by Martha Carr
No one really knew what the actual size of the Fed Bank was or exactly who they were serving at any given time. Over the years their system had become byzantine with so many layers that it more closely resembled the cell structure of the NSA and held secrets and fortunes equally as well as the Papal City. There was a general sense around Washington that their bank balances were far larger than imagined but even repeated Freedom of Information Act requests from the media or Congress failed to gain outsiders access beyond the uppermost layers.
Outsiders were seen as intruders who didn’t possess enough of an understanding of what it took to keep not only the U.S. economy going but an ever-changing world economy. Trying to explain would just take up too much time and the rules would have changed again before the answer was complete making the whole effort obsolete. At least, that’s what insiders were always saying at cocktail parties in D.C.
Control over the Federal Reserve wasn’t completely held by either Management or the Circle. The technology division, situated in Richmond, was mostly Management and had changed hands only a few times since the 1980’s when computers started to play such a significant role in keeping track of everything.
Mark sat in his office looking at the spread sheets on his screen. He was doing his regular monthly check of a sampling of the Federal Reserve’s accounts’ transfer activity to see if there was anything unusual. His boss would need the data to prepare the regular report.
At exactly eleven a.m. when almost everyone from his division was taking their first break he was planning to take a moment and plug his iPhone into his computer’s USB port to check on his own accounts. The iPhone acted as his keyboard, bypassing the software that could detect his keystrokes, which could spell out what he’d been doing on the side.
Then he could start a little program he’d developed on his own to make sure that his activity was proceeding smoothly and undetected. The entire operation took two minutes from start to finish to download to his phone. He could analyze the data later when he was home and away from prying eyes.
The meticulous bologna slicing he’d been doing from Management’s foreign accounts for the past year had paid off and soon he’d be able to leave everything behind. He was planning to head for a part of the country that no one from the Circle or from Management really cared to control. The small town he’d found in Montana really did fit the bill, perfectly. He had found the property last year but had wanted to be sure and took his time doing a background check of the people and the area.
Just getting a first look at the property had been tricky. Mark knew there were people constantly monitoring him to make sure he wasn’t doing anything like looking for a soft place to land.
He had been careful to use a throwaway cell phone and different email accounts with masked IP and MAC addresses to contact a local realtor who’d never realize what was at stake. He had even set up a corporation called Rosecroft Investments to act as the buyer and hold the title.
There was a nice thousand acre spread on the side of Haskill Mountain with a beautiful view of Flathead Valley. A million years ago the valley had been a place where dinosaurs roamed, some of whom were caught in the Ice Age and became a permanent part of a long-ago glacier. The combination had made the soil fertile and the land was still full of natural wonders and yet very little humanity. It was exactly what he wanted for his family.
On nights when he couldn’t sleep he lay in bed and pictured his children hunting for fossils without having to imagine satellites zooming in on their location or lost operatives suddenly passing coded dollar bills.
Mark had managed to take the boys and his little girl on a fly fishing vacation nearby last summer that gave him the chance to check out the property. The acreage sat right near a trout stream and made it possible for him to scope out the perimeter without having to formally meet anyone or explain what he was doing.
There was even a pristine creek that wound through the entire property and a thick stand of aspen trees all along the northern boundary. That made it just big enough to melt into the scenery without being so big that it’d draw attention in town as the new wealth from the east coast. Only one family had owned it since the original homestead.
The money he was going to use was routed through a chain of shell companies Mark formed in Panama, Cyprus, Anguilla and Belize where no one would be looking too closely at who formed the company or requiring too much documentation of any kind.
They had been set up as part of the chain that would buy the ranch under Rosecroft Investments. The next step was to funnel smaller amounts of money that he could live on for years into several American commercial bank accounts in places like Bartow, Florida and Rockford, Illinois where there were no laws on the book concerning multiple electronic transfers.
Most places in the States were concerned about money laundering but some were owned by banks in other countries and were happy to be able to still find someone they could charge with fees. Those banks didn’t question the number of transfers or where they originated.
Mark had carefully chosen banks whose governing boards were based in Montreal, Canada. He knew from his time in the Circle and Management that Canada had done a better job of holding off the tentacles of either side and that gave him a slightly higher degree of invisibility.
Locals would just see him as a rich guy living on a ranch with his family.
As long as the cash remained outside of the traditional systems he knew the amounts and values would never be logged. There’d never be a trail and he would finally fall off of the grid. If there were times he had to bring money into the system he would be able to gently supplement any legitimate holdings that were visible to everyone by claiming small windfalls from odd jobs from someone who paid him in cash. He knew could even say he had sold some personal items if he had to, or gotten a fictitious repayment of some small, personal loan to an old friend. The basis for each of the transactions would always be cash. It was just the excuse that was being used that would change. But as long as he had a cache of funds that didn’t need emergency supplements beyond what he’d planned for, his family’s lifestyle would appear to be modest and not raise suspicions.
