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Authors: Scott Rhine

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BOOK: The Scarab
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Chapter 4 – Spending Everything

 

Mr. Foxworthy’s “day” turned into nearly a week of work for
his assistants. I had run out of things to read and parts of the hotel to
explore. The wish list I made was embarrassingly brief. All the big things
seemed ridiculous and fit me like a diamond in a pig’s ear. I kept waiting for
one of the hotel managers to come out to the pool and shout, “Get back to work!”
After the euphoria wore off, I felt like a prisoner in the hotel, and I was
getting impatient. I even rediscovered the joys of solitaire with real cards.
The computer version defeats part of the purpose, which is to burn as much time
as possible.

I got to go shopping once, for
dress clothes. Foxworthy wanted to buy me a go-to-court outfit, and we
compromised. It didn’t have a tie, but the shirt was hand-made from imported
Egyptian linen.

On the third day of waiting, my
attorney showed up in a new, Italian suit, and slapped a sheaf of papers down
on the round, metal table in front of me.

“Sign these and we can get down to
business.”

Now, I was trusting him with my
life, finances and future but that didn’t mean I was completely complaisant. I
pulled out the third document in the stack and scanned it. “Ten acres?”

“Look, I’m sorry. You haven’t made
any of the important deals yet, and this is all I could get with that tax
stipulation you made. Do you have any idea how much it costs to buy property on
the smaller Hawaiian islands?” asked Foxworthy, looking sincerely apologetic. “On
the bright side, the local microwave uplink to the mainland already has a
security setting on it. Most of the owners on the island are very wealthy and
only broadcast over scrambled channels. Some of your neighbors are from the
Marcos clan and are afraid of kidnapping or retaliation from the Philippines.”

“Hawaii?”

“You said property in the islands.
It’s only a shack, just a two-bedroom bungalow. I got it off an old fishing
buddy,” he said.

I signed.

I must have had a strange,
cock-eyed smile on my face, because he asked “Is that alright? We can always
upgrade later.”

“No, no. Fine. I was just wondering
how to forward my mail.” I signed the next page, wondering what Mare would
think of visiting me at my Pacific vacation cottage.

“What’s this one? I’m now head of
research for DeClerk Enterprises?” I asked.

“You’re also chief stock holder. I’m
only selling 39 percent. I keep 10 percent, and give you the other 51. When you’re
dealing with government contracts, you have to have a big corporation with lots
of red tape,” he said, as if he found an egg made of gold every day.

“Contract?” I hated talking in
one-word sentences, but it kept me from sounding totally ignorant.

“For the Patrol. You need a plant
to produce the little black boxes for the police cars. The Feds are requiring
you to put the detection scheme in a tamper-proof case and to not explain the
mechanism to anybody. This way, only you know how decloaking works, and you’re
shielded behind a dummy corporation. You can sell a new, encrypted update CD
every year to keep royalties pouring in. I would have called it ‘decloak’
Enterprises as you suggested but Paramount pictures has already trademarked the
word.” Foxworthy sighed.

I kept looking for the cloudy
lining in all this silver I was getting. “How much will this cost me?”

“Not a thing. That’s where the
stock comes in. We can make a little selling to the police nationwide (not to
foreign powers, though, strictly
verboten
). But that’s just play money.
The real bucks start coming in with your contract with the FAA, that’s when we
finally break the six digit ceiling.”

I was just on the fourth signature,
and already he was talking six figures. My questions were getting shorter. “FAA?”

“The ground-traffic controllers
aren’t the only ones with problems like this. No, sir. It’s been a big headache
to the aeronautics fellows for a long time. You don’t have to solve it
yourself, just write up a research proposal, and we’ll hire a few starving
graduate students to do the grunt work. Of course, that won’t show black ink
for at least a year, so I’ve financed your bungalow and shopping trip with more
immediate means.”

I wanted to ask him what he meant
by “shopping,” but I ran out of syllables. I just nodded enthusiastically and
kept signing.

“That document authorizes me to
exercise your father’s stock options in Exotech, the ones you inherited when he
died. It was quite lax of them not to inform you, and they wouldn’t have
admitted it at all if I hadn’t read through you mother’s lock box. She kept
very meticulous records.”

