Dollar Down (18 page)

I awoke to a glow of sunlight and Alexandra's dainty
snore.

Why hadn't I chosen a path that would have made
mornings like this a common occurrence? Even I didn't know
exactly. Curiosity must be high on the list.

Avenging angel? Some of that, I expect.

Justice and righteous indignation? Not so much.

Mostly, I guess it came down to self-verification.
Anquiro ergo sum
. I investigate, therefore I am. How
ever that mix was put together, I needed all of the above to get
me out of Alexandra's bed and onto the phone.

I called McNulty to see if Hall had been home. Not only
was Hall home, he was on the phone right then. McNulty said
he was listening and would call me back. When he did, he had a
lot to say.

"The lad is nervous. I mean shaky-voice nervous. He
was on speaker phone, so I heard both sides of the call. Hall
was ordered to stay home and wait for a courier."

"Any idea what's being delivered?"

"They were speaking in code, but it was pretty evident
that it was some sort of instructions. I don't know precisely.
The most interesting thing might have been the caller."

"Why?"

"He had a Spanish accent."

The package was due sometime in the early afternoon.
I might not be able to get to London before it arrived. We'd
have to work around that. McNulty and I forged a plan on the
fly. I hung up and told Alexandra I had to leave.

"Take me with you."

First I skip out on sailing, now I skip out altogether.
Alexandra and I needed some quality vacation time, but as
soon as I would be ready, she would have to go back to
work.

"It could be dangerous."

"There's that word again. I'd be with you. I'm not
afraid."

"Well I am, and not just for you. I need to be able to
move quickly and flexibly. I might have to run or—"

"Fight?"

"I just have to be flexible. You shouldn't get into
this."

"Just let me go as far as London with you."

"No."

"You can drop me somewhere, do whatever it is you're
going to do and pick me up when you're finished."

"Not a good idea."

"I'm scared to be left alone, Mick!" Alexandra gripped
my arms. "I don't like being away from you. Are you even
coming back tonight? You don't know, do you? What am I
supposed to do? Sit in this room and wait for the sound of a key
in the lock, like at Sabine's?"

"If something happened—"

"Yes! What would you do if you came back and found
out something had happened to me here?"

She won. It was an eventuality I did not want to think
about.

On the drive to London, I ran through possible
complications in my mind, while Alexandra looked through a
guide book for a hotel. She found one that didn't require much
of a detour. She also wheedled out of me the basic objective
and McNulty's and my plan to achieve it. When she'd got that
information, she proposed a slight variation or rather a
solution to an issue that was still a sticking point.

"Say it. Aren't you glad I came?"

"Yes."

Hall was a fly that McNulty and I had intended to catch
with vinegar, or if necessary, a fly swatter. Alexandra proposed
the easier way. Honey.

McNulty was watching Hall's house. When I called, he
said the courier had already delivered a manila envelope. He
gave me the address, and I keyed it into the car's navigation
system. Before we set out for the rendezvous with McNulty, I
took Alexandra to a specialty shop.

Mission accomplished, I called again to tell McNulty
about the new plan. He didn't like it until he saw Alexandra. He
pursed his lips and let his breath out slowly in a quiet
whistle.

When McNulty broke into Hall's home to install
listening devices, he had disabled the security system at the
entry point. We would use the same method to go in the back
while Alexandra distracted Hall at the front.

She practiced her spiel. Door-to-door sales solicitations
were hardly welcomed, but with certain products, it was so
much easier. Especially if you are a man, there are items that
you simply cannot purchase over the counter. How would the
woman in your life look in this? She held a sheer nightgown
against her shoulder. Or this? She pulled her blouse open to the
fringe of lace on her bra. Then she produced a catalog. That
should keep Hall occupied while McNulty and I searched for a
manila envelope.

