The Last Hedge (19 page)

Binky was still half-dazed as they sauntered into the Starbucks. Dylan placed him in a booth while he ordered two cups of coffee. When he returned, Binky was nodding off.

“Here, Bink,” Dylan said. “Have a drink of this.”

Binky managed to get several swallows down, and suddenly became more focused. The magic elixir of coffee had done it once again.

Dylan looked around the Starbucks. No one looked suspicious or particularly interested. It was just the late afternoon coffee break in full effect.

“So, what’s going on?”

“I think they are running two sets of books. I hacked into the actual bank accounts. I saw hundreds of small wire transfers, done mostly with banks in the Cayman and other offshore entities. After a week or so, that money was transferred into actual Corbin Brothers’ accounts. Then, I looked at the real books: They must have some type of plug in the software generating fake and bogus trade files. I think that’s what caused some of the slowness in the trading system. I don’t think it’s working well. There’s some type of bug.”

“Were you able to find out who did the transfers?”

“That’s the thing. This encryption they have: I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like a team of scientists from MIT built it.”

“You think it was Josh?”

“I think Einstein might have built it. I don’t know. But I think I can break it. That’s what the timer upstairs is doing, cracking the encryption.”

“Holy shit!” Dylan exclaimed. He looked around the Starbucks. A line had formed at the counter as the afternoon rush began to accelerate.

“Binky, maybe you shouldn’t go back there today. With two sets of books you know what’s going on: fraud or pPonzi.” He looked around the place before turning back to Binky. “Listen, the FBI approached me.”

Binky looked even more confused than ever.

“The FBI approached you? About what?”

“Remember when I was asking you about short sales? But there’s something else funny going on here WAY beyond that.”

“So what do you want to do?”

“I think we both need to walk away. Now.”

“You mean quit? What about the bonus checks?”

“Forget that! I think we need to distance ourselves as quickly as possible.”

‘Why don’t we try to figure it out first?”

“Absolutely not. We’re not cops. We are traders. If we get implicated in something like this, we could never work in the industry again. We could also go to jail, just like Matland and that crew. Is that what you want?”

“Look, just let me get the rest of the files. It’s going to run a few more hours. Then we’ll know.”

“What if they catch you?”

“Trust me, Dylan, they won’t. The tools I use are untraceable.”

“This is too big, Binky. That’s it. We gotta pull the plug.”

“Dylan, I’m twenty-six. I can make my own decisions.”

“I understand that. Binky, I hired you to be an assistant trader, not to join the cast of ‘Law and Order’. Besides, if something were to happen to you, I’d feel responsible, because I got you into this mess.”

“Give me until tonight. I think I can get the rest of the information off of the network.”

“Binky, I …”

“Dylan, one more night. We can do it.” Binky reached into his pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. He handed it to Dylan.

“What is this?”

“The investor list/ I printed it out. I got the feeling they are monitoring all the USB ports.”

Dylan took the list and glanced at it. He folded it up and placed it in his pocket.

“Okay,” Dylan said. “Listen, we go back there today and finish work as if everything is normal. But I want you to call me tonight, if you get the stuff or not. Whatever time it is, call me. okay?”

“Got it.”

“And Binky, please be careful.”

“I will Dylan. I will.”

Dylan had called Vanessa immediately and they agreed to meet in the East Village, at a bar called Manitoba’s. A football game was on the TV in the background. It was Monday night Baseball the Dodgers and the Mets. Dylan had already taken a seat in a booth in the back of the bar, and he watched as Conroy and Vanessa entered. They spotted him in back and made their way towards. They sat directly across from him in the booth. They both nodded at Dylan and said hello. Dylan did not bother with formalities as he began to speak.

“The financials are definitely screwy. It was standard accounting software, Peachtree, in fact. But, from what I could tell, there were two sets of books. One seemed to be real, with a real set of names and investors, the other seemed to be fake. There was encryption on both. One Binky could break, the other he’s still working on.”

“You think it was fake?”

“I studied corporate fraud in b-school. It’s definitely fishy.”

