Betrayal

By Jim Carr

What would you do if you suddenly found yourself back in 1929 – one month before the big stock market crash? That's exactly what happened to a savvy New York stockbroker, who knew exactly what to do to turn it into a massive fortune…except for one small thing he had forgotten all about.

Or if you found that the $40 million in diamonds that were entrusted in your care suddenly disappeared from the safe of a swanky resort in Hua Hin, Thailand…or you found yourself charged with murder at a German POW camp and facing a firing squad in two days time…or found yourself charged with murdering an old friend when you rowed out to nearby island and only you returned.

Betrayal offers seven stories with the underlining theme of betrayal, some more obvious than others, starting with a new spin on who really stole Queen Marie Antoinette's fabled necklace.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: jim Carr
• Release date: Oct 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9780995968431

Jim Carr

Jim Carr's adventure with words began as a teacher of Latin grammar, followed by a lengthy career in print journalism as a reporter, columnist and editor. He left to become a communications specialist for a number of national and international corporations and institutions. He returned to journalism in retirement and acts as associate editor of Spa Canada magazine as well as freelancing for other publications. He writes a blog about Thai resorts and spas, which is featured on Spa Canada's website, as well as fiction.

Book preview

The Man Who Knew Too Much

D

r. Cyril Grant, Jake Sharpe’s doctor, didn’t have good news for him. His heart didn’t sound quite right, and he urged him to see a cardiologist.

If I were you, I’d take off work for a week or two until you see the specialist. It could be stress at work that’s getting to you. But it’s always best to be sure. Especially when it involves your heart, and while you’re at it, I’d say goodbye to your cigarettes. They’re not doing you any good.

Jake nodded. Go ahead and set up the appointment.

He took the elevator down to his office, picked up his bags and waved to the limo waiting to take him to the airport.

As a computer-savvy stock market whiz, Jake seemed like an unstoppable force. Yet, for all his smarts in helping others make millions, he earned only thousands. Part of the problem, Jake would be the first to admit, was himself. He was risk-averse with his own money but adventurous with the investments of others. What Jake could do for others, he couldn’t bring himself to do it for himself. He liked sure things.

The limo suddenly limo stopped, and he looked up. The driver turned. Here you are, Bub. Delmonico’s.

The driver looked different somehow. So did the limo. In fact, it wasn’t his limo. This isn’t the airport, said Jake, a six-footer with a tanned face and deep blue eyes, who tended to fly off the handle when people let him down.

Listen, mister, you said Delmonico’s and here we are at Delmonico’s. The cab driver pointed out the entrance. I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but it isn’t going to work with me.

Jake’s face hardened as he opened the door.

And don’t try to get away without paying. I’ve seen your type before.

Jake reached inside his trouser pocket and pulled out a five dollar bill.

Are you trying to be smart? I can’t change a bill that size, and you know it – if that’s what your game is.

The taxi driver, a 60-year old with a torn jacket that looked too small for him, rubbed his grey-stubble face. He didn’t like guys like this, and his coal-black eyes showed it.

Keep the change,

This doesn’t look like any $5 bill I’ve ever seen.

It’s legal, I assure you. And keep the change.

Are you all right?

Jake nodded. He was standing outside the cab and suddenly became aware that everything looked different. The passing cars were mostly black and old-looking, like something from the ‘20s or ‘30s. There were even a few horses pulling wagons.

The cars? said Jake.

What about them?

They’re all so old. Is there an old car rally down here today?

Are you all right in the head? They’re the latest 1929 models. The cab driver turned away, muttering to himself and shaking his head. Old cars ...

Jake tried to smile. Maybe you’re right, he said, saluting the cab driver as he headed for the restaurant.

It was like walking into the past. There were ferns and other potted plants all over the place.  He didn’t have to wait long.

Mr. Sharpe, said one of the waiters, who spotted him the moment he entered. You are early today. Are you expecting anyone else to join you?"

Franz, an Australian by birth with a discreet smile, joined Delmonico’s shortly after the war to end all wars. Before long, he became known as one of the best waiters in New York.

He ca rried a white towel over his left arm and smiled as he seated Jake.

