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Authors: Russell Blake
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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
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
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