He had already identified an upstairs office as the most
likely place for Hall to put the package. When we heard the
doorbell, McNulty and I slipped through a back window and
climbed the stairs. The envelope on top of his desk contained
only four pages. We made duplicates on Hall's photocopier and
got out in less than five minutes. I called Alexandra's cell phone.
It took her another seven minutes to wrap up her sales
pitch.

"Did he buy anything?"

"He thinks he did. What was in the envelope?"

I wasn't certain, but I had a good idea. If I was right,
there was only one person I wanted to share the information
with. Jim Burroughs.

It wasn't that I didn't trust McNulty or Alexandra. It
was just that the fewer people who knew, the less likelihood of
failure.

When we got back to Paris, I called Burroughs. "You
have what?"

"Think of it as a communications protocol for making
trades. Example, 'Take four bottles from the cupboard and
store them in the basement.' That would indicate a
forty-thousand dollar buy-and-sell transaction. It also identifies the
buyer and seller."

"And?"

"It was sent to Tom Hall, for use on the strike
date."

"How is that supposed to help? Is Hall going to be
making public announcements in code?"

"Let's assume I can get a real-time transmission of
Hall's trading instructions. Would that help?"

"You're going to tap his phone? How?"

"A phone tap would be outside my skills. For now, just
assume it's possible to get details of trades in advance."

"OK, if you knew what the other side was doing, you
could trade against them in the cash market and prevent
futures bets from paying off."

"Theoretically, it could work if I had enough money.
Even without an exact copy of the instrument, we are assuming
that they expect the dollar to fall thirteen percent four days
from now. More specifically, it is supposed to start dropping
two days from now. For that to happen, you have to think
major event. As for fine tuning the dollar's trading level, I could
nullify their moves if I had advance information on what they
were doing. I would also need access to many billion bucks in
cash, which I don't have."

Neither did I. Burroughs and I spent a little time
speculating on what sort of event could make the dollar
plummet. War wouldn't do it, since the dollar was considered a
safe haven in troubled times. If the trillions held by foreign
governments and central banks were suddenly dumped, the
dollar could become Monopoly money in the global market, but
there was no incentive for that to happen. We ended the
conversation with promises to call if either of us thought of a
reason to unload dollar holdings.

I checked with Pascal to see if there was any news on
the Venezuelan.

Pascal said Ruiz had been met by the Saudi, who led
him to a Mercedes Benz limo.

"I didn't hear anything they said, but I definitely know
what they were talking about."

"What was that and how do you know?"

"They were talking about oil. That's a good guess
anyway, but if you doubt that, listen to me. I followed them to a
chateau about halfway between Paris and Versailles. When
they stopped, those two got out, along with two other men
dressed in white desert robes. Saudis garb up like that. Most
other Arabs go Savile Row. That place wasn't just some country
home. I checked later. It was built in the seventeenth century. It
has two hundred acres and two private lakes. Those guys are at
the top."

So far that didn't tell me much. Venezuela was a
founding member of OPEC, so a Saudi connection was
normal.

"I hung around to see who else might show up," Pascal
continued. "Another limo brought in two more Arabs and two
Asians, maybe Chinese."

That bit was news. Maybe the emirs were interested in
the liquefaction project. It would have been fun to have
listened to overfed billionaires discuss sulfur-eating
bacteria.

Pascal said he had nothing else to add. When I cut the
connection, I saw that I had a voice message. "Call me." It was
David.

"I'm leaving for Taiwan at the end of the week. I want
to see you."

"When will you be back in Paris?"

"I'm not coming back. Can you meet me or not. It's
your fault that I have to go."

I was beginning to feel like the grim reaper. Maybe it
was just coincidence, but something bad had happened to lot of
people I'd associated with Trevor's job. We agreed to
rendezvous at our old corner café.

David didn't look happy. "The mainlander, Wu, has
been giving me a hard time."

"I thought you said he couldn't touch you, since you're
from Taiwan. You're free."

He glowered. "We are free now, but maybe not for
much longer. Things are changing. My father told me to come
back."

