The Money Is Green (10 page)

Crystal sighed. “Bring the assignment with you. I’ll help you out.” She quickly changed out of her uniform, putting on a pair of jeans and white tennis shoes. Picking up her backpack, she made her way to the kitchen. The smell of garlic, pepperoni, and cheese hung in the air, and she suddenly felt hungry. “Dad, I want to go over to
Bridget’s and study with her. We have a big algebra test tomorrow and I need some help.”

Her dad turned around from making a salad and studied her face. He looked out the kitchen window and saw his neighbors talking and milling around outside their building. “How long do you think you’ll be gone?” he asked.

“No more than two hours. Save me some of that pizza so I can eat it when I get home.”

He nodded as she made her way toward the front door. “Be home before it gets dark,” he yelled at her as she left.

Fifteen minutes later, she and Steve were sitting on a wooden picnic table at the Frances Percy Park, which was one block from their apartment complex. Even though it was still daylight, the numerous streetlights surrounding them came on and lit it up like a sports arena. A couple of skateboarders were busy trying tricks at the other side of the park, but otherwise the place was deserted.

Crystal tossed her backpack on the table and folded her arms. “Okay, give me your assignment.”

Steve sheepishly pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to her. She studied it for a second then pulled a pencil and small calculator out of her backpack. She scribbled numbers and punched buttons for the next fifteen minutes before handing the assignment back. “Make sure you turn it in. It doesn’t do you any good if it sits in your backpack and never gets to your teacher.”

Steve nodded and smiled as he folded the paper and put it in his back pocket. “Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.” He reached down and pulled a joint out of a front pocket of his khaki shorts and put it to his lips. He lit it and took a deep drag. He turned and held it out to Crystal. “You want some?” he croaked out.

She hesitated a second, then shook her head. “You know I’m trying to get a soccer scholarship for college. If I get caught smoking weed, I get kicked off my soccer team and there goes that dream. You enjoy it by yourself.”

Steve smiled and took another drag. “Okay, I’ll do that,” he replied, spewing smoke out as he talked.

Crystal rested her feet on the bench beneath the table and put her hands together. “I want to get away from this town so bad. Summer can’t come fast enough.”

“Where would you go? Don’t you have soccer practice in the summer?” he asked.

“There is some practice that I would miss, but it’s not intense until the end of August so I’d be fine,” she replied. “I want to go live with my mom in Fargo. It’s almost been a year since I’ve seen her and I miss her so much.”

As he blew out more smoke, he started to cough. Crystal slapped him a few times on the back and he stopped. “Thanks. Why don’t you buy an airline ticket and go? What’s stopping you?”

She looked at him with a scrunched-up face and threw her hands in the air. “Well, duh. How about the money for airfare? I don’t have a job because of soccer and the tooth fairy didn’t leave five hundred dollars under my pillow. My dad doesn’t want to buy one for me and my mom says she’s broke. That’s why I don’t just go.”

He nodded knowingly. “Well, that explains it. How about if I drive you?”

She looked up at the sky and then at him. “Yeah, right. You’ll just find a car out of nowhere and drive twenty-five hundred miles and drop me off at my mom’s doorstep. You can’t even drive.”

He held up his hands defensively. “Hey, wait a minute. I meant that. I turn sixteen next month. I’m getting my license then. My uncle told me he’d let me have this older Toyota he has stored in his garage. It would be a great time.”

Crystal’s eyes grew wide and she grabbed his hands. “Do you mean it, Steve?” she squealed with delight. “You’d do that for me!” She threw her arms around his neck and gave him a big kiss on the mouth, knocking him off balance.

He reached out and caught himself with one hand, pulling away. “Hey, let’s not go crazy here. I told you I’d drive you, and I’ll stand by my word. We’ve got a few weeks to figure out the logistics of the trip.”

Crystal stood up, jumped off the bench, and did a little dance. “Oh my god, I’m so excited.” She stopped and grew serious. “We can’t tell anyone. I can’t let my dad find out and I want to surprise my mom. Can you keep this quiet?”

“Of course,” he answered. “I won’t say a word.”

“Perfect,” she said, clapping her hands. “I’d better get back. It’s starting to get dark. Will you walk me back to the apartment complex?”

