out his plan to fruition.
He was at the halfway point, but already tiring. That wouldn’t do at all.
After standing and stretching for a few moments, he paced over to his kitchen with his now-empty cup and got a can of soda. One of his guilty pleasures; he’d never acquired the taste for diet drinks. Full tilt was the only way he drank them, sugar be damned. And the caffeine would help him stay alert. At this point he needed all the help he could get.
The killer peered through the window by the sink and noted that it was a nice day. He’d become so wrapped up in his mission that simple pleasures like this had largely been lost on him. Maybe he needed an intermission, a change of scenery.
He chugged the cola on the way to the hall closet, where he pulled out a coat. Lately, the chill never left his bones, even when it was warm out. He knew it was all part of the process, but he still didn’t like it.
Opening the door, he squinted up at the sun, then did a quick scan of his drab little block. This was all he had accomplished in his life — nothing else to show for it.
The walk to the market took twenty minutes round trip, during which time he saw only one person he knew — a woman who had made it more than abundantly clear that it got lonely in the neighborhood at night. He wondered to himself how flirty she would have been if she’d known that she was extending a none-too-elegant invitation to the country’s most wanted serial killer. The thought made him smile, and for a moment he felt better.
Once back home, he opened a file on his computer and began reading the contents — his research notes. Whenever his commitment wavered, all he had to do was read the litany of evil that members of this group had perpetrated, and remember those who had been forever damaged by them — such injustice reassured him that his course was the only one that made sense.
Which was the wonder of it all.
How messed-up was the world if the only logical plan involved him becoming a serial killer?
He shook his head and clucked his tongue.
What an odd trip it had become.
It looked as though Richard had gotten little sleep when Silver called him into her office for an update. He entered clutching an iPad under his arm and sat at her small, round meeting table.
“What do we have — anything new?” she asked, studying his eyes.
He had definitely been burning the midnight oil. Possibly out painting the town red, charming the local ladies with his DC stories. She took a seat in the chair opposite him.
“We do, but none of it is good. I spent most of yesterday night and this morning doing checks on the latest victim’s partner, given his associations, and I made a few calls to some colleagues. The more I dig, the odder it gets. The man has a hand in virtually every corner of the market system. He and Ali’s latest gambit was creating the back end for ‘dark pool’ trading and sponsored access.”
Silver gave him a blank stare.
“I’m sorry. About seven years ago they started supplying software and communications infrastructure so that larger entities could trade stock without having to go onto the exchanges. The trading takes place in dark pools, so named because they aren’t transparent.”
“That sounds like it defeats the whole idea of a fair and orderly market, doesn’t it?” Silver commented. She ventured a sidelong glance at Richard. Even when tired, Silver conceded that he did exude a certain charisma. Perhaps Monique had developed fresh eyes for talent.
“Exactly. But some pigs are more equal than others, and now most of the significant trading takes place in these pools. They’re unregulated, so there are no checks or balances, and ‘sponsored access’ is a term for where a large broker allows an important customer — a hedge fund — to trade directly in the markets using one of the brokers’ computer IDs. To the rest of the world, it looks like the broker is doing the buying and selling, which is a nice way to circumvent quite a few rules designed to stop manipulative trading.”
“What do you mean?”
“Big brokers are ‘market makers’. The rules for market makers are different than for everyone else. Another way of looking at this is that these brokers are renting out their market maker exemptions to the largest hedge funds. Happens all the time now.”
“And Ali and his partner…”
“Are the cutting edge of the plumbing used to do it. These two were instrumental in designing the electronic exchanges most brokers now use, creating the dark pools that mask most of the larger trades and coming up with a way for preferred customers to masquerade as brokers. And one of the two is spitting distance from those who actively fund terrorists, whose largest enemy in the world is…”
“The U.S.,” Silver offered.
“Yes. Once I understood all this, I made a few more calls. Nobody knows anything about any investigation into it. Put simply, this is as big a smoking gun as if you were a flight school and had a couple of heavily accented voices on the phone asking if you could teach them how to fly a commercial jet, but skip the take-off and landing part. It’s that obvious. And yet when I spoke to my colleagues, as well as my superior, they knew nothing. So I sent a brief summary of my findings to my boss, who I have a good relationship with, and he promised to nose around.”
“Did you get the feeling that he would pursue it?” Silver got a whiff of Richard’s aftershave as she leaned towards him to look at the information on his tablet’s screen. Understated. She decided that he smelled good. Very good, actually.
“Not really. If it isn’t part of an active investigation, it takes a lot to move the machine into gear. Maybe something will happen, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
Silver considered the latest bit of news. “I’m thinking that Ali’s partner may be next in line for a visit from the killer. It makes a certain kind of sense if The Regulator is what he appears to be, which is a serial killer on a mission. Part of me doubts that now because of the terrorism connection — that opens all kinds of doors. But absent any new information, I don’t want to go off on a tangent and assume there’s more going on than there really might be.” She shook her head. “What about the other three victims? Anything more there?”
“I’m doing a background check on all their known associates and clients to see if there are any commonalities. I’m sure someone already did that, but it can’t hurt to do a thorough exam. And I’ve widened the parameters a little, to include anything that seems terror-related. Could be that’s the link. Not saying that it is, but my instinct is to pursue it.”
“How long do you think it will take to scour their histories?”
“A few days. Maybe as much as a week. It’s time intensive — not just simple name matching. There are several layers we need to dig through…”
Richard ran his fingers through his hair. Thick hair, Silver noted, with strong hands for a financial type. Athletic for a desk jockey, too. She found herself wondering about his exercise regimen then realized she had started drifting again. Silver shrugged off the mental image she’d been forming of him standing under a waterfall with his shirt off.
“…so I don’t think it warrants surveillance. Not with his schedule. We should have another couple of weeks before he strikes again,” Richard concluded.
Silver nodded along as she picked up the thread. “Hmmm. Fair enough. I think we wait to see what more we can glean before we do anything like put a team on the partner. Which I have no compunction about doing if it looks like he may be a target.” She shuffled her notes and stood, checking her watch. “Have you settled in to your apartment? Everything fine on that end?”
Richard smiled. She noted the small wrinkles that appeared in the corners of his eyes and decided she liked them, too.
“It’s not the Ritz, but hey, not terrible, either. My place back in D.C. isn’t exactly lavish, so I’m easy. It’ll do.”
“That’s good to hear. Be sure to tell me if you need anything.” That didn’t come out right. She debated clarifying and then thought better of it.
Richard seemed oblivious to the effect he was having on her. Which was for the best given that it was completely inappropriate, as was her internal dialogue at the moment.