“So the Corbin Brothers are running a Ponzi scheme?” Conroy asked.

“We don’t know that.”

“But you said the books look fishy. To me, that’s a Ponzi scheme.”

“We don’t know that. You’re jumping to conclusions.”

“Okay. What do you think it means.”

“God only knows.”

“You have a copy of any of this?”

“Yes,” Dylan said, “Binky was able to get some names.” Dylan gave Tim the printout that Binky had given. Tim to glanced at.

“Where is he now?” Tim asked.

“He’s back at the office. He’ll hopefully have the rest of the stuff tonight. Whatever he comes up with, I’ll turn it over to you.”

Dylan looked at Vanessa carefully, trying to discern the thoughts that were flowing through her brain. She seemed emotionless, impartial. Her poker face was definitely working.

“Thanks,” Conroy said. “I’m sure this will prove useful.”

“Maybe,” Dylan said. “Of course, I’ll be out of a job again.”

“A guy like you will always bounce back. Besides, he may be clean.”

“Maybe. But you’re hoping he’s not. Right?”

Conroy nodded his head in an ambiguous way. Dylan continued speaking. “After all, clean guys aren’t your job, bad guys are.”

“There are plenty more bad guys, if Corbin is clean.”

“Well, as long as I’m clean, I’ve done my part, either way. I’ll call you when Binky gets the file. Let me know what you find out.” Dylan took a long glance at Vanessa, but she turned away. Conroy smiled at Dylan, a hint of humor in his voice.

“Have you ever thought about working for us?”

“The FBI?”

“With everything that’s going on in the markets, a guy like you would be very useful. Plus,” Conroy said as he gestured towards Vanessa,” Your pal here and I could speak to Dan Highland if you want. The training is long, but you do get to carry a gun.”

“And it’s a big pay cut. I don’t have a wealthy wife.”

“You might meet one.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dylan said. Just after those words, he glanced at the T.V. over Conroy’s shoulder. The baseball game screen had flashed to a special newscast, and was now showing a screen filled with total panic. People were crying in front of what looked like a demolished building. Paramedics and doctors were frantic at the scene. The dress of the individuals on-screen seemed to indicate the country was probably in the Middle East. Conroy and Vanessa turned to see what had captured Dylan’s attention.

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know,” Dylan said. “Looks like an earthquake.” Vanessa glanced back at the screen.

“No,” Vanessa said as she shook her head. “That was from last night. A bomb went off.”

“Last night?”

“This morning here; yesterday there. Don’t you get the news on the trading floor?”

“I’ve been a bit preoccupied. Where was it?”

“Karachi. That’s in Pakistan in case you’re not up on your geography.”

Dylan’s mouth was open and his gaze was fixated on the screen. His mind began to turn and twist on the events of the last few weeks. He remembered the bank transfers that Adam had shown him, of wire transfers in and out of Pakistan. Even more alarming, the data that Adam had shown him was 8/6. A confused look was plastered on Dylan’s face as he continued to watch the television screen.

“What’s the matter?” Vanessa asked.

“Nothing,” Dylan said. “What is today's date?”

“The sixth.”

“The sixth of what?”

‘August.”

“Then today is 8/7. But yesterday was 8/6 in Pakistan. Holy shit!”

“What is it?” Conroy asked.

“I don’t know, but I have to go.”

Before Conroy could stop him, Dylan was out of the booth and rushing towards the front door.

“That was weird,” Vanessa said.

“Yeah, like a bell went off in his head or something.”

“Maybe one did.”

“I’ll follow up on what he gave us. You check in with him later?” Conroy noticed that Vanessa was staring off into space.

“V., you check in with him later?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Thanks. Let’s head back. I want to see what the hell he gave us.”

The software was called FAST, an acronym for fraud access system technology; a homegrown system the FBI used primarily for securities fraud and white-collar crime. Conroy entered his username and passwords that he vigilantly changed weekly. The screen went blank for a moment and the hourglass of the cursor appeared. The system was now ready for access.

