Chapter 45: You Can Take That to the Bank!

May 8, 1983, Chicago, Illinois

"What did you want to know about your grandfather?" Aunt Wendy asked as I chopped ingredients for the salad.

"How will he react to me reaching out to him?"

"First, does my sister know?"

"Yes. I spoke to Mom about it. The background for my question is Keiko's grandfather places a very high value on family relationships, especially respect for elders. At some point, he'll ask to meet my family."

"You and Keiko are that serious?"

"Serious enough," I replied. "We're not a couple, but we're certainly moving in that direction, with all it might entail."

"Interesting. I had you pegged for the bachelor life for years!"

"There's no commitment at this point, only exploration of the future. And I do see other girls, and yes, Keiko knows that, but she's confident."

"A cute Japanese girl? I suspect she should be!"

I chuckled, "I do have a preference. Back to my grandfather, though. I ask, too, because I know he knows I'm in Chicago and hasn't reached out. That's not an accusation, mind you, because I haven't reached out, either."

"He did make some gestures when you were younger, right?"

"The last one was when I was eight, and he sent me a .22 rifle for Christmas. Mom let me keep it, and I wrote a thank you note, but I don't know if Mom even sent it. That was the last time I heard from them."

"If I know my sister," Aunt Wendy said, "she would have sent the card but probably also sent a note asking him to stop. She's still bitter."

"With good reason," I replied. "Though she did say that she would have given me their address and phone number at any time if I'd asked, which I didn't. And I obviously had no real desire to get in touch with them until Keiko encouraged me to."

"The first words out of his mouth after 'hello' will be to ask you either what church you attend or if you've accepted Jesus Christ as your personal savior."

"That's going to, if you'll pardon the expression, go straight to Hell."

Aunt Wendy laughed, "And yet, seemingly appropriate. I take it you're an atheist?"

"Yes. Keiko practices Shinto."

"That will actually go over less well than you being an atheist."

"How so?"

"Because you aren't following a false religion or false gods. In his mind, that's better than following a false god."

"Free clue," I said. "His god is no different from Zeus, Isis, or Thor."

"I'd suggest not saying that to him."

"I won't, though I'm not going to lie about what I believe."

"As you shouldn't. But honestly, if you were Catholic, he'd put you in the same box as Keiko."

"Hang on! Catholics are Christians, just as he is!"

"He would most vehemently disagree with you on that. In his mind, Catholics populate Hell, along with anyone else who rejects his understanding of Christianity."

"Well, if places such as Heaven and Hell actually existed, which they don't, I have a sneaking suspicion that he'd be offended by the actual population of both!"

Aunt Wendy laughed, "You're not wrong about that."

"Is there any way to avoid a futile conversation and find some common ground?"

"Difficult at best."

"How do you manage? I mean, after all, you got pregnant with Lisa before you and Uncle Alec married."

"Getting married changed things a bit in his mind, and I was baptized as a teenager, so he's made some allowances. He's unhappy about Lisa, of course, but has a grudging respect for Alec because he 'made an honest woman' of me."

"Which wasn't possible for Mom. Did she tell you I found out about the plane crash?"

"No!"

"A friend of mine, who was a district legislative aide to Mayor Washington when he was a Congressman, called a friend at the FAA who checked the records at the NTSB. They found out he was on Continental Airlines Flight 11, which crashed on May 22, 1962, en route from Chicago to Kansas City, Missouri. It was brought down by a bomb set off by a guy who apparently was suicidal over legal and financial problems. He wanted his wife to get the insurance."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. We checked the passenger list, and my friend called the place he had claimed to work, and his employment ended the same day as the plane crash."

"Had Mom told your grandfather that, it might have made a difference."

"She didn't know those details when she was pregnant with me. Whoever mom spoke to simply said he'd died in a plane crash without details. It's entirely possible they didn't know the cause when Mom spoke to them. Given she obviously was pregnant in February, and the government report wasn't published until August, nobody could know for sure before then. And they would have had to read it in the newspaper, assuming it was published."

"Which makes total sense. Your mom told you his name?"

"Yes," I replied, choosing not to reveal the fake name he'd given my mom. "And I know she refused to tell anyone who he was at the time. I don't have the timing down exactly, but when was Mom kicked out of the house?"

"At the end of May 1962, around the time she finished her Sophomore Year of High School. She lived with a girl named Bev Thompson for two years before she graduated. Once she graduated, she bought the house with Bev's dad co-signing the note."

"That part I didn't know," I replied. "I know about Beverly Thompson, well, Vaughn now, though I haven't seen her since I was about fourteen. She has two daughters, both younger than me. The other friend I met was Jennie McGrath. I was at her first husband's funeral and then at her wedding to her second husband."

