TS 3 Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Guntram de Lisle's diary

July 13^th, 2014. Sunday

Today was a strange day. Maybe I'm too set in my old ways or as usual living in the wrong century. I'm still getting over Friederich's but it's hard not to see him in the mornings or in the afternoons. Following John's advise to relax a bit (or “do some me-time”) I decided to give a second chance to Gulya's portrait and finish it. I'm also getting sick of having that thing pending since forever. 

In the morning, Pater Bruno came for the mass and it was hard to cope with it because everything made us remember Friederich. His presence was everywhere in the chapel and I couldn't stop looking at his tombstone, next to Karl Heinz'. I hope they rest in peace now. I had lunch with the boys and asked them if they wanted to come with me to my old flat, just to pick some things I needed and the twins found “a previous engagement” in their busy agendas and went to play with some friends from their former school. Not everybody had an account with us, it seems. 

After bribing Kurt with the promise of a piece of cake at Sprüngli (we are still banned from the other (and better) confiserie) I took him to my flat, doing my best to ignore his big pout in the back seat. 

The place was empty and that was very welcome change. No journalists, protesters or fans around. I guess they also take Sundays off. 

As I knew where my stuff was and I only needed a few minutes inside, I parked at the main entrance and as I was getting Kurt out of his chair, I heard two muffled yells of excitement. Standing behind me there were two Asian girls bouncing like rabbits. Even Kurt looked at them in total disbelief. 

“You are he!” one yelled at me and I was speechless as usual. I saw the doorman running towards me and the back up car nearly hitting my own car with the gas they gave when they saw the two dangerous ninjas in ponytails and colorful handbags. 

“We've been waiting to see you for so long!” the other girl cried and Fedérico and Marko nearly jumped on their necks for “security breaching”. 

“I'm afraid we don't know each other, ladies.” The whole thing was ridiculous because it had started to rain and they were still there. 

“We're here since last Sunday just to see you,” the first one said. “We're so glad to see you!” yelled number two and they nearly jumped to me (and Fefo and Marko after them). 

“Give them an autograph and be done,” Fefo mumbled in Spanish (well that's not exactly what he said but that was his intention). One of the girls was nearly getting a leather-bound album and one of my books to put them right up into my nose while the other was getting her phone out to immortalize the moment. 

“Not the child,” I barked because I'm crazy about photos of my boys and the girls stood back and looked really like beaten puppies. I felt bad. “If you don't mind, let's go inside the lobby and I'll sign you the book.” 

The doorman was frowning upon them and I did my best to ignore him. I mean, they were a bit wet from the previous rainfall and I'm sure the man would have to swipe the floor again once they were gone. I walked to a side of the room while Fefo took my youngest in his arms before he would dive in, nose first inside their large handbags. The girls nearly brimmed to see me getting my fountain pen out from the jacket and the book in my hands. 

“Are you sisters?” I asked. “You might have to share it now.” 

“No, we're BFF from school. I'm Chenguang and she's Meixiu.” The first one told me. “We only have got a copy. Her father is here on business and we return to China in two days.” 

“Impossible to get a second one. Sold out.” 

Well, that's true. Since the scandal I'm a bestseller and I think Coco is planning new editions to cash in the fame before it's over. 

“Nothing at all. Not even in E-bay.” Chenguang pouted and I felt a bit bad for them. 

“We wanted to see you,” Meixiu added. 

This instagram thing is getting out of control. 

“Were you out there? In the rain?” 

“A rainy day is a lucky day. That's what we say back home.”

They were under the rain. I'm sure of that.  

“If you'd wait for me here, I can see if I have a spare copy in my flat,” I said. After all, who has Chinese fans? Nobody that I know of. 

“Do you sell paintings?” Meixiu asked and I was taken aback. “There is nothing but those cards in Frankfurt available.” 

“I'm not exhibiting anything at the moment,” I replied. “I think I have nothing at the moment.” I repeated and felt bad because they both looked like sad puppies. 

“You have a lot of things upstairs. You say you want to clean but you never do it.” Kurt informed the world and that was one of those moments you want to kill your son no matter how much you love him. Some days I really have the impression he does it on purpose and that he's old beyond his years. 

Before I could open my mouth both girls were inside the elevator and both bodyguards were looking at me very upset. I sent Marko to the other elevator and I really hope the Serbs don't take it as an offense. Lately, they're susceptible of up to their shadows. 

Inside my atelier, I offered them something to drink but they didn't want it. I offered them to watch my trash while I was looking for the old books box and the things I needed. Kurt was fascinated with their oriental eyes and he was making faces at them while Fefo and Mirko guarded the battlefield. I never thought Fefo could be such a psycho. 

I found one of the first editions of Eberhard's poetry book and signed it for them, using both their names. The girls thanked me but they were very busy looking at some very old sketches forgotten in a folder. The new generations and their attention lapses and people complain about me! I left them alone and began to put the things I needed in a box. 

