Serge spent the day in Milan, but he did not go to his office. Friedrich took him, instead, to the Hotel Principe di Savoia where he went directly to a top floor suite reserved for Grosserkopf’s use.
He made calls on and off during the morning and checked his laptop often. By the time all of his trades settled he turned a profit of almost fifty million euros on the now famous “flash crash”. The Prime Minister’s personal account received a third of the proceeds as did the firm. Serge should have been much happier, but the Prime Minister’s unknown future expectations overshadowed the pleasure of the moment.
Anya called mid-morning.
“What have you got for me?” He asked with his normal abruptness.
“As you would expect, the design of the program is brilliant, but I still lack one small, critical piece.”
“Critical?”
“Yes. The program requires a reset with each use.”
Serge flew into a rage. “Dr. Kovitch, did you not tell me you received all of the code?”
“Yes.” She replied with a dry choke.
“And I paid out twenty million for something you are now telling me is incomplete.”
“No, sir. The file is complete, but I need the password.”
“Do not mince words with me, Doctor. I do not need to tell you how important this is, do I?” Serge’s rage escalated another notch.
“No.”
“I want to meet with you in person at noon and I expect a full update.” Serge’s voice became chillingly calm. He terrified Anya and with good reason.
“Where?
“Friedrich will pick you up at the office.” Serge hung up without giving Anya a chance to respond.
On the other end Anya tensed at the sound of the abrupt disconnection. Not known for his patience, Serge’s sense of urgency frightened her. She had to be well prepared for her face to face meeting though she already knew only a precise solution would satisfy her intolerant boss. The prospect frightened her. After a quick phone call she turned to her computer and began working in dead earnest.
At the Principe di Savoia, Serge received a guest. In addition to being on Serge's secret payroll, the bulbous and awkward Rudolph Geisler was Interpol’s senior expert on Internet crimes and criminals. A small profit participation had been worked out in exchange for Rudy’s on-going cooperation. By ordinary standards Herr Geisler had become a wealthy man, but his pittance was cheap insurance in Serge’s mind. He didn’t enjoy meeting with the boorish Geisler, but occasionally liked to peer into the traitor’s eyes and probe his loyalties. The cynical Malroff presumed a man like Rudy to be on his competitors’ payrolls as well. Perhaps even the Prime Minister's. If his suspicions ever proved to be true Serge would kill the fat man himself.
Serge intended to keep the meeting short. The ill mannered man, dressed poorly as usual, seemed to have come straight from an all night work session. He had.
“Rudolph, you seem exhausted,” Serge said solicitously. He meant, “You look like shit.”
“Yes, Herr Malroff, I have been working many hours since the crash of the American market.”
“Then please sit. Would you like coffee or tea?”
“Tea”, he said abruptly as he flopped down on an elegant yellow damask chair. His cheap brown suit looked like a smudge on the furniture.
“Of course.” Serge served him personally and offered a plate of croissants. Geisler took two.
“What important project requires such diligence?”
“The crash. The market crash in America”, the slob mumbled between slurps of tea and mouthfuls of croissant.
“What aspect is of interest to you?”
“Don’t think it was an accident. I believe someone triggered the sell off. Only a theory at this point, but I’m investigating the possibility.”
“And your bosses asked you to investigate?”
“I’m doing this on my own. Unless they think a threat comes from the EU they don’t much care who did what to the Americans.” He shoved the last of the croissant into his mouth and eyed Serge expectantly.
“Please, help yourself to more food. You appear famished.” Porcine as well, but what the hell?
Without hesitation Rudolph replenished his plate and sat down again. “I think someone tested a virus and caused the crash.”
“Why do you think so?”
“Because of the timing. There are safeguards in the exchange's system, what they call circuit breakers to keep trading from going out of control. They shut down at a certain time of day and I think the event coincided."
“Explain.” Serge already knew the answer, but wanted to hear where how well Rudy's theory squared with the facts.
“With all the programmed traders set to react, in seconds an event can start. Like striking a match. Only hissing for a fraction of a second and then the fire starts. What’s the word? Catalyst, that’s it. I think this works just so.”
“Go on.” Serge wondered if the man might be smarter than he gave him credit for. Even so he remained a distant third behind Anya and the twins.
“I am at that point now, still looking for the code or its traces in the American system.” Rudy polished off yet another croissant and made short work of a small torte. “I must be careful when I go into their system. Since September 11th the government is secretly monitoring trading activity at a much higher level. Like your country in the old days, no?”
“How long will your investigation take?” Serge ignored Rudy's last comment, but picked up a valuable tidbit about American intelligence gathering.
“I'm not certain. I think a self destruct sequence was written into the code to be triggered when the routine was completed. So, my investigation is made much more difficult. I will need weeks, perhaps months. Maybe longer.” Geisler inhaled the last of his tea.
Serge had to give him credit for his insight and for providing him with a new perspective. He began to wonder about the Rusikov brothers and this Thor’s Hammer they had sold him. Was it everything they promised? Now that he knew where Interpol’s investigation stood he wished he had as good an assessment of the Americans.
“Well, Herr Geisler, I know you are a busy man. I do not wish to detain you from your work.” Serge got to his feet signaling an end to the meeting.
“Always good to see you.” He lied. Moments later the message registered with his slovenly guest who slowly arose and offered his hand to his host who reluctantly grasped it
“Thank you for coming.”
“Yes.” Rudy Geisler responded tersely as he lumbered out of the beautifully appointed suite. Serge was delighted by his departure though the session had been informative. His investment in this toad of a man may prove valuable, but he had to be careful. Perhaps this inferior creature was playing him. Time would tell.
Serge checked his watch and was pleased. He had just enough time to fit in a massage before lunch. He rang the concierge and requested the services of a specific masseuse before going into the bathroom to get ready.