Special Forces - 4. Chapter 4

We exited the office building and proceeded down the street to a small, Italian restaurant, where Alain was greeted with enthusiasm by the maitre d’. As we were led to our table he waved hello to several gentlemen and ladies who were already seated in the restaurant.

“You know a lot of people,” I said.

“Montreal isn’t such a big city when you’ve lived here most of your life. I think I’m related to most of the people in here.”

Alain was a master at small talk and gave me his full attention. I was comfortable answering his questions about my background because I’d rehearsed the story carefully, and it was close enough to the truth that most of what I told him wasn’t an exaggeration. Basking in the glow of this handsome man’s assiduities, but knowing that he was a crook, made me think he was a bona-fide sociopath. If I wasn’t on my guard, I might have thought we’d become instant best friends.

Once our lunches were ordered things turned hinkey. Alain began a sales pitch on his fund. He ardently boasted of 20% annual returns, ethical investments (yeah, right) and satisfied (no make that wildly happy) clients. I asked a few questions, but because I didn’t want to give away my knowledge of the stock market my inquiries were mostly superficial. However, the questions I did ask led him to outline what sounded to me like a combination of insider trading and blatant over-promotion; there was no question Alain was running a pyramid scheme. The investors, who had hired Sam’s firm were wise to have done so. (But the fact that they had invested with Alain in the first place was a credit to the man’s persuasive abilities.)

Knowing what had triggered the investors to panic, I asked specifically about withdrawal and divestiture. Alain puffed himself up and assured me that it was “No problem! Any time, Mr. Paquette, any time!” I kept my game face and smiled appreciatively.

I was beginning to feel a little nauseated by the whole narrative, and I was trying desperately to keep a look of disgust off my face. My appetite had long ago been ruined and my Tortellini remained mostly uneaten.

I wasn’t a professional spy or field operative, and I found beginning to flounder. I was trying to remain interested and enthusiastic about Alain’s wild claims, but my feeling of unease was growing, and I wanted to bolt. I was just wondering how to excuse myself politely when disaster stuck.

“Nick!” I heard my name called.

Fuck! Busted!

I jumped at the sound of my name and tried to ignore it, hoping against hope that that there was another Nick in the room.

But no, someone approached the table. “Nick Poulos?”

I recognized the voice and felt like I’d been slammed by a 200 pound linebacker. A quick visual confirmed my worst fears. Tony Solan. Tony fucking Solan, my old boyfriend from Northwestern, and the last person I ever wanted to see. Never mind he’d just blown my cover, I was almost paralyzed by fear. Damn! He still held that powerful abuser’s grip on me.

“T-Tony,”

“Nick, Jesus, what a surprise. Good to see you! Hey man, we gotta talk. What happened to you anyway?”

What happened was I escaped, you fucking control freak!

“Uh...Tony, I’m just in the middle of a meeting here....”

“Yeah, sure Nick.” He put his hand on Alain’s shoulder, “Hey Al, how do you know Nick here?”

“Tony....Mr. Paquette.... Alexandre, is looking to invest in our, uh, funds.”

“Paquette? Alexandre? Uh, sure...,” said Tony. “Listen, Nick, give me a call.” And he handed me a business card. He gave me a penetrating look, winked at Alain, then walked out of the restaurant.

Alain turned his attention to me and narrowed his eyes, “Nick Poulos?”

I was red faced and flustered. I said the first thing that came to mind, thinking that something close to the truth would be best, “Uh, when I inherited my money I wanted a fresh start, so I changed my name to my mother’s family name. Alexandre is, ...was, my middle name.”

Alain scrutinized me through narrowed eyes for several seconds. And his smile didn’t quite reach those squinty eyes. “Sometimes a fresh start can be good.”

I was feeling like a trapped animal, and my stomach was turning cartwheels. I kept thinking, not Tony, not fucking Tony, not fucking Tony....

But I thought about Sam, and I remembered that my desire to help and please Sam, and his team, far outweighed the fear and revulsion of the lunch events. I put on my best poker face, “If I am interested in investing money in your fund, how would I get the money to you?”

He looked surprised, but replied, “Check, wire transfer, whatever works for you.”

My smile was every bit as forced as Alain’s as I nodded my understanding. Now I needed time to run this latest turn of events past Sam and his crew, so I told Alain that I would think about his investment proposal carefully and get back to him.

