips curled into a lopsided grin. The nuance of Kurt’s non-answer wasn’t lost on this young man.

  Travis nodded several little nods before he spoke again. “Is there a class action lawsuit for the case?”

  This kid was fascinating. “Absolutely.”

  “Is the list publically available? Hypothetically?”

  With all the blood thumping in his head, Kurt’s hearing felt wired for surround sound. “It’s a legal proceeding, so the names of all the litigants are part of the public record. If you know of anyone, hypothetically, who might want this list, I’d be happy to get a copy to you.”

  “I don’t, but it sounds interesting.” He moved his foot back to the floor. “You can send a copy if you want.”

  “I have someone who’ll be out this way in about an hour.” He hadn’t, but he did now. Kurt stuffed his hands in his pocket and found the The Rockstag Group party list from earlier. He took it out and unfolded it. “Will you still be here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll send a lady named Stephanie. You can’t miss her. Squeaky voice, spiked hair, and a really bad memory of any task I give her.”

  “She sounds nice.”

  “You know, Travis, I have another list that might interest you. It’s from a party given by The Rockstag Group a few years back.”

  The kid’s face went cloudy. “Oh.”

  “I know you’ve had some issues with these people.” He handed the pages to him. “All this talk about Patty O’Mara reminded me I had this. Seems he helped pay for this party. Even invited quite a few of the guests.”

  This got the kid’s attention. He scanned the first page. “Who invited the Governor?”

  “The CEO of The Rockstag Group. Apparently they’re quite friendly.”

  Travis shot an angry glare. “My attorney told me the judge had gotten some pressure from the Governor to make an example out of me. I wish I was old enough to vote against him.”

  Maybe the kid was framed. “So, hypothetically, someone who might want to move some money might have to use a computer.”

  “I guess he or she would.”

  Kurt looked around. “This sure is a nice beach you live on. How’s internet access?”

  “Screaming good.” Travis glanced up from the party list. “According to Maggie. I don’t use it since my trial.”

  “Are you supposed to stay off computers?”

  “Thanks to Governor Williams, it’s part of my re-integration into society.” He turned the page. “I need to get my mind right, you know. I’m not so interested in computers these days.”

  “Your sister must have one though.”

  “Maggie has an old laptop that she uses. Fortunately—” Travis’ smile went to high-beams. “Her skills compensate for its deficiencies.”

  Kurt grinned back at him. The kid was enjoying this. But his smile faded, and he handed the list to Kurt. “Some celebrities too. It’s nice to know the guys who framed me have connections. I bet they get fifty-yard seating at the ‘Niners’ games.”

  “Maybe in the press box.”

  “No one said life is fair.” Travis pushed the stray black hairs from his face.

  Kurt stood in awe. He wasn’t sure what the next step was in this wild game of poker. He wanted to find out what cards the kid was holding, but he had to walk away from this hand. The kid owned the pot. Then Kurt remembered. He had a small ante for the next deal.

  “Thanks, Travis. If anyone asks, I stopped by because I thought I’d seen your father, but unfortunately, it wasn’t him.”

  “I appreciate your coming.”

  “Wait here one minute.” Kurt held up a finger. “I have something for your sister.”

  Travis was hanging on the door when Kurt came back from the car. “Here.” Kurt handed him an unmarked box containing the computer Stephanie bought. Travis wore a puzzled look when he took it.

  Kurt winked at him. “Some flowers for Maggie.”

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  The nine o’clock ransom deadline for Monday morning choked Maggie like an anaconda. Her breathing came rapid-fire in short strokes. Pressure built up behind her eyes and hammered away at her skull. She veered around another idiot on Interstate 280.

  Using O’Mara’s mythical money for their father’s ransom was another of Travis’ delusions. He could easier sell passage to Atlantis.

  Two million dollars.

  Their father’s life in exchange for two million dollars. If they liquidated absolutely everything they owned, including the dogs, it might total fifteen thousand. That was money she needed for her father’s long-term care, Travis’ future, a car that kept the oil off the driveway.

  Because of the heavy rain, traffic was lighter, but the drivers all the more stupid. Her patience waned toward the others on the road. Were they going anywhere important? Did any of them have a loved one in danger?

