Helen Hanson - Dark Pool

by Helen Hanson

  Yet. Maybe they still had a chance.

  “Today I followed your car into the hills. I saw Travis collect the cell phone. After watching your encounter with Penniski’s men, I didn’t believe they kidnapped your father.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t try to stop them.”

  “I would have, but I thought you’d never forgive me if my actions jeopardized your father in any way.”

  She brushed his hand. “You followed us to the warehouse.”

  “I followed Penniski’s men to the warehouse. They obviously had a way to track you, and for your sake, I didn’t want them to find me. But when the shots were fired, they took position near the doors, and I called the police.”

  Panic zapped her. “Did you tell the police about Penniski?”

  “No. If the police got there quickly, they would discover Penniski’s men on their own. Otherwise, why wake trouble while it sleeps?”

  “Thank you.” Maggie explained all the action Fyodor missed. “The police picked up Scarson heading south on 101. He immediately lawyered up and hasn’t told them anything. The laptop and shotgun are gone. All the police got from me was the cell phone. They don’t know Penniski was involved. Scarson is going to prison, and he doesn’t want Vladimir the nose-biter as an enemy.” She replayed the threats in her head. “Neither do I.”

  For the first time in the conversation, Fyodor smiled. “And just how did Travis transfer two million dollars to Jack Scarson?”

  “He didn’t. Scarson only thought he did.” She said, “Apparently my little brother’s hacking skills extend to spoofing web pages.” With Daddy’s help. A fact Fyodor didn’t need to know. “That’s why we went to Scarson’s house last night. Travis figured Scarson would bring a laptop along to confirm the transfer. He embedded something called a root-kit program. When Scarson requested a web page, his laptop used Travis’ instructions to find the spoofed bank web pages instead.”

  Fyodor nodded. “Impressive.”

  “Risky. We weren’t sure it was Scarson until this morning.” Maggie shuddered. “Then we knew he planned to kill us.”

  A man in scrubs strode their direction.

  “Ms. Fender.”

  Maggie recognized him as her father’s doctor. Somehow, he looked smaller without the other staff around him. Maggie stood. “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry, but we encountered some complications during your father’s surgery.”

  Fyodor took her hand.

  Maggie said, “Complications.”

  “Your father’s condition was critical when he arrived as you know. He was suffering from what we call systemic inflammatory response syndrome which we tried to get under control. But your father didn’t respond to treatment, perhaps due to his advanced Alzheimer’s.”

  The doctor’s voice seemed to echo. She squinted at him, trying to discern his words.

  “The injury your father suffered would have been traumatic for a healthy man. But in his case, his body is shutting down. We call it multiple organ dysfunction syndrome. I’m sorry, we tried to stem the cascading effect, but we weren’t successful.”

  The words boomed in her head.

  “Ms. Fender. We’re trying to keep him comfortable, but your father is dying.”

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  Their father’s funeral was tough. They buried him next to Trisha. It was a different kind of sad than when she died. This one included some guilt. Flowers arrived from Kurt Meyers, Vladimir Penniski, the Silicon Valley Server Farm, and someone with the initials R.F. Afterwards, they held a simple gathering at their home.

  Several of their father’s friends made an appearance even though Maggie hadn’t seen any of them in a long time. Denesha came to hold her hand. Sergeant Garcia came to offer his condolences. As usual, the Modestos and Ginger attended to the guests. Fyodor stood guard near Maggie and Travis for the duration.

  After the house cleared, Maggie lay on the living room couch with an arm draped over her forehead. Her free hand nuzzled a dog snout. Travis shuffled softly into the room.

  “Maggie. You need to see this.”

  Whatever Travis had, she didn’t need to see it. She needed to mourn the loss of her father, erase the last agonizing weeks of her life, and grieve the memory of a man who lived a lie.

  “Magpie. It’s another email from Dad.”

