Read Online Drummer In the Dark by T. Davis Bunn - Free Book Online

Colin had done some checking on Hayek, as much as he dared. Enough to know the man’s rumored royal heritage was genuine. The guy actually was a prince. Which meant he lived up to his nickname, the King, in more ways than one. At least, that was what most people called him around here. It was only beyond the Hayek compound that one heard his other nickname, Elvis. No one doing business with Hayek dared use it, even in jest.
    “A half-billion dollars in new long-term capital is a big mouthful.” This from Alex, the firm’s senior foreign exchange trader. “How much time do we have to lay it out?”
    “Not long.” Hayek was very tight with his words, measuring them like gold. The man was known for having no capacity for small talk. None. “A few days at most. And directed exclusively at the foreign exchange markets.”
    “You want us to lay out half a big one, only in forex derivatives?”
    “That is correct.”
    Alex had a trader’s ability for rapid assessments. “You want to make the market sit up and take notice, is that it?”
    Hayek seemed pleased by the appraisal, but said merely, “This could be the beginning of a very large fresh inflow.”
    “How big?”
    “Large enough for us to consider establishing a second fund.” He stifled further comment with one upraised hand. “That we shall leave for later. Thank you all.”
    Hayek waited for the minions to depart. Only Jim Burke, Hayek’s second in command remained behind. Hayek did not invite Colin to sit. “Yes?”
    “Someone is hunting again. I thought you would want to know.”
    “Hunting?”
    “Using Congressman Hutchings’ data, apparently. Asking the same kind of questions.”
    King and courtier exchanged a silent communication before Hayek demanded, “You are certain of this?”
    “Yes.”
    “Tell me how.”
    “I inserted a target, a source any new hunter would go after. They’d have no choice but to reveal themselves in the process.”
    “You are referring to the internet?”
    “The web. Yes.”
    “Go on.”
    “The site automatically inserts a rogue program into the hunter’s computer system. I can then go in and search for data.”
    The chairman asked his senior man, “Do you understand what he just said?”
    Jim Burke was both a trader and a nerd, a serious combination. He was also, in the eyes of those who worked for Hayek, a walking fruitloop. There was a lot of personal weirdness within the hedge fund world. The business routinely attracted those with meager people skills. But Jim Burke took this infirmity far beyond any logical boundaries. Among the Hayek force, Jim Burke was known as the Unabomber.
    Burke replied, “I think so, yes.”
    Colin held out a sheet, despising the revealed tremors. “This is from my initial scan.”
    Burke reached forward. “I’ll take that.”
    The chairman waited as his squire surveyed the paper. Burke looked up and said, “This could be a red flag.”
    “Then check it out thoroughly.” Hayek turned back to Colin. “You too. Can you get back into his system?”
    “Her,” Burke corrected, still scanning the data. “Apparently it’s a woman. A local. Jackie Havilland.”
    Colin replied, “Every time she logs on, my insert will instruct her computer to download all new files.”
    “I want to know everything.”
    Colin was utterly grateful to find both the words and Hayek’s iron glare directed at his number two. Burke offered, “I’ll put the new men on this.”
    “Immediately,” Hayek commanded. “This very afternoon. There is not a moment to lose.”

6
    Wednesday
    B Y THE TIME Jackie returned home, clouds and the setting sun cast a pastel gauze across the sky. The windswept day was so replete and the evening so gentle, she was almost prepared to dismiss the Boatman. His bizarre tales of foreboding and mystery were just too far removed from the same old, same old.
    The borderlands of Winter Park contained some of Orlando’s oldest homes. Three blocks off U.S. 50, there existed