Alain continued his narrow-eyed scrutiny of me and nodded. “Sure Mr. ..uh...Paquette, you get back to me.”

I left the restaurant and walked home with my mind in turmoil. I was concerned Tony had blown our operation, and that all the money and time put into it had been wasted. And seeing Tony had rekindled my old shame and fears. I hurried the short distance home and was very grateful to close my front door on the world. I stood with my back leaning on the door trying to calm myself when my phone rang, making me jump. Relief washed over me when I saw Sam’s caller ID.

“What’s up?”

“Then you’re okay? Blade said he saw some guy approach you at the restaurant.”

“No, Sam. No, I’m not fucking okay! Do you know who that was? Do you?”

“Nicky, take a deep breath, calm down. Tell me what happened.”

“TONY FUCKING SOLAN HAPPENED!” Then, in a somewhat calmer tone, I explained what had happened in the restaurant.

“God, Nick, I’m sorry,” said Sam. “That had to be pretty rough on you, in more ways than one. Just hang on a sec, Nick. I’m going to talk to Blade and Bugs. Don’t hang up. I’ll put you on hold.”

“Okay, I’ll wait....”

A few minutes later Sam came back on the line, “Nick, do you think this Solan character is dangerous?”

“Maybe a little, if I’m alone with him. Remember I told you how I was afraid of him? And he’s an arrogant asshole.”

“Okay, threat level elevated, but you’re not in any immediate danger, so hang tight. We’re going to see if we can do a background on this Solan guy and find a tie-in to Bourse. I’ll get back to you when there’s something to tell you.”

“Okay, later then, Sam. Love you!”

“Love you too, Nick. Bye.”

Talking to Sam had calmed me considerably. I really hoped the operation hadn’t been derailed by having my cover blown, but there was nothing I could do at this point but sit back and wait for directions from Sam’s team. Worst case scenario was that I’d be sent back to San Diego, and I was beginning to think that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. After all, if I got freaked out when things got a bit hairy, maybe I didn’t make such a hot-shot secret agent after all.

But no sooner had I pressed the button to end the call with Sam when my phone rang.

The caller ID told me it was Alain Bourse. Thank God Sam’s team was monitoring all my calls.

“H...Hello.”

“Hey, Mr. Paquette,” said Alain cheerfully. “Listen, sorry about Tony’s interruption at lunch. He shoulda known better than to interrupt my business meeting. And, hey, about the name change: listen, a guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“And you left your new case and jacket at my office. Why don’t you swing by tomorrow morning and pick them up. I’ve got a couple of ideas for your investment portfolio. I’d like to run them by you.”

What?

“Uh, okay, I g...guess. What time should I come by?”

“How about 9 am?”

“Okay, um...sure...see you then. Bye.”

I called Sam again immediately to get his take on the call. He said the team was meeting and would get back to me with their thoughts in a few minutes.

About forty five minutes later Sam called back and said they had a breakthrough in finding out Alain Bourse’s background. They’d managed to trace Tony’s family in Toronto and discovered that their real name was Solanetti. From there it only took a little cross referencing to find out that Alain Bourse was really Alano Borsa. Italians.

Tony and Bourse were both from mob families.

Sam and his team had decided that I should keep my appointment the next day with Alain. Sam assured me that he and Blade would be close by. Bugs explained that I should transfer the money to Bourse and told me why. He had state-of-the-art computer software whereby something akin to a radioactive isotope—a short virus-like piece of software—was attached to my money. This virus would track the money even if it was split and sent to multiple accounts. I knew enough about banking to know that any money transfer was simply a “file,” not actually money, so what Bugs was telling me made sense.

In addition, Bugs had back door access into the big clearing house banks, like Chase Manhattan, and until the money was transferred to an off-shore banking haven, he could track it easily. He didn’t think the money would be transferred out of the country immediately. There needed to be some sort of laundering process in place for that to happen. And, although Bourse’s involvement with the Mafia suggested he had access to such schemes, the process took time. So Bugs was confident that would find, and recover, most of the investors’ money.