"You said it was my fault."

"It's your fault that Wu is giving me a hard time, but
not the rest."

I stayed quiet on faith that he would get to the point
soon.

"Don't ask me how I know this, because I can't tell you.
It would put someone in my family in danger." He leaned so far
toward me that his chin was almost on the table.

I had to put my head close to his to hear his whisper, as
I tried to decide whether to head for an exit that read "Escape
from Conspiracy Nuts" or hang around to see how fanciful
things could get.

"There has been a power shift in China."

"A silent coup?"

"Not the kind that topples the leader, but you could call
it a top-down coup. The president has been arresting potential
rivals to consolidate his power. He's also increasing military
spending by double digits and building up the navy to assert
territorial claims in the South China Sea and East China
Sea."

"But that's over islets to claim mineral and fishing
rights. It doesn't threaten Taiwan."

David sat back and stared at me. There was a sense of
exasperation as though I was a student who refused to do his
homework.

"There are two things neither the president nor the
generals will tolerate: democratic reform at home and
independence for Taiwan. But that's not all of it. Ever since
Chang Kai-shek fled to Taiwan, The PLA, the People's
Liberation Army, has been saying reunify, reunify. Now, some
of our leaders talk about claiming independence. There is a
psychological as well as strategic need for the PLA to take
Taiwan. If they do not, they lose legitimacy. Someday, they will
crush us. After that the American presence in Asia will be
irrelevant. The western Pacific will become China's pond."

Not so fast lad.
"I'm not a hawk, but I think the
U.S. might have some suasion in that regard, nuclear-powered
fleet, ballistic missiles, bases in Japan, Guam that sort of
thing."

David sneered. "China can make America back off
without even an argument, much less a fight."

"How?"

"I can think of a thousand ways. Which one do you
want to hear first?"

A thousand was a big number. I expected he was
exaggerating, but I didn't ask him to recite his list.

"Maybe you already know one," he said. "Did you find
out anything more about the liquefaction process? That's why I
asked you to meet me."

That zinger was over my head. David thought China's
sulfur-eating bug would intimidate the U.S. I would have
preferred to head for the conspiracy nut exit, but David had
helped me, so I told him where things stood.

"Yesterday, I sent a sample to a lab in the States that
can analyze the bacteria. When I hear back, I'll let you know
what they found. That is, if I can. It might be a sensitive
issue."

"How can you be so sure it will even get to the
lab?"

"Express delivery, guaranteed, I paid extra for the
service."

David had already glowered and sneered. This time he
snorted.

"Do you remember I lost the sample you gave me? I
think Wu took it."

"I'd guessed as much myself."

"OK, you think I'm talking nonsense don't you."

"Umm..." He had me there.

"So how do you think Wu knew to look for it?"

While I sat in confused silence, he shook his head,
stood, and turned away.

"David—"

He looked back, gave a sardonic smile and stalked out
the door.

"—I'll get the check."

I had wanted to ask David what he thought the answer
to his own question was, but I expect if he'd had any idea, he
would have told me. On the way back to the hotel, I wondered
if Cervantes had been at the chateau with PDVSA's Ruiz and the
Saudi. Gavizon had taken himself out of the picture, afraid of
Venezuelan jackboots. I had thought about calling him anyway,
but when I went home Alexandra had my undivided
attention.

"I've been doing some reading." She held up her book
so I could see the cover.

"I know what that is."

"Then what are you waiting for? Get undressed."

She didn't have to say that twice. The book was a guide
to shiatsu therapy, the same treatment that I had given her last
night. She straddled my lower back and worked her way down
my neck. So far, so good, but she lost her oomph when she got
to my shoulders. They were wound as tight as wire rope.

"Harder."

"I can't press harder. I would break my thumbs."

"Use your heels."

"Are you serious?"

"Mmm." If we were going to do it at all, we may as well
do right.