Just when I was about to send them home, they bombarded me with a thousand questions ranging from where I was buying my clothes to what is the fountain pen I use. I'm not a shopping centre! I tried to get rid of them politely but it was impossible. 

“I must take my son out now,” I said and fortunately they stopped asking questions. I know we are very funny to Chinese people, but please give us a break! It's embarrassing for us to be placed in the position of discussing where we shop our underwear or what we eat. And honestly, a photo of my dry dirty brushes isn't that cool. I'm glad Fefo did a good cleaning before he moved in with John and there was nothing (e.g. his dirty laundry) in sight. 

“We are going for cake!” Kurt joyfully informed them and I had no other option than inviting them because it was raining outside and I felt a bit bad that they had been under the early rain stupidly waiting for me. 

They came along and Meixiu said something about her father buying properties in Europe for a big shot in China. I did my best to keep my remarks to the minimum and after an hour they remembered they should be back at their hotel and left. 

“I don't know what parents think if they leave their daughters roam free in a country that's not their own,” I complained to Fefo. Marko had since long vanished into thin air. Girls and cake are not his thing. “Funny handbags, don't you think?” 

“Those were Birkins, pumpkin.” Fefo told me and I think I have a better understanding of what the Hubble constant is than of a Birkin's nature. 

“Very expensive bags. Over twenty-thousand dollars and those weren't fake. The quiet one is the sole (rotten spoilt) daughter of the owner of Wang Tan Real Estate.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“Facebook, Weibo and Google translator, liebling,” he smirked. “Facial recognition software also helps but you're clueless as usual. Let's say, thank the CIA for creating such useful tools for our business. Spying was never so easy as it is now.” 

“Are they rich?” I asked in shock. I thought they were two students! 

“Filthy rich. Like Chinese,” Fefo chortled and watched how Kurt continued to swallow another piece of cake, minding his own business, thank God. 

“I had no idea.” 

“As usual. And the girls were not babies to be patronized too. They're twenty-five or twenty-six and are “blogging” all their shopping trip through out Europe. The Dr. Livingstone of the luxury jungle.”

“Damn!” 

“Right so. After this, your tailor should give you free clothes for a year with all the customers from China he's going to get.”

“I'd be surprised if the guy moves his ass to our home ever again.”  

* * 

July 16^th, 2014 

My “uncle” is an incompetent. No matter what my father tells, he's an idiot. Only 72 million francs processed in a week! For Christ sake! Mariano's father, with a small bank in Buenos Aires was doing much more than that per week! Even with capital controls and all transfers forbidden! 

It was a simple thing to do. He didn't even have to create the companies or anything because that was already done. He only had to move some money from Barbados and Isle of Mann to Hong Kong, send it to the continent and send it back.  And I was not even trying to evade taxes! 

“It's very difficult to do it as you want, Guntram. Our people can't follow all this. It's too complex!” was his sorry excuse.

Michel says that the best they could do was to clean some money from the Moroccans in 1988 by opening accounts in Paris and traveling with the money in cash by train. They're only good at opening accounts and being quiet. Nothing else. He's also frustrated that nearly all his team wanted to jump from a window after trying to explain them what to do. 

Just press the bloody button!! Nothing else for you to do! 

At this pace, I'll never finish! 

It's so frustrating. 

I put on sale several of the big properties; the house in Nice and the one in Manhattan. The prices are high and good but most wallets are dry. For a second I thought about selling the house in London as the prices are crazy there, but Konrad would kill me if I do it. He can live without the other two places but not London. 

I also thought about selling part of the Modern Arts collection in New York -Konrad hates it- but  it will take time to find a buyer and time is something I don't have. 

I only have an incredibly large net of bogus companies and an idiot banker for “uncle”. I'm sure the delays are done on purpose but I can't fight with him now. 

I've been thinking for some time now and I see no other way out. We could try it. It's uncharted territory and there are no regulators or if there are, they're useless and go after the small fishes. 

Konrad will kill me because he's completely against it but I see no other way. 

* * * 

“You want to do what?” Michel asked after Guntram had explained him his idea. 

“High frequency trading.” 

“You're banned. Finito. You can't lay a hand on any of the hedge funds; all frozen.” Michel told Guntram nonchalantly. 

“I'm not. Konrad is banned. His funds are in the USA and London but we stand fine in France. We could start moving the pieces around the board...” 

“Guntram, I don't know much about it but...”

“The amounts traded per day are ten times more than in any physical market. We can divert some money through these billions of daily trades. No one will notice it.” 

“If your idea works, do you have any idea of the implications? All the lowlifes of this world will love to legitimize their earnings through you.” 

“No. This can be done only once. If we overdo it, we're dead. Anyway, Konrad hates it. If we use the French market while trading in London, this could be easily done. It's just a matter of changing a few things in the algorithms. I'm not even trying to do nothing too illegal.”

“Nothing too illegal?” Michel repeated the words in shock. 

“It's less illegal than the old traditional way. Regulators are only looking for market manipulation strategies like spoofing or layering. Catching you with money laundering is completely out of their reach at this stage. As long as we don't cause another flash crash, we should be safe.” Guntram smiled angelically. 