Sam cut in at that point to say that the technology was good, but if Bourse’s suspicions became aroused the operation could collapse. He asked me if I felt comfortable with continuing the ‘sting’ operation. This involved some acting on my part. I would need to convincingly allow myself to be sold on investing. Sam and Blade has reconnoitered Bourse’s office and assured me they would ‘have my six’ as I met with Bourse the next day.

Sam was well aware of my nervousness—especially with fucking Tony Solan being a wildcard—so he broke protocol and came over to spend the night with me. Nothing gave me a sense of security like being surrounded by my big guy’s arms.

I presented myself promptly the next morning at Bourse’s office and got another shock. Bourse told me, that by knowing my real identity, his ‘associates’ had tracked my movements to California and had also noted the sudden departure from my banking job.

Nothing had prepared me for his next statement: “We know you stole that money, Alexandre, and I think we can help you.”

I didn’t need to act surprised. “How...how do you know that?”

“Tony filled in a few details. I understand you two were lovers. He’s angry at you for the way you suddenly left him, by the way. But things work out for the best. He and I are partners now.

“Partners?”

“Yes, as in domestic partners. So don’t try to rekindle your old relationship with Tony. That wouldn’t make me happy.”

“Uh....Okay....”

“Now, back to business. You suddenly move to Canada with ten million bucks and change your name. Come on, Alexandre, or Nick, or whoever you are. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

My heart was pounding, but I took a deep breath and held his gaze, straining my acting abilities to the max.

“So here’s what we’re going to do,” he continued. “For a small management fee we’re going to help you keep that money safe from prying eyes.”

“What kind of management fee?”

Boy, this was getting better and better.

“Forty percent off the top. But don’t worry, with our investments you’ll earn that back in two years, tops.”

“What? Alain, that’s uh...uh...extortion and you know it!”

I was going to earn an Oscar for this performance.

“It’s either that or we’ll get word to our friends at INTERPOLE....”

“You’re joking!”

“No, Mr. Paquette, I’m dead serious.”

Completely flummoxed, but not completely stupid, I did what I was told to do. I stalled. “Can I think about it?”

“Certainly,” said Alain. “But while you think about it, I’d like you to be a guest at my home.”

“That’s kind of you, but I couldn’t impose on you like that,” Smile, Nick, smile.

I heard the office door open, and when I turned toward the distraction, I saw two big, sinister looking men enter.

“Ari and William here will escort you to my house,” said Alain.

Have you ever heard someone say, ‘My bowels turned to ice’? Well, that’s what happened to me. I turned and stared, slack-jawed, at Alain. “Are you kidnapping me?”

“Let’s just call it protecting our mutual interests.”

By this time Ari and William were on either side of my chair. Alain nodded, and they each took a strong grip of my elbows, and I was propelled off the chair. They forcefully guided me out the door. It all happened so fast I had no time to resist. I was pretty much paralyzed with fear anyway. And even if I did possess the wherewithal to put up a struggle, these two goons were no match for me. I was half walked, half dragged, down the hall and into a service room, where an open elevator waited ominously. I was shoved inside and saw Ari (or was it William?) press the button for the parking floor.

I sure the hell hope Sam has my six!

I protested feebly, but the goons said nothing. Once the elevator came to a stop, I was led over to a large black car. A sack was pulled over my head, blinding me, and I was pulled-pushed unceremoniously into the back seat. The stinky morons sat on either side of me.

The drive wasn’t long, and I felt the car going up a steep hill before we came to a stop. I assumed—based on the length of the journey and the uphill climb—that I was taken to a location in Westmount, a well-to-do suburb of Montreal.

Then my captors escorted me, still blindfolded, up some steps and through a door. At that point the sack was removed from my head, and I found myself in the foyer of a large, lavish home. Yes, definitely Westmount.

I was marched down a hall and into a den where Alain Bourse was seated behind an ornate desk. The goons closed the door and left. Bourse pointed to a chair in front of the desk and told me to sit. I complied.

“Alex, or do you prefer, Nick?” he said.

“I prefer Alex. That is my identity now.”

“And what a good identity it is. It must have cost you a small fortune to create your legend. Manipulation of government data bases. Very sophisticated.”

“Well, I have ten million dollars, don’t I?”

“Indeed you do. I’m so glad you decided to share some of that with us.”

“I’m not sharing. I told you.”

At that moment the door opened. I turned and watched fucking Tony Solan enter.

