A Question of Will (38 page)

“I’m afraid I can’t comment on rumors, especially those that I’ve not heard.”

“The rumor is that the Trust is out of money.”

Howe stared at Baker, in shock. How could that be possible? There were tens of billions of dollars in cash in the Trust account, and awards were rarely for more than a hundred thousand dollars. At the rate they were awarding money, they should have funds for the next few decades. It was a preposterous rumor.

“I have no comment on that rumor.”

“So you aren’t denying, then, that the Trust is out of money?”

“I’ve found that anonymous sources are rarely correct.”

“On the contrary, I’ve found that anonymous sources are rarely
incorrect
, sir. Does this mean you are denying that the Trust is out of money?”

“I’m saying our policy is that we do not respond to rumors. Good day to you.” Howe hung up the phone.

“It’s not actually possible, is it?” asked Baker, who’d been listening to the call on speaker phone.

“I can’t see how it could be.”

The computer in front of Howe made a tone indicating receipt of an email, and then another and another, until the sounds were quite constant. Howe refreshed the email screen, and both men stared in shock.

Nearly all of the subject headings were the same. Insufficient funds to complete the electronic transfer request. Request incomplete. Please deposit additional funds and retry the transfer.

The few differing subject headings were clearly from news organizations who heard the same rumor. Unfortunately, it appeared that the rumor was, in this case, true. Or at least had the
appearance
of being true; perhaps someone was spamming their email inbox with the error messages in the hopes they’d call and offer up key account details.

“I think our system has been hacked,” said Millard Howe.

Michael Baker looked at the screen, and remembered the canceled email address. “No, Millard,” he said at last. “I think we gave the keys to the thief.” He looked up. “I think this is Adam’s doing.”

Howe’s face said he thought the same thing. “We’ll need to alert our bank to stop processing any outgoing payments effective immediately, and take the website down.”

“How? Adam’s the only one with the passwords to do so.”

“Then we’ll need to issue a press release indicating that our accounts have been compromised and that no further requests will be processed, and no further disbursements will be forthcoming, until such time as the apparent compromise is resolved.”

Baker looked at him. “Do you think that will work?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what else to do, though.” He looked at Baker, and his expression was pained. “You do realize what will happen, right? Public opinion will say it was us.”

Baker blinked. “What?”

Howe nodded. “We were the only two people known to have access to that account. We were the only two people known to be able to authorize payments. The account has apparently been drained. Who else could it have been? The two men they can see, or the phantom without a last name or address we will claim masterminded it all without our knowledge?”

Baker opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it. He knew Millard was right. Adam had not only vanished with all of the money, he’d left them holding the empty bag, and no judge or jury would find a non-existent person the culprit.

Baker turned to Howe, feeling helpless. “What do we do now?”

Howe looked at him. “You’re young. You have a wife and child. If memory serves, you’re taking a vacation starting in a couple of days, correct?”

Baker nodded.

“Take your vacation. Your funds are well-diversified. Extend the vacation. Travel to a foreign country you love. And then stay there. You didn’t do anything wrong, but if you think people were out to get you — and your family — when you had access to money...wait until you see what happens when you suddenly have nothing.”

Baker felt a chill. “So you’re telling me to run? Hide? Won’t that make me look guilty?”

Howe fixed him with a stare, suddenly looking quite old. “Leave that to me. Stay away. Watch the news. You’ll know when it’s safe for you to return.”

Baker didn’t like the look on Howe’s face, but he stood up, and started to leave. He stopped, turned around, and walked back to the attorney. Holding out his hand, he said, “It’s been a pleasure working with you, Millard. I wish it hadn’t ended this way.”

Howe shook his hand. “Likewise, Michael. On both points.”

Baker left, and Howe waited to hear the sounds of the car pulling away before he started to carry out the plan he’d come up with while they’d been talking. Having Baker run would make him look guilty, but less so if there were alternative stories to consider. No one would believe an invisible man had stolen off into the night with billions of dollars, never to be seen or heard from again. But they might believe that an attorney, out of greed, and perhaps a sense of being underpaid over the years by his wealthiest client, had attempted to siphon money away into his own private accounts. Nor would they doubt that the old man might fail, literally losing the money in an effort to steal it.

And they’d fully believe what steps the man might take next in an effort to avoid punishment, whether in the courts for his crime, or in the court of public opinion for his stupidity and greed.

He pulled out a clean piece of paper and started writing out his confession, trying to make it sound plausible despite making the scenario up as he wrote. He became engrossed in the level of detail he could invent, including his (imagined) slights at the hands of the Starks, his decision to abuse the power of the purse he’d been given for the Trust, and how he’d failed.

“You should consider writing fiction.”

Howe, bent over his desk, sat upright so quickly that he nearly toppled his chair. Adam stood behind him, peering over his shoulder at the writing. He clapped the attorney on the back. “High quality. I imagine some of your legal papers over the years have taught you well in the art of writing fiction.” He smiled, as if this comment should be treated as banter between friends.

“How
dare
you show yourself here!” Howe pushed the chair back from his desk, and stood so that he could look Adam in the eye. “Why? Why would you do such a thing? Why would you leave a good, decent young man like Michael Baker in such a position? I realize attorneys aren’t always considered the most honorable people around, but I’d like to think I’ve run an honest practice. Why me? And how could you do that to the Starks?” He put his hands on the desk behind him, leaning into it as if out of breath, and one hand slid out of sight toward an upper drawer.