He jumped off the picnic table and dusted off his pants. “Let’s get going. I’ve got some planning to do. Boy, will your mom be surprised when you show up at her doorstep.

T
WELVE

S
moky air hung over the shabby bar room, which was dimly lit by wall sconces spaced ten feet apart with dirty yellow bulbs. A large dark-stained wooden bar stood on one side of the room, with a dozen well-worn barstools up against it. A large mirror hung on the wall behind the bar. Glass shelves with various bottles of liquor were stacked against the mirror, making it appear there were two bottles of everything. Patrons hunkered down over their drinks and conversed in low tones, their lit cigarettes hurling grey smoke toward the ceiling. The lone bartender, a slender man with wispy hair, stood with one foot resting on a sink behind the bar as he conversed with one of the patrons.

At the far corner of the bar, a short, stocky Chinese man in a dirty wife beater shirt and baggy pants conversed on a cellphone. His bald head and dark beady eyes, along with the pencil-thin moustache, gave him a sinister look, which fit in nicely with his current surroundings. A tattoo of a large dragon came from across his chest and ran up his right arm and shoulder.

He stopped his conversation short and looked down at his phone. He put the phone back to his ear. “Hey, Tom, I’ve got to take this call.
I’ll talk to you later.” He clicked the phone and put it to his ear again. “Hello?”

“Wo Sung, my brother, it’s been a long time. How’s my favorite Chinaman?”

Wo laughed. “I’m doing fine, Congressman Waters. It’s always a pleasure to hear your voice. We haven’t talked in a few weeks. To what do I owe this phone call? Is it business or pleasure? You know I specialize in both.”

“Strictly business this time, Wo. I have a job that I know you’ll be interested in for a couple reasons. One, the payout is very generous, and two, it needs to be done quickly.”

“Well, let’s start with the generous part.” Wo looked over at the bartender, who was still talking to the same patron. “How much will this job pay?”

“Seven hundred fifty thousand up front and seven hundred fifty thousand upon completion.” There was a pause on the line. “Is that generous enough to get the esteemed Wo Sung’s attention?”

Wo checked himself out in the mirror, flexed a bicep, and nodded his head. “Yes, that’s gotten my attention and I’d like to hear more. Tell me what it is you’re looking for.” He pulled out a small notepad and pen from his pants pockets and sat down at the bar. Listening intently, he took notes as Waters went through the job.

After going through for twenty minutes what he wanted done, Waters asked, “Do you have any questions for me?”

“Hold on a minute,” Wo said as he continued writing. He slowly went back over the instructions he had written down and then answered, nodding his head, “I think I understand what you need taken care of. It shouldn’t be complicated to carry out. I will text you where to wire the money and I’ll get to work. If I have any questions or run into any problems, I’ll get back to you.”

“I’m going to be busy with some important legislation sessions this week, Wo, so I may not be easy to get in touch with,” Waters said, his voice lowered. “If there are any problems, get in touch with my
aide, John Clayton, and he’ll relay your message to me. But I’m sure you’ll be able to handle this with no sweat. You’re a pro’s pro.”

Wo smiled and thought, And you’re a dirty politician, Eugene. “I’m sure I’ll be able to take care of this for you. I’ll let you know when I complete it so you can pay me the balance. I’ll be in touch with you soon.”

“One more thing, Wo. Once you’ve successfully completed this mission, I’d like to meet and discuss your Mexican project. I think I’ve got a way to help you facilitate getting your cargo to Mexico. We’ll talk when you’ve finished.”

Wo hung up and sat in silence, his mind running through the various options for getting the job done. He called out to the bartender, “Hey, Tan, get me a tequila shot with a lime.”

As he waited for his drink, he tapped his index finger on the bar and hummed to himself. I think I’ll do this myself. It’s just down the highway in San Jose and it’ll be easier for me to do it than explain it to another person.

The shot glass of tequila was delivered, and he tossed it back with one motion. He threw a five-dollar bill on the bar and left. He muttered to himself as he pushed through the door to exit, “This job is going to be a piece of cake. Why are they paying a million and a half to get it done?” He shrugged as he walked up the steep street. “What do I care, as long as I get paid? And if Eugene can help me with the Mexican project, that’s even better.”