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Given the developments in the Patty O’Mara case, Kurt Meyers planned to call Maggie and Travis Fender for a meeting. The grisly death of their father cast a pall on the situation, and he wanted to be respectful of their loss. But two weeks after the funeral, Travis Fender called with an invitation of his own. Now Samantha Merrick and Kurt stood on their doorstep.

  Travis answered the doorbell with two yapping beagles in tow. “Hi. Please come in.”

  They trailed Travis into the kitchen where his sister, Maggie, stood over the stove. She turned off the burner and walked over to them.

  “Travis and I appreciate your coming here.” She shook both their hands. “Please, have a seat.”

  Samantha said, “Thank you.”

  Maggie called the dogs away from their sniffing mission and sent them to their beds in the corner. She sat across from Kurt. Travis brought four glasses of tea and a pitcher from the counter. He sat next to Maggie and poured.

  Kurt cleared his throat. “First, let me offer my condolences on your tragic loss. It’s unconscionable what happened to your father.”

  Samantha was quick to offer her assent.

  Maggie’s lips pursed. She seemed to fight the urge to cry.

  Travis’ voice broke. “Thank you. The police have Jack Scarson in custody, and they have plenty of evidence to convict him. But he’s not offering any new information.” He passed glasses to Kurt and Samantha.

  “I read news that you arrested Spencer Thornton for his part in the Patty O’Mara scandal.” Maggie brightened. “Do you still have a case now that the money has been returned?” She directed the question to Samantha.

  “The part that fascinates the SEC is that all the money came back with significant interest. Some suspect Spencer Thornton of pulling this trigger before his arrest. Certainly Thornton’s attorneys are using this as leverage for a light sentence, you know, when they get around to admitting any guilt. Others figure it was Patty O’Mara himself who set this up in the event of his death.”

  Maggie sipped and nodded.

  Samantha continued. “Apparently, Patty O’Mara held several bank accounts in the name of Robert Sands which the SEC didn’t know about and hadn’t frozen. When incoming money transfers started bouncing up against their blockade, it was on my recommendation that they decided to let the money roll in.”

  Even Maggie perked up at this part of the conversation. Her furtive glances toward her brother overflowed with pride. “Is that a fact?”

  Kurt suppressed a smile. “The money was wired directly to the accounts of the investors listed on the class action lawsuit.” Since Vladimir Penniski opted out of the class, he suffered public humiliation for his stupidity while attorneys wrangled for his chunk of the cash. No doubt he’d eventually receive it, but it was going to cost him more than legal fees. In the meantime, Kurt reveled every time a reporter shoved a mike in Vladimir Penniski’s face. At least Vonda Creevy got her money back without any hassle.

  “Since the investor’s money has been returned, half the SEC wonders whether it’s even worth trying to untangle this particular spider’s web,” Samantha said.

  “Interesting analogy. Yes, it is a sticky mess.” Maggie’s finger chased a water bead down the side of her glass. “You know, I’ve been thinking about a man who was a friend of my father’s.”

  Samantha openly smiled at Maggie. “Anyone we might know?”

  “Perhaps,” Maggie said. “He died in a motorcycle accident a few years back. But my father and he corresponded by mail rather frequently up until the time he died. The man’s name was Daryl Betts.”

  Kurt rocked back and
let Samantha field this one.

  “I never met the man. Though he did work at our agency.”

  “Mr. Betts mentioned that he worked as an investigator for the SEC in his letters. Repeatedly. And in great detail. It seems Daryl Betts didn’t think very highly of the current SEC Chairman, Catherine Boson.” Maggie took a slow sip. “Isn’t she running for Senator somewhere?”

  “She hasn’t officially declared her candidacy, but she has a committee in place to investigate the possibility,” Samantha said.

  Kurt knew Samantha never liked Catherine Boson anyway.