“You're going to get the cell next to Lintorff's,” his father growled. 

“While I finish this sentence, the computers have already made 5.000 complimentary transactions while nullifying twice its number. Get any human in this world to follow anything through this maze of matching orders.”  

“Just create a computer to decipher all that data.” Michel huffed. 

“Not going to happen in a million years,” shrugged Guntram. “All the guys who can do it, are earning millions in the bad guys' side. Trust me on this, Michel. I need to use the net of companies your law firm created. We will move the money around and then inject the money unto them.” 

“You want to transfer the money from there? It will be fine, but can be easily traced back.” 

“I don't care. They won't past the barrier of the HFT and your companies are legal and sound -in the papers- firms.” 

“I still don't like it.” 

“Do you have any alternatives? Anything? Remember that all our usual channels are monitored and the Americans are waiting for me to screw it up.” 

“Mind your language.” Michel said sharply and Guntram had to bite his lips at the retort. “Well, no. I haven't got any suggestions but I still don't get it well. Why has it not been done before? Why do all these scum clients of yours prefer to pile up Bitcoins or buy houses in London over this?” 

“Because we are outdated,” sighed Guntram. “At the moment, regulators are more concern about rigging the market with these supercomputers than checking who's playing there. Personally, I think that our Komturen love to get physical goods instead of trusting their money to a computer. Traders are mostly there and their goals are different from us. FBI's main concern right now is more about front-trading than about money laundering.”

“Very well,” Michel said reluctantly. “I'll tell Cristina to sort out the legal working frame with your people.” 

“Is she to be trusted?” 

“She has done it thousands of times,” Michel said laconically. “Forcing me to close Wolfensohn and Partners was Lintorff's biggest mistake. My law firm worked without a hitch and he disbanded us.” 

“Michel, I don't want to argue over this. I was trapped where I was just because of how good your people were.” Guntram replied upset. “I appreciate the effort your staff is putting into this.” 

“Remember those words when you get the bill,” Michel growled. 

“Are you going to charge me?” Guntram was aghast. 

“For you is free. Lintorff pays 2.2% on the obtained money plus legal fees.” 

“He's my husband and your son in law.” 

“Lawyers need to eat, Guntram. Don't complain because it's much less than what you are paying to Charles. Your husband should have been nicer to the other bankers and you would only need to mortgage things to get cash. But no, Lintorff had to make terror in 2007 just because he was upset with his mother. He should have paid for a shrink and leave people alone. But no, he had to blow up the nice housing bubble the Americans had and then, start making Trichet's life hard with...”  

“All right,” Guntram mumbled, not wishing to start a fight with his father.

“If you are in trouble now, it's because he's a vindictive idiot, seeing conspiracies everywhere. He's going to be furious when he finds out that you took over his dream job and are turning things inside out.”

“Konrad will understand that this is for the best.” Guntram said but fear gripped his heart. Had he not overdone it? Had he not overstepped “his boundaries” just like Konrad used to shout him so many times in the past along with the “you're a de Lisle”? 

“I'll step down the minute he or Goran return. Nobody likes me anyway. I'm just being tolerated because nobody wants to deal with companies and greedy idiots.” 

“The Serbs dislike you but the Komturen love you. I've been speaking with Enrico. I'm not sure they want Lintorff back. They see potential in you. The Serbs only drag them into senseless wars instead of punctually addressing the situation.”  

“Konrad won't be back because he's sick. They will have to manage with Goran or whoever takes the job.” 

“The Serb is no good.” Michel said. “The Komturen don't want him back. He's bad for the business. Period.”

“Stop it.” Guntram growled. “I have enough as it is. I'm not taking over his job just as you want me to. This is the only time the de Lisles get the crown for as long it concerns me.” 

“Very well, but remember my words; Lintorff will explode when he finds you sitting in his throne and doing his job a hundred times better than him. That's why nobody wanted the job, according to Enrico.”

“Can this lady, Cristina be here today at seven? I'd like to visit Konrad today and then have the meeting with her and some people.” Guntram only wished to send his father away. 

“I think so. She's in Geneva.” Michel rose to his feet and gathered the papers left on the desk.  “She's more into this kind of things than me.” 

* * * 

Guntram's de Lisle Diary.

July 17^th 2014 

I went to visit Konrad today and I was in for a good surprise. He was moved out of the ICU and given his own room... The same suite I got when I had my first attack. I was thrilled with the news but he was not so happy about them; he's now at Anke's mercy and she's incorruptible. Be quiet, take your meds, no stress and eat it all and drop that “I'm not repeating myself” kind of attitude. I remember she was bossy but in a motherly kind of way, just like Monika is. Whereas it concerns Konrad, she's just bossy. 

Konrad was fuming and I did my best to calm him down. 

That was a lost battle, but at least the guard, the fat guy from that night, disappeared on sight and left us alone for an hour. I had to surrender my “mobile phone and any other electronic devise I might carry with me”. It's a small price to pay for free access to my love. 

