The Paris Vendetta (27 page)

FIFTY-ONE

E
LIZA STROLLED TOWARD THE STAGE AT ONE END OF THE HALL
. A quick glance at her watch confirmed the time. 11:35
AM
.

Twenty-five minutes left.

“We will take our trip to the top soon. First, though, I want to explain what I am proposing for our near future.”

She faced the group.

“Over the past decade we’ve seen a great deal of change in world financial markets. Futures, once a way for producers to hedge their products, are now simply a game of chance, where commodities that don’t exist are traded at prices that bear no relation to reality. We saw this a few years ago when oil topped off at more than $150 a barrel. That price had no relation to supply, which was, at the time, at an all-time high. Eventually, that market imploded and prices plummeted.”

She saw that many in the room agreed with her assessment.

“America is mainly to blame for this,” she made clear. “In 1999 and 2000 legislation was passed that paved the way for a speculative onslaught. That legislation actually repealed older statutes, passed in the 1930s, designed to prevent another stock market crash. With the safeguards gone, the same problems from the 1930s recurred. The global stock market devaluations that ensued should have been no surprise.”

She caught the curious expressions of a few faces.

“It’s elementary. Laws that place greed and irresponsibility before hard work and sacrifice come with a price.” She paused. “But they also create opportunities.”

The room was silent.

“Between August 26 and September 11, 2001, a group of covert speculators sold short a list of thirty-eight stocks that could reasonably be expected to fall in value as the result of any attack on America. They operated out of the Canadian and German stock exchanges. The companies included United Airlines, American Airlines, Boeing, Lockheed Martin, Bank of America, Morgan Stanley Dean Witter, Merrill Lynch. In Europe, they targeted insurance companies. Munich Re, Swiss Re, and AXA. On the Friday before the attacks, ten million shares of Merrill Lynch were sold. No more than four million are sold on a normal day. Both United and American Airlines saw an unusual amount of speculative activity in the days prior to the attack. No other airline company experienced this.”

“What are you suggesting?” one of the group asked.

“Only what an Israeli counterterrorism think tank concluded when it studied Osama bin Laden’s financial portfolio. Nearly twenty million U.S. dollars in profits were realized by bin Laden from the September 11 attacks.”

M
ALONE HEARD THE ROAR OF A HELICOPTER OVERHEAD AND
glanced up to see a Royal Navy Westland Lynx sweep past at low altitude.

“NATO,” Stephanie said to him.

At Stephanie’s instruction, the men encircling the woman in the courtyard had lowered their weapons.

“I did as you wanted,” Stephanie called out in French.

The bomber did not reply. She stood fifty feet away and kept her gaze on the arcades that surrounded the Court of Honor. She remained edgy, unsteady, keeping her hands in constant movement.

“What do you want?” Stephanie asked her.

Malone kept his eyes locked on the woman and used the few seconds when her gaze drifted away to ease his hand beneath his jacket, his fingers finding the Beretta that Stephanie had provided a few hours ago.

“I came to prove a point,” the woman yelled in French. “To all those who want to treat us with hate.”

He clamped his hand tight on the gun.

Her hands kept moving, the bomb controller in constant flight, her head flitting from one point to another.

“Who is
us
?” Stephanie asked.

Malone knew his former boss was playing the scenario by the manual. Keep the attacker occupied. Be patient. Play for a fumble.

The woman’s eyes met Stephanie’s. “France must know that we are not to be ignored.”

Malone waited for her to resume her visual reconnoiter of the cobbled pavement, just as she’d done before.

“Who is—” Stephanie said

The hand with the controller swung left.

As her head pivoted toward the opposite arcade, Malone freed his gun and leveled his aim.

S
AM HAD SECRETED HIMSELF JUST BEYOND THE MEETING
room’s stage, out of sight. He’d managed to remain inside the room, undetected, as the rest of the staff vacated. The idea had been to maneuver one of them within earshot. He’d watched as Meagan had tried, but was corralled by the other servers to help remove some serving carts. Her frustrated eyes had told him that it was up to him, and he’d made his move.

No security personnel remained inside. All of them had been stationed outside. No danger existed of anyone entering from the doors that led out to the observation balcony, since it was nearly two hundred feet above the ground.

He’d listened to Eliza Larocque’s speech and understood exactly what she was describing. Short selling happened when someone sold a stock they did not own in the hope of repurchasing it later, at a lower price. The idea was to profit from an expected decline in price.

A risky venture in a multitude of ways.

First, the potentially shorted securities have to be borrowed from their owner, then sold for the current price. Once the price dropped, they would be repurchased at the lower value, returned to the owner, the profit kept by the short seller. If the price climbed, as opposed to falling, the stocks would have to be repurchased at the higher price, generating a loss. Of course, if the short seller knew that the price of a given security would drop, and even the exact moment when that would happen, any risk of loss would be nonexistent.

And the profit potential would be enormous.