Shit! What was he doing here?

“Alex, we’ll get your money eventually. Here’s how it will go: We’ll start with vague threats. Then we’ll move on to real scary threats. Do you like your brother, Alex? Maybe the old family home will burn down with him in it. Or maybe Tony will have a little go at you. You know he likes it a little rough. Maybe a good rape? We could all join in. How’s that sounding, Alex? Have you ever had your leg broken with a lead pipe, Alex? Have you ever had your nuts fried with an electric current?”

“Sounds fun to me,” said Tony.

“Fuck both of you!”

Bourse chuckled. “Tsk, tsk, Alex. Such spirit. I think a few hours in our special guest accommodations might be a good start. Give you a little time to reflect on your options.”

He lifted his chin, and Tony summoned the morons.

I was led into a basement room, searched, and divested of my phone, watch and shoes. The room was windowless with unpainted cement floor and walls. The only “furniture” was a plastic bucket in the corner. My captors closed the door and the light went out. The silence was total except for the drumming of my heart.

This was certainly more than I’d bargained for when I signed on for this job. But I knew Sam would rescue me within minutes. After all, he had my six.... But Sam didn’t arrive, and time stretched out. It was miserably cold in the room and impossible to sit or lie comfortably. Eventually I sat and hugged my knees to keep warm. I drifted in and out of semi- sleep. Many, many hours passed, I really had no idea of exactly how many. In my discomfort and fear it seemed like a long, long time. I strained to hear sounds, but the silence was absolute. I recalled something I’d once read about depravation therapy. Well, this was deprivation without the therapy. My mind became my worst enemy as I recalled Bourse’s threats. And where the hell was my knight in shining armour? Sam had let me down. Big. Time. I was doomed.

Suddenly the light came on, blinding me. I heard the lock turning and my cell door opened.

And then a voice I recognized, “Well, well, look at our little bitch princess cowering on the floor.”

Fucking Tony Solan!

I stood shakily, blinking in the harsh light. I saw a blur, and then Tony’s hand connected with the side of my head causing me to stumble.

“What the fuck, Tony?”

Whoomp! His fist connected solidly with my gut, and I collapsed to my knees, gasping for breath.

“Fucking bitch. Think you can walk away from me. Well, take this.”

And he kicked me hard in the ribs, knocking me to my side.

The pain was nearly unbearable. I curled into a ball and moaned.

“Fucking bitch. You steal ten million bucks and then don’t want to share it. Fucking bitch!” And then he kicked me in the ribs again. I made an ‘argghhhhh’ sort of noise. The pain was excruciating. Every breath torture.

“And keep the fuck away from Alain. He’s mine and I don’t want to see you flirting and whoring with him again. If I see you so much as looking sideways at him I’ll cut your nuts off after I’ve fucked your ass raw. And I’ll let Ari and William have a go too. Got that, Bitch? Say ‘yes’ or I’ll kick the shit out of you right now. I sensed rather than saw him pull his foot back preparing for another kick.

“Yes,” I gasped. “Tony, stop....”

“That’s my good little bitch. In a few minutes Ari and William will bring you upstairs. Alain will give you instructions how to wire the money to him. I expect you to cooperate. You give us the money and you might just walk away alive. ‘Course, we may have a little fun with you before we let you go....”

More than the physical pain, and the fear of Tony’s threat, I felt, I felt the anguish of Sam’s betrayal.

He promised to take care of me and he didn’t. Why did he leave me unprotected? Where the hell was he?

I was in very deep shit.

A few minutes later, I was dragged, quaking, and disoriented back to Alain’s den.

“Ready to transfer the money, Alex? Or do you need a little more persuading?”

I broke, weeping. It was no longer acting. “Okay....yes....I’ll....do....it.”

“Good boy. I’m sure you’ll be very pleased with our little partnership.”

Yeah, right.

“Sit Alex.”

Now’s he’s treating me like the pathetic dog I am.

I sat gingerly on edge of a chair.

Tony handed me my phone, instructing me to keep it on speaker mode, and I scrolled through my list of contacts to “BANK.”

When I heard Bugs answer with “Client banking, this is Atwater speaking,” I nearly broke down from relief.

“Mr. Atwater? How are you? It’s Alexandre Paquette calling.”