As I imagine we are being monitored I only spoke about the boys and all the medical tests he's going through. I know it's obtrusive and demeaning, Konrad. I was there and before you too. The doctor says he needs a minimum stay of three weeks more and signed the papers. 

At six thirty, I said good-bye and felt bad that he looked at me with such face of disappointment. Honestly, it was like kicking a puppy. “Meetings,” I said and he grimaced. 

I was surprised to find Monika still at home. She should have gone home two hours ago. “If you don't mind, I'd rather stay. I know them well and they will feel more at ease if I'm here.” 

“Why?” I asked. I mean, those are Prakash, Smiths and Brinsky. I know them since I was a student and spoke with them many times. They're in Michael Dahler's team. 

“They're bringing the Russian along,” she sighed and shook her head as if she were preparing herself for doomsday. “He's the one who wrote most of the algo.” 

“What?” 

“The algorithm, but they call it algo. Marvin, the algo. They're bringing Lavrov along.” 

I opened my eyes but said nothing as our distinguished scientists were starting to look like these guys, Sheldon and Leonard; they just named a mathematical formula. 

“Dear, they're Michael's friends... strange friends if you ask me, and if they're here, it's because of him, not because of the Duke. They're still feeling a bit hurt.” 

“Why?” 

“Because of some problems they experienced a few years ago while programming, I think that's the right term, the black boxes and not keeping the budget tight.” 

“What happened?” Michael can get to Konrad's nerves. I mean, the only person in this world who can cope with him is Goran and that's because he hears a third of what Michael says. Alexei also gets along with him but that's because Alexei gets well with you or you're dead.

“Well, they set up the offices in London and the computers were a bit expensive and then, Marvin nearly bankrupted one of the Duke's companies and his Grace was very upset with them. Only Michael's insistence kept them on board. The Duke wanted to terminate their contracts.” 

“Oh God,” because I know what means “contract termination” and it doesn't have anything to do with lay off. 

“Since that day, the little High Frequency Trading we do is to amortize costs. He even forbid Michel to set up a branch in New York. We only have the London and Amsterdam's offices.”

“We have that extension from the French Stock Market in London. I was there with Prakash.” 

“Yes, but don't tell it to the Duke,” Monika smiled deviously. “He still doesn't know what the cloud is. The boys duplicated the Zurich facilities in London and the Duke resented the fact he wasn't asked about it. He stopped them before they crossed the sea to America. There was some tension between his Grace and Michael for some time.” 

“What do you mean by duplicated facilities?”

“If one system breaks, then you have a backup system and can continue to trade; Michael did that and then, added a whole new set of data processing centre facility just to be on the safe side. In different countries, all of them interconnected. Each facility cost about 300 to 400 million dollars. The head remains in Zurich.” 

I'm not surprised Konrad wanted to kill some of his “brain boys”.

“Also the Duke doesn't take well the fact that the algos try to break the other algos and cancel about 90% of their orders. It's like a big chicken game and no testosterone involved.” Monika said and Guntram chuckled. “He's concerned about the repercussions that such kind of trading might have on the real economy. One of the first algos was designed to trade based on options strategies and it focused on a small technological company the Duke had just bought. Let's say, the algo made a carnage of the stocks price and made a lot of money but the Duke then had to inject several millions to save the company. He was quite upset though his profits were high despite all the trouble.”

And there was nobody to cut his head off. “But the system worked.” 

“Too well for its own survival. Machines are too enthusiastic for their own safety, making men behave like monkeys with a bat.” Monika, in her soft way, has a way of telling things that no one here dares to say. Some days, I think that even Konrad threads around her. 

The lawyer from my father's team was an elegant, stunning red head. Cristina Bari, from Italy. Mid-thirties, she started her legal career defending squats in Florence and from there she skyrocketed to the Securities Litigation team at Wolfensohn’s, meaning she's one of the guys who dream of a class action against all HFT companies in the States. I spoke with her before the “quants” (is that the name now?) would arrive. 

They sat and finished the Oreo cookies served in the porcelain dish in less than 5 minutes without minding I was there. Tomorrow, I will have to humiliate myself in front of Jean Jacques and ask for his forgiveness for serving that but Monika told me they don't eat anything else.  

Monika didn't bat an eye and smiled softly as they attacked the dish while the lawyer looked at them in shock. I guess she's not used to see four guys eating like lions. I let them be. 

Smiths has a PhD in Quantum Physics and was working at the Fernilab before Michael persuaded him to work for us. Brinsky just followed him two months later. Prakash comes from London and he's a Mathematician and Neurobiologist; he and Michael met in a Star Trek convention and he also thought that we, the Ferengi paid better than the good guys. 

