Once a Killer (16 page)

Michael’s eyes continued working around the wall to wall armory. “I need a weapon.”

“You’re in the right place. We have forty different brands here: Colts, Winchesters, Remingtons and Rugers to name a few.” Goatee man puffed out his chest. “We’re a family business. Been here thirty years. My father—”

Michael raised his right hand. The last thing he needed right now was a long-winded sales pitch. All he wanted was to buy a gun and get out of here.

“Look, I just want a pistol,” he said, barely disguising his impatience. “I don’t mind which.”

The man angled his head, revealing more of the tattoos around his neck. It was clear from his reaction that most of his clientele preferred to stand around and debate the pros and cons of the different brands and weapon types, but here was a customer who simply wanted a pistol. That didn’t compute.

“Depends on what you need it for.” He examined Michael a little more closely. “Our aim at Forstmann Firearms is to find you a weapon that fits your needs. We have a great inventory here. No one else in the state comes close to matching us. We’ll even custom order you a weapon if what we have here doesn’t work for you.”

Michael had to interrupt the sales pitch again. Otherwise, this was going to go on forever. “Look, we’ve had a couple of break-ins at home recently, and all I want is something to protect my family should I need it.”

“Okay. Personal protection. I got it. For that, I’d recommend a powerful full-size pistol. We carry some of the top manufacturers in the business: Glock, Beretta, Walther, Springfield. We can supply them all.”

Michael must have appeared confused by the menu of choices, as the man stopped, reached into one of the glass displays, and placed a pistol on the counter in front of him.

“Something, perhaps, like this baby.”

Michael picked up the gun and held it in his hand, pointing it to the ground.

“How’s she feel? She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” The salesman’s face was full of pride.

“It feels like a piece of plastic.”

“Advanced synthetic polymer. That there’s the most popular pistol we sell.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Don’t you want to try a few more first? Get the feel of them before you commit?”

“No, this one will do.”

The vendor shook his head. “You’ll need some ammunition. Now this is where it gets real interesting. We have a whole range of ammo choices.” He reached behind him and retrieved a few boxes from a drawer. “I’d start by considering these and then—”

“Listen, just give me some bullets that will fit in this gun, and I’ll settle up.”

Shrugging his shoulders, goatee man accepted defeat. “Do you have your certificate of eligibility?”

“What on earth is that?”

The man looked confused. “We can’t sell you a firearm without it.”

“Are you serious?”

“You don’t think we sell these things to anyone who walks in here?”

“I had no idea what was needed. How do I get one of these certificates?”

“You’ll need to attend an approved handgun safety course.”

“What?”

“But don’t worry. We look after our new customers. We can set it all up for you. Let me get the paperwork.”

“You mean I’ll have to come back again for the gun?”

“That’s right. Once you have the certificate, we give you the weapon.”

Michael couldn’t believe he’d have to come back again in a couple of weeks. As the man dealt with the paperwork, he looked around the shop. This was, indeed, an alien world. Propped up at different spots on top of the glass displays were framed photos of what must have been regular customers, proudly perched over a variety of dead animals and holding rifles. What was it that gave these men and women such pleasure in killing? Michael would never understand it. If these people could get a certificate, then he certainly shouldn’t have a problem.

He paid the deposit in cash and hurried to his car before anyone else came in. When he placed the paperwork on the passenger seat of the Lexus, he prayed he’d never have to use the weapon once he had it. Even more important, Caroline could never be allowed to know what he’d bought this morning. Like him, she had never agreed with people owning guns. He’d have to find somewhere safe to keep the pistol at home, somewhere she’d never look. At least now he had a few days to think about where that might be.

Chapter 20

I
F
I
T
H
APPENED
T
O
N
ICK
W
ALKER
, it could happen to him, too.

Rondell was under no illusion about his relationship with the Czechs; they supplied the funds, and he delivered the returns. While he was making good money for them, he would be looked after, and they could be generous—very generous. In addition to a monthly management fee, out of which he paid the salaries of his trading team, Rondell’s firm received fifteen percent of all profits made by the Grannis Hedge Fund. So the prospect of taking on more of Prague’s funds to manage was an attractive one because he’d have a bigger pot with which to make profits. On the money he’d been given to manage up to now, already he’d earned almost twenty million personally—not bad for a poor black kid from Chicago’s south side. But the moment he ever lost money, he’d become an enemy, and if he blew too much, the Czechs would have no hesitation in wiping him out, as they had with Walker. For a fund whose trading was built entirely upon inside information, there were no excuses for making a loss; that should never happen.

To continue making money for his paymasters, and to keep them off his back, he’d have to make sure Danny Boy kept coming up with new deals like the Spar transaction they were about to complete. Indeed, the acquisition of Collar Telecom looked like a good one, just the sort of opportunity he’d anticipated Danny would uncover for him. While the temptation to trade heavily on a good deal like this was immense, Rondell understood the benefit of restraint. Play the long game: trade little and often, spread across many different accounts, was the way to go. For years, this steady approach had kept his firm below the SEC’s radar, thus avoiding the attention of the authorities.