Adam looked him in the eye. “The bullets have been removed from the gun, so there’s no sense going to the effort of trying to retrieve it.” Howe froze, and then slowly stood back up. “As difficult as it will be for you to accept, I am doing
exactly
what Will Stark told me to do. He knew you’d never go along with it, so unfortunately I had to act in secret.”

Millard Howe shook his head. “I’m supposed to believe that Will Stark told you to steal all of his money and frame me, and Michael, for your crime?”

“Yes on the first part, but no on the second. We’d not thought of that difficulty when we set this plan in motion, and were horrified when we realized what would happen, but the money needed to be moved. I’ve been working on a means to blame a third party, so as to shift blame away from you and Michael, precisely because I know Will would not want your good names tarnished like that. The crime will be pinned on someone else.”

Millard Howe folded his arms across his chest. Despite his advanced years, he still towered above the younger man. He hoped he looked imposing. “Would you like to fill me in?”

“Naturally. Were you aware that the federal government secretly enacted an electronic funds transfer tax?”

“No.”

“They did. No one was told. In fact, the Treasury Secretary and the Chairman of the Fed did it entirely on their own. No Congressional discussion, no notification of the President, nothing. They just did it. Basically, it’s supposed to slap a surcharge on electronic transfers above a certain size. But you see, there appears to have been a bug in the code.” He arched an eyebrow.

“And what would that
bug
be, Adam?”

“Rather than taking a small percentage of such transfers, it appears it took an excessively
large
percentage of all transfers. Unfortunately, that percentage for our transfers was well above 100%; apparently, their programmer recorded the multiplier for the percentage as a whole number, rather than a decimal, and the bug hasn’t yet been formally acknowledged. How can they? It’s an illegal ‘tax’ and such a terribly obvious mistake that they’d look like fools as well as criminals. But in the end, the result was that for every dollar transferred, they exacted that fee as a surcharge from the same source account, a fee that was
multiples
of the amount transferred. It was enough to drain the massive checking account of the Trust.” He arched an eyebrow. “I’m not sure that type of bug can be satisfied with a mere apology. Are you?”

Howe knew what he thought: this man was lying through his teeth. But the story was compelling. Still... “I think you’re lying to me, Adam.”

“I have documentation to prove that it happened, that shows the division within the Federal Reserve which processes that stealth tax. I can even provide documentation showing bank balances and approved amounts of transfers, along with the amounts that actually left our accounts.”

Interesting. “And what exactly is to be done about this, then?”

“This will be your show, Millard. You will first shred your little suicide note; you need to stick around.” Millard winced; he hadn’t expected that note to be seen by anyone until...well, that was past now. Adam handed him a digital, read-only disk. “You then will write an article with full sources, including archived web site pages people can review, which explain the rumors, the transactions, and the stealth tax taken, all of which is on this disk. You will note that this tax was imposed without the required approvals of the various legislative and executive layers of government. And that this clandestine maneuver has resulted in the Fed illegally seizing the cash assets of the Stark family’s charitable Trust and foundation, to the tune of approximately thirty-eight
billion
dollars. You will demand that the Fed and Treasury provide full reimbursement — plus your legal fees, of course — for the funds seized, and immediately cease collecting this tax surcharge unless it is approved by appropriate measures. And then you will come with me.”

“Where are you going?”

“Right now? I’m going to go tell Michael to enjoy his vacation.”

“And when I’m done? When you’re done talking with Michael?”

Adam smiled. “I have a new opportunity for you. One that will make life a lot more interesting.” He clasped the lawyer’s shoulder. “Tell me, Millard, have you ever heard of nanotechnology?”

The meeting with Howe had gone as expected. It had taken Adam several years to create the fictitious documentation, exaggerating the statements about the merits of such a tax, limiting the edited conversations to just the right number of individuals to make it appear a conspiracy. The programmer alleged to have performed the transfer surcharge, including the mathematical blunder, was a relatively new member of the Alliance, one who had, indeed, worked in the IT department with the Federal Reserve, and who had ‘vanished’ from society a year earlier. Since the man’s family had predeceased him, he was agreeable to Adam using his name as one of the perpetrators of the fraud.

The entire story was an intricately woven fake, one that would take years to uncover. The upcoming disappearances of Millard Howe, who had uncovered the conspiracy, and Michael Baker, who had unwittingly played a part in exposing it, would add to public speculation that it was true, and that the powerful men behind it were trying to silence witnesses. Adam chose not to feel guilt over the public condemnation that
those
two men would face for several years. They hadn’t committed
this
crime, but Adam had found enough evidence in his email hacking efforts that he could certainly have convicted them of many others. Justice, imperfect though it was, would still be done.

And the money would go where it rightfully belonged.

XXVIII

Found

2030 A.D.

The investigations around the fire at the home of Will and Hope Stark had finally died down.

The fire itself had burned with such intensity that everything within the walls of the house had been turned to ash. The exterior walls had likewise been completely consumed by the inferno, and the only things remaining were the bricks forming the chimney and the concrete foundation walls and floor of the basement. The pile of ashen debris in the lower level was extensive, and it was impossible for the investigation team to determine if anyone once living was buried there in cremated form. News sites noted that, given the nature of the destruction, it was almost as if a small-scale, space-confined nuclear weapon had been detonated within the walls of the Starks’ home, as only a device such as that could generate the heat required to create the destruction they’d observed.