The permanent risk would always be not being able to control what he couldn’t see coming that could require a faster access to large parts of the funds. That would be when the fun could begin.
He put that out of his mind. A good operative looked for what they could change and then knew when to let go of the rest, throwing themselves into what had to get done.
At some point, when dealing with people who manipulate for a living it became necessary to recognize that death was always a possibility in order to stay sane. Ultimately, there was nothing to be done about it.
In the past that’s what always made it possible for Mark to get through a day but he wasn’t willing to resign his children to the same fate.
He had sped up his plans by a few months and instead of the fall he was moving ahead in just a few short weeks when the children were scheduled to be on spring break from school. No one would miss them for a little while.
His plans could still roll out like he planned but with a faster, more urgent schedule.
Timing was everything, especially now that so many things seemed to be going wrong for both sides. Violence was always a last resort to save someone’s ass and even then it was quick and limited. But something had changed. There were too many bodies dropping to predict who was next or what had everyone so panicked.
He knew that neither side would protect him once he bailed out of the system completely. At best they would leave him alone.
He already had a set of paperwork drawn up to show that he was renting the property from Rosecroft and had never met the owners. Every step would be taken care of just in case he ever had to show someone. Rosecroft would be responsible for furnishing the place and setting up all of the utilities. Mark would just move in and set up residence.
He had sent the realtor an email from Rosecroft
under the guise of a foreign executive, saying the corporation was looking at several investment properties and someone would get back to him shortly. But he knew that the Haskill property was going to be it and he was done looking for a new home. He was planning to put down a deposit in the coming weeks. Soon, his family could finally live in peace.
Lately, though, he was exhausted and he hadn’t been sleeping well ever since Robert’s disappearance. Robert had been missing for two weeks and Mark had heard nothing from either side. He didn’t know if Robert had come in from the cold and the Circle had kept it quiet or if he was already being tortured by some Management operative. He tried not to think about Robert’s sons.
The transmissions from the Circle had become mundane again with no mention of anything unusual. Mark knew his cell level wouldn’t necessarily warrant a heads up from anyone with updates on Robert’s whereabouts. They’d expect him to go back to his routine.
Fred had been no help at all, although Mark learned a long time ago not to expect anything different. He had kept his questions simple and never used Robert’s name directly but Fred was fidgety as usual, talking too much about his wife’s friend, Yvette suddenly dying in her kitchen. He said Maureen was too distraught. Sometimes Mark really wished Fred could get assigned to some other cell. Thankfully, soon it wouldn’t matter anymore.
Twice Mark had placed ads for an intern on Craig’s List using the old OTP short string of numbers that Robert had left on the dollar bill. He had searched the work-for-hire listings to see if Robert was trying to reach out and thought he saw some inquiries that may have been a lead but still, nothing panned out. An ad for low interest loans looked especially promising but when someone answered there was something about the background noise that told him he’d made a grave mistake. He started asking questions about the rate of payments to cover his surprise.
The line had a slightly muddied sound quality to it, which let Mark know he’d stumbled into a secure line. The data was being compressed, encrypted and subsequently decrypted and uncompressed between the two parties. That made the quality sound like a call using Skype. He’d run into the problem before and recognized the change in tone quality like a fingerprint. A cell in Management was looking for Robert too and had set a trap.
It seemed everyone was out looking for Robert.
“Why are you so important?” asked Mark, rubbing his face. He felt exhausted. He hadn’t slept well since that day at the soccer fields. Two weeks was beginning to feel like forever.
“What’s that?” It was Frank Belmonte leaning into his office. “Were you trying to catch me?”
Frank was a second generation Management operative and Mark was sure he drank the Kool-Aid on a regular basis. Mark had heard Frank expound on how it was possible to be a part of the large organization and still create good for the greatest number acting from within. He drop hints like he was sure he could eventually wheedle that into Mark as well. Mark did his best to avoid him but Frank’s office was at the far end of the same hall.
“No, just talking to myself. New technology, that’s all.” Mark kept typing, trying not to make eye contact with Frank so he would move along.
“Can I be of any assistance?” asked Frank as he stepped into Mark’s small office.
Mark looked up and stopped what he was doing for a moment. He knew he could only push Frank so far.
“No, I’m good. It’s the same drill every time. I take my time with the process and eventually it all works itself out.”
“Excellent philosophy, Whiting. Doesn’t hurt though to occasionally ask for appropriate help too,” he said, tucking his tie into the front of his shirt and leaning forward to get a glimpse at the screen.
Mark could never be sure what someone’s true motives really were and he was always careful not to leave himself in the position of having to hide anything at work. He didn’t want his body language to ever look defensive.
However, there was still something about Frank that always managed to get under his skin. He tried not to show any annoyance and slowly breathed in and out.
“Absolutely, good point. Thank you, Frank. If I hit some roadblocks I’ll make sure to ask you.”
