REKT - Chapter 17

Homeward Bound

“Ryan, I need to go. I was supposed to be home two weeks ago. I’ve been in the States for over a month. I’m tired of not knowing.”

Niko looks up at me from her laptop. She has tired eyes, that lost look burnouts get when they are too far removed from familiar comforts. She shuts the screen, takes my hand and leads me to the porch. We sit down next to each other on a wicker sofa. It’s sunny this morning. From up here you can trace the curve of the island, see the ocean on the south and the east side. Sailboarders are cutting fast across the bay below. Her hand is on my cheek, turning my face towards hers, focusing the world down to the two of us.

“Not knowing?” I ask.

“Not knowing where things are. Not knowing what these ingredients are. What is lilikoi anyway? Am I supposed to put it on bread, in my tea? It tastes funny no matter how I use it.”

“Maybe you don’t like it.”

“Everything is too sweet here. Even the onions. I miss my places, my routines, my people.”

This is the part where I’m supposed to be hurt. Where I’m supposed to ask if I am not enough, but I know I am not enough, and I’m not supposed to be either. I’m not enough for myself. I’m not enough for Andy. I’m not enough for Nikola. We are all strung out in our own way. She’s right. She needs to go home. I can see it in her eyes. I can see it in the cottage. This place is a wreck. Takeout wrappers, ashtrays, saucers with spilt tea everywhere. There’s a line of ants from the back door to the kitchen counter. They are eating all the fruit we bought before it spoils. Nikola doesn’t know what to do with papaya, guava either. Better the ants eat them than see it all rot.

We’ve been here five days. We have not been to the beach yet. We have not gone out to dinner. I have to fight with Nikola to get her to come visit Andy. When she does, she’s in there fifteen minutes then she’s out in the lobby, laptop up working the markets. Not that she doesn’t care about Andy, but she sees him and feels compelled to make us more money. Her way of helping. I can’t be her support system because I’m supposed to be Andy’s. I can’t tell her that I’m losing my edge, because I need to keep an eye on her too. I can’t have her trading and be worried about me. There’s a cognitive dissonance to this place that needs to be eliminated. She’s right about not knowing. It’s taking a toll on all of us.

“Do you want me to come with you?” I ask.

I know I can’t. She knows I can’t, but I have to offer. This is how the scene needs to play out.

“That’s sweet of you, but Andy needs you. I need to be with my family and friends for a bit. I’ve asked my auntie to move into the villa and watch out for me. I miss having tea the right way. I miss my shows. This place smells amazing, but it doesn’t smell like the Mediterranean. This isn’t my sun. I’m losing myself in this laptop. I need to change the scenery or something bad is going to happen.”

I give her a very alarmed look. There’s been all the time to talk, but the mood hasn’t been right. This has been a red line week, pedal to the metal. We’ve been charging hard and not in a place to be vulnerable. Nikola taking herself out of the game is a red flag.

“Bad like?”

“Bad, like me messing up our stack. I made a half million this week, I think we can hit pause for a couple days and start again with fresh eyes.”

“So not like self-harm?”

She smiles, touched at my concern.

“Ryan, I did that because I measured my life against other people’s expectations. I gave other people the power to control my self-esteem. I’m never making that mistake again which is why I need to go home for a bit. I can’t find myself in a situation where it’s just you and me in a cottage on the side of a volcano. I can’t be in a place where I measure myself only by how much money we make.”

“Even though you grew up hard, you still miss home?” I ask.

“Of course, it’s who I am. The mistakes of past generations shouldn’t ruin the present. They don’t change where you are from. The family business folded in the global financial crisis. I take care of my mother with my money. I’m needed there. I’m the earner and I’m the future of my family.

***

Andy and I are playing Uno. We are also watching Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol. This is what Andy and I do. We play Uno, we watch Mission Impossible movies. If there’s a scene set in a place we’ve been, then we talk about that. He’s been to the Burj Khalifa, I’ve only seen it from the airport. There’s a list of things I’m not supposed to talk to Andy about: crypto, Erskine, drugs, money, women, our friends in crypto. All of them are potential triggers. They are also ninety-five percent of our usual conversation topics. We are left with music, movies, and sports. Andy knows sports, but it’s not a passion of his. That leaves us with music and movies. Board and card games too, but not Monopoly. When it boils down to it, playing Uno and watching Tom Cruise movies is about all we are good for.