You didn’t indicate whether you will be dining alone or with a guest, he said with a slight bow. The bald spot on the back of his head shone in the overhead lights.

I’m not sure. That is, I don’t quite remember.

Pardon, Mr. Sharpe. But you don’t seem to know me. Is everything all right? It’s me, Franz.

I think so, but my memory seems to have gone blank. Can you help me?

Of course, Mr. Sharpe.

What work do I do? And where?

You’re one of the top stockbrokers on Wall Street and a vice-president at Guardian Bank, just down the street a piece. Your clients swear by you. Franz, who always spoke in whispers, paused for a few seconds. Forgive me, Mr. Sharpe, may I suggest you see a doctor. If it were me, I would. Another pause. Let me get you something to clear your head.

Jake nodded and caught Franz just as he was turning. "Could you kindly bring me a copy of today’s Wall Street Journal?"

Franz brought the newspaper almost immediately. Jeff looked at the masthead. There it was: The date: September 15, 1929. He was somehow living in the past. He wondered how. All he could recall was getting into a limo cab and telling the driver to take him to the airport.

He glanced at yesterday’s closing prices. GM seemed to head for 90 dollars a share, with significant increases for U.S. Steel, Goldman Sachs, Morgan and Chase National. And another new high for the Dow.

Jake looked around him. The place was starting to fill up with early diners. Everyone seemed in a buoyant mood. Quite a few waved to him. He waved back, not quite sure what to do.

Franz returned a minute or two later. Try this, Mr. Sharpe. It will help you feel better.

He was right. Jake felt better almost immediately, but he still didn’t know how suddenly he found himself in this new world, or worse yet, how to behave.

A middle-aged man with a greying mustache waved to him and sat down opposite him a few seconds later. Sorry about being late. Got held up at the office. How’s the market today, he said without taking a breath. He looked at Jake’s drink. Franz’s special pick-me-up. I could use one of those myself, he added, waving to Franz, who seemed to have eyes in the back of his head.

Prohibition is damn hard on guys like us. He looked at Jake closely. You look as though you’ve spent the night at a barrel house.

I’m not myself today, that’s for sure.

How’s the market today? Harry Schwartz took another close look at Jake. Or did you go in today?

Jake shook his head and looked at the menu.

I don’t know why you bother looking at the menu. You always end up ordering the same thing. Schwartz sat back in his chair. He couldn’t get over the change in Jake. Almost everything was different about him. Even his suit. Your suit. Is that the latest cut or what?

Just had this designed for me. Special. What do you think?

Like it, Let me know where you had it made, and I’ll get one myself.

HE FOUND GUARDIAN BANK with no trouble at all. Just down the street, the person he stopped told him. On this side of the street.

The brokerage offices were two floors up, and he stepped out into the reception area. It was like walking into a posh hotel lobby in Old Europe. White silk-covered sofas fronted book cases of leather-bound books while potted ferns were placed all around the area. The oak table at the centre was covered with today’s newspapers. He couldn’t believe the hushed atmosphere.

Where have you been, Jake? The market’s going crazy, and just about every client you have has been calling for you, said Tess Carruthers, a tall, shapely red head who liked to wear revealing blouses. You don’t look as though you know me. I’m your secretary. Tess Carruthers, in case you’ve forgotten.

Sorry, Tess. I had a rough night.

Elephant’s eyebrows, she added with a knowing smile, passing him a handful of pink telephone slips.

Jake put them in his inside jacket pocket.

And Mr. Goodwin wants to see you first thing. She paused to look him over. Where did you that suit?

Like it?

Absolutely affirmative. You’d better see Mr. Goodwin first. He’s been on the warpath all day."

Jake turned to go.

What’s wrong with you, Jake? Mr. Goodwin’s office is this way. She shook her head. Must have been a night to remember.

Tess was still trying to digest the change in him. Jake smiled as he opened the door to the executive suite.

Goodwin’s secretary spotted him almost immediately. Thank God you’re here. He wants to see you as soon as you get in.

What’s it about?

Not sure, but he’s been buzzing me every 20 minutes or so to see if you’ve come in, she said, knocking at Goodwin’s door.