  Maggie leaned forward. “Daryl Betts made an interesting proposal to my father. Since Catherine Boson didn’t seem interested in prosecuting Patty O’Mara, he wanted my father to find a way to tap O’Mara’s computer lines and find concrete proof of the embezzlement.”

  Samantha was one of the toughest nuts on the tree, but even she blanched at Maggie’s brazen threat to Boson. Kurt admired a woman who did her homework.

  “And I have proof.” Maggie stated it as a simple fact.

  Samantha coughed. “Your father was put in an untenable position.”

  Travis couldn’t leave the negotiations to the women any longer. “Yes, he was. Alzheimer’s can cause hallucinations in some people. The weight of a request from an official of the SEC. Hypothetically—” He glanced at Kurt. “Might be enough to send a man over the edge.”

  “Daryl Betts had a reputation for finding unique solutions to a problem, Ms. Fender. I’m sorry it involved your father in this case. Hypothetically, what could the SEC do to compensate you for this inconvenience?”

  “You’ve no doubt done your research on my family. My brother was falsely convicted of computer hacking, and Barbara Carter admitted this fact. But since Jack Scarson’s arrest, she’s reneged on her offer to testify on Travis’ behalf.” Maggie pulled a list from somewhere. “One. I want a full pardon for my brother. Two. I want a letter exonerating all members of my family from any wrong-doing past, present, or future regarding the Patty O’Mara case. Three. I want my mortgage paid in full. Four. Whatever you do to cover your collective butts on this matter, I want my family’s name kept out of the official record. I’m tired of reporters.” Maggie sat the list on the table. “Do we have a deal?”

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  In the end, the meeting provided some necessary closure for Maggie and Travis. Katherine Boson agreed to all their demands, including a sizeable fee that more than covered their mortgage. She’d have to do some wrangling with the California governor for the pardon, but that was her problem.

  Most importantly, Maggie knew that the father she loved wasn’t a thief and a cheat but a decent man with a muddled brain trying to serve justice. Why did she always conspire with a few ugly facts to form a damning conclusion? She’d convicted Travis and Fyodor in the same way. No more. The grip of that tyranny sloughed off like a bad habit.

  On the first morning with decent waves, she and Travis hit the surf with Javier. She went over the falls on her first wave, but even the wipeout felt good. She’d spent enough time living in fear. It was time she simply lived.

  As Maggie rummaged through her closet for something pretty to wear, she marveled at the sound of Travis playing the Alembic bass downstairs. She recognized the intro to Pink Floyd’s Money and giggled. Her brain filled in the missing cash register noises and clinking change. Their home once again filled with music. It floated her mood.

  The pain of her father’s strange demise would take a long time to dull. But she’d been immobile for so long now, it was time to plan for a future. And for once, it offered promise.

  Fyodor was taking Travis and her out to discuss a new venture. Clients occasionally approached Fyodor about testing their computer systems, and he suggested that Maggie and Travis offer computer penetration-testing services. Kurt Meyers already lined up a first job for them if they decided to roll. In this business, reputation was king, and even without the pardon, Travis’ felony record wasn’t a liability.

  Maggie finished dressing and noticed the music had stopped. She found Travis at the front door with a letter and a check.

  “What’s in the mail?”

  “Why should I tell you? You didn’t tell me we were about to lose the house.”

  “I didn’t want you to worry. But I was wrong to keep it from you. I promise, no more secrets.” The look on his face told her it was something. “C’mon. What is it?”

  “Just some jail money.”

  She looked in the mirror to fasten her earring. “I thought they gave that to you when you left.”

  “That was the gate money. Everybody gets that.” He stuffed the check into his back pocket.

  “Then what’s this?”

  “It’s the spending money you sent me.”

  She followed him into the guitar room while he hung the bass on the rack.

  “We barely sent you any money, Trav. Why didn’t you spend it?”

  “I couldn’t bring myself to waste it on junk. You guys were suffering because of me.”

