Key Weird 06; Key Dali Page 13
Another shrug.
“So after a day of recovering out by the motel pool sipping Bloody Marys, we were ready to go to work. We had the names of all the internet security companies’ employees and their addresses, so Mole and I divided up the names of the company that did the Greater Keys work. We put on the disguises I’d had custom made in Key West by that old carnie woman – mostly just wigs and scars and a fake mustache for Mole – and spent a day doing the old bogus survey bit to check out our candidates. Amazing what neighbors and even family members will tell you for a few complimentary scratch-off lottery tickets.” I get a wink.
“We made our selection and that night Mole pays the man a visit. I had other business to take care of back on the Rock, and since Mole didn’t really need me for the next part, I split for Key West.” Now Stoney’s grinning. “I bet you didn’t know Mole’s a big pirate buff? Yeah, always reading books about Blackbeard and all those guys. Anyway, there’s this one old pirate trick Mole’s been dying to try out.
“So Mole goes to the guy’s place that night – we picked a single guy living alone – and forces his way in and gets the guy trussed up and, of course, Mole is wearing a fright mask and the guy is about to wet himself but trying to act brave thinking it’s just some crackhead looking for cash or something to grab and hock. Mole’s sitting there with the guy all tied up at the kitchen table. When the guy finally settles down, Mole tells him he wants to know about how to get into the bank’s computer system. The guy flips out all over again and rambles on for a while about triple failsafe codes and a bunch of other nonsense. Mole wants to let the guy know he’s really serious, so he takes out this big badass Bowie knife and asks the guy if he wants to see an old pirate trick. Guy is shaking now and saying the same things about codes again so Mole real quick puts one of the guys hands flat on the table and whacks off the end of the little finger on the guy’s left hand. It happens so fast the guy just sits there dumbfounded, staring at his hand. The reason it happened so fast is because not only has Mole been wanting to do this for years, but has been practicing on carrots and link sausages and all kinds of things.
“So anyway, while the guy is staring at his finger in total disbelief, Mole tells him that’s what pirates would do to get someone to give up information. He tells the guy the smart ones only lost part of one finger, but before Mole can continue on with his story about what happened to the stubborn ones, the guy is reciting long lists of numbers and security codes and his social security number and mother’s maiden name, and his own bank account number, and every other kind of personal information you can imagine. Some of it real personal.”
Stoney shakes his head and takes a good slug of chowder from his cup.
“So Mole gets the guy’s finger bandaged up and the guy is telling him about the time he cheated on a math test in school and every other secret he’s ever had. Mole is actually a very compassionate guy, just a little twisted, and does a real good job on the first aid. The guy says he understands completely when Mole explains he’s sorry about the finger and it’s just part of the job. Mole even has a couple of pain pills for the guy and after a few beers and a pizza delivery, the fright mask comes off and they’re the best of friends.
“That’s what I meant when I said things had snowballed. We’d originally just wanted to take care of the note on the marina so Jim and his wife wouldn’t lose everything they’d worked for, and some fat cats from Singapore or Munich or Dayton or someplace could come in and ruin another slice of the real Key West.”
I can tell from his eyes that Stoney feels just as strongly about this as a lot of people. The big difference is that he’s doing something more than sitting on a barstool bitching about it.
“But now instead of someone we have to pry every little scrap of information out of, we have a guy who is not only cooperative, but wants to partner-up. Mole calls me and discretely tells me the story and I tell him it sounds like some kind of Stockholm Syndrome, and for him to use his better judgment. So they get the guy’s computer out and go for it.
“The guy really knows his stuff, it turns out. Not only the incredibly intricate technical aspects of computer security and financial accounting, but the inside story on what’s going on with banks these days, which might explain why he’s anxious to go in with us. While he’s powering up his computer he starts this rant about how arrogant banks are since they got all that federal bailout money a few years ago.
“He tells Mole this is like the Golden Age for banks. Not only do the big boys – the banks so big they can’t be allowed to fail – get free federal money if they make a bunch of bad loans, but rates are so low they don’t have to pay much of any interest to their customers for savings and money market accounts while the banks are using that money to play the markets.
“The guy says the first thing the banks did when they got all that government money was go out and hire the best PR firms and get some slick, feel-good advertising campaigns that made them look like something other than greedy incompetents. Then they went out and bought the latest, state-of-the-art computers and security systems, and last but not least, hired the top people in the ever-lucrative business of money hiding.
“Once they had all that going, they didn’t need to worry about government auditors checking on where those billions of dollars went, plus by then the government was hurting from giving away so much cash and had freezes on things like upgrading computers systems and even started cutting the hours on a lot of federal workers. A few of the best and brightest computer people left their government jobs and went to work for the banks. Of course, the big banks also used some of their government cash to buy smaller banks – like Greater Keys.”
I tell Stoney I am amazed to hear this.
“I hadn’t really thought about it myself, but it makes perfect sense when you think about what the car companies did with their share of the bailout money. Did General Motors use that money to design and build better cars so they could sell more cars and get back on their feet? No. Maybe they spent a little of the money for R&D, but mostly they spent the money on slick television ads so they could sell more cars. Sadly enough, it worked.”