Returning to his Cedar Street offices after the Guernsey trip, Rondell called his six top traders together for a briefing. All of them were bright young men, well-educated, and with a track record of making money on the market. They also shared one other common trait: each of them had something to hide on their resume, which meant the big firms wouldn’t touch them—a spell inside, a gambling or drug problem or, maybe, a previous bankruptcy. How else could a seedy firm like Rondell’s attract such trading talent?

The conference room was humming with testosterone and hair gel.

Rondell scanned around the oval table before setting the scene. “We’ve got our next one lined up. The deal’s due to be announced Tuesday of next week, so that gives us only four business days to get it done.”

“What do you have?” asked Steve Lupo, the perma-tanned head trader, leaning onto the table. He was in his late twenties, with slicked-back hair that curled up as it hit the collar of his starched white shirt. A gold bracelet jangled on his left wrist whenever he moved.

“The target is called Collar Telecom.”

Lupo whistled. “They don’t come much bigger.”

“That’s right. We can go a little heavier on this one.”

“How heavy do you want us to go?”

“Up to eighty-five mil. Tops.”

“Man, that’s some exposure.” Lupo looked at his colleagues. “Have we ever gone that high?”

The others shook their heads no.

Rondell grinned. “This one comes from a very special source,” he said. “I’m not worried about the exposure for the fund. This one’s a banker.”

“What about the SEC?” asked Lupo. “It’s a chunk of money to shift in four days.”

“Providing you guys stick to your individual trading limits with each broker, there’ll be no trouble. But you’ll need to widen the broker net to spread the load. Whatever happens, do not exceed your individual broker limits. Is that understood?” Rondell looked at each of the traders and collected the nods. “And always make sure you use nominee accounts. I want nothing directly linking this to Grannis—not a single stock.”

Lupo flashed an arrogant smirk as he reclined in his chair, tapping at his iPad. “The price right now is a little under twenty-one bucks a share. What’s the bid price? Something approaching twenty-eight?”

Rondell puffed out his chest. “Better than that. The deal will be announced at thirty.”

“Dope.” Lupo licked his lips and then looked at the others. “Have you guys worked out the bonus on this?”

Rondell raised his right hand. “Let’s get the deal done first.”

“We could do with a few more like this. Who’s the source for this one?”

Rondell tilted his head toward Lupo. “You know I can’t tell you that. All I will say is the information is solid and there’s going to be plenty more just like this. Don’t worry about that. I just need you guys to do your job.”

“Cool.” Lupo leaned his hands onto the table top and prepared to stand. “Are we done here? Because I’d like us to get started.”

“We’re done. Get to work.”

In the days that followed, Rondell checked his Bloomberg screen several times an hour, looking for any evidence of a rising price for Collar’s stock. Thankfully, it hovered around twenty-one dollars per share, never varying by much. His people were obviously doing a good job of acquiring the stock without disturbing the market. They were professionals, just how he liked it.

The day before the deal was due to be announced, Lupo swaggered into Rondell’s office with the daily trading report.

“We’re there,” Lupo said, taking the seat facing Rondell’s desk. “Eighty-five mil committed to Collar Telecom. The deal’s in the bag.”

Rondell looked up from his screen. “What’s our average in price?”

Lupo shuffled with the papers he’d brought with him. “The exact answer is $20.88.”

“Good work.”

“Spread across nineteen different broker nominee accounts.”

“That should avoid any unnecessary attention.”

“I can’t see us getting any heat. The stock price hasn’t really moved.”

“So I see. I’ve been keeping an eye on it.”

“When the deal gets announced at thirty bucks tomorrow morning, our profit will be a little over thirty-seven mil for the fund.”

“Not too shabby for a few days’ work.”

While Rondell appeared casual, he’d already calculated the profit on what was their largest insider deal so far. His firm’s fifteen percent would be worth five point six million and, after paying his team their bonus, he’d still be left with a little under four million for himself. Even Prague ought to be satisfied with this one.

Danny Boy had served them well. Now all he needed to do was line up the next one.

Chapter 21

T
HE
M
ORNING
T
HE
S
PAR
D
EAL
was due to be announced, Michael arrived at his office early so he could watch it live on his PC and follow the market’s reaction. He had no idea how much Rondell was going to put into the deal but, so far, there hadn’t been any unusual price movements ahead of the public statement. At least that was something. Right now, there would nothing to prompt an investigation by the SEC. While he’d dodged this first bullet, the guilt of betraying his friend and client, Amanda Etling, was still eating away at him.

“Big day,” said Glen Towers, putting his head into Michael’s doorway as he passed on his way to his workstation.

Michael looked up from the screen. “Sure is.” He tried to force a smile. “Always nice to see another deal reach the finish line. Congratulations on your first transaction. You did some good work on this one, Glen.”

“Thanks. I’m looking forward to the next one.”

“That won’t be long.”

Michael carried on looking at the PC when Towers left. The fees on this deal would take the firm’s average profits per partner into the big league, just as Art Jenks had hoped. Although Dudek, Collins, & Hamilton would be earning millions on the transaction, Michael still wouldn’t have been upset to see it abort at the last minute—anything to deprive Rondell of the illegal profits he’d be making today.