Tom smiled as he watched the video feed from the Silverman building. Gabe had got up from his desk and found himself confronted by a gang of men with machine guns.
Tom knew right away that these men were private security guards working for Jean-Pierre Guinaudeau, whose meeting to blow the lid off the climate change scam was due to begin in four hours. What Monsieur Guinaudeau didn’t know was that his private security guards really worked for Tom’s boss. They had infiltrated the scientist’s inner circle and, while they were supposedly sweeping the Silverman building for threats, they were actually planting explosives in strategic places. The first explosion would bring the roof in on the meeting then, just to be sure everyone was dead, a second, much larger set of explosives would bring the whole building down.
With a sly glint in his eye, Tom decided to toy with Gabe. He picked up the phone and called his number. Not only would he be shitting himself about the men pointing machine guns at him, he would also be worried about what the scary man on the phone would say if he didn’t answer the call. Tom kept redialling as he watched Gabe plead his case with his aggressors. They left and Gabe took what looked like his lunch order from a delivery boy. On the fourth call, Gabe eventually made it back to his desk and picked up the phone.
‘Where the fuck have you been?’ Tom barked.
‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’
‘Try me.’
‘A group of men with machine guns came into the office and started asking me questions. They said there’s a meeting here later today.’
‘Yes, the anti-climate change guy. Just routine, I’m sure.’
‘So you know about it?’
Tom paused for dramatic effect to make Gabe think he was onto something. ‘That’s not important,’ he said. ‘We’ve already wasted too much time.’
‘Okay, what do you need me to do?’ Gabe asked.
‘I want you to short Aircoach. As much as you can in the next five minutes.’
Tom watched the transactions appear on the investment account statement. The kid in New York managed to put through short sell orders for three hundred thousand shares in Aircoach. Tom called him back.
‘Three hundred thousand was the best I could do,’ Gabe said.
‘Excellent,’ Tom replied, stifling the urge to tell Gabe he knew what he had done. ‘Take a break for now. Enjoy your lunch, but don’t take your eyes off the TV screen.’
For full details on how to get your hands on a copy of One Day in Gitmo Nation, visit www.noagendanovels.com
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