The shrug again.
“But anyway, our man says that even before the government giveaway program, the banks were already full of themselves from years of controlling congress with their extensive network of top-shelf lobbyists. Those lobbyists are horribly expensive, but still readily affordable as long as the banks can continue to make a killing in the dark market of unregulated OTC derivatives – and get away with it, thanks to the lobbyists. Plus they knew they would always have plenty of advance notice for any kind of investigation by sluggish, easily bribable government auditors with outdated equipment. So between all this and the latest firewalls, encryption programs, and other security measures, a lot of bank executives have gotten overconfident and sloppy. Which is actually fine, just as long as no one cuts a finger off one of the security people they also pay so well and rely on so heavily.”
We both smile at this. I am beginning to think my dietary choices over the next few years may not be as restricted as I’d feared.
Then there’s a knock at the door.
∨ Key Dali ∧
29
Bank
I’m sure my eyes are as big as pie plates, but Stoney is having a laugh while pulling money out of his wallet. “I ordered some sandwiches online while you were in the shower.”
I insist on paying with a few soggy dollars and retrieve the food from the delivery guy. We each get set up with another round of chowder to go with real Cuban sandwiches made Key West style by real Cubans. The first cup of chowder had only awakened my appetite. Now it is time to eat.
We enjoy the delicious fare in silence for a while, but I can’t stand it for long. I don’t even say anything, just lift an eyebrow the next time Stoney looks up. He smiles, but I know he’s dying to tell me the rest.
“Where was I? Oh yeah. So after the guy gave Mole the skinny on
what a lot of banks are up to these days, he starts clicking keys on his computer like crazy in spite of being down a finger. At first Mole had him explain what he was doing in each step, but before long he gave up trying to understand the tech talk and just settled for updates on the guy’s progress. Mole made a big pot of coffee and they settled in for a long night.
“After an hour or so of digging, our new partner found what he was looking for: an account separate from the normal accounts a bank has for options, bonds, deposits, income interest, loan interest, and hundreds of other individual, partnership, service, and transfer accounts. In with all that he even found the account for the bank executives’ bonuses. But that wasn’t what he was looking for. Since the big stink about executive bonuses in companies that received bailout money, this account was pretty small. The account he found separate from all the other accounts, the one he was looking for, however, was huge. And it turns out from checking past records, this account had more than enough to not only make up the difference in executive bonuses, but was in the CEO’s name. Which not only made it easy for the CEO to personally distribute the funds, but for our man to do the same. Remember what I said about the bank execs getting overconfident and sloppy?”
I put down the last of my sandwich for a moment so I can concentrate fully on smiling. But I don’t say a word and let my friend continue.
“Trick with this sort of thing is to not leave any footprints, so just to be safe our man spent most of the night accessing overseas servers and setting up a series of accounts for shell companies that don’t even exist. By morning, when the US banks opened, he set up accounts in several Miami banks, then Mole put his fake mustache and wig back on, and over the course of several hours visited different banks to move large amounts of money around.”
Now I had a question. “What about the marina?”
“Our man did some checking on Jim, the marina’s owner, and came up with an idea. He set up an account with a discrete bank out west, a kind of trust fund. Jim and his wife Maria will be informed, most likely today in fact, that one of the guys he served with on a Navy carrier years ago has passed on and anonymously left Jim a lump sum and a monthly trust that should come in very handy for things like payments on the marina. Those carriers are like floating cities with thousands of people onboard, so even if Jim gets curious it’s going to take him years to run down the dead end.”
I cannot think of any better news and tell my friend as much. I take a moment to sit back and enjoy the waves of happiness washing over me and to let Stoney enjoy his sandwich and soup. As soon as he finishes the last morsel he goes on.
“That secret account for the bonuses was so big that taking care of the marina didn’t even put much of a dent in it, so Mole and our new partner decided that not getting any sleep the night before had aged them to the point where they should both retire immediately for health reasons. They divided up the cash they’d collected that morning, and after making a generous deposit to my account with Greater Keys, they shook hands, exchanged e-mail addresses, and went their separate ways, each with suitcases of cash and a few leftover overseas accounts.”
“You have an account at Greater Keys National Bank?”
“Several, actually. Granted, they’re scum, but they do have the best laundering rates in South Florida.”
Stoney crawls over to the bed and holds up a plush manatee the size of a terrier.
“So Mole is gone? I would have liked to thank him for what he did for Jim and his wife, and for all the people at the marina.”
“Yeah, Mole is definitely gone. With the way he is about large bodies of water I’d say Kansas by now, or maybe Arizona.” I get a smile and a wink. “I meant to ask how you’re coming on your houseboat idea for the orphanage?”
I’m sure my face tells the story, but I tell it as well, just in case. I tell him everything, including the secret hiding place that had been cleaned out of every last dollar of the money I had saved for Father Murray’s orphanage. I take from my pocket what I found in place of the money: a pair of green knee socks.