That’s okay. It reminds me of childhood. My best friend had cystic fibrosis and spent long stretches in the hospital having his lungs worked on. Most people don’t realize how hard being inside is, how critical it is to have someone there every day for you. I’m here for Andy. He’s my brother. This is beyond what I owe him. It is simply what is good. Even if the card playing, movie watching routine reeks of the mundane, there’s an importance to our time together. We stick together through thick and thin. Our loyalty to each other has carried us this far. On our own, we’d be eaten alive.

Bitcoin gained $450 overnight. Our stack has increased two-hundred fifty grand while Nikola’s been traveling back to Cyprus. I can’t tell Andy that, nor can I suggest we abandon the hedge fund idea. It’s hard to let the air out of a balloon when you cannot talk about the balloon. Instead, we play Uno, watch Mission Impossible, and drink apple juice out of little plastic cups with foil lids. I try to spend four hours a day here. I try to time my visits so that lunch is in the middle. It helps to break up the day. Still, it’s the longest four hours.

My phone rings. It’s Fritz. What does that fucker want?

“Sorry Andy, I need to take this.”

Andy gives me a nod. He’s doped up more than usual today. I’m not sure if he heard me or even cares. It sucks when he’s this sedated, it makes it hard to play cards. He can’t plan his hands for shit and forgets when it’s his turn. I get worried about the downers, worried he’ll spill into depression. While I want him in the hospital, I’m not cynical enough to want the blue wall to descend over him.

“This is Ryan.”

“Ryan, it’s Fritz over at Frankfurt Bank. I’ve been trying to reach Andy and cannot get hold of him.” That would be because I have Andy’s phone along with his laptop, iPad, smart watch, and second phone. He can’t be on the internet. Now what am I telling Fritz here? Other than Deacon Joe and Nikola, no one knows Andy is in the hospital. I’m the day-to-day contact for most Icarus work and the industry has been too busy riding Lambos to notice our absence. With Icarus winding down, better no one knows what shape Andy is in until we return all the money. There’s also a matter of privacy. While many people assume Andy’s crazy, most think he’s crazy like a fox, not clinical. Anyway, back to Fritz. He’s not connected to crypto, it’s safe to tell him Andy is unavailable.

“Fritz, is there an issue?”

“Yes, there’s a matter I need to speak to Andy about.”

“I’m sorry Fritz, but he’s not available. Can I help you?”

“The matter concerns Rotterdam and those papers. When can I speak with Andy?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Rotterdam again. You buy blood diamonds once in your life and they follow you around like, I don’t know, war crimes. Andy cannot talk to Fritz about that, or anything else for the matter. Time to tell Fritz the vaguest version of the truth.

“Fritz, you won’t be speaking with Andy anytime soon. I’m in Hawaii at Maui Lutheran Hospital. Andy has been admitted here for a head injury.”

“I am terribly sorry to hear. Is he okay?”

“He’s critical but we are optimistic, at least that is what they are telling me. He was hit while riding a bike. Didn’t have a helmet on. I’m afraid the swelling is bad. They removed a piece of his skull to relieve the pressure.”

Hmm, that lie escalated quickly. He couldn’t have just been hit by a car, he had to lose a piece of his skull too? Now I’m going to have to research my story, make sure I understand where the skull goes. I think they put it in your stomach which sounds totally gross. The lies we tell this poor fool.

“Maui Lutheran? We will send over a basket. You have our deepest sympathies.”

Bank sympathies. Deep. Okay Fritz. Can we get rid of you now?

“Thank you, Fritz. I’ll keep you apprised of the situation. Now, I need to get going.”

“Ryan, sorry to press like this, but I am afraid the Rotterdam matter must be addressed.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Can we not? Seriously Fritz, I just told you that my partner got brained riding a bike and is missing a part of his skull. Sure, none of it is true, but you believe it and ought to be giving me a break.