Lavrov came from Mars. I mean, that Russian, is something. He collects PhDs like some people collect stamps. In the early nineties, he was invited to teach for a year at Hastings but his Soviet PhD diploma didn't have enough stamps and wasn't valid. He should have asked for the missing stamps but that was “too much work” for him; he searched among his unpublished papers and wrote a thesis in two weeks and magically was awarded a British Computational Science Ph.D., (something that was missing in his CV). The only problem with him? He doesn't talk to humans. He sits there and looks like a sphinx with a bad case of heartburn. Anyway, he's a genius according to Michael and he was the one behind the big spending. I shouldn't criticize him because he bought two drawings from me (and not to please Konrad because they despise each other) just because he liked them. 

“So, what's the problem?” Prakash asked once he had finished his share of the cookies. 

“I need your advice on a delicate matter regarding trading,” I started. “As you know, our hedge funds are banned from trading in the States and I was forced to stop all HFT...”

“When was that?” Smiths asked with real curiosity and I wanted to smash the dish on his head. Didn’t this guy realize that his computers and the people working with him are doing nothing? 

“On Monday when the main office was closed. Over a month ago.” 

“Ah,” he replied and Monika touched my arm so I would calm down. “What did you shut down?” he asked me. 

“Capital Partners and all the brokerage firms we have in America are suspended from trading. We are using the European and Asian...” 

The four men looked at each other and then at me, as if I were nuts. “Sorry, but Marvin is still on.” Prakash told me. “As usual.” 

“There's a....” 

“We are independent from the hedge funds and not based in New York,” Smiths told me and looked at me as if I were an idiot. “All our trading platforms are operational.” 

“Are you still trading?” I asked and Monika looked at them in shock. That's a memo I certainly didn't get.

“Yeah,” Prakash shrugged and frowned because the cookies dish was now truly empty. 

“Why on earth did you disregard a direct order from a court?” I shouted. 

“Do you have any idea of our operational costs?” Prakash asked me. “Besides Marvin would get upset,” he added and the other three nodded. 

“Who?” I asked a bit lost. 

“Marvin is the algo,” Monika informed me and I gaped at her. I was now entering into the “Quants Zone” (and Michael complains about what he calls the “Guntram Zone”). These guys were going to get me into so much trouble just because of a few brackets and funny symbols they had named “Marvin”. 

“Marvin is not an algo,” Lavrov huffed and we all looked at him because he can go for days without speaking. Tweet or send a SMS if you want to communicate with him. “He's a highly developed form of artificial intelligence,” and the others nodded vigorously. “He found a way to continue to trade overpassing the court's orders.” 

“I might be about to lose my job, Mr. Lavrov,” the red head smiled bewitchingly and Lord, she was hot.  

“Maybe,” he answered and that was all. 

“There's no way a trading algo can do that.” I seethed. “I read your internal papers on the subject and...” 

“What you read was from five or six years ago,” the Russian told me. “Marvin was born three years ago and has been working since two years. It's not a trading algo as you call him. It's artificial intelligence and he evolves and learns just like you do but at a much faster pace.” 

“What does it do?” I asked. 

“Well, in short, he oversees all what we do.” Prakash frowned as he looked for the words to explain something complicate to the mere humans surrounding him. “He's more like the tactician behind everything; not a simple machine which trades and tries to dupe the other computers. For example, he's able to process all what the market think. He reads the news, forums, blogs and is permanently searching the internet for new data. He's able to deal with billions of data input in a chaotic environment. He's not a mere algo.” Prakash sounded offended. 

“Are you telling me that a computer found the way to bypass (well cheat) the American Judiciary System?” 

“Of course. He's like a tycoon on himself and then, he was selling and moving his assets when he felt attacked. He now lives in,” Smiths jiggled, “Aruba. Good choice.”  

“He's been reading Vanity Fair,” Lavrov said and the lawyer woman laughed and excused herself immediately. The Russian seemed quite pleased with himself that his joke had played out so well. 

“That's impossible!” I protested. “Did you teach him... it law?” 

“I think we uploaded some law textbooks but it doesn't matter because he can search the web for specialized input.” 

“You need a human being to sign the papers.” I clarified. 

“Not always.” Cristina told me merrily and I felt like a thousand years old. “Papers are a thing from the past.” Lavrov was very happy with her intervention. First time I see him smiling. 

“It's only a matter of explaining Marvin what you need and he will find a way to do it.” 

“Isn't that sci-fi?” 

“He's cutting edge artificial intelligence. There's nobody like him in the world. If I accepted to be here, it was because I was offered to lead my own team with unlimited funds to create him.” Lavrov said and I knew why Konrad wanted to fire him. This whole thing must have cost billions and it doesn’t take orders. 

“Not even Google can do that.” I said. 

“We don't store the data or are responsible for its handling, therefore we can focus on other tasks, like further develop him. Marvin hid everything from the investigators the minute he learnt the Duke was arrested.” 

“How?” I asked because, that was true; everything was well protected before the investigators arrived to the bank that morning. 

“Somebody tweeted about the raid before they were coming. One of the assistant attorneys. Marvin keeps a closer eye on all government officials.” Prakash told me the obvious and that's great; we have in our hands a Mafia with delusions of being the NSA computer. “He understood that there was some trouble brewing and acted upon it. It was Sunday. All of us were away. Marvin did it all by himself.”

