THE TAINTED TRUST (Volume 2 of The King Trilogy)

CHAPTER 74

     Kuwait. August 2, 1990.

Kuwaiti border guards were quickly eliminated when Russian made T-72 tanks opened fire on them at short range. Within minutes of the brief but savage engagement, the tanks were racing southward to Kuwait City, while Iraqi Mirages and Migs led the way.

Washington. August 1, 1990, 9:00 P.M.

Brent Scowcroft, George Bush's national security officer, burst into the president's living quarters on the second floor of the White House. He broke the news that Iraqi troops had crossed the Kuwait border and were heading south. While the news was a surprise to Bush, he assumed the Iraqis intended only to plunder the country before withdrawing.

The Iraqis claimed they had been invited into Kuwait to restore order by an "interim free government" of Kuwaiti revolutionaries who had overthrown the Sabah dynasty, rulers of the emirate for two and a half centuries.

In clandestine radio and television broadcasts, Sheik Saad al-Abdallah Al Sabah, crown prince and premier of Kuwait, issued a plea for resistance, "Let them taste the chalice of death," he said. "They have come to kill the sons of Kuwait and its women. We shall fight them everywhere, until we clean up their treachery from our land. The whole world is with us."

Visions of another financial catastrophe raced through Visconti's mind during a nail biting wait for Assif Raza to answer his telephone. Beads of sweat bathed his forehead. "Come on, Assif, answer the phone."

At last Raza picked up.

"Assif, it's Louis. We need to talk."

"Please do it quickly. I have much to do. Most of our holdings in this country have been frozen."

"I'm aware of the freeze. Our office was informed three hour ago. Where do we go from here?"

"I apologize for my oversight in our last conversation, Louis. None of our people had the slightest idea the Iraqis would invade. Believe me, it took all of us by surprise."

"I appreciate that, Assif, but that isn't what I asked you. You have to appreciate that I have a fortune riding on crude oil. I've got to know what's happening and I can't rely on the crap they're feeding us on television."

"One of our investors is extremely close to the Emir. They spoke briefly today. The Emir advised him that once Kuwait accedes to Saddam's outrageous demands, Iraq will withdraw from the country."

"Do you think they will?"

"The Kuwaitis will compromise on money, never on territorial integrity."

"So what do you think? Will Saddam take the money and run?"

"We believe he will, but now that he has had a taste of the land, it's become more a roll of the dice."

"What should I do with my crude position?"

"You could liquidate now and cut your losses. If, however, you have nerves of steel and the patience of Job, you could hold and perhaps make a fortune."

"What would you do if you were in my position?"

"I would never be in your position, Louis. I am an investor, not a speculator."

"So you're really telling me to get out."

"Under the current circumstances, yes."

"That's just lovely," Visconti said, his anxiety exploding into anger. "Last week you told me to short the hell out of crude. Now you're telling me to bail out."

"Unless I misunderstand, Louis, you are being paid to be my financial advisor," Raza countered, clearly irked by Visconti's tirade. "I strongly doubt you could afford the reverse."

"I'm sorry. Assif. This thing is doing funny things to my head."

"You are forgiven. It's affecting all of us in very peculiar ways."

After hanging up, Visconti called Miles Dennis. "Miles, it's Louis. What's happening?"

"I'm damn glad you called. I've been trying to reach you for an hour."

"Why?"

"I want you to listen very carefully. I don't have good news. Are you sitting down?"

"Just give it to me, dammit!"

"Spot crude is going crazy right now. God knows where it'll be at the end of the day. The Merc. is raising margin requirements to fifty percent. That means you'll have to come up with another seventy-five million at the close of business."

"Can you get me out?" Visconti asked, continuing his nail biting in earnest.

"I doubt it. Crude's limit up. I don't think there's a human being on the planet who's willing to sell crude at twenty-five bucks."

"So I've got no choice. Either I come up with seventy-five million, or...What if I don't."

"Don't even think about it. We'll close out your position and you'll blow your brains out."

"That's just beautiful. Now I have to start carving into other investments just to satisfy a margin call."

"I thought you had at least two hundred and fifty million in cash in that trust. What happened to it?"

Dennis's comment brutally reminded Visconti of the fraudulent entries he had made in reporting the financial status of the King's trust. "I committed it all to the market," he lied.

"Then tell me what you want me to do with your position."

"What the hell can you do? Didn't you just tell me crude was limit up?"

"I did, but I need your instructions. I don't want to have to wait around for your call if crude comes off the boil."

"What do you think I should do?"

"You're into the spot month on the August contracts...I would put a stop at twenty-six on the August, and ride the September contracts."

"So you're telling me I would be out of the August contracts at twenty-six?"

"Yup, but I think you'll be okay with the September contracts."

Visconti failed to respond for what seemed like an eternity for Dennis.

"I need an answer, Louis," Dennis prodded.

"Screw it, Miles," Visconti said, his teeth clenched. "I stepped up to the table to play the game. I'm not going to chicken out the minute the first deuce is dealt. Don't liquidate a fucking thing!"

Dennis shook his head in disbelief. "Wow! You're either a genius or a masochist. I'm not sure which."