Naomi’s electric Toyota pulled into the garage underneath the US Capitol. She turned off her tablet and stashed it in her briefcase.
“You’ve reached your destination,” the car said through the speakers. “Have a great day.”
57
Derek and the Test
Derek had been arrested last night by the Metropolitan Police but, given the diplomat status of Zhang Jun, was quickly turned over to the FBI. Then there’d been the medical tests. The saliva swab. The blood test. The brain scan. Vital signs.
Now, Derek sat across from a ruddy-faced male agent, with cuffed hands and shackled feet.
“Destiny Williams said you threatened her,” Agent O’Rourke said.
“That’s true. I did. I needed her to get to Zhang. But I never had any intention of hurtin’ her.” Derek kept his word, corroborating the story he and Destiny had created to explain her involvement in the event of an arrest.
“How did you know where Zhang Jun would be?”
“I’m done talkin’. I want a lawyer.”
“You’re not helping yourself,” O’Rourke said.
Derek remained silent.
“I spoke with Detective Osgood at Metro Police. She told me that you met with Detective Rex Barrett every week for months. Then he upped and moved out of the country. It doesn’t take much of a detective to figure out that Barrett must’ve told you where Zhang Jun was located.” Agent O’Rourke paused for a moment. “Is that true?”
Derek didn’t respond, simply looking at his calloused hands.
The agent sighed and said, “It doesn’t matter anyway. We’re not interested in bringing Barrett into this mess.”
Derek looked up, narrowing his eyes at Agent O’Rourke.
The agent sat back in his metal chair with a smirk, as if he’d just played a winning hand at poker. “You can forget about a lawyer. Hell, you can forget about everything.” The agent tapped the file folder in front of him and said, “Amazing how quickly they can churn out these tests when they have a high-profile case such as yours. A positive test on a case like this’ll save a thousand hours of investigative and prosecution work.” Agent O’Rourke opened the file folder and read from the antisocial personality test. “Positive brain scan featuring a low functioning and undersized amygdala, often associated with a lack of emotion and empathy. Low resting heart rate, which makes psychopaths more likely to take physical risks and crave excitement. And a positive DNA test complete with the warrior gene. Probability of antisocial personality 99.87 percent. Looks like you’ve got a one-way trip to USPCE.” The agent smiled wide and shut the folder. “Something tells me you’ll fit right into Psycho Island.”
Derek was unresponsive and lacking in emotion.
58
Jacob and Selling Short
“The Bank of China wants out,” Ramesh said. “They’re planning to liquidate their position.”
Jacob sat behind his desk, across from his CFO, rubbing his throbbing temples. “Did they say why?”
“No, and it makes no sense.”
“We’ll have to issue more stock.”
“The stock price will crash.”
“It’ll crash when the Bank of China sells anyway.” Jacob pushed his glasses up his nose.
“They’ve agreed to sell in small blocks over the next few months, provided we agree not to issue more stock.”
“This isn’t out of kindness. They’re trying to sell for the highest price possible.”
Ramesh nodded. “There’s not enough liquidity for them to dump their shares in one batch. The algorithms would destroy the stock price. They’d end up with pennies on the Fed Coin.”
Jacob blew out a breath and said, “We’ll need a bailout at some point.”
“I agree.”
Jacob’s cell phone chimed on his desktop. He glanced at the number. “I need to take this.” Ramesh left the office, and Jacob answered his phone. “Dad?”
“How could you be so stupid?” Nathan Roth said.
Jacob’s heart rate increased. “I don’t understand.”
“They know that Rebecca was married to Derek Reeves.”
“Who knows?”
“The Chinese government. The interim CEO at the Bank of China and the top-level executives. They’ve been doing their own investigation. This is why you don’t marry someone with a checkered past.”
Jacob’s armpits were sweating now. “I’m not responsible for what Derek did. Neither is Rebecca. And she doesn’t have a checkered past. She was divorced. It’s not a crime.”
Nathan huffed. “The optics are dreadful. They know you were at Jun’s hotel. Then Derek Reeves shows up in the very same hotel and kills him. To them, you’re either involved or, at the very least, you’ve disrespected them.”
“I was there eight months ago.” Jacob sounded whiny.
“You’re a disgrace to this family. If I didn’t think it would make us look weak, I’d disavow your existence.” Nathan Roth disconnected the call.
Jacob set down his phone, a lump in his throat. He took off his glasses and wiped his eyes with his handkerchief. But the tears kept coming. He suppressed his sobs, his head in his hands, and his handkerchief covering his face.
When it was over, he wiped his face, put on his glasses, and silently chided himself. You are a disgrace. Get ahold of yourself. You’re not a child. He can’t control you anymore. Jacob thought of April. If you were a real man, you would’ve saved her, and none of this would’ve happened. Derek’s a real man. He would’ve saved her. Jacob slammed the sides of his fists on his desktop and suppressed the urge to scream.
He bowed his head, breathing deeply, trying to calm himself. Once he was calm, he grabbed his briefcase from the floor, setting it on his desktop. He opened it and removed his personal laptop. He logged on to one of his brokerage accounts. Actually, one of his shell company’s brokerage accounts. He set a series of trades, put options, and five blocks of one million shares of HTI—Housing Trust—stock, to be sold short.
59
Summer and Hell on Earth
The FBI shackled her legs and hands and then drove her to a jail and processing facility in Baltimore, Maryland. Thankfully, it was a short ride. Summer’s legs and feet swelled, and blood and tissue still leaked from her vagina. Milk leaked from her breasts. Her belly was smaller, but she still looked about five months’ pregnant. She was lucky she didn’t need an episiotomy. Summer knew that these postpregnancy symptoms were normal.
She was processed, which involved paperwork, a strip search, fresh underwear, and the donning of light-blue pants and a matching pullover that read USPCE on the back. One of the female guards gave her a sanitary napkin. Summer went through the processing with a detached demeanor, as if watching her body from above.
During processing, one of the female guards whispered, “Are you pregnant?”
“I was,” Summer replied, her head bowed.
“You must’ve just given birth.”
“Two days ago.”
The guard shook her head and said under her breath, “Damn, that’s cold.” Then she turned to the supervising guard and asked, “Is she going on the ship today?”
The supervising guard looked up from her tablet and said, “She’s a red threat level.”
After processing, she was handcuffed and shackled again, then escorted to the bathroom. After peeing, she was led down an off-white hallway along a black line. Other female inmates loped along with their guards, like dogs with their owners.