“Henri, you can’t keep eleven million dollars in cash in a shoe box under the bed,” Lake said. “You’re running an international organization, and you can’t efficiently run it with cash. You wanted real estate, business assets, licenses, government contracts, visas, letters of introduction, legitimate tax returns — you can’t use bloody cash to pay for legitimate stuff. You can launder a little bit of the stuff offshore in bank accounts, but sure as shit, the FBI or Treasury will eventually track it down, close down your U.S. operations and probably your overseas accounts. If you want legitimacy in the United States you have to dive deeper, get more creative, do more mainstream stuff. And you can’t do the same routine two years in a row, or even two months in a row, because the government tracks that stuff quarterly.”
“I am tired of this sheep’s bleating, Captain,” Ysidro said. He reached out with the speed of a cobra and grasped Lake around the neck, digging his fingers deep into the financier’s flesh. “Allow me to put an end to it.”
“Let him go, Tomas,” Cazaux ordered. He pulled out his .45 caliber automatic. “If he is to die, I will do it.” The sight of the gun pleased Ysidro, who released Lake and stepped back to watch. “Speak, Harold,” Cazaux said. “Say your last words quickly. Tell me why you should not be executed for what you have done.”
At first Lake couldn’t breathe, which made him panic even more, but the sight of the big pistol squeezed the air out of his lungs. “I got one thing to say, Henri, and if you don’t like it, you might as well blow my head off, because my career on the Street is dead anyway. I’ve got an eigh- teen-million-dollar loan coming to me later today,” Lake said — not pleading, not whimpering, just stating a fact. “I can turn that into fifty million dollars if you follow my—” “You got our money?” Ysidro asked, grabbing Lake by the lapels instead of the neck this time. “You better hand it over, bean-counter.”
“Henri, you want to start a series of operations against U.S. airports, repeating the attack on San Francisco International,” Lake said, ignoring Ysidro and looking at Cazaux’s fiery eyes. “That’s fine with me. All I’m asking is that you let me pick your targets for you.”
“You’re fuckin’ crazy, bean-counter!”
“No, I’m not. Listen to me, Henri. I lost over one hundred million dollars when you attacked SFO last night. But someone made money on that attack, Henri, big money. They make money because they predict in what direction a group of stocks will go.”
“This is bullshit, Henri,” Ysidro said angrily — he had lost track of this conversation long ago. Money, women, and action were the only activities Tomas Ysidro really understood — everything else was bullshit. “He’s talkin’ buying and selling fucking stocks with our money. Off this sonofabitch, man.”
“It’s not bullshit,” Lake said. “I’ve got it all set up. Attack U.S. airports if you want to — just attack the ones that I tell you to do, or give me a few days’ notice before you begin an operation against an airport. Give me time to get my contracts lined up. I guarantee you, Henri, we’ll make millions every time we do an operation. Best of all, it’s one hundred percent legitimate. One hundred percent!”
Cazaux looked as if he wasn’t listening, and Lake closed his eyes, not wanting to see the muzzle flash of the big .45—but instead he heard Cazaux say, “Speak, Harold.” Lake opened his eyes. The .45 was lowered. Cazaux was staring at him, but Lake knew he now had his attention. It was now or never, Harold…
“Listen, Henri, here’s how it works. We do a put-option contract.”
“What the hell are you talkin’ about, man?”
“Listen, dammit,” Lake said. “I’m talking about fast money, one hundred percent legitimate. I’m talking about turning a few thousand dollars into hundreds of thousands or even millions.
“Let’s suppose you own one hundred shares of stock that you bought at seven dollars a share, but now it’s selling on the market at ten dollars a share,” Lake began. “You’re not going to sell your stock unless it drops below eight dollars a share because you bought it at seven and you’d start losing money—”
“What is this shit, Henri…?”
“I want your stock, but I don’t have the money to pay for it,” Lake went on hurriedly. “I think your stock is going to go down to five dollars a share soon, but if I wait until then, you’ll sell your shares to someone else at or above seven. And besides, 1 still don’t have the money to buy your shares even at five dollars a share. But I’m still not out of the game, because I’m willing to pay you cash for an option to buy your stock. Follow me so far?” Cazaux nodded, but Lake knew he was getting only a few more seconds, and only because he had been a loyal lieutenant of Cazaux’s for so long.
“We agree to do the deal. I pay you fifty dollars earnest money, and we write a contract that says that if the stock goes down below eight dollars a share within the next two months, I have the option of buying your shares at any time within that two months. If the stock stays at or above eight at the end of sixty days, the contract expires and nothing happens, and you keep the fifty—”
“I thought you said you didn’t have the money to buy the stock,” Townsend interjected. Of the senior staff, Townsend was by far the most intelligent and worldly of them all — Lake knew he had to not only convince Cazaux that he was honest and sincere, but he had to explain everything carefully to Townsend or it would not work.
“I’m not buying your stock, Towney,” Lake replied. “I’m buying an option to buy your stock. If the terms of the contract are not met, I don’t have the option. If they are, I can choose whether or not to buy. If I buy, I’ve got to have the cash. But the contract I hold has value — I can sell it to someone who wants the stock, for cash. I’m not trying to own the stock — all I want is cash.”
Lake had totally lost Ysidro by this time. Most of the others were watching Cazaux. The arms dealer was carefully paying attention, and Lake believed he understood what was happening and where Lake was leading him. Townsend was starting to get confused. “But how can you get the bloody cash,” he asked irritably, “and why do you have to pay someone to buy their stock?”
“I’m paying them to pledge their stock, to put it aside until the contract has either been executed or it expires,” Lake explained. “Your stock is at ten. I think your stock is going to go to five, and I’m willing to pay you cash to promise to sell it to me and no one else if it goes below eight. You basically think I’m nuts, but you want my cash, so you agree to the deal, take the cash, sign the contract, and put your stock in escrow. The cash I pay you is yours no matter what happens.” Townsend nodded that he understood. Ysidro took another swig of bourbon, belched, and a few other staff officers fidgeted uneasily, intrigued but bored and anxious to get this over with.
“But how in bloody hell will you know if a stock that you’ve written this contract for will go down like that—” And then Townsend stopped — and Lake knew then that the English terrorist was on board. “So you’re suggesting…”
“We target our attacks in order to drive the price of the stock in the direction we want,” Lake explained, a broad smile on his face now. “We want United Airlines stock to go down, so we hit a United terminal or repair facility. The price of the stock hits rock bottom, and we clean up.
“We can play this game the other way, too,” Lake went on. “If airlines go down, other airline-related companies like airplane manufacturers and petroleum companies also go down, and oil prices and other transportation stocks, like auto manufacturers, go way up. We write a contract to buy auto or railroad stocks at a certain price, or write a commodities option contract to do the same with oil, or gold, or aluminum. When the stock or the commodity zooms past the strike price, we execute.”