“Why do you call him Marvin?” I asked and cursed myself because I was starting to treat the thing as if it were a person. 

“Modified Artificial Intelligence and we thought about Marvin, the Martian.” Smiths explained me with a satisfied grin. “You know, Marvin, the Martian who wanted to conquer Earth.” 

Yeah, and he had an ACME lasergun and yet he was defeated by Daffy Duck. I smiled nervously. “My original idea was to ask you to use Forex trading to... transfer some funds from offshore accounts. The money is clean but I don't want to leave any traces which the authorities can follow.” 

“No problem.” Lavrov said. “How much will it be?” 

“About 2.6 billion Swiss Francs.” 

“Do you need the money here?” 

“Yes and it should come from different companies in Europe.” 

“I can help you with the legal issues but I'm not sure if I'm of any use any more if Marvin is around.” Cristina said sweetly with a faked sadness, just like a fluffy teddy bear. 

“I'd love to have your assistance,” Lavrov said. Was the guy flirting with a girl when he was supposed to be talking to his boss, meaning me? She giggled again. Obviously, I'm not the boss.

“We might need a few days to think about it.” Prakash intervened. “And there's the other issue. The bonus.” 

Right to the point. “What do you want?” 

“A billion for further expansions.” Lavrov told me as if money grows on trees. 

“A billion?” I think I blinked. The number was ridiculous for a bonus. 

“New servers. I have new ideas.” 

“I can't authorize such a spending without consulting with the Duke first, and frankly, at the moment, we should be glad if there's a Christmas bonus this year at all.” Figures, the guy wants a new computer! 

“We'll get the billion from the HFT section,” Lavrov shrugged. “No need to transfer more cash to us. You just have to sign the authorization to invest this amount for research.” 

I'm glad they still ask us about such things before Marvin takes the money and goes shopping all by himself. 

“We'll need two weeks to conceive and execute the command sequences,” Lavrov informed me. “All right, I'll e-mail you some reading material and it will save us all these stupid questions you're posing.” 

I see why Konrad wants to kill them all. Michael must have spent all the credit he has earned over fifteen years.  

“But you were intelligent and quick to learn.” Lavrov told me. “At least you're not stubborn and a bit open minded.”

Am I supposed to say “thank you” to that? I was only learning technical analysis with him! Meaning, he dropped the books on top of the desk in the bank's library and I could ask things later. By e-mail.  

“Who -besides you- know about Marvin?” I asked and hopefully that's a clever enough question and still not answered  in a refereed paper. 

“It was never made public.” Lavrov told me. “The Duke wanted to switch him off,” and the guys chuckled. “Plug it off as if,” Lavrov seemed to be quite upset with Konrad. “Different sections in my team know different parts and then, Marvin added some more of his own. He's like a gigantic puzzle that grows every day by adding new sections.” 

“My question is; Is our competition aware of its existence? What are your security levels?” 

“No other banks know about it. Entering in our facilities in Zurich is almost impossible. He's quite secure in his nest.” 

“What about governments? We must be on every CIA list by now.” 

“Hardly. Marvin isn't something you can “see” like a block. He's made of thousands of programs interacting between them. It's practically impossible to make any sense of them unless you know what you’re looking for. He isn't a super computer the size of a building as the Duke might think. Marvin hides himself well.” 

“Hides?” 

“Michael insisted that he should be like this; being able to fragment himself into hundreds of programs and look inconspicuous. Since its beginnings, HFT was more about defeating the other companies and creating a safe environment for your own company than about making huge profits. We were colonizing a new world. While most people looked for ways to nullify the competition and earn all the money they could, I looked for a way of teaching Marvin to learn and to disguise himself. Most of the other computers override our orders in 78% of the cases but while they do it, Marvin learns about them. Sometimes he copies from them, sometimes he deletes command lines in them or sometimes he simply infiltrates them. We preferred to take a longer detour. He's like a dormant virus inside them now.” 

The whole thing is scary in my opinion. “Is Marvin self-conscious?” I asked. 

Lavrov frowned and I though 'great, the guy forgot to think about that.' 

“Self-conscious? Yes, he is. He's aware of others therefore he is.” 

“Are we having another HAL in our hands?” That Assimov thing was a pain in the ass. 

“No. He won't go against humans because he only analyzes data. No moral drive at all.” Lavrov said. “You read too much sci-fi. He only designs strategies based on what we ask him to do.” 

“But you said he learns.” I insisted. “How long till Marvin outwits you? He has all the time and the knowledge in the world.” 

“He's not human. He's not power driven like we are. Marvin only wants to know. He's a mere spectator of a chaotic world. He wouldn't be able to make a moral decision like for example an autonomous car should.” 

“I remember speaking with you once and you told me AI was able to evolve.” 

“Not at this stage.” 

“What if he's duping you?” I insisted and I really understood why Konrad wants to shut it off as if it were a normal pc. Yes, we will have some trouble to find the master switch if the damn thing is spread all over the web, like a virus. If so, why do they want new servers? I really don't get it.

