THE TAINTED TRUST (Volume 2 of The King Trilogy)

CHAPTER 22

         Now desperate, Visconti telephoned Miles Dennis. "Miles, it's Louis. I need to see you immediately. It's extremely important."

"What's the problem?" Dennis asked, sensing the anxiety in Visconti's voice. "You don't sound happy."

"I'll tell you when I see you. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

Visconti emerged from the South Tower elevator, marched directly across the hallway and entered the no frills, bare bones offices of Iacardi & Sons, Commodity Brokers. He crossed the linoleum covered floor of the small and cramped reception area to sit in one of two dark brown wooden chairs, the only furniture available.

Dennis appeared from the inner office. Tall, thin and sharp featured, his thinning hair was gray, his teeth slightly crooked, but his smile somehow enhanced his appearance. He wore a well tailored gray suit with a dark blue silk tie. "Good to see you again, Louis," he said, extending his hand.

"How did you know I was here?" Visconti asked.

"I saw you on the monitor," Dennis replied, pointing at the camera mounted on the wall above and to Visconti's right.

Visconti turned to glance at the camera, then shook his head and grinned. "If there's a way to save a buck, you guys are going to think of it. Maybe we should all take a page out of your book."

"Strictly contrarian, Louis. When everyone else spends, we cut...What can I do for you?"

"Can we talk in private?"

"Sure. Let's go to my office." Dennis led Visconti to his tiny glass-enclosed cubicle, then closed the door. He chuckled as he pointed to a metal folding chair on the opposite side of his desk. "Sit on that, Louis. I'm sure you'll find it uncomfortable."

Visconti pulled the metal chair away from the desk and sat erect. He faced Dennis with reddened eyes. "I need your help, Miles. My requirements are simple. I need a miracle."

Dennis laughed. "I don't do miracles, Louis. Maybe you could scale your expectations down a notch."

"I need to make a very large amount of money in a very short time." Visconti's face flushed red. "I took a hit. A big one."

"So did the whole world. How big?"

Visconti looked at the ceiling. "I'm managing a trust that just went south by a half a billion."

"Did you say million, or billion?"

"With a B."

Astounded, Dennis jerked forward. "You've got to be kidding!"

"Unfortunately I'm not."

"How the hell did it happen?"

"I picked last weekend to disappear with a barfly, incommunicado. She's no mental giant, but she's got all the right body parts. Honestly, I had no idea what was happening until I got back last night."

Dennis shook his head. "Probably the most expensive piece of ass you ever had," he said with a sympathetic smirk.

"I just reached the point where the telephone was growing roots in my ear. I couldn't stand the sight of it any more. If I had any idea how much the trip was going to cost me, I would have stayed in New York and screwed her in a telephone booth."

"So how do you propose to make a half a billion in a hurry?" Dennis asked, restraining a chuckle. "Please forgive me if I sound the slightest bit skeptical."

"Where do you think the price of crude oil's going?"

Dennis rolled his eyes skyward. "Not this again. You can't expect..."

Visconti interrupted. "Never mind. Just answer the question."

"We've got a hung jury on that one. Our research guru thinks it's going south, but some of us aren't so sure. It's an extremely important complex and there are a lot of powerful forces affecting it. If those forces weren't there, the price of crude would go into free fall."

"Enlighten me."

"Most of the oil producers in the lower forty-eight can't survive on ten dollar crude, and the government of this country is well aware of that reality. They know that if the price goes below ten dollars, domestic production gets cut and is replaced with imports. If that happens, our already sick balance of payments gets pneumonia, consumption increases, and eventually we have another energy crisis. Probably worse than the one in seventy-nine."

Dennis's answer was not what Visconti wanted to hear. "Suppose the price did go into free fall. How far would it go?"

"Eight bucks. Maybe further."

The answer was consistent with Raza's prediction. "What would you say if I told you I wanted to take a very large short position in crude oil?"

"How large?"

"Thirty or forty thousand contracts."

"I'd say you're out of your mind."

"Why?"

"The powerful forces, Louis. They're keeping upward pressure on prices."

Visconti was blinded by pride and his insatiable need to make more money than anyone else on the planet. "So maybe I'm crazy, or maybe I'm sitting on the opportunity of a lifetime."

"And maybe you're about to blow your financial brains out."

"I've already done that," Visconti admitted. "I don't have much to lose."

"Okay, if you really want to let it all hang out on a roll of the dice, I can't stop you. Give me twenty-four hours to talk to some people and check this thing out. Will you do that?"

Visconti struggled with his impulses. "Not one second longer," he warned. "There's no way I'm going to call my client and try to explain to him how I lost a half a billion of his money this weekend. If I do, my ass is fired and I lose the largest portfolio the company's ever had."

Dennis called Visconti at noon the following day. "Your timing's bad, Louis," he said. "I strongly advise you not to take a short position in crude at this time, not even with pocket change."

"Why?"

"A number of extremely well informed people in this country and in Europe think the price is going to strengthen before it weakens."

"Where's it going?"

"Twenty bucks. Then it's probably going to drop like a stone. I'll give you a list of reasons if you want them."

"I want them."

"Saudi Arabia's the biggie. They're still prepared to act as the swing producer. As long as they are, the price won't drop. They'll continue to cut production to keep supply and demand in balance. We think there are limits to their patience, however."

"What limits?"

"Money. Believe it or not, the Saudis are running out of it. They've cut their production so far, their cash flows aren't even enough to cover their purchases of war planes. Our advisors think it's only a matter of time before they capitulate. When they do, it might be time for you to jump in. I'll call you when I think the time is right."

"I'll have your ass if we miss the boat on this," Visconti warned. Privately, however, he respected Dennis's opinion. Dennis was renowned for having made millions for too many clients.

"Trust me, Louis. If there's a boat, you won't miss it."

Visconti hung up, now more desperate than ever.