Stoney shakes his head in disbelief.
“Man, that’s low.”
While I’m at it, I mention the sabotage at the marina, and that we determined by remotely accessing his computer that the man we suspected turned out to be a person of very low morals doing re-con for a bank job, but not working for the bank or their lawyers. I also tell him about the potato bag, which I’m now thinking may have been planted by Socks, and which we totally fell for.
Stoney nods like he has an idea.
“I got an idea. Actually, though I don’t know where he is, and don’t want to know, I have heard from Mole. Got an e-mail this morning.”
“Oh?”
“They’re ninety-nine percent sure they covered their tracks, but they’d still like to be able to hang the missing bonus money on someone, and this guy sounds perfect. If you could get the path codes to access this guy’s computer, I could pass the information along to Mole and his partner. They could put the final touch on their little masterpiece.”
This does have a nice ring to it and I assure Stoney I will get the information he needs.
He also has another surprise.
“One of the last things those guys did in Miami was to see what they could find out about the sabotage at the marina. But I guess you’ve probably figured that out anyway.”
I had, though I still was having trouble fully believing it. Stoney nodding towards the long socks I’d set on the floor brought it home though. He had more.
“They couldn’t find much on her, she uses a lot of aliases. But we’re pretty sure she’s a former instructor of sabotage techniques for the Egyptian military, and these days does freelance contract work around the world. The Israelis are looking for her, and those people aren’t known for giving up easily.”
Stoney reaches over and gives me a good-natured slap on the shoulder.
“Come on, man, let’s take a walk. I was just waiting for the rain to stop before going to the bank when you came by. Care to join me? I have a little something for you to give to Father Murray.”
∨ Key Dali ∧
30
Orphans
The rain has not only stopped, but the sun has come out as well. Duval Street is shiny wet and crowded with all manner of cars and trucks and motorcycles and tour buses and bikes and scooters. The sidewalks are once again teeming with tourists and locals alike.
It’s not far to the bank and Stoney and I saunter in and walk right up to the teller. As always when in a bank, I am on guard, but Stoney is relaxed and smiling. The teller greets him by name and I give the teller the Vulcan hand sign for prosperity. I get a blank stare in return.
But in a surprisingly short and hassle-free amount of time we are leaving the bank with a cashier’s check made out to Father Murray for an amazing amount of money. Even more than Taco Bob had told me that day on the Grunt Pier we would need for a houseboat. It is all I can do to keep from straining my face muscles from grinning so much.
I tell Stoney I will bring this wonderful gift to the Father right away.
“In that case, come on back to my place, I have something else you can give him.”
On the way Stoney tells me he and Cindy are going to fly down to the Virgin Islands for a couple of weeks and could I stay at his place and keep an eye on it. I tell him of course, and after a round of sincere thank yous and handshakes, I set out. The other gift is large, so I elect to take a cab to Stock Island to make Father Murray a very happy man.
I have the cabbie stop at the sisters’ hotel so I can talk to Josephine. When I walk in the front door of the hotel, Consuelo is behind the front desk and closing her phone. She has a puzzled look on her face.
“Dali? Hey, how’s it going?”
“Amazingly well, and yourself?”
Now she is focused on me and walking slowly my way. She moves like a cat.
“That was Taco Bob. Jim at the marina got some unexpected new
s today and there’s a big party at the marina tonight.” Now those probing blue eyes under the fringe of blonde hair are mere inches from my face. “You know anything about what the unexpected news might be?” Before I can stammer out an unconvincing lie, she steps back and smiles big. She holds up a hand.
“Save it. Whatever it is, Taco Bob says Jim is so happy it can only mean something has happened that’s going to save the marina.”
Before I know what is happening, Consuelo has her arms around me and hugging me so hard I hear my back crack. When I can again breathe properly I tell the still grinning hotel proprietress that I need to talk to Josephine. I get the probe look again, but only for a second this time, then she’s taking the stairs two at a time and calling her sister’s name.
After I explain everything to Josephine and Consuelo the best I can without telling them anything, they assure me they will send the information to the Hotmail e-mail address I gave them and never go into Steve’s computer again. Josephine doesn’t like this part too much at first, until she learns of the news from the marina. She too sizes up the situation by gazing at me and then her sister, who just gives a quick nod. Then Josephine smiles and also gives me a big hug. Though nearly as strong, this hug is much more sensual to the point my knees are a bit wobbly as I make my way out of the hotel and into the waiting cab.
♦
As I leave Stock Island reclining in the back of the cab, I reflect on how gift giving has got to be one of the best things in life – especially when it involves someone truly deserving.
The first thing I did when I got to the trailer was give the kids the big sack of stuffed manatees from Stoney. They were a big hit with the little ones and I saw a couple of the older girls make off with a few as well.
Father Murray may be old but he’s still plenty tough. He’s been though a lot in his long life but he didn’t stand a chance against that cashiers check. It turned him into a weeping pile of sincere gratitude. I told him about Taco Bob’s offer to help with the search for a houseboat and he said to give him a day to recover from the shock and he’d be ready for anything.