I reminisced for a minute,
silently. When she got fired, I remember how stringently she adhered to the
family budget, as if it were an alchemist’s formula to ward off evil spirits.

“It seems that for three years,
your father received an average of 1000 options a year in lieu of a raise in
salary. Exotech was just a baby then, free with its equity. Those shares can be
exercised by him or his survivors at the price of ten dollar a share, and sold
at a fair-market price of 167.50, as of the close of trading yesterday. Minus
incidental fees, and the few shares you’ll want so you can vote at the
meetings, that comes to a handy $500,000. A large chunk of that went for the
down-payment on the island, which is non-refundable, by the way.

“Then there’s the matter of your
father’s life insurance policy, another $200,000 once we get him declared
legally dead. Your mother started the paperwork, but he had to be missing eight
years first. Since a claim was not filed while he was still an employee paying
premiums, the insurance company will probably resist. If we settle out-of-court
for half, you can get another hundred and change.”

I signed frantically. Never had my
John Hancock meant so much to me. Every time I moved my pen, out came money. I’d
never had more than $100 in my pocket at any time in my life. My current
savings for a rainy day amounted to $83.02.

“The Silver Certificate dollars
your mother had in the bottom of the box weren’t worth much, so I had them
framed for you as a souvenir. What I found in the bottom was far more
interesting—her diary. It seems that Exotech cut a few corners in their
government contracts back then. Your mother complained about and documented
several abuses of the system. In truth, it was probably one of the main reasons
she got fired when she did.

“Now I’m not certain that they’ve
done anything illegal that we can prove, or if the statute of limitations has
run out, but they have behaved unethically and in poor faith with the United States government. I have several friends in Washington who would be very interested
in seeing these. She names names and gives specific dollar figures. By Jove,
she even put down the contract numbers. These diaries could start a grand jury investigation
for fraud, and bribery. You’d gain the gratitude of the FBI, but the enmity of
Exotech and a few corrupt politicians. If we sold them to Exotech, you could
easily get another hundred thousand. They’d spend ten times that defending the
allegations and providing information for Congress. The choice is up to you.”
Foxworthy wore a poker face so he wouldn’t influence me, but I had already
decided.

I described in graphic detail what
I wanted to metaphorically inflict on Exotech. Mr. Foxworthy winced visibly. “That
company screwed me and my family for a decade. I don’t care what it costs, I
want to see them in a little pain. Maybe they’ll think twice the next time. If
that makes me a bad business man, I’m sorry.”

“No, Mr. Hayes, I was just reacting
to the imagery. Contrary to what you believe, the lawyer isn’t an instrument of
raping. Most lawyers operate in a civilized fashion, not just dancing on the
boundaries of the Law. Your ethics are yours to decide, but try to conduct
yourself as a gentleman at all times.”

He leaned close, as a father
confiding advice to a child about to get married. “Your mind is your greatest
asset, Ethan, and it is destined to take you to great places. I’m proud to get
you started on that dream. But intellect alone won’t keep you in the high
places. Always act with propriety and common sense, no matter what the money
says. Character will determine how long you last in this game.”

“Yes, sir. Just for telling me
that, I should make you my lawyer permanently. I’ve already reached overload on
the Christmas presents you’ve shown me today. I only have one more question—what
shopping?”

Mr. Foxworthy stopped
paper-shuffling and said “The bottom line is that once we declare this liquid
capitol, both Exotech and the Credit Recovery Agency will be all over you like
white on bread. The bad news is until we can get your residence changed
permanently and pull a few strings, that money, and anything you buy with it
can be seized. I won’t bore you with the technicalities of setting up the trust
Mr. H, but if you want to avoid tax difficulties and prevent your enemies from
profiting unduly, you must spend your entire account balance of $185,000 (give
or take) on ephemeral goods within the week.”

I wrinkle my forehead. This one
didn’t even rate a syllable.