Thank God I’d been able to give Bugs the ‘I’m in trouble’ code.

“I’m fine Mr. Paquette. Thank you for asking. What can I do for you?” Bugs, bless his heart, just confirmed he’d heard and understood the code.

“I have decided to make an investment, and I’d like to give you instructions to wire funds to my investment advisor.”

“Certainly, Mr. Paquette,” chirped Bugs. Do you have access to a fax machine? I’ll need you to fax me a signed authorization.”

Alain quickly scribbled his fax number on a piece of paper and I recited it to Bugs.

“Fine, Mr. Paquette. I’ll fax the forms immediately. And don’t you worry. We’ve got matters in hand. Our bank will take care of your needs promptly and efficiently.”

Bugs, my angel, was sending me a message.

In minutes it was done. Alain had my money. He performed a few keystrokes on his computer, and then he drew in a deep breath and smiled.

Tony kissed his lover passionately.

I sat taking short, shallow breaths praying the cavalry would arrive soon.

“Nick, you’re a fucking pussy. Wish you would have held out a bit longer. I was looking forward to sampling your tight little ass again.” To Bourse he said, “Let’s have a little fun with him?”

Bourse replied, “Forget it Tony, we need to wrap this up quickly.” To me he said, “Ari and William will escort you back to your house now.”

I was terrified. The cavalry hadn’t yet arrived. The mob had the money. I was disposable.

Where in the name of Mary, Joseph and Jesus was Sam?

Bang! The door to the den burst open and in rushed two large men in black ski masks. Guns pointed at Tony and Bourse.

About bloody time!

“Freeze you fuckers!” yelled Sam in a Russian accent.

Russian? But it was, indeed, Sam. He promised he’d come, and he did. My hero!

“You think you can move in on Bratva territory?” said Sam, continuing the thick accent. “You fucking scum. We kill you!”

Phhht, phhht. Two muffled shots rang out. Bourse and Tony clutched their chests and collapsed to the floor.

“Tranquilizer,” Sam said. “Are you okay, Nicky?”

“No I’m not fucking okay. Sam, it was awful. They kept me in a cold room for hours. Then Tony punched me and kicked me. I think my ribs are broken.” And I burst into tears.

“Get him medical attention, Sam. I’ll clean this up. Meet us back at the hotel,” said Blade.

I limped over to Tony and spit on him. I would have kicked him in the ribs but the pain radiating through me prevented it.

“Hurt him, Blade,” I said.

Ari and William were slumped on the hall floor. Sam said not to worry, they’d be out for hours, and there was no one else in the house

I couldn’t stop shaking. Sam told me I was dehydrated and in shock. He made me lie down on a couch and he put a throw over me. Then he fetched orange juice from somewhere and made me take sips of it. He kept telling me over and over how much he loved me, how sorry he was. He promised me he’d make it up to me. He promised I would be all right.

I wasn’t so sure about that.

I was drifting in and out of consciousness.

Sam made a call, I think it was to Susan Daniels, and then shortly after an ambulance arrived. I was loaded onto a stretcher. An EMT got an IV going. Sam accompanied me in the ambulance to some sort of private clinic where I was x-ray and examined. A doctor pronounced I had one broken rib, one cracked rib and some scrapes and bruises but otherwise had no life-threatening injuries.

He injected something into my IV line, and shortly after the pain subsided, and I dropped off into a dreamless sleep.

Sam was holding my hand and looking into my eyes when I woke up. Apparently I had slept through the night. It was now morning. I was unhooked from the IV, and Sam took me back to his hotel.

If I lay still my ribs didn’t hurt too much. Laughing, coughing and even farting hurt though.

The debrief took most of that day. Apparently I’d been held in that cold room for about eight hours. Sam and Blade had followed the limo—there were tracking devices in the heels of my shoes—so they knew exactly where I was. Unfortunately they had to wait for news about the money transfer before they could rescue me. Sam nearly went crazy with worry. Blade promised me he put a good hurt on Tony and Alain. I liked the sound of that.

Bugs retrieved bulk of the investors’ funds, but it would take a few days to unravel and shut down network of shell companies Bourse had set up. Mr. Smith appeared from nowhere, looking as dapper as ever, and congratulated the team on a fine job. He shook my hand and told me I did well. I told him it was a one-time performance. To which he replied, “We’ll see.”