  Humiliation stung her. “It wasn’t because of you, Trav. I suffered because I didn’t trust my brainy little brother.” She stood on her tip-toes to kiss his cheeks. “I love you.”

  “Me too, Magpie.”

  “I’ve been living in a fog for several years. But it’s starting to lift.” She walked toward the living room and inserted the other earring. “Like when I was upstairs getting ready, it hit me. Where did all the extra money come from?”

  “What extra money?”

  “O’Mara’s money. When you funneled it back to the investors, you sent interest too. But it was a Ponzi scheme. Patty O’Mara never made any real trades, so how did you get so much extra?”

  Travis sat on the arm of the couch wearing black slacks and a charcoal gray shirt. “Dad put most of that money in gold and gold stocks.”

  Maggie sat on the chair across from him. “Yeah, so what?

  His smile was full of mischief. “Dad pilfered that money over a lot of years. On average, he paid a little over four hundred dollars an ounce for the gold.” He dropped onto the couch laughing.

  She enjoyed seeing her brother act silly. For too long he’d carried a man’s burden. “What’s so funny?”

  “Dad had gold on deposit in Australia, South Africa, Canada, Mexico, Argentina, even Peru. When I sold off the gold to pay back the investors, the price was over sixteen hundred dollars an ounce.”

  The number stole her wind. “Sixteen hundred dollars. Each?”

  “Each.”

  “He stole forty billion dollars.” Maggie sank in the seat next to him. She was having a hard time breathing. “Are you saying he quadrupled that money?”

  “Some of it. Some of it he kept in cash. Some he paid to O’Mara’s investors who were pulling out over the years.”

  “So there’s some left?”

  Travis couldn’t contain his laughter. “Yeah, Maggie. There’s a whole lot of some left.”

  The doorbell sounded. “That must be Fyodor.” She finally felt the weight of Travis’ words. The amount was staggering. Maggie giggled at the thought. “Maybe we should buy dinner tonight.”

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  Dear Maggie & Travis,

  This is the last email I prepared for you. I trust you managed the other messages with the same strength and intelligence that I’ve come to expect from you both. You make an awesome team.

  Please give my best to Daryl Betts. He’s a good man.

  I don’t know how this disease will progress. At times I feel as if I’m in another dimension. For you two, I may already be gone if not in body. I know you’ll miss me, but I take comfort that you have each other, and you both have the good sense to marry someone who will bring out the best in you. Of course, I wouldn’t have chosen this route, but I want you to know that I’m ready. My time is my time, and now it’s closing. And as much as I love you both, Trisha is waiting for me, and I miss her.

  From th
e Author

  Thank you for reading DARK POOL. I hope you enjoyed it and will leave a review. Your kindness is appreciated and encouraging to me as a writer.

  DARK POOL contains some ideas I found intriguing. For one, I lost my own father to Alzheimer’s, and I often wondered what it was like from his side of the chasm. Next, the notion of twenty and thirty-somethings failing to launch as adults. I wasn’t given the option, and there are few societies or eras in history in which this phenomena could exist. Finally, the Bernie Madoff case was an astonishing example of greed and regulatory incompetence coalescing to ruin the fortunes of people who trusted another with their assets. What he did to those people was unconscionable. I’m genuinely mystified by that shade of evil.

  Please check out the other books I’ve written for your geeky pleasure: 3 LIES and OCEAN OF FEAR. If you read 3 LIES, thank you for helping it become the # 1 Technothriller on Kindle – a Top 100 book! For news and book giveaways, please sign up for my mailing list at my website. Your information will remain confidential (the NSA excepted), and I promise to send updates only when there’s actual game afoot.

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  Chapter One

  The water bead on her chest slalomed south to join the others on the black-diamond run to her groin. Beth Sutton wrapped the thick, white towel around her dripping hair. Both hung to her hip. As she stepped onto the bath mat, the arterial catheter bounced off her inner thigh muscle. She wiped down the rest of her body and draped the towel on the rack.