by L. Todd Wood
He could feel it. It was going to happen. It was a home run, the big short.
The debt load was now unsustainable. The U.S. was like Greece, who defaulted several years ago but on a scale that was unimaginable. There was no way the United States could pay back the debt. The economic power of the world had shifted east to Asia. It was people like Keshwar who recognized this and were planning to become rich off this realization.
The Bloomberg terminal squawked with an incoming message. Most trading was done this way now, as there was a written record of the conversation as opposed to verbal communication, which introduced additional human error.
The market data terminal system, or Bloomberg, was founded and developed by the now multibillionaire Michael Bloomberg of New York City fame in the early eighties. He presciently realized that Wall Street would pay big for a terminal system that could provide fast, accurate market data, along with associated analytics. Over the years, a messaging service was added, which recorded all trading communication and currently was relied on to provide proof of instructions given. Trading systems were standard to the system now as well.
With over 250,000 terminals presently in the network worldwide, the business was a cash cow. The monthly access fee was not cheap. One could not realistically operate on Wall Street today without a Bloomberg.
The orders were transmitted briefly and succinctly. Keshwar sold another hundred million U.S. long term bonds for his client.
July 1, 2017
“You like her a lot, don’t you?” asked Alex as Kate’s car drove up to the club.
“I do, mate, she’s special,” said Connor as he glanced in the direction of Alex’s gaze.
Kate drove up the hill to the parking lot and was now walking higher towards the building where the two sat nursing a couple of beers on the upper deck. They watched her slowly approach. It was a pleasant sight.
The Cricket Club overlooked the Bahamas National Cricket field in Nassau. The downstairs level consisted of locker rooms for the home and opposing teams. The second floor was comprised of a bar and restaurant with a large deck, which allowed patrons to eat and drink and have a perfect view of the field. It was a very British scene with a touch of Caribbean thrown in for spice. The wall around the field was covered in pastel advertisements that the area was known for.
Cricket had its roots in the early medieval bat and ball games of Europe. It was derived from the same origin as American baseball. Although, the two games evolved along different lines but from the same general source, similar to the evolution of man and apes from the same origin. The name cricket was believed to come from the Old English word cricc, which meant staff or rod. Cricket became very well established in England as the national sport and then spread throughout the English-speaking colonies with the growth of the British Empire. In the Caribbean, cricket was worshipped and created great nationalistic fervor.
The game consisted of a bowler pitching the ball toward a batsman. The batsman had to hit the ball and run to touch the crease at the other end of a rectangular pitch in order to score a run. Outfielders similar to baseball fielded the ball and tried to dismiss the batsman. The game was played on an oval field and could last for up to five days. As an American, Connor did not understand the passion the game created in-country, but he was attempting to learn the sport.
Above the field stood Fort Charlotte perched on the high ground. Her cannons pointed outward towards the harbor a quarter mile away to the north as they did hundreds of years before. It was as if they still protected the island from invaders. The cruise ships were moving in and out of the harbor as always. The sun was making its way down to the horizon, accentuating the crystal clear blue water. A cool breeze took the edge off the heat as the night approached.
Kate walked through the bar and restaurant area on the upper floor and joined them both on the deck. Connor pulled up a metal chair for her as she arrived, the feet of the chair screeching over the surface of the floor.
“Well I can see you both are doing well at the moment,” she said as she surveyed the multiple empty Boddingtons’s on the table.
“Yes several dead soldiers,” responded Alex. He motioned for the waitress to bring another round for all of them.
They drank for a couple hours in the pleasant Bahamian environment. Several of the local girls came up to Alex, and he slipped them money under the table. They walked away embarrassed but happy. Kate and Connor shot him inquisitive glances.
“I cover the health insurance for a few of the local ladies I’ve met here over the years,” he remarked. “Sometimes you have to give back a little, you know?”
“Ah, so you have a soft spot,” remarked Kate. She was getting to know him better but still had reservations. “You really have gone native.”
“You have no idea,” Alex fired back. The banter between them was awkward thought Connor. It was obvious Alex didn’t like her.
They enjoyed the early evening.
Sometime later, a younger, native black man approached the table. Connor saw Alex stiffen.
“You need to be careful, Alex,” the man said in a thick Bahamian accent. “You need to protect ya tings, mon,” he said again in broken Caribbean English.
“You need to watch what you sayin’ mon, in front of my friends,” Alex shot back.
Alex stood up out of his chair to face the man, and they stared each other down. Kate put her hand on Connor’s leg as they looked at each other, wondering what was going on.
“You gonna get hurt, mon, we know what you’re bein up to.”
“Leave,” Alex commanded. “Before I hurt you myself.”
The man turned away and went down the stairs out of the club.
“Something you want to tell me?” asked Connor when the guy was out of sight.
