Get Rich. Get Even.

Get Rich.

Get Even.

Baron Alexander

Wilderwick Press

Forest Row, UK

Copyright © 2022 by Baron Alexander

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

Baron Alexander/Wilderwick Press

Unit 4 Ashdown Court

Lewes Road, Forest Row, RH18 5EZ

www.baronalexanderbooks.com

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

For what shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul?

– Mark 8:36 King James Version

Le secret des grandes fortunes sans cause apparente est un crime oublié, parce qu’ il a été proprement fait.

– From Le Père Goriot, Honoré de Balzac

Behind every great fortune lies a great crime.

– English paraphrase of Balzac’s original

CONTENTS

Empire State Building

Laos

American Woman

Just the Money…

To be a Banker…

Griselda

Sylvia

Laundering

Barbie

Getting Out

Change of Plans

Power

Dominoes

Hitting Bottom

G29

The Order

Square One

Rebuilding

Patriot

Joe

Welcome to the Club

Interrogation

Success

Part One

George Anderson

CHAPTER ONE

Empire State Building

One hundred-second floor, please.

Yes, sir.

I moved to the back of the elevator as three other couples crowded in. The polished stainless steel folding door was pulled shut and the porter pressed the button. I barely registered the green marble on the walls with its white veins, or the drone of the porter as he repeated the same facts to the excited tourists for the umpteenth time that day. I began to wonder why I even said which floor I was going to. There was only one stop for us from the eighty-sixth floor to the hundred-and-second.

Smaller than I thought, I said to no one in particular. The elevator had disgorged us. I was surrounded by glass, blue sky, and the cityscape below.

I know, but it’s beautiful. It was a woman with her arm linked in her husband’s. She responded to my comment but was talking to him.

I walked next to the thick glass and looked down and all around me. I didn’t know what to expect, and found myself recoiling at first.

Afraid of heights, son?

I turned around, looking for the source. Huh? I soon realized it was the husband of the woman.

It looked like you just saw a ghost.

No, I just didn’t expect it to drop away like that. There’s no opening for me to fall, but it surprised me anyway. I blushed slightly.

No need to be embarrassed. Is it your first time here?

Yes. I’m meeting someone here.

A girl?

I shrugged, then nodded.

My wife and I are here because we saw that movie last year, the one with Cary Grant.

His wife closed her eyes and brought her shoulders up as though she was cold. It was such a wonderful movie. We saw it twice and I cried both times.

He put his hand on hers and they looked directly at each other, forgetting me for the moment.

I’ll leave you to enjoy the view, I said.

No hurry, son, he said. As your gal hasn’t arrived, I hope you don’t mind us chatting. We’re not from New York.

I had gathered that already. New Yorkers didn’t start talking to strangers.

Me either, I said. And I also saw that movie. It’s what inspired me to come here.

The woman’s eyes grew wider and began to sparkle. Ooh, see Tom? I knew it. I bet he’s here to ask her to marry him.

I looked down at the floor, my face becoming hot from the word. The little box burned in my pocket.

I met a girl, I said. I fell in love. She lives in New York, so I thought this would be an easy place for us to reunite.

Reunite? The man was now looking at me. The skyline stood majestically around us through the glass but my story seemed to be interesting them more.

I shrugged again. I haven’t seen her for three months. We agreed to meet here today.

Just like Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr, the wife said. The skin around her eyes was moist. Her hands were clutching together.

I hope not, I said. She got hit by a car and left Cary Grant waiting like a schmo.

The wife grabbed her husband’s arm. This is so romantic. I knew it was a good idea for us to come here.

I didn’t want to ask where they came from and hoped they didn’t tell.

Listen, son. We’ll let you be. If you need anything, we’ll be here for a while.

Yes, ask us for anything. I want to wait and see what happens. She was already being led away.

I nodded and allowed a smile, my fingers feeling the outline of the box through the fabric of my trousers. I drifted next to the indifferent steel girders that held everything together. I liked being able to see the large bolts and nuts covered with layers of paint. Leaning against the steel, I looked out over the expanse of buildings that fanned out like a floor full of children’s toys. My mind drifted along the lines of moving traffic until it rested on the one subject that I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since I met her.

∞

You plan on going to Harvard? I was surprised to see a girl on campus.

Me? No. I’m here because my brother is going. He’s a legacy student. My father and grandfather studied here.