Conroy had taken the paper printouts from Dylan and had them scanned into text files to run through the FBI computer systems. He pressed the upload button, and the system began to scan the files. One by one, the names scrolled by on the screen, a checkbox next to each verifying that the name was okay. The software scanned the file successfully, except for one entry that was moved to the bottom of the list, with a red X next to it. Conroy studied the name on the screen: Yoseph Fazziz. He hated to think in stereotypes, but already his mind was drifting away from naked short selling. He double clicked on the name and the words “Access Denied” appeared.

Conroy studied the screen for a moment. It was illogical that he was being denied access; he had never seen this message before in FAST. Typically, everyone in the Bureau could see every case, unless there was a high-level exception to the case or individuals involved. He had never seen such a case before. When the same message appeared on his second try, he decided that it was time to punt. He decided to go and see his boss, Dan Highland.

Highland was seated at his desk, when Conroy entered his office.

“Dan, I got a little problem.”

“What’s up, Timmy? Speak to me.”

“I was just denied access to a file in FAST. I’ve never seen that before.”

Highland looked up from his work. He put the papers back on his desk and gave Conroy his full attention.

“Me either. What were you running?”

“Cash gave me a file. I was running a name search on the list he gave me; an individual by the name of Yoseph Fazziz popped up.” Conroy took his piece of paper with the name on it and slid it across the desk towards Highland. Highland picked up the paper and examined it, holding it two inches from his nose. He placed the paper back on the desk and slid it back towards Conroy.

“Wow,” Highland says. “Are you sure you were running the right profile? That’s not usually what happens in FAST.”

“I know that. That’s why I’m here.”

“You want to try it from my computer?”

“Dan, looks like something locked out this name. I need you to speak to case security. Can you at least find out why?”

Dan sighed. There was often a political layer regarding access to certain cases involving sensitive information. In order to gain access to the given information, Highland would have to politic around.

“I can’t give you the exact answer, Timmy. I’ve never seen this before. But I will get to the bottom of this.”

“What should I do until then?”

“Hold tight. You got other stuff to work on?”

“Are you kidding me? I could work 24/7 for a week, and still have a backlog.” More and more of the department’s resources had been recently transferred to Homeland Security. The workload was becoming an ever-increasing issue for Highland. He was now working with just a skeleton crew.

“Fine, let me work on it. I’ll be in touch.”

“Thanks, Dan.”

“Yeah,” Dan said, as Conroy made for the door. “Hey Timmy?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t forget about the pool.”

“I won’t, Dan. I promise.”

Later that afternoon, Dan Highland shuffled into Conroy’s office and closed the door behind him. By the time Conroy realized someone was there, Highland had already seated himself in a chair.

“Brought the twenty for the pool,” Conroy said, as he removed a bill from his wallet and then slid it across the table.

“Oh, yeah,” Highland said in a distracted way. He took the bill and shoved it into the pocket of his slacks, without even bothering to remove his wallet.

“Dan. What’s up?”

“Timmy, I just wanted to get back to you on that Corbin Brothers thing. Well, I did a little research. It turns out your man Yoseph Fazziz is under some type of watch by our buddies over at Homeland Security. They’ve sealed the case file.”

“Since when does that happen?”

“Yeah, apparently this is their new procedure. There are certain files that they deem serious. They can restrict access down to an individual case level.”

“Who told you this?” Conroy asked.

“Thompson.”

“The great man himself.”

“Yeah,” Highland said with a mutter. “I don’t usually put Thompson and great in the same sentence.”

Thompson and Highland were rivals, though Thompson had recently usurped Highland in stature. Thompson now presided over the Homeland Security Unit, an initiative that had gained him power like a snowball rolling down a mountain. What burned Highland most was that Thompson had until a few years ago been his underling, a social climbing loose cannon who spent every second trying to impress the New York office’s top brass. When the homeland security unit had expanded, Thompson knew it was his best shot at climbing into the upper echelon of management. He had abandoned Highland’s ship when the tide was low. His success in his new unit had been meteoric and had grown exponentially. Despite his disdain for Thompson’s politics, even Highland admitted that the man was shrewd.