“My business, mon.”
“No problem,” Connor answered but he was worried.
Connor and Kate left the club, and she drove them both back to the Hilton. The Bahamian nightlife was still raging around them as they walked from the parking lot to the lobby. They ended up sitting in the bar late into the evening. Their company was a group of English flight attendants who had flown in that night. Obviously they weren’t flying the next day, as they were drinking heavily.
Since Alex had left for the evening to go home, Kate asked, “So what’s going on with your friend?”
“I don’t know but something is definitely going down. I’m worried,” Connor answered.
“That’s an understatement. He’s crashing and burning and you don’t know why.”
“He’s a friend and I trust him. Or at least I used to.”
“Well maybe you shouldn’t.”
They stared at each other for an eternity.
“Speaking of crashing, why don’t you just crash in my room,” Connor offered. “I’ve got a king and I won’t take advantage of you,” he teased and winked at her.
She looked at him with a discerning eye for a few moments.
“Maybe I’ll take you up on that,” she responded. “No reason to pay for another room this late at night.” What the hell, I like him, she thought to herself.
They made their way to the elevator.
Chapter Nine
July 2, 2017
The fire leaped out of the window in the tower directly across from him like a tongue; he saw people in the window nearby actually incinerated in the fireball. Smoke was pouring out of all the openings above the eightieth floor like water from a colander. He could feel the terror. It consumed him. It was as if it controlled him, played with him.
He searched each of the windows from the top of the building down until he saw her. She was calling for him, looking for him desperately with her eyes. She couldn’t find him.
The fire came closer; she began to cry in pain.
Another man in the same office was next to her. He reached out and held her hand. The windows had long blo
wn out, sending the glass to endanger anyone left standing below. They looked at each other in sorrow and accepted their fate. They jumped.
“No!” Connor screamed.
He shot up in the bed and emptied his lungs in unbearable horror.
Kate awoke in a frightful state, trying to understand where she was. She was disoriented. She was in a strange environment.
When she realized it was Connor, she reached for him. She pulled him close and covered him with kisses.
“It's okay,” she said quietly over and over again. “I’m here, I’m here. Shhhhh.”
Connor was shaking. Slowly he started to calm down.
She pushed him back down on the bed and straddled him. He tried to say something, but she held her hand to his mouth. She pulled off the T-shirt she was wearing and bent down and kissed him, softly at first but then harder. Her breasts lightly touched his chest teasingly.
Connor responded violently, pulling her close to him. He reached down and ripped off her panties and entered her. She whimpered softly. They made love for what seemed like an eternity.
He exploded inside of her as she cried out in pleasure. Neither one of them said anything for a long time. Then Connor broke the silence.
“My wife died in the Twin Towers. I’ve haven’t been with another woman since,” he said softly as she lay next to him and caressed his face.
The next morning, Connor found himself walking along the man-made boardwalk lining the shore of the harbor in Nassau. The pounding surf had eaten away at the concrete barrier, and parts were falling into the ocean. The sea constantly tried to change the islands, and the humans constantly tried to stop it.
It’s a never ending battle, he thought.
His heart was heavy. He was confused.
Kate had left early on her way back to the science institute on Eleuthera.
He had emptied his heart to her. He hoped it wasn’t too much for her, but she seemed like she really cared. He had connected with her.
He loved Emily very much. Up until the day he met his wife, he had not really felt love. She filled a hole that was unfillable.
He picked up a rock and threw it into the crystal clear blue water. It was beautiful here. The morning air was clean and crisp, but the heat was coming.
He wanted the pain to stop but didn’t know how. Kate seemed to show the way out but could he trust her? The age-old problem: does he open himself up to someone and the possibility of her not living up to his expectations or to the possibility of losing her as well? It was unfair of him to hold her to that standard.
He kept walking. The local kids were playing in the surf and laughing with their parents. A naked, little baby girl played in the waves.
That should have been my life, he thought angrily.
Suddenly he realized he was feeling guilty. He had been with another woman besides his wife.
He reached the other side of the park near the harbor and saw the line of bars highlighted with pastel Caribbean colors. Breakfast was cooking and alcohol was available. The smell of conch cooking on the fire drew him closer.
“Time for a drink,” he said to himself as he walked to the nearest hut.
April 23, 1804
New York
Aaron Burr was seething with rage, the kind of rage that can turn a heart cold.
He stared at the election results.
He had lost again. He had worked so hard to achieve the pinnacle of success, yet it eluded him once more. He was still not satisfied. The ambition burned within him.
His political career was basically over. This time it was the governorship of New York that had slipped through his fingers. He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to believe it. He threw the newspaper across the room.