You don’t want to?

Want to what?

Study at Harvard.

Her head turned so that she looked at me out of the corners of her eyes. Are you trying to make fun of me?

I felt a cold trickle of sweat form on my lower back. I still couldn’t believe I had struck up a conversation with her. I tried not to stare at her riding pants. There were no pockets that I could see, and they were so tight, I thought they were sprayed on.

Uh, never. Why would you think that?

Because Harvard doesn’t accept women students. None of the Ivy leagues do.

Her face was slightly flushed. Her blonde hair was long, at least halfway to her waist; it was fashioned back off her face. I became conscious of her eyes and her lips. My shirt was now sticking to my back.

I didn’t know, I stammered. I’m sorry. I was just trying to… I didn’t want to say ‘talk to you’. Hi, my name is George.

Barbara. My friends call me Barbie.

Her hand slipped into mine. It was cool. I hoped mine wasn’t sweating.

Nice to meet you, Barbie.

And you, George.

Her body relaxed again and I could see her hip shifting. I forced myself to look at her eyes.

Do you know how long this takes? I was desperate to keep the conversation going.

Most of the day. My father wants to introduce my brother to all of his old professors. You know, show him around. I’m not sure if this day is for my brother or my father.

I’m already finished. Do you need to stick around?

I couldn’t believe I uttered the words. I had just met this girl and she was with her family. What was I thinking?

Not really. She looked to see if anyone was coming down the hallway and out the windows, though I couldn’t see what she was looking at or for. It was a massive campus.

Do you want to join me for a coffee? Or lunch? We can grab a bite at the cafeteria. Will your family be able to find you?

I’m not a dog on a leash, she said. Her face had become flush. I’m sure they’ll figure it out eventually.

I nodded, afraid I would say something that would break this spell. I had never done something like this before. She started walking. I followed.

What are you planning to study? she asked.

You’re going to think I’m a geek, I said. I could feel my shoulders turning in.

Hardly. Look at you. You probably played varsity ball; I’m trying to figure out whether it was football or basketball.

She lifted her hand to her face in mock consideration. I smiled.

Basketball. I never liked the full contact of football.

Smart. So what are you studying?

Economics, but there is something here I want to do more than anything.

What’s that?

Computers. You’ve heard about Mark I?

The device that helped the Manhattan Project?

It was my turn to be speechless. She noticed and raised her chin higher.

What? You think I’m some dumb blonde girl? I hear things.

I am impressed. Most girls aren’t interested in things like that. I’m fascinated with computers, war, and money. Anyway, Harvard isn’t the best place for me to do my undergraduate. I want to be here because of the computers.

I like a man who knows what he wants.

Her eyes narrowed briefly, and I felt butterflies in my stomach. My body began to shake with adrenaline. I didn’t tell her I was here on a scholarship. She held herself like a rich girl. I bet her brother didn’t need to worry about how much tuition cost.

We arrived at the cafeteria and I followed her in. She was confident in her movements. I saw the other guys follow her with their eyes as she passed. Either she didn’t notice or she expected the attention.

I’m glad we’re not eating in the dining halls.

Why? I asked. They’re amazing.

Not if all you want is a coffee and a sandwich.

Good point. I would have said the same thing no matter what she answered.

Maybe you want to try something off campus sometime?

My insides went liquid. We hadn’t spent any time together and she was asking me out. I’d never heard of a girl asking a guy out before. It excited and scared me; I liked it. My mouth went dry.

Of course, I said.

I look forward to it.

She smiled at me and my body shuddered with an extra bolt of adrenaline. She was like no one I had ever met. She was smart, confident, and so beautiful I couldn’t believe she was next to me.

∞

I’m sorry, but we have to go. I hope she comes. The man and woman were next to me and it took a while to readjust my senses.

Thank you. And enjoy the rest of your trip.

I shook the husband’s hand and expected to nod to the wife but she also shook my hand. Hers was clammy and cool; I could feel that her skin was papery thin. It reminded me of Barbie’s mother’s. The smiling couple give me a final wave as the elevator’s doors removed them from my thoughts.

∞

Welcome, George. Barbie’s told me so much about you. She shook my hand and looked me in the eye.

Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Lexington. Your home is beautiful.