“What is the matter?”

“FinCEN has some additional questions about your account. It seems that the processing agent in Rotterdam has been arrested and they want to take a second look at your business together. As a friend, I felt Andy should know this.”

“He’s been arrested, what for?”

“They did not tell me that, only that there has been an arrest and they are requesting additional information about the account holders. As the bank, we have the discretion to hand those over or to ask them to compel us.”

Where is this conversation going? I cannot be having this in the hallway of a hospital where my partner is being treated. There’s a terrace on this floor, at the other end of the hall. Start walking. Squeaky shoes on waxed floors. Conniving Germans in Manhattan banks.

“Just a moment Fritz, I need some privacy.”

He’s trying to shake us down, right? He’s figured out that we are dirty, that there is no such thing as vantium. He’s checked into the destinations of the wires, done a bit of digging and realized those are not family offices. Could be he knows nothing. Play this cool Ryan, play this cool.

“Okay, I’m back. You were discussing discretion.”

“Yes Ryan, we have discretion in this matter. Our response is a judgment call. This is the first incident for your firm. We as the bank do not like to hand information over to the government willy-nilly. That is not a reputation the bank wants. We could ask FinCEN to produce a subpoena. That process typically takes ten weeks but with the holidays, probably longer.”

“Andy would very much appreciate that. He’ll be better by then and able to clear up any issues that arise.”

“Your account will be closed by then, Ryan. It won’t matter, what matters is the period between now and December 31st.”

“That is true Fritz. It would seem then that a push back on FinCEN would clear everything up. Can you do us a favor and handle that?”

“Why don’t you come to New York so we can discuss it?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He’s shaking us down. That fat fuck Fritz from Frankfurt is blackmailing us. Don’t answer him now. Find out if there’s any truth to his story. See if our man in Rotterdam has been arrested. Use Andy as an excuse to buy more time.

“I cannot come to New York right now. As I said earlier, Andy is in critical condition. He’s not close with his family. I’m his only support out here.”

“Andy has many friends. He’s a very popular guy. Why don’t you ask Deacon Joe to fly out and visit him while you come to New York? Maybe you could take his jet over here when you come to see me?”

FUCK. Fritz knows and Fritz is shaking us down. I cannot believe those Dutch shits in Rotterdam sold us out like that. When I get done dealing with Fritz, and when I get my partner out of the hospital, I am going to come after those assholes. Or Google. Fritz could have just Googled us. He’s not an idiot, even though we treat him like one.

“Joe is a busy guy. It will take him a few days to come out here.”

“Saturday works for me. We can meet at a coffee shop. This isn’t the sort of discussion we want to have at the office. I’ll be expecting you to teach me about this Bitcoin business. Bring a demonstration wallet with five hundred BTC in it.”

I nearly gag on the number. Five hundred bitcoins are beyond our means without touching client money. If we dip into client money, we’re committing the sort of crime they really come after you with. FinCEN getting their hooks in us likely means a big fine, a suspended sentence, and being banned from the banking system, but stealing from customers is a go directly to jail offense.

“Fritz, that is far more BTC than is necessary for a demonstration. I think one hundred would be more appropriate, don’t you?”

“All one hundred demonstrates is that you think you can still get one over on me. No, it is not an adequate amount by any means. I have needs which must be met and one hundred is insufficient.”

“Five hundred is out of reach for us. I think you’ve overestimated what we are capable of teaching you. If you insist on that number, the only way we can get it would be to conduct a transaction that violates Frankfurt’s internal policies and has much deeper implications than that. You of course would be a party to that transaction. I doubt you want that sort of liability hanging over you.”

“What is the largest demonstration you can give me without causing unwanted second order effects?”

“Two fifty.”

“It has to be bigger than that. You do want me onboard the blockchain train. It’s important to build bridges into trad finance.”

“Of course, Fritz. Alignment is the key to our success. Three hundred is the no bullshit, all we can do, number.”

“I will think it over. Given recent price trends, that amount may be adequate. Expect a call from me tomorrow.”  

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