T
HIRTEEN

T
he fairway to the fourth hole at Parkland Golf Course in Walnut Creek bent to the left halfway down the hole. The manicured lawn looked impeccable except for small divots at various places on the course. Jason stuck a small tee down in the ground and set the white Titleist ball on it. In a graceful motion, he smacked it straight, watching it travel two hundred eighty yards before it ended up dead in the middle of the green. Jason glanced over at Brian and said casually, “You should save yourself a lot of grief and pay me now. If you do, I won’t say a word the rest of the round.”

Brian’s hands rested on the top of his driver. He laughed as he stuck his tee into the ground. “You haven’t beat me in two weeks, so why should I worry about you after one good shot?” He took a few practice swings and then laced his ball twenty-five yards past Jason’s. He put his club on his shoulder and walked past Jason, slapping him on the back. “See, it’s too early in this round for you to be cocky.”

They both laughed and headed to the golf cart parked on the pathway next to the tee box.

As Jason drove, Brian adjusted the golf glove on his left hand. “When do you think you’ll make a decision about Copper Mountain?”
Jason asked as he sipped an iced tea. “Will it be right after the deadline or are you going to make all of us bidders sweat?”

Brian leaned forward and checked his cellphone. “It will be right after the deadline. I’m not going to string you out. I tell you, this green movement is getting bigger by the moment. You made a great move getting into it when you did.”

Jason turned to him and grinned. “Well, that was thanks to you. I didn’t realize how much money was involved. With that stimulus bill that went through Congress, there’s billions and billions of dollars lying around for the asking. Although I understand the construction and manufacturing side of solar farms, I don’t get the economic aspects of it. Why are these projects so coveted?”

“Let me explain it in a nutshell,” Brian explained. “I put together a large fund for my investors to develop these projects. The day we’re done, we can take a thirty percent tax credit on the whole cost of the project or apply for a thirty percent cash grant. Then we can depreciate eighty-five percent of the whole project cost over six years. Basically, the federal government is paying eighty percent of the cost of the solar farm, and after six years my investors have their initial investment back and start clipping big coupons of money when we sell the power we generate back to the utilities. It’s almost like printing money.”

Jason whistled softly. “Wow, that’s a pretty slick program. No wonder you people are always saying the money is green. Maybe when I save enough I could put some money into one of your projects.” Jason stopped the cart at the next tee. A creek meandered down the fairway on its left side, emptying out into a small lake at the front of the hole, where several Mallard ducks swam around lazily under the weeping willow that grew out of a small island in the middle of the lake.

“Would you at least give me a hint as to where we stand on the bidding?” Jason asked.

“Do you know who you’re competing against?” Brian asked nonchalantly.

“Yeah, it’s Earth-Sun, another Chinese company like Soltech.” Jason made a ninety-degree right turn and cut across the neatly mowed grass to where his ball rested. “They’re tough to compete against. I’ve lost a couple of bids on solar farms to them. If we lose this bid, my boss, Mei Chen, will not be happy. She might even take it out on me and fire me.”

Brian stepped out of the cart when Jason had stopped it. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re her golden boy, the one she’s grooming to run the company. Why would she fault you if you lose a bid fair and square?”

“She can do whatever she wants because she owns the company. Mei has made overtures about me running the company, to be the president of operations. It’s a great opportunity, but I’m not sure I want all the pressure that comes with it. Mei is such a ruthless boss. I don’t know if I told you much about my trip to Shanghai where I toured the main manufacturing facility. You talk about a sweatshop. The place has deplorable work conditions. The workers are not much better off than slaves.” He shrugged. “If I were to take her offer to run Soltech, it would be under the condition that I would be able to make any changes that I see fit.”

“That’s one of the things that concerns me about Soltech, is their work environment. I’ve never seen their plant but I’ve heard about it, and it doesn’t give me a lot of confidence in the product they’ll put out. However, if she puts you in charge, that could be a game changer. I’ve always found that if you create a better environment for your workers, you get better products.”

Jason pulled a seven iron out of the golf bag strapped to the back of the cart. “That’s what I always thought. You manage a lot of workers at Inter-Power, Brian. What’s your experience with how you treat your employees versus the production you get out of them?”