“They are a part.” Fausto indicated to the empty chairs. “You are a part.” He motioned to Javier. “And we are a part.” Fausto gestured to himself and his henchmen. “We’re all in this mess together,” he said, making a big circle with his hands, a big mess encompassing everyone.
“Okay. Okay. I got it. I got it,” Javier said. He was close to hyperventilating. “What do you know about the bitcoin business?”
“I know nothing, except that I’m here to get the money back,” Fausto said.
“It started when Soto had a lot of cash he wanted cleaned,” Javier said. “More than I’d seen before. Instead of cleaning it through bank accounts like I’d been doing, I suggested we could use that money to make more money. I’d been reading about this currency, and I told him he could buy computers so we could mine for bitcoins.”
Fausto looked puzzled. “Mine for them? Like dig-in-the-ground mine?”
“Not the ground,” Javier said. “Computational mining. Very powerful computers solving complex problems.”
“What kind of problems?”
“Computations that help to guarantee the integrity of bitcoins’ general ledger.”
“What does that mean?”
“Every bitcoin transaction has to be validated,” Javier said.
“You’re clear as fog,” Fausto said.
“How do you prove somebody bought and sold something that you can’t hold?” Javier said. “You can count dollars, weigh gold and silver, but how do I prove that I have as many bitcoins as I say I do? I could be faking it. Without proof, nobody would trust the system, and the currency would be worthless. The bitcoin ledger, that’s the official accounting of all the bitcoins bought and sold. The computational mining we do validates that every transaction on the ledger is real. It’s complex computing work, but anytime a bitcoin miner can confirm a block of transactions is real, they get bitcoins rewarded to them for the effort. Mining it is hard computing work. It’s how they limit the number of bitcoins in circulation, which helps sustain value.
“So Soto bought a bunch of expensive computers with his money, and he’s using those computers to mine for these bitcoins.” A strange, almost excited look had replaced Javier’s more terrified one. It was, after all, his idea; and with lots of highly educated but underpaid computer experts in Mexico, Soto had little trouble getting the operation off the ground.
“And that’s how you collected two hundred million dollars’ worth of these bitcoins? By mining them?”
“Not all,” Javier said. “I also bought bitcoins on the exchange, but those transactions were anonymous. Nobody knows I bought them, unless I try to off-ramp the bitcoins.”
“‘Off-ramp’?”
“That’s where you sell the bitcoins. Owners of the coins are anonymous until they sell their coins. When somebody sells, the transaction gets broadcast for the whole bitcoin community to see.”
“So that’s how you know this kid from the school took the money?” Fausto asked.
Javier nodded. “Yes, yes. The Lion traced the seller’s IP address. I was shocked to see that the coins were sold from Pepperell Academy.”
Fausto was beginning to understand, and it pleased him. “How do you know who at the school took the coins?” Fausto asked.
“The Lion worked his magic and somehow penetrated the school’s computer network. From there, he got a name-David Townsend from Chicago.”
“So then we go and get this David person to give us back our money.”
“It’s not that easy,” Javier said.
“Why not?”
“The Lion hacked into David’s computer at school. I figured we could get the money back before anybody even knew it was gone. My guy said it wasn’t easy to do. I guess this David kid is a computer nut himself and he had all sorts of firewalls and protections, things I don’t understand. Eventually he managed to get in, and that’s when he showed me messages between David and his friends about the theft.”
“Friends?”
“They call themselves The Shire.”
Fausto creased his brow. “The Shire? What’s that?”
“It’s the name of their club,” Javier said. “These kids are a group, a cartel of sorts. They’re like cyber bank robbers or something. They steal from rich parents of kids who go to Pepperell Academy and give the money anonymously to different charities. My guy, he figured how to decrypt the group’s charter and I read it. It details their methods. They use key loggers, different ways of getting pass codes to bank accounts, and then they transfer out small sums of cash.”
“So they hacked into your computer here at your home. Is that it?” Fausto looked aggrieved.
“It’s the only way they could have emptied my bitcoin wallet.”
“And they took two hundred million dollars’ worth of these coins?”
Javier nodded grimly.
“You kept that much money in one stupid wallet?” Fausto looked to his accomplice. “Efren, how much money do you have in your wallet?” he asked.
The stocky man reached into his back pocket, took out his brown leather wallet, and counted the bills within. “About six hundred pesos and a few hundred in dollars,” he said.
Fausto, animated, pointed to Efren. “You see? That’s a normal amount of money to have in a wallet. A few hundred dollars. Not two hundred million, cabrón.”
“It’s different with bitcoins,” Javier said.
A shadow crossed Fausto’s face. He crouched to get eye level with Javier. “They emptied your big, fat wallet. It’s no different,” he said. “So we go find this David person and we get the money back. End of problem.”
Javier shook his head. It wasn’t the end of anything. “I’ve read the e-mails and text messages the kids have been sending to each other. They don’t have the money. At least they say they don’t.”
This captured Fausto’s attention.
“Or one of them is lying about not knowing,” Fausto said. “Maybe they picked each other’s pockets. Two hundred million dollars is a lot of reasons to betray a friend.”
“What do you suggest we do, Fausto?” Efren asked.
“How many are in this group, this Shire?” Fausto asked.
Javier thought. “There are six,” he said. “Five boys and one girl.”
“Then we go door-to-door and take them,” said Efren. “We make them talk.”
Fausto frowned and gave Efren a cold, irritated look. “That’s going to be a problem,” he said. “We need to take them all at once. Do all these kids sleep at the school?”
Javier shook his head. He didn’t know.
“Maybe they do, maybe they don’t,” said Fausto. “Either way, home or at school, we have too many doors to break down. Too many witnesses. Too much could go wrong and could bring a lot of police before we get back the money. We need to go in and get out without anybody knowing we’re there. We need time to interrogate these kids all together, like the police would do. Get them to turn on each other until one gives up the money. We must make them talk. That’s what we must do.”
“The school is filled with kids,” Efren said. “How do we do it?”
“I want to see a map of the area,” said Fausto. His sphinxlike smile pricked goose bumps on Javier’s skin.
“What are you thinking, Fausto?” Efren asked.
“A friend of ours works for BVC Environmental, a chemical trucking company. He’s the reason we got this burro working for us in the first place.” Fausto pointed to Javier. “I guess they are cousins or something.”
“So?” Efren looked confused.
“I think with our friend’s help we can empty out the school of every single student and teacher, but leave our friends from this so-called Shire behind.”
The grin was back in full. Fausto’s golden mouth reflected light from the overhead fluorescent bulbs, like a star going supernova.
CHAPTER 9
Winston, Massachusetts, was part of Berkshire County, a quintessential New England town with picturesque views that looked like something out of a bank calendar. It was a small community, only twelve thousand residents, but its downtown was thriving: several quality restaurants, a movie theater, drugstore, shoe store, various craft shops, and more mom-and-pop establishments than chain stores. If not for the dedicated efforts of the town’s zoning commission, Winston might have turned to bigger companies for acquiring higher tax revenue. Instead, the commission made every effort to foster a traditional small-town atmosphere.