11

“The price is five hundred million dollars!” You drag out each word. It sounds like an astonishingly large amount of money.

There is silence on the other side.

“Um, hello?” you tentatively ask, fearing that he has hung up.

“Quiet, I’m thinking!” is the terse reply. After another minute: “OK, deal, but I will have to give you bearer bonds. They are as good as money, you can use them anywhere and they will not have your name or anything else on it”.

“Gulp!” You take a big swallow. Your initial fear of going too high has now been replaced by shock. Greed and excitement is taking over quickly. “How will I use it then?”

“Just show the bond to any bank and they must give you the equivalent amount in cash or deposit it into your bank account. This way there is no link between you, us and the money. Just don’t lose the bonds!”

“Uh, OK”. You are not sure you understand the intricacies of modern finance, but he seems to know what he is talking about.

“This is important to us, so I can have the money ready by early tomorrow morning, where are you staying?”

“In the Aviator Inn, in midtown,” you reply.

“OK, don’t leave. I will be there tomorrow morning.” Silence, he must have hung up.

Very pleased with yourself that you have managed such a big deal, you order the most expensive meal on the menu.

You spend the night tossing and turning. The excitement of going from lowly pilot to one of the richest men in the world makes it impossible for you to sleep. Dawn breaks without you getting a wink of sleep. Bleary-eyed you head for the shower. It feels like grains of sand is lodged in your brain, messing with the neurons. You feel a little bit better after the shower. You get dressed and order another round of room service. Man, you can really get used to the high life. “I should have checked into a better hotel!” you think. “Nothing but the finest for me from now on”.

A knock on the door interrupts your breakfast, a piece of toast halfway on its way to your mouth. You put it down and head to the door, opening it without a second thought. Two men walk into the room. The executive that you know as Mr Rodriguez and another, ominous-looking man.

“Meet my associate, Mr White,” Rodriguez says. “Now where is the data?” Rodriguez is obviously not in the mood for small talk.

You hand him the memory stick. He takes out a laptop and plugs it into a notebook. Complex symbols appear on the screen. “Ah, a decryption key,” Rodriguez tells you flatly. After 5 minutes it starts to make sense. Documents and graphs where previously only garbage was displayed on the screen.

“Thank you! All seems to be in order.”

“And… My payment?”

“Oh yes,” He turns and starts to walk out of the room. “Mr White, please take care of our young pilot,”

Mr White looks at you with emotionless eyes. Instead of the pack of paper bonds you were expecting, he draws a gun.

Your murder is never solved.

The end.