Frank stood up straight and adjusted his tie. “Okay, then, I’d better get back to work. Don’t want to get caught playing on company time.”
“Oh, Frank, could you do me a favor?” asked Mark.
Frank ducked back in and looked relieved to somehow be of service. Mark pulled out the dollar bills closest to the outside of his wallet.
“Would you mind grabbing me a cup of coffee from the Gourmet on the Go cart? A large black coffee?” asked Mark.
“Sure, no problem,” said Frank. He took the money and folded it in half as he left Mark’s office. Mark couldn’t be sure he’d turn over the dollar bills to Stephen but he’d know soon enough. He had arranged the money in his billfold this morning so that if the opportunity presented itself he’d be able to ask for direct updates on Robert. Always be ready. That one had saved his butt more than once, he thought.
At the very least, though, it’d keep Frank busy for the next ten minutes and that was just long enough to complete the download. Mark quickly took out the cord from the small pocket sewn in the lining of his jacket and plugged in the phone.
Once he started the download he never hesitated in his motions, knowing that was the easiest way to get caught. It was one of the first things that Management had taught him when they still thought they were grooming him as one of their future linchpins. The program started searching and was retrieving data but after two minutes was still rolling through the accounts downloading information. Something was wrong.
The only explanation was that there was activity on the accounts that wasn’t his and was also invisible to the regular Fed software. His rogue program was asking a different set of questions than the Feds and it was getting back data he didn’t expect.
There was no time to find out if it was detection software that was following his money trail or something else altogether. Even if he did know, it’d be impossible to tell what cell and at what level had implanted the software. There was also no way to know if they were already on to him and he was about to join Robert in some hellhole. He suddenly wondered where his own children were right at that moment.
The minutes zoomed by and he knew he was in danger of getting caught with his phone still attached to a Fed computer if Frank reappeared with the coffee but he had to know if he was in danger and he was determined to get all of the information. He nervously tapped his finger on the connection, ready to rip it out and drop the phone into his lap at the first sound of footsteps outside of his door. His stomach churned from the anxiety as he watched the screen on his phone trolling through the records.
Something is definitely wrong, he thought. This is way too much information and it’s finding streams of money that didn’t exist as early as two weeks ago. His jaw relaxed just a little as he began to realize that the passing numbers weren’t encryptions meant to search for what was already there but new avenues for money to fall out of Fed hands and into someone’s pocket. Someone was mimicking him but he could already tell it was on a much grander scale.
He heard the door at the end of the hall slam shut and knew Frank had taken the stairs back to their office. The iPhone was still blinking as the new account numbers downloaded into his phone.
He hesitated, fingering the cord that connected his phone. He wasn’t sure that interrupting the transmission in the middle wouldn’t leave a trace that was visible to whoever had created this infrastructure in the first place. The design was done through a backdoor and subtle enough to escape the Fed’s detection. Whoever they were, they were good.
Mark listened for Frank’s footfalls and knew exactly how many seconds he had left before being found out. He had counted the number of footsteps to his office every time he came back into the building. It was standard training for everyone in the Circle and he knew exactly how many steps it took a
man of average height to reasonably move from that door to his office. He had been counting with Frank ever since he heard the door.
Fifteen, sixteen. He could feel his heart keeping tempo.
Just as Frank was about to reach Mark’s door the transmission ceased and he pulled out the cord with his left hand, shoving his phone into his pants pocket. He never looked down so that his focus would be toward the door and not directed toward anything else. He tried not to wonder if the cord was hanging out at all.
“Here you go,” said Frank, as he set the cup down. Frank started to shake the change in his hand. The coins made a gentle rattle.
“You keep that,” said Mark, holding up his right hand. “Consider it a delivery charge. I appreciate the help. You gave me a chance to keep thinking through my process. See, you were appropriate assistance, after all.”
Frank smiled broadly and winked at Mark as he turned and left the office. Mark made himself keep breathing normally until the tension passed on its own. No one could hear him suddenly let out a deep sigh of relief. He couldn’t remember a time when he had been so tense so many times in one day.
He would have to wait hours until he could be sure that everyone he loved was okay. At least he could duck out for an early lunch and take a quick look at his iPhone. That would confirm whether or not anyone was on to him and calm his nerves enough to make it through the day. The glimpse he got before he had to put the phone away told him that there was someone operating a large structure within Management. Millions of dollars at a time appeared to be flowing into hidden accounts and apparently without detection by the uppermost cells.
Someone was taking even larger risks than he was. If accounts like these were ever revealed there would be a lot of necessary maneuvering to contain the scandal and make some key figures pay in order to stop the appearance of embezzlement of taxpayer dollars and minimize any cry for further investigations.
It will be interesting to see if I can tell, thought Mark, which side is stealing the money. It wasn’t possible to know without a little examination if the money was for a covert operation or just flowing into someone’s pocket. Not everyone at the Federal Reserve was a part of Management.