He licked his lips, and looked
thoughtful for a moment, rather like William F. Buckley. “That is to say, you
must spend everything on goods you can’t claim and cannot be legally seized. As
long as you spend money in the name of the corporation and have nothing other
than a modest salary to show for it, you keep everything.”

Since I came up empty-handed after
three days on his first big question, and had said less today than ever, the
speed of my reply must have stunned him. It took me five seconds.

“The top-of-the-line Sansui
live-station computer interface (model INF-3000) with a private node on the
supernet and a terabyte of memory, leased for seventy-five Gs for five years.
If you bribe the sales guy, you get it for less.”

Foxworthy recovered admirably and
started writing.

“An Ameritrans unlimited fare card
for the next year, good for plane and trains, another ten Gs. I’ll need it to
get around since I don’t have a license or insurance. Make it economy class,
because I itch when I see ties. No offense.”

“A lifetime membership to the
American Youth Hostels, for about $35.50.”

“An honorary Master’s degree from
that Oxford diploma mill that works out of Germany for $250.”

“My own pop machine, and ...” I
paused. “It’s silly.”

Mr. Foxworthy stopped writing, and
looked at me over his bifocals. I felt like I was being grilled by my high
school biology teacher. “You have appropriately $100,000 left. Your task is
only half completed. Don’t hold back now, for your own sake.”

In a small voice, dating back to
fourth grade, I said, “I want to enter my latest design at the SimCon GEV
design convention this December. A hundred grand would just about cover my
entry fee. If it doesn’t, I’m willing to sacrifice the pop machine and those
other things.”

Foxworthy rubbed his chin on that
one. If I could have just one wish, entering SimCon as a contestant would be
it. He seemed to realize how important it was to me.

“Does the design incorporate any of
the principles included in your original black box?” he asked.

“Oh, no sir. The
ground-effect-vehicle led me to the tricks I catch with the black box, not the
other way around. It’s safe to say that no one has anything like it today.”

Then he grinned like his namesake. “You’ll
have to sign a strict-silence agreement on the new quirks you find, as well as
let the Annapolis division of the FCC approve the design, but I see no reason
why the firm of DeClerk Enterprises can’t make it’s first venture into
automotive design. The rest of your list will be cake. We’ll advance you a few
thousand on your first month’s salary, on the proviso that you lease or consume
everything you buy. Yes, I like it.”

He closed up his brief case and
straightened his tie before leaving. “I’ll have a few more things to sign and
then you should catch a plane to Hawaii. The keys to your place are already
downstairs in the limousine.”

“But I have to go back to my
apartment and Sam’s.”

Foxworthy shook his head. “Too many
questions might arise. Your new clothing is a dead give-away. My staff already
packed all your things. Nothing is left at your apartment. There’s nothing at
your office worth getting. One of the things you signed was a two-week notice
at Sam’s garage, with terminal vacation and sick leave. It will work best if
everyone is left wondering. We’ll spread a story about the witness protection
program and police custody.”

I walked to my room, sulking.

In all honesty, I had only one bag
of belongings in the hotel room with me, and aside from my books, it was all I
was planning to bring. But it bothered me that my life for the past decade and
a half was ending so casually, so perfunctorily. “I have to talk to Mare,
dinner at a nice place to thank her. I’d like for her to come with me.”

As if he had a say in the matter,
Foxworthy agreed. “Oh, we sent her roses immediately after she was debriefed.
No name because of the secrecy, but she has an idea. She’s an adroit woman.

“My secretary will put you on the
overnight flight to Hawaii. You have about eight hours to accomplish your goals
here.” The doors opened, and he walked off the stage like a Greek god at the
end of a play. Yet another part of my existence had been decided for me. If it
weren’t so amazing, I’d be angry.

****

We never made it to the restaurant.
Things went horribly wrong at Mary Ann’s apartment and I ended up riding to the
airport alone a few hours early. Looking back, the roses were the first
mistake. They put her on her guard, and she immediately expected bad news of
some kind. Maybe she thought I was leaving forever. She kept pressing me for
details, and I kept asking where she wanted to eat. When forced into a corner,
I asked her to leave Massachusetts and move to Hawaii with me.

BOOK: The Scarab
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