Oh, you’re too kind. She seemed to genuinely flush as she led us through the foyer and into the formal dining room. Everyone was already seated. You can sit next to Frederick, George. Barbie, you can sit next to your father.

I settled into my seat. I was conscious that it was antique of some sort. If I had to guess, I would say Chippendale, but I had no real idea. I decided not to announce my ignorance and to avoid any direct conversations on money, art, or investments.

The food smells delicious, I said instead. It was met with appreciative nods.

Let’s say grace, Mr. Lexington said. He bowed his head and rambled off a set-prayer piece I wasn’t familiar with.

Amen, I said in unison with everyone else.

Tell me about yourself, George. Where are you from, what are you studying, and what are you planning to do in the future?

Dad! Barbie said. Can’t we just eat and enjoy ourselves? George is a friend. He’s going to Harvard, and is studying economics and computers. He’s going to be someone in the future. When her eyes fell on me, I blushed.

Oh, well, he said. I just want to get to know who you are, George. No offence.

None taken, I said. I’m just a student right now. I hope to make my mark on the world when I’m done.

Barbie’s eyes said all I needed to know. She was proud of me. She was protecting me. It made me want her more than ever.

You’ve been seeing a lot of our Barbara, he continued. I appreciate you coming from Cambridge to us so we could finally meet.

It’s only four hours, and since Barbie is leaving for Switzerland soon, I wanted to spend as much time as possible with her before we’re apart.

Mr. Lexington raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Mrs. Lexington’s face became soft and I thought I could see her eyes become watery. She looked between Barbie and me. I realized I had another ally at the table. The brother said nothing, probably knowing better than to get in the middle of things.

How did you two meet again?

Daddy, I told you. We met at Harvard when you and Frederick were doing your thing meeting the professors.

That was weeks ago. Why is it only now that I’m meeting George?

It was my turn to become uncomfortable. I didn’t expect a grilling at the dinner table.

You’ve had plenty of chances to meet with him, Daddy. You were always too busy or out of town.

And you’re meeting him today, Mrs. Lexington added. I, for one, am pleased that George made the effort.

Thank you, Mrs. Lexington, I said. I was determined to stay in the conversation. Perhaps we can have a word in private, George, after dinner, Mr. Lexington said.

Yes, sir. I’d like that, I said.

I focused on eating the roast beef. Everything about the meal, the table, and the room was perfect. I knew they had a staff that took care of these things, and I could see them come and go during the meal, but experiencing it was a very different thing than thinking about it in the abstract. I tried not to worry about what the subject of my conversation with Mr. Lexington would be.

The rest of the meal went as I expected. The conversation changed to Frederick’s studies, the weather, the new hula hoop craze that was gripping youngsters, President Eisenhower’s making Alaska a new state, and the creation of NASA. I had prepared talking points on all these subjects beforehand. I tried not to be too intrusive, nor too shy. I wanted to become part of the family.

Afterwards, when the dinner and desert were done, I knew the time had come to talk to Mr. Lexington. He caught my eye and indicated to follow him with his head. He didn’t need to say anything. Barbie caught the movement and I saw her eyes dart from her father to me to her mother, then back to me. I thought I noticed a suppressed smile, as though she knew what her father was going to talk to me about.

His study was formal, with dark wood-paneled walls. He closed the heavy door against the sounds of the rest of the house and I could understand why he created such a space for himself. It became silent and peaceful. I could smell the cigar and pipe smoke that hung in the bindings of the books and drapes. Along the wall sat a collection of cut glass bottles of whiskey and gin. We sat across from each other on two overstuffed armchairs. I was glad we didn’t have his desk between us.

So, George.

I waited for him to continue. He didn’t. I didn’t know what to say. Yes?

Do you want a drink? He motioned to the whiskey. I knew that was a trap.

No, sir. I don’t drink.

He nodded, lips slightly pursed. Good. There’s plenty of time to pick up vices like that. He got up and poured himself a large whiskey. Do you want a Coke?

Yes, please. That would be nice. Thank you. He opened a door beneath and I could see a small refrigerator stocked with soft drinks and tonics. He removed the cap and handed me the bottle.

Do you want a glass?

No, sir. I like it straight from the bottle. More bubbles.

I agree, he said, smiling slightly. But if my wife offers you a bottle, say that you would prefer a glass. She’s funny that way.

I put the bottle to my lips, conscious of my