No Apologies and No Regrets

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  No Apologies and No Regrets

  By Roddy Wix

  Copyright © 2011 Roddy Wix

  Cover Design: HEM Graphics

  Cover Photo: andyxox

  License Notes:

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real people, events, establishments, organizations or locations are intended to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. All other characters and incidents are creations of the author’s imagination are should not be construed as real.

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  1.

  Palo Alto, California

  May 6, 2010

  Ilya Rusikov pushed long blond hair from his forehead as he leaned over a notebook computer. After a few keystrokes he smiled at his twin, Ivan, and said, “Done.”

  “Excellent!" Ivan reached over and gave his brother a hearty clap on the back. His gold Breitling indicated 11:42 AM Pacific Time and the New York Stock Exchange began to plummet. Already down three hundred points on the session things got much worse.

  Within moments Ivan’s cell phone vibrated and spun itself around in circles on the slick, glass topped conference table.

  “Yes.”

  “Congratulations, Ivan Ivanovitch. Thor’s Hammer seems to be working.” The familiar baritone voice on the other end had a hint of a Russian accent.

  “Thank you, Mr. Malroff. Are we ready to complete our transaction?”

  “Not so fast, Ivan. You will be paid as soon as we get the results you promised and a copy of the source code.” Malroff’s voice sounded cheerful though Ivan was wiser than to disagree.

  “Understood."

  Ivan motioned to his brother and whispered, “Go ahead and forward the file to the address I gave you.”

  Ilya, appearing confused, complied with his instructions and after a couple of seconds on the keyboard signaled "thumbs up".

  “Mr. Malroff, we've sent Thor's Hammer.”

  “Excellent. Dr. Kovich will verify receipt and authenticate the program. Check your bank account in an hour.”

  The line went dead before Ivan could respond. He jumped up and started pacing again causing his expensive Italian driving shoes to make a screeching sound on the polished concrete floor. The noise made Ilya cringe, but he didn’t complain. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and gave his brother a mischievous grin.

  “So, where is Comrade Malroff?”

  “Do not call him 'Comrade'!” Ivan stopped pacing and wagged a finger in warning.

  “What? Do you think he bugged our offices? He’s not KGB anymore.”

  “Ilya! Never mention his name and KGB."

  “Lighten up, Ivan. We’re comfortable and safe here in California. Our jobs are pretty cool and we’re getting paid well.”

  “Don’t be so small minded, Ilya. We’re about to make a lot more money than those children’s toys are paying us.”

  “The ‘toys’ as you call them aren’t such a bad deal. You never refuse a paycheck.”

  "Because I do a lot of work.”

  "You spend more time driving your Ferrari and taking your girlfriends to Vegas. It must cost you a fortune."

  “Ilya, it doesn't matter. We’ll be twenty five million euros richer for this. When has this place paid you so much money?”

  “Twenty five million sounds good, but only if your friend and his boss the Prime Minister pay us!”

  “Ilya, don’t ever bring up the Prime Minister. I want to live to spend my share. Do you understand?” Ivan dropped into a chair with tension visible in his shoulders while his brother seemed relaxed and indifferent.

  “Don’t worry. If he does, fine. If not, I don’t much care, but I'm not going to sit here waiting. Let’s get some lunch.”

  Ilya, unlike Ivan, preferred the thrill of writing novel gaming programs over making money. He’d been that way since before they came west to go to Stanford, but once they got to Palo Alto he soon attached himself to a crowd with similar interests and for awhile the brothers went their separate ways. Ivan hung out at the business school learning what he thought necessary to be able to write EFTS trading software, but his interest in pretty faces always seemed to be a distraction. So, Ilya and his socially backward buddies launched the soonest. They founded Fluid Dimension before graduation and made a decent success of their company. For Ivan, working for his brother became a necessary embarrassment as he continued his quest for a "big score".

  “Alright, give me another minute.”

  Ivan checked his Breitling yet again: almost three PM in the east. A few keystrokes on his computer brought up an array of financial news. The market turnaround seemed to be as rapid as its decline. By just past noon in California most of its sudden losses were recouped. Thor’s Hammer had performed as he’d promised Malroff, and his mood brightened. He started tapping the keys again.

  “Ivan, I’m not waiting much longer. I want lunch.”

  “Fine, but let me show you something.” He turned the laptop toward Ilya and pointed at a flashing blue number indicating a balance of more than forty million euros in an offshore account he'd been keeping secret.

  “Ivan, where the hell did forty million euros come from?”

  “Well, I must make a small confession.”

  “A small confession?”

  “Yes. I also sold a copy of your program, the one you called Leprechaun.”

  Ilya leapt to his feet and glared at his brother. “You sold Leprechaun without telling me?” He advanced on Ivan as he spoke. “You had no right and neither did I. You knew someone else wrote most of that code.”

  “Possession is everything, Ilya, and I'm the one who created a market. After some bidding Serge paid us ten million."

  “Serge?”

  “He uses the program to funnel cash through. Laundering…”

  “Ivan! What the hell were you thinking?”

  “About making some money for us! Besides, I modified the code a little before I delivered it.”

  “How?” Ilya became angrier.

  “Whenever Malroff uses Leprechaun to launder his cash we get a ‘royalty’ of twenty-five basis points, only a quarter of a penny on the dollar, a fair fee in my opinion."

  "Does he know?”

  “He didn’t ask so I had no need to answer.”

  “Now I understand why you don’t want him angry with us.” Ilya headed for the door.

  “He can’t be too unhappy. He's just paid us twenty-five million Euros for Thor’s Hammer.” Ivan grinned and pointed at the large number still pulsating on the computer screen.

  “Enough! I’m going to lunch. Are you coming?”

  “Of course I am.” Ivan started after his brother, but not before checking one more account. The news was good, but he decided to defer telling Ilya who stood waiting for an elevator.

  “Ilya, wait up.”

  2.

  Silver Star Security Corporate Offices

  Palm Beach, Florida