Mr. Sharpe is here, Mr. Goodwin.

What are you waiting for? Send him in. Goodwin had a deep, authoritative voice that made secretaries break into tears, deep brown eyes, a dark, clean-shaven face, and a smile he reserved for well healed clients. He had that look now.

Goodwin waved him to the light blue chesterfield on the right side of his desk. "Had an unexpected visit from Alex Bluestein first thing this morning to tell me he’s moving his account to Goldman Sachs. I don’t mind telling you. He’s our largest account.

I told him if he would give us a second chance, I would assign our best account executive to handle his investments. He paused. He believes the market is going to tank any day now and wants to cash out. Everything.

Jake nodded. Understood.

I told him you would see him today. He took out a package of cigars from his inside pocket and passed one to Jake. Just got a new batch from Cuba. Then, rising from the chesterfield, let me know what Bluestein says.

ABOUT TIME, SAID ALEX Bluestein. I called on your Mr. Goodwin at nine this morning to tell him I was moving my account. He asked me to talk to you before I did. He also said it would be this morning.

He took out a gold pocket watch and opened its case. It is now 3.17 p.m., he said, emphasizing the p.m. Is this the kind of service I can expect from you?

Goldstein looked like a kindly grandfather, but it was clear to Jake there was more used to walking over people with hob nail boots. Jake learned later that Goldstein had taken a small shop his father had started and turned it into a national powerhouse. Bluestein learned very early in the game that he had to be hard in everything he undertook to succeed.

Jake took a deep breath. Sorry, Mr. Bluestein. I wasn’t feeling well this morning and had to see my doctor. But I am here now. And at your service.

Are you all right now?

Jake nodded and went straight into business. Let me start by asking you why you want to liquidate your entire portfolio and move your account to Sachs?

I believe the market cannot go on this way indefinitely and that there will be a day of reckoning sooner rather than later. I do not want to be invested when that day arrives.

Is this something you heard from Cason Eldridge?

Bluestein gave him a sharp look. Why do you ask that?

I hear he’s about to issue a report to that effect three days from now.

You’re sharp – in name and what you know. I grant you that. What do you believe?

I believe the market will decline for a few days and then come roaring back. If I were handling our account, I would sell off your biggest holdings tomorrow and cherry-pick the best when the market goes down. You’ll make a lot of money doing this, and over a very short period of time.

And after that?

I’d be inclined to sell a lot of my holdings and covert them to T-Bills. I believe there will come a day after then when you’ll be able to buy stocks like GM at an unbelievable price.

Goodwin was right about you. You’re the man I’ve been looking for. When do we start?

Why not today?

I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU said to him, but he insists that you handle all his investments. And only you, said Ambrose Goodwin when Jake returned to the office. We’re having a few people in for a light supper tonight. I think it would be worth your while to join us.

Jake left Goodwin’s office and looked for Tess. She was sitting on the edge of her desk. I hear you’re the gnat’s whiskers in getting Bluestein to keep his account with us. She smiled. I have a few things for you to sign. She entered the opened door and laid the papers on his desk.

One thing more, a young woman by the name of Mona Saunders called a few times. She seemed quite anxious to see you.

Did she leave a number?

Tess nodded. If she calls again, tell her I’ll call her tomorrow. Jake paused to smile. I’ve been invited to a supper party at Goodwin’s tonight. I wouldn’t want to miss that for anything.

I like to get invitations like that.

Jake ignored the comment. The question now, he thought, was where he did he live. He had an idea. He searched his desk and came up with a report. He put it in an envelope and gave it to Tess. Would you send this to my home? I’d like to read it when I get home tonight.

Tess wrote down his name and address and was about to call for a messenger when he stopped her. I just thought. I need to go home and change for the supper party. I’ll take it with me.

Jake took a cab, one of the new Model-Ts. It stopped in front of a walk-up brownstone. He buzzed for the janitor and explained he had lost his keys and asked for a temporary one until the janitor could get an extra made.

AMBROSE GOODWIN’S HOME was a 30-minute subway ride and a 10-minute taxi fare away. Goodwin’s butler, a man