“Read the papers I will send you. The rest is mere speculation. Maybe creating a diversion for the masses while we work would be good. Make a show out of something.” 

I nodded and they left with Lavrov trailing after the good-looking lawyer. Monika remained sat next to me. 

“Lavrov was communicative tonight,” I said to Monika. “The end of times is nearer.” 

“He likes the girl. He was just trying to impress her.” 

“I only hope he doesn't get caught so she can get him out of jail,” I mumbled. “Did you know something about this?” 

“Not to this extent. Michael never talks about his work or what they do. I understand the Duke's concerns much better now.”

“Here I was thinking that HFT was only based on the length of your cable and your broadband. And I still have to create a diversion.” I told her. “I'm full of doubts.” 

“Guntram, with all due respect, you're running out of time and even two weeks can be a long period of time. Perhaps you should try to convince the judge that you're doing your best and that the fine will be honored soon. It's an outstanding amount of money.”

“I can't go to the judge and tell; “Your Honor, I'm just smuggling money into Switzerland.” But you're right; I must do something.” 

“Put something for sale and reject any buyers.” 

“Yes, I need a diversion,” I sighed because she's right and I know what she means. “Something big that keeps people talking for a long time.” 

I'll put the bank building for sale along other things. It's valued at about 700 million Swiss Francs. Or the house in Manhattan or the Art collection gathering dust there; Konrad doesn't like it anyway. Nothing of it is “easy cash” and who knows if those art pieces can be exported. 

Yes, I have to look like a little lamb with a blue ribbon despite I have bigger horns than an old ram before we plead for Konrad's release on humanitarian grounds. 

“Tomorrow comes this lady from the Public Relations company your friend suggested, dear.” Monika reminded me. “Perhaps a little more exposure could draw some sympathy to our cause. We are only seen as cold, rich people who deserve to be skinned alive.” 

“We worked hard to make that reputation, Monika.” I admitted.

“Not you, darling. You went through so many bad things all these years.”

“I also contributed to this disaster.”

She went home and I was left alone. I put the boys in bed with the ominous feeling that Konrad is going to kill me for bringing Marvin into this. Knowing him, he'd rather a hundred times ask Constantin for help than letting a machine do a man's job. 

Anyway, Konrad has to understand that he's getting behind the times. There's nothing noble in letting a thing do your job or plan your strategies but all the other banks do it and work on autopilot (or I think so but I'm not sure any longer). Konrad's stubborn way of doing business is like walking down to the river to do your laundry when you have a washing machine at home. One morning we will wake up and there will be no more traders sitting in front of their terminals. Who needs them now? High Frequency Trading is killing the traditional banking business. Zero risk, huge profits. 

Who would have thought that bankers would follow the same road as coachmen?

* * * 

July 19^th  2014 

I finally met the Public Relations lady Julius recommended. She's nice (that's her profession) but she's mainly focused on selling things to people or getting their love. I'm not sure about the whole thing. 

She says I have “potential” and that makes me feel like a horse ready for the tracks. I left very clear that there will be no photos of the children and she looked a bit upset. In less than two minutes, she had arranged a photo shooting of my atelier (including me) and sold it to a magazine. I'm supposed to talk to a journalist about art “nothing too technical”. The less I say, the bigger the picture they print, and “that's great because we need nothing else at this point”. 

Julius was very happy with the news and boom, he (uninvited) came home and dove in my closet to look for what I should wear tomorrow for the press. Ostermann will be happy that my trash is in a beauty parlor's magazine. He's always telling (nagging) me that I should be more social and interact with buyers and all that crap. “A show is a sale,” he tells. 

What really irked me is that four hours after the bank's building was in the real estate agent private list, I got an offer. Not any offer but one from Cecilia's father's Colombian bank. She can't chip a dime in here but her old man can spare 700 million. Naturally, the price went up to 1.3 billion. 

Only Altair and his billions are missing to this party, but wait, it's still too early to rule it out. Real estate trash of this quality is like showing a red flag to a bull in his case. 

I went to the hospital in the afternoon and Konrad was in a good mood, reading a book. He frowned and said “I think that tie was mine.” 

“I stole it.” I replied and fuck if I know it. I took the first thing I saw in the morning. 

“Friederich should defend my property better,” he told me and I felt like dying. “How's everything?” he asked then and I was glad for the change of topic. I told him only I was allowed to visit him and showed him the large “Not to do” list I got from Heiko, the now friendly judge. I still haven't told him a thing about the deep shit I'm into. It's not the right moment yet.  

“You know I can't answer that,” I said with a smile. “Only personal business can be discussed.” 

“And the weather. Wonderful sunny day, isn't it?” he complained. “But I was asking about my boys. How's Kurt faring? Does he know he will be sent to the new school?” 

“I didn't have the courage to tell him.” Konrad chuckled at my words. “Honestly. He's busy making Eberhard's life hard and leaves me alone. Let me enjoy my moment of peace.” 

“Poor Eberhard.” No, Konrad didn't mean it at all. 