  When she told Travis about her plan to visit Vladimir Penniski, he wanted to go with her. Someone had to stay home in case her father escaped, or the kidnapper called, or to watch the dogs. She knew it was lame, but she didn’t want him coming with her. Travis had his work to do, and she had hers. He needed to do his computer thing because he felt useful.

  Mainly, she didn’t want him along because he risked going back to prison. One of the terms of his probation was that he wouldn’t associate with known criminals. Vladimir Penniski was about as well-known a criminal as John Gotti. To think how she made Travis suffer while Dad was the real hacker in the family. Another Fender family footnote in the file labeled ‘irony.’

  Travis found Penniski’s private address in ways that Maggie did not want explained. He probably went to a hacker forum, but she chose to believe he googled it to preserve her shrinking sanity. Whatever. Within ten minutes of asking, he printed directions and a map. She hadn’t really considered what she was going to say to Vladimir Penniski, but she was already on the Embarcadero and Folsom was the next street.

  A metered parking spot was empty, but she needed more time than they allowed. More time. Daddy needed more time. Travis got too much time. Time was running out. She turned into the first parking garage on Folsom and paid fifteen dollars she couldn’t afford.

  Maggie wore one of her better ensembles for this outing. A worn, but serviceable belted shirtdress in navy blue, blue heels, and a jaunty off-white sweater. It was jaunty because she tied it casually about her neck to hide the stains in the front. With her father’s black umbrella, she looked every bit a career girl on the move.

  With a mix of concave and convex exterior surfaces, Penniski’s building was a towered structure of mostly glass that touted the best views in the city. Maggie strode into the lobby as if late for a fire. She closed her umbrella and hung it on her forearm.

  The place reeked of gotten-gain—ill or otherwise—and it smelled heavenly. By contrast, it reminded Maggie that one of the dogs had barfed on the rug that morning. In all the commotion, she’d forgotten to clean it up.

  One of the lobby guards strode toward her from his station. Of course, it was a secure building to keep out the riff-raff. Unless the riff-raff was a resident. Maggie’s heart raced like a greyhound. She’d never even make it to the elevator. As the guard closed in, his badge declared him not a guard but a Lobby Ambassador, and his name was Calvin.

  She drippe
d her sweetest smile. “Oh, Calvin. Vladimir’s mother told me to ask for you when I arrived.” She reached for his hand.

  Calvin appeared confused but let Maggie take it in both of hers. “Mr. Penniski’s mother?”

  “Yes, darling, Sofia. She’s arranging a surprise party for him four weeks from Friday.” Maggie wrapped her arms around his bicep. She hoped he didn’t feel her sweat. “We simply must keep this a secret until then. Can we count on you, dear?”

  Maybe it was mentioning the nose-biter by name, or maybe he was the only straight man on the concierge staff, but Calvin fell under the spell. “Absolutely, Ms.— ”

  “Brianna, darling. Brianna Morgana.” Maggie walked Calvin toward his station and closer to the elevator. It had cardkey access only. “We’re going to have about thirty guests. I’ve arranged for a jazz combo to entertain. But we still need a caterer for the wine and food. Sofia specifically wanted your recommendation.”

  His brown eyes sparkled. “We have an amazing roster of caterers for our clients.”

  Three men, all in business suits, entered through the front door. Calvin greeted one of them. Maggie exchanged glances with them all.

  “Tell you what. You select the top three, and then we’ll decide.” Maggie fell in behind the men. “Let me pop up and see Vlad for a moment. If I don’t, Sofia will never forgive me.”

  “Of course, Ms. Morgana.” Calvin nodded. “I’ll have it ready when you return.”

  She walked to the elevator at a pace brisk enough to catch up to the three men, one of whom gallantly held the door open for her. Maggie waved at Calvin before it closed. By the time she hit the 42nd floor, she was alone.

  She rang the bell at the only condo facing the bay. A husky man with curly black hair and an amused expression opened the door. She’d used the last of her bluster in the lobby. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Maggie considered running to the elevator when the man said, “Miss Fender, won’t you please come in.”