Dan asked a few more questions, and the conversation ended.
37
“Nice place, Rik,” said Yousseff, glancing at his childhood friend. “A long way from the school yard in Jalalabad.” He was standing in Rika’s thirty-seventh-floor office, looking toward downtown Los Angeles. The name on the door read “Rika Mahafi Financial Corporation.” She had a staff of 15 workers; all were Pashtun, and most were women. Each had been chosen for two qualities — first, loyalty, and second, an adeptness with numbers. The financial controls for all of Yousseff’s North American operations were headquartered here. It was here that the company moved money from one numbered account to another, from a Liechtenstein Trust to a Nigerian Bank, through mazes of numbered companies and accounts spread throughout the world. It was here that the profits from the Canadian stores and gas stations, Pacific Western Submersibles, and hundreds of real estate properties were tabulated. It was here that the shares for Ba’al, Izzy, and Kumar, among others, were assessed and weighed.
A sister company existed in Karachi, where Rika was also in charge. The Pakistani company was called the Karachi Mahafika Accounting Corporation, and had about 30 employees. That was where Rika handled the accounts of Karachi Drydock and Engineering and Karachi Star Line. The Karachi branch also managed and tracked thousands of real estate investments held by a host of shell companies, in both Afghanistan and Pakistan. And it managed the jewel in Yousseff’s crown — more than $100 million in prime downtown Karachi real estate. It also kept accounts on the drug sale operations, though these accounts were heavily disguised.
If one were searching for the nerve center of Yousseff’s operations, the Karachi and Los Angeles accounting offices would be a prime place to start. If a paralyzing strike were to be made against his criminal enterprise, it would have to be focused here, in Rika Mahafika’s offices. Yousseff realized this, and it was for this reason that he and Rika had hand picked each and every employee. The currency of loyalty held sway, and everyone in the company knew it. A betrayal here would destroy the entire organization. Before it did that, however, it would bring on Ghullam or Marak, with their guns. This fact alone had kept the employees in line for the last 20 years.
Rika had picked Yousseff up at the PWS Long Beach factory and driven him to Century City to show him around her offices. The door leading from the reception area to the main office of her building was equipped with locks and deadbolts. The office contained workstations, but no separated areas, and her own corner office. When Rika wasn’t there, a state-of-the-art security system was activated.
Rika’s personal office had more than 400 square feet of floor space, and was equipped with a massive black granite desk, facing outward toward the window that overlooked Los Angeles. Half a dozen computer screens were sitting on the desk, all displaying the ever-changing colors and shapes of Microsoft screen savers. Yousseff and Rika were sitting in two comfortable chairs at a low coffee table in a corner of the office.
“Say you want me to go to Jalalabad, Youssi. It’s still home. Always will be. I could go back there today and be comfortable and happy.” She was two years younger than Yousseff, and even in her 40s still possessed the striking beauty of her youth. She had an ex-husband in Karachi, an ex-husband in Los Angeles, and an on-and-off-again relationship with a lawyer working in another building in the Century City complex. Neither ex-husband nor lover had ever been allowed into Rika’s office, and neither was privy to the nature of the commerce that flowed through its doors and Internet connections.
“Four children, Rika, and you still look great,” Yousseff said affectionately.
“Go on, Youssi. You’re going blind in your old age,” she replied. “And probably desperate too.”
He smiled and bowed. “Yes. To both.” They both knew that, despite their sporadic connections, and visits that numbered only three or four a year, she still loved him. It had been true at the great battle of the Four Cedars. It was still true today. They both knew that his feelings toward her were almost as strong.
“What brings you here to me, Youssi? Surely not just to make love?” Rika joked.
“Well, maybe that, and an exit strategy,” he replied.
“Exit strategy? We talk of making love and all you think of is an exit strategy. Men are pigs,” snorted Rika.
Yousseff smiled. “For business. Not for love, dummy.”
“What are you up to, Youssi? I feel something big afoot.” They had both switched to their native Urdu at this point.
“Yes. There’s going to be a large event. Soon. It will create a financial earthquake that I want to take advantage of. It will also create an intense manhunt.”
“Youssi, you had better not be thinking of sending airplanes into buildings. If you’re ever a part of anything like that, I will never work for you or see you again. What are you planning?”
“I can’t tell you, Rika. But I can say that there will not be a large loss of life. Not even 100 people will die… less, I think, than the number killed every hour when that madness with the Soviets was at its height in Afghanistan. Less than the number that die every day in Iraq. But it will be truly spectacular. I can promise you that.”
Ever since the battle of the Four Cedars, Rika had believed anything Yousseff told her. If he said something would come to pass, and would be spectacular, then it was undoubtedly so. She grew more serious.
“What do you need me to do, Yousseff?”
“A couple of things. We are going to have some fun in the stock and commodities markets. Here is a list of stocks to short. On margin. I want you to use that Liechtenstein Trust, together with one of the Russian or Nigerian offshore banks. This has got to be hidden so deep that Allah Himself couldn’t find it. Can you do that?”
“Youssi, what do you think I’ve been doing for you ever since we started Karachi Drydock and Engineering? I’ve been burying things that deeply for more than 20 years now. Yes, I think I can do that.”
“Good, my love. Very good. Here is a list of companies whose shares I want you to buy, also on margin. Hide this the same way, but use a totally different connection of banks and trust companies. If, perchance, someone finds out about the first series of transactions, I don’t want them to automatically find the second.”
“I think I can probably do that too, Youssi.” She looked at the list. One entry stood out. “You want to short KSEW?” she asked, looking at the name of their old nemesis.
“You noticed,” replied Yousseff.
“You’re going to whack Nooshkatoor?”
“Kind of,” said Yousseff. “He made things very miserable for Kumar and me for many years. In several ways, actually.”
“You know he lives in England now, in some fancy district in London? You know he’s become very important and powerful and all that, right?”
“I know, Rik. It will make things all the more delightful,” Yousseff replied.
“Anything else?” asked Rika.
“Oh yes. Don’t do all the purchases, sales, or stock positions at once. Use multiple transactions, spread out over the next two days, starting now. Try to vary the banks, trusts, offshore banks, and Third World banks. Can you do that too?”
“Of course, Youssi, anything for you. Nothing is impossible. I’ll probably have to work a little harder, but I can do it. Sure. My staff is capable. We can handle it.”
“Good,” he continued. “We need to go short in some commodities and long in others. Do you know your way around the Chicago Mercantile Exchange, the London Metal Exchange, the Beijing Commodity Exchange, the Hong Kong Futures Exchange, the Tokyo International Financial Futures Exchange, the International Petroleum Exchange, you know, places like that?”