I extracted a promise that I would be told the details of Bourse’s scam once it was all worked out.

I felt very remote and disconnected, like I was operating under water. I clung to Sam, needing him to take care of me. That night, I had to sleep on my back, but I kept one of his strong hands clutched to my chest.

The next day Sam and I were flown, by private jet, back to San Diego.

Back home, I couldn’t shake my sense of disorientation. The sensation was similar to when I stepped off our boat—like the ground under me was still rolling. I was emotional and clingy. And not horny—not at all.

Sam seemed to know just what to do. He wasn’t solicitous, just loving and efficient. He stayed by my side for days. Always calm, always loving. I was afraid of Bourse and Tony. They knew where I was. I feared retaliation from them. Sam promised to keep me safe. I believed him. I still believed in him.

Sam took me to an ex-military psychologist, who was an expert in PTSD, and after a couple of weeks I felt nearly back to normal. Horny came back all at once. Poor Sam was nearly devoured, although I didn’t hear any complaining.

The boat was a nice diversion. We didn’t have any fixed plans, but we took the boat over to Catalina then over to Los Angeles to visit Jerome and Rob. We stayed on the boat but spent two days with Jerome and the twins hanging out around their pool, and barbequing unhealthy quantities of meet, and drinking unhealthy quantities of beer and wine. I unwound. Rob arrived home from his work trip and joined the merriment. I loved seeing him greet his kids so enthusiastically. You’d have thought he’d been away for months, not just a few days. I envied them their solid, domestic life.

On the boat, when Sam and I made love, my nerve endings were on fire. Sam had to clamp his hand over my mouth when I came for fear of waking up the whole Marina.

I was feeling generally good, but I didn’t feel like going back to work. I was much too restless to face the tedium of analysing balance sheets and preparing the daily reports that my job demanded.

Sam told me to take as much time as I needed.

A few days later, Susan invited us and the rest of the team over for a buffet dinner. They had finished analysing Bourse’s scam and she explained it to me.

He had bought a defunct diamond mining company in the north of Canada whose shares traded on the Toronto Stock Exchange. With investors’ funds he would manipulate the company’s share price by buying blocks of stock thereby making it look popular—he’d buy enough to run the stock price up a little, but not enough to create suspicion. He also issued false press releases on the mine’s production, which would also push the share price up. Then he would sell his personal shares at a profit. In addition, the company would record “sales” of diamonds to create false revenue. Then other shell companies would invoice the mining company for supplies and labor. It was all very complex. Bernie Madoff would have been proud. Luckily for the investors, the money laundering part of the scheme took time and Sam’s crew was able to recover nearly 80% of their funds. They were very happy.

Susan told me that the team had played the Russian Bratva (Mafia) angle to protect me. They made it look like a turf battle between the Italians and the Russians—and the Russians had won. The ‘Russians’ threatened Bourse and Tony with severe consequences if they so much as breathed a word of this affair to anyone. Also, they emphasized that Nick Poulos was under Bratva protection. That with his (my) knowledge of banking and the stock market he (I) was a valuable asset to them. If so much as a hair on his (my) head was damaged, Bratva would kill Bourse and Tony and their families, and their families’ families and so forth.

Also, Sam’s team would monitor Tony and Bourse’s communications and movements. And I had Sandy’s number in speed dial to use if Sam was away and I saw anything suspicious.

I took comfort in the fact that Sam’s team knew how to do their job.

As we were leaving, Susan pulled me aside and handed me an envelope, inside of which was a substantial check. “Your fee and bonus,” she said. “And, Nick, we know what happened was traumatic for you, but we’ve got your six. Sam knows what to do, but if at any time you feel you need counselling, you give me a call. It will all be taken care of.”

“Thanks Susan,” I said. “Sam found me a good counsellor, and it’s helping, but I appreciate your offer.”

“Glad to hear that, Nick. Even the tough guys know that counselling is necessary after a rough op. And one other thing, if you need anything—any sort of favor—you come to us. Understood?”

“Do things ever get back to normal, Susan?”

“Usually they do. Although PTSD is in the news a lot, it’s really only a small portion of soldiers who experience severe, long-lasting effects. Remember, Nick, laughter is the best medicine. And do what you love to do.”