One of the financial manipulations his and Meagan’s websites had warned about.

He’d heard rumors within the Secret Service about bin Laden’s possible manipulation, but those investigations were classified, handled many levels above him. Perhaps his postings on the subject were what had caused his superiors to apply pressure. Hearing Eliza Larocque say many of the same things he’d publicly speculated about only confirmed what he’d long suspected.

He’d been closer to the truth than he’d ever realized.

A
SHBY LISTENED WITH GREAT INTEREST TO WHAT
L
AROCQUE
was saying, beginning to piece together what she may be planning. Though he’d been charged with arranging for Peter Lyon, she hadn’t shared the substance of her entire plan.

“The problem with what bin Laden set in motion,” she said, “was that he failed to anticipate two things. First, the American stock market was completely closed for four full days after the attacks. And second, there are automatic procedures in place to detect short selling. One of those, ‘blue sheeting,’ analyzes trade volumes and identifies potential threats. Those four down days gave market authorities time to notice. At least in America. But overseas the markets continued to function, and profits were quickly extracted before anyone could detect the manipulation.”

Ashby’s mind recalled the aftermath of September 11, 2001. Larocque was right. Munich Re, Europe’s second largest reinsurer, lost nearly two billion dollars from the destruction of the World Trade Center, and its stock plummeted after the attacks. A knowledgeable short seller could have made millions.

He also recalled what happened to other markets.

Dow Jones down 14%, Standard & Poor’s 500 Index reduced 12%, NASDAQ Composite down 16%—those same results mirrored in nearly every overseas market for weeks after the attacks. His own portfolio had taken a beating—actually the beginning of a downturn that progressively worsened.

And what she said about derivatives. All true. Nothing more than wild bets placed with borrowed money. Interest rates, foreign currencies, stocks, corporate failures—all of them were gambled upon by investors, banks, and brokerages. His financial analysts once told him that more than 800 trillion euros, worldwide, stayed at risk on any given day.

Now he was learning that there may be a way to profit from all that risk.

If he’d only known.

M
ALONE WATCHED AS THE WOMAN SPOTTED HIS GUN. HER
eyes locked on his.

“Go ahead,” he yelled in French. “Do it.”

She pressed the controller.

Nothing happened.

Again.

No explosion.

Bewilderment swept across her face.

FIFTY-TWO

T
HORVALDSEN SAT RIGID IN HIS CHAIR BUT HE WAS FINDING IT
hard to maintain his composure. Here was a woman calmly discussing how a terrorist profited from murdering thousands of innocent people. No outrage, no disgust. Instead, Eliza Larocque was clearly in awe of the achievement.

Likewise, Graham Ashby seemed impressed. No surprise there. His amoral personality would have no problem profiting from other people’s misery. He wondered if Ashby had ever given a thought to those seven dead in Mexico City. Or had he simply heaved a sigh of relief that
his
troubles were finally resolved? He clearly did not know the names of the dead. If he had, Ashby would have reacted when they were introduced earlier. But not a hint of recognition. Why would he know the victims? Or care? Amando Cabral had been charged with cleaning up the mess, and the less Ashby knew of the details, the better.

“Why have we never heard of this before?” Ashby asked.

“The Internet has been alive with rumors for years,” Larocque said.
“Les Echos
, a quite reputable French financial periodical, published an article on the subject in 2007. Several American newspapers have hinted at the story. People whom I know close to the U.S. government tell me that the entire matter has been stamped classified. I don’t imagine the Americans want those rumors confirmed. Officially, the Securities and Exchange Commission has stated that there was no insider trading.”

Ashby chuckled. “Typical Yanks. Slam a lid on things and hope it goes away.”

“Which this did,” another in the group said.

“But we can learn from that effort,” Larocque said. “In fact, I’ve been studying it for some time.”

M
ALONE LOWERED HIS WEAPON AS THE SECURITY MEN SWARMED
over the woman. Her arms and hands were restrained and she was hauled from the Court of Honor.

“How did you know to call her bluff?” Stephanie asked.

“That bomb out front was nothing. They could have blown the entire church away. Lyon was counting on a loose net and took advantage of it.” He motioned with the Beretta at the controller on the pavement. “That thing activates nothing.”

“And what if you’d been wrong?”

“I wasn’t.”

Stephanie shook her head.

“Lyon didn’t lead us here to kill us,” he said. “He knew Ashby was playing both sides. He led us here because he wanted us
here.”

“That woman had no idea. The look on her face said it all. She was ready to blow something up.”

“There’s a fool for every job. Lyon used her to buy more time. He wants us busy, at least until he’s ready for us.”

Inside the courtyard, surrounded by the Invalides’ four-story buildings, they could not see the Eiffel Tower. What was happening there with Sam and Henrik. He thought back to the dome and the transponder. “My guess is, when we shut that homing device off we signaled for the show to begin.”

Stephanie’s radio sprang to life.