Previously it was the presidency of the United States. He had been tied in the Electoral College with Thomas Jefferson. He was running as Jefferson’s vice presidential candidate. Although, he did not ask to be moved to the top of the ticket, things worked out so that he could have been elected. His supporters made it possible for him to be president.
But then Hamilton’s Federalist Party prevented Burr’s election to the presidency. It was a bitter pill to swallow.
Jefferson never forgave him for getting that close, even though it was not Burr’s intention.
Then a second term as vice president was taken from him. Jefferson did not want him on the ticket a second time. He was still angry about Burr’s having challenged him for his first term. Burr actually was very loyal to Jefferson and a sterling ruler of the senate, but it was all for naught. Even many of his political opponents had voiced appreciation for his evenhanded oversight of the upper chamber of the United States Congress.
So he had run for governor of New York. This time a smear campaign by the current Governor Clinton did the trick to defeat him.
There was a common cause running through all of these defeats, Alexander Hamilton. His conniving and intrigue directed against Burr was unfortunately very effective. He called Burr “a dangerous man, and one who ought not be trusted with the reins of government.”
The end result was that Aaron Burr was shut out of national political office.
To make things worse, Hamilton was out gallivanting all over town and disgracing Burr’s good name. Burr was hearing many reports of comments made or disparagement thrown in his direction by the miscreant. This would not stand.
Hamilton was quoted at a recent political dinner saying, “that he could express a still more despicable opinion of Burr.”
Burr challenged Hamilton for an explanation, but Hamilton only mocked him in the local press. He pretended to give Burr a lesson in the proper use of the English language.
“My honor will be avenged,” Burr said aloud to himself. The anger burned within him. It almost reached the level of his ambition.
It is time to stop playing by the rules. I have been a loyal, gallant military officer, and Washington spurned me. Jefferson turned against me. Hamilton has questioned my honor. Yes it is time to change the rules. I will kill him!
He would challenge Hamilton to a duel.
July 3, 2017
Connor returned to the Hilton after his walk ready for a nap after five beers at the bar. He had attempted to drink his problems away, but as always they lurked somewhere in the back of his mind, occasionally making themselves heard through the alcoholic haze with a vengeance.
He entered the hotel lobby and noticed the historical mural of Nassau’s history emblazoned high on the far wall. His thoughts turned back to Hamilton. How did Burr acquire access to the trust? he thought. The answers eluded him. I need to get to Nevis. There I will find what I am looking for. I can feel it.
Upon entering his room, he picked up his phone and dialed a friend. Oliver picked up the phone, the accent was unmistakable.
“Oliver, it’s Connor. I’m sorry to call you so late in the day.”
“Hello, Connor, don’t be silly,” Oliver remarked in his aristocratic English accent. “It’s a beautiful day here in Geneva. I have to say you are the last person I thought I would hear from today!” His cheerfulness came through the phone as always.
Oliver was an elderly currency trader, who made his fortune in London and then moved to Switzerland years ago. Connor had traded with him extensively in the past and knew him quite well, although they had never met in person.
For decades Oliver spent many months a year in Nevis at his home on the side of the mountain. Connor stayed at the villa many times over the years free of charge. It was one of the fringe benefits of having wealthy clients.
Calling it a home was an understatement. It was a stately compound built in the Caribbean style perched on the side of the dormant volcano. The view was magnificent.
There was the main house plus two cottages and a terrace with a pool. The outdoor kitchen next to the swimming area allowed fo
r a view of the jungle to the side of the terrace. Of course the entire home was staffed with cooks, maids, and other hired help. It was lovely, magical in fact.
Oliver had become a fixture on the island and was quite well liked by the locals.
“I need to borrow your home on Nevis for a period of time. Is it being used?”
“Why no, my boy, I have not been able to get there very much in my advanced years. My wife is quite sick as well you know. Of course you can use it. I’ll have the caretaker contact you and make the arrangements.”
“Thank you, Oliver. Tell me something. Do you know anything about Alexander Hamilton?”
“Ahh,” said Oliver. There was a short silence and then he spoke again. “Why do you ask that, Connor?”
“I’m chasing a myth.”
“You’re looking for gold?”
Startled, Connor responded, “Yes, how did you know?” His surprise came through in his voice.
“It’s been rumored for many centuries that Alexander Hamilton had a treasure trove on the island somewhere. People have looked for it over and over again. No one has ever found it.”
“Well it’s true,” said Connor. “I can prove it.”
“Indeed, you must enlighten me sometime.”
“Well maybe when we finally meet in person. Where do I start my search?”
“I would start with an ancient woman named Alma. She’s a native and must be over a hundred years old at this point. There was a myth out there that she knew something about this issue from her family, but she just talks gibberish. Maybe you could start there on your quest.”
“Thanks, Oliver. I hope your wife feels better and you get to see your beautiful home again.”
“So do I Connor, so do I.”