My cousin wants a rise because “your youngest makes questions for two,” and I'll give it to him. Eberhard is truly earning his money this time. Friederich had no problems in resorting to “the old pedagogy” and bury my child under loads of work but he's from the “new school” and doesn't believe in pressing Kurt too much. Nevertheless, after a week at my son's mercy, Eberhard has changed his mind and keeps him working all day. He was the one who went to the new school and signed him up for the “special abilities” class due to start this Autumn. Without asking me, that is.

“Eberhard has enough of Kurt.” I told the truth. 

“He needs Friederich. Eberhard wouldn't last a round with him. You should let him take care after the boy. I was like him.” 

No, you weren't, according to Friederich; clever yes, organized yes; curious to the point of being impertinent, I really doubt it. Anyway, Friederich knew how to keep Kurt in line with books and work. So much work that there's no way on earth he can go back to a kindergarten; we will be glad if he can stand the “boredom” of the second class. He knows all his maths and he's not supposed to divide anything until he turns 9! Even if I love him like a father, Friederich overdid it. He shouldn't have taught him all that much. He's almost at his brothers’ level.

“Kurt will be placed in the second class,” I confessed quietly because that's what Konrad had been telling me to do since the first day. “There is no way he can be put back in the kindergarten. The teachers tested him and thought that it was for the best. He won't be alone; there are two or three children more who were also signed up for the fast track.” 

“Well, we should be glad they didn't give him his primary school certificate and sent him home.” Konrad said softly and I was glad he didn't press the issue. “How did the twins take it?” 

“There was a riot because they resented being forced to go to school for all those years and his brother “saved himself” three years. Klaus and Karl are also upset, well pissed off, that they have to spend the summer studying hard because the new school has a higher level of demand. The fifth class is going to be hard for them.” 

“If it is for the best,” Konrad trailed and then shrugged. “You look very tired.” 

“I'm dead on my feet,” I confessed. “Your shoes were three sizes bigger than mine.” 

“Maybe only one size,” he told me and took my hand between his. “Why don't you lay down for a while?” 

“What about them?” I pointed at the video camera with my head. 

“I married you only for this,” Konrad moved aside and to leave some space for me. “Marital rights.” 

I sat on the bed and laid my head on the pillow. It felt wonderful. 

“Remember what the doctor told you,” I said when he took my hand again. “I don't want to be in Anke's black list.” 

“You'll be if you don't take your shoes off.” And I did it because I really don't want to be on her bad side. 

I nearly had forgotten how nice was to lay next to Konrad. Just doing nothing, holding hands and getting myself lost in his blue eyes. I had no idea how much I had missed him and how terrified I was of losing him. For a second that dreadful night passed in front of my eyes but I cast the memories away. Though I have searched a lot, I can't find any evidence that what happened to Konrad was a conspiracy as I originally thought. 

It was sheer idiocy that nearly killed my Konrad. 

“Are you all right?” Konrad asked me and I smiled weakly. I didn't know what to say. I'm not all right. I'm barely surviving it. 

“I'll get the money for the bail soon.” I replied instead. 

“I know that. I asked about you,” he pressed and for that moment, I wished I could spill the whole tale to him because he's like a rock that can withstand typhoons.  He caressed the side of my face and I closed my eyes in utter content. It was wonderful to let everything go if only for a little while. I hadn't realized how stressed I was. I mean, I had a pretty good idea about it, but I had grown used to be on “alert mode” every single second of the day. 

Somebody shook me awake. “Guntram, go home now. The nurse has enough of you and “die Bulle” needs to justify his salary in front of the taxpayers.” Konrad told me as I did my best to keep my eyes open. 

“What?” 

“You've slept for over three hours now.”

“Did I?” That was embarrassing. “I'm sorry.” 

“The Anke monster really likes you because she let you to sleep here without complaining. Only took your pulse and went upstairs to denounce you to Dr. Wagemann. You'll be shouted the moment you cross that door.” 

“I'm more concerned about Peter.” 

“Who?” 

“Die Bulle.” 

“He's all right,” Konrad shrugged. “Go home now.” 

“I don't know if I will be able to come tomorrow.” I said feeling guilty because of the bloody photo shooting at my apartment. “I'll do my best, but I have meetings the whole day.” 

“I'm fine. Don't worry.” 

“No, you are not.” I said. 

“It will be payback time for you,” he answered with a smile. “Now it will be your turn to give me a lecture each time I want to sprinkle salt on the steak.” 

“You don't do that. You eat the same rubbish as I do out of solidarity with me. Sometimes I don't understand why you suffer this.”

“Then the cook should do his best.”

“Chef. Remember the word if you want to find something on your dish.” I rose from the bed and I felt an acute pain in the back. I'm getting old too.  “Wagemann is too busy to scold me.” 

“Don't count on it.” Konrad gave me a kiss and I left the room. Outside, in the private living room, Peter, the guard was reading a book, comfortably sitting on the large leather sofa. The guy looked quite pleased with himself. He said nothing to me. 

But Dr. Wagemann did.