“Are you there?” The voice was a deep baritone and instantly recognizable. President Danny Daniels.

Surprise filled her face.

“Yes, sir. I’m here,” she answered.

“Cotton there, too?”

“He is.”

“Staff wanted to handle this communication, but I thought it better that I speak to you myself. We don’t have time for translations and interpretations. We’ve been monitoring things here and you’ve got one squirrelly mess over there. Here’s a new wrinkle. Six minutes ago a small plane diverted off its flight path and bypassed a scheduled landing at Aéroport de Paris—Le Bourget.”

Malone knew the field, located about seven miles northeast. For decades it was Paris’ only airport, famous as the landing site for Charles Lindbergh’s transatlantic crossing in 1927.

“That plane is now headed your way,” Daniels said.

All of the dots connected in Malone’s brain and he said, “That’s what Lyon had been buying time for.”

“What do you want us to do?” Stephanie asked.

“There’s a NATO helicopter landing, as we speak, to the north of the Invalides. Climb aboard. I’ll contact you there.”

E
LIZA WAS ENJOYING THE MOMENT
. T
HE EXPRESSIONS HER
words inspired on the faces of her audience confirmed that she’d chosen this group correctly. Each one was a bold, intrepid entrepreneur.

“Bin Laden failed because he allowed fanaticism to overtake good judgment. He wasn’t careful. He wanted to make a statement and he wanted the world to know he made it.” She shook her head. “You can’t generate long-term profits from such foolishness.”

“I’m not interested in killing people,” Robert Mastroianni said.

“Neither am I. And it’s not necessary. All you need is a credible threat that the public fears. Within that fear is where we will operate.”

“Isn’t the world scared enough?” one of the others asked.

“Indeed it is,” she said. “All we have to do is use it to our advantage.”

She reminded herself of something her mother had taught her.
The best way to gain listeners’ confidence is make them think you have trusted them with a secret
.

“We have the wisdom of the papyri. They taught Napoleon a great deal and, believe me, they can guide us as well.”

She settled her face into a thoughtful expression.

“The world is already scared. Terrorism is real. None of us can alter that. The issue is how that reality can be used.”

“Cui bono,”
one of them said.

She smiled. “That’s right. Who benefits. That Latin principle describes this endeavor perfectly.” She raised a finger to add emphasis. “Have you ever considered who does benefit from terrorism? There’s an immediate increase in airport and building security. Who controls all those facilities? The flow of air traffic—not to mention data. Profits are made by those who provide these essential services. The economics of the insurance business is directly affected. The militarization of our air, land, water, oceans, and space is occurring at increased levels. Nothing is too expensive to protect us from a threat. The business of logistical support, engineering, and construction services related to the
war
on terror is staggering. This war is fought more by private contractors than the military itself. Profits made there are almost beyond comprehension. We’ve seen shares in companies that supply war-support services increase in value by five to eight hundred percent since 2001.”

She smiled, offering a lift of her brow.

“Some of that is obvious, I realize. But there are other, more subtle ways to profit. These I want to speak with you about after lunch.”

“What are you planning?” Ashby asked her. “I’m bloody curious.”

She did not doubt that observation. She was curious, too. Wondering if Ashby was a friend or foe.

“Let me explain it this way. In the late 1990s South Korea, Thailand, and Indonesia all experienced near financial collapse. The International Monetary Fund eventually bailed them out. Our own Robert Mastroianni was working with the IMF then, so he knows what I’m referring to.”

Mastroianni nodded in assent.

“While that bailout occurred, investors ransacked all three economies, reaping huge profits. If you possess the right information, at the right time, even in the risky derivatives and futures markets, millions in profits can be made. I’ve made some preliminary projections. With the nearly three hundred million euros we currently have on hand, a return of between four point four and eight billion euros can reasonably be expected over the next twenty-four months. And I’m being conservative. All of those amounts would accrue tax-free, of course.”

She saw that the group liked that prediction. Nothing appealed to a person with money more than the opportunity to make more money. Her grandfather had been right when he said,
Make all the money possible and spend it, for there is much more to be made
.

“How would we be allowed to get away with this?” one of them asked.

She shrugged. “How can we not? Government is incapable of managing the system. Few within government even understand the problem, much less how to fashion a solution. And the general public is totally ignorant. Just look at what the Nigerians do every day. They send out millions of emails to unsuspecting people, claiming that a huge return can be made on some sort of unclaimed funds, provided you forward a small administrative fee. Countless people around the globe have been bilked. When it comes to money, few think clearly. I propose that we think with crystal clarity.”

“And how are we to do that?”

“I’ll explain all of that after lunch. Suffice it to say that we are in the process of securing a source of financing that should provide us many more billions in untraced resources. It’s a cache of unrecorded wealth that can be invested and used to our collective advantage. Right now, it’s time for us to venture to the top of the tower for our few minutes of viewing.”

The group stood.

“I assure you,” she said, “the trip will be worth it.”