"And that was about the time we moved to Illinois. Dad was friends with a man named Robert Van Kampen, who is one of those 'End Times' fanatics. He convinced Dad to move here."

"'End times fanatics'?"

"He believes we're about to usher in the 'End Times', as described in the Bible. You know, Jesus returning and fighting Satan and the Rapture."

"Sounds nuts. Wait! This is THE Bob Van Kampen?"

"What do you mean?"

"If it's the guy I think it is, he's a legend in the investment industry. His company, Van Kampen Merritt, has sold north of $6 billion in insured unit investment trusts, which pay federally tax free interest. When New York City defaulted on their bonds, customers came running for his insured products. His offices are here in Chicago."

"It has to be the same man," Aunt Wendy said. "Dad said he was some kind of investment manager. Alec might know more."

"Maybe, but real estate and municipal bonds are totally separate markets. Anyway, so what's the bottom line?"

"All I can say is that you should call him, but be prepared to be disappointed."

"I'd have to have positive expectations to be disappointed! I don't, but I hoped at least for some kind of modus vivendi. That doesn't seem possible, but I'll do my best to avoid arguing with him."

"I wish you luck."

"If you'll give me his phone number and address, I'll get in touch with him and see what happens."

She wrote out the address and phone number, handed me the piece of note paper, I folded it, and put it in my pocket. I finished the things she needed me to, then returned to the living room to find my uncle alone.

"Keiko went to use the powder room," Uncle Alec said. "She's a sweet girl, and you don't want to let that one go!"

"I agree," I said. "Neither of us is in any rush, but we both see the possibility of a shared future."

"How are things at work?"

"Very good," I replied. "I'm keeping busy, learning, and I have an interesting project, though I can't speak about it."

"I often have the same situation with real estate deals. If word gets out too soon, it attracts other bidders who can make a complete mess of things! How is the new house?"

"Great! The rent my housemates pay effectively covers the mortgage, and it costs them far less than living in the dorms."

"You've put together a pretty good thing in two years."

"I have, and I'm grateful for you helping me get my foot in the door."

"You've done all the hard work!"

"And yet, without the contact and the introduction, I wouldn't be here. One thing I've learned at Spurgeon is contacts are very important. That's the point of the time I'm spending with Jeri. Our group now has an attorney, a banker, a pre-med student, the Deputy Chief of Staff for Senator Alan Dixon, Jeri, and me. I also have a very good contact in Mayor Washington's administration, and I'm developing others."

"Sounds as if you're on the right path."

"I think so."

Keiko came back from the powder room, and a few minutes later, Aunt Wendy let us know that dinner was ready. I helped her bring everything to the table, suppressing a laugh when Lisa glared at me. I wasn't about to let her bug me or, if she did, give her any satisfaction that she had annoyed me in some way.

Dinner was excellent, as was dessert, and once I helped Aunt Wendy clean up, Keiko and I thanked my aunt and uncle, then left so we could get home and she could go to bed. She was still tired, and I hoped that the iron pills would help. When we arrived home, she went straight upstairs, and I went to the great room, where I found Bianca, Shelly, Julianne, Juliette, and Ellie.

"Where are the others?" I asked.

"Deanna is in her studio and has been most of the day. She has a project due before the end of the semester. Jack and Kristy were at her house for dinner and aren't back yet. Did Keiko go right to bed?"

"Yes."

"Does that mean you're available?" Ellie asked.

"I am."

"How about we go over some questions from the material you gave me, then fool around?"

"I'm game. Just remember, I have to be up about 5:30 so I can have breakfast before I head to work."

"Worth it!" Ellie exclaimed.

I said 'good night', and Ellie and I went up to my room. I spent about thirty minutes answering Ellie's questions about work as part of my promised training, and then we got into bed to fool around.

May 9, 1983, Chicago, Illinois

I wasn't too surprised when Ellie got out of bed with me on Monday morning, saying she preferred me to give her a ride to campus rather than waiting for Kristy, Bianca, or Keiko. We showered together, then went downstairs to have breakfast with Jack. While we were eating, Deanna came into the kitchen to get some coffee.

"No sleep?" I asked.

"I'm trying to complete a portfolio that's due in ten days, and it's a mix of media and styles. Realism isn't my thing, but that's what this portfolio is about. I can do it, of course, but it doesn't flow the way my abstract work does."

"I'd ask if there is anything I could do to help, but I doubt there is."

"Put a hit contract on my professor?"

"I'm not sure that would help," I chuckled. "Wouldn't they just appoint someone to take over the class?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Later!"

She took her cup of coffee and left the kitchen.

"I would never have expected an art student to have to pull 'all-nighters'," Ellie observed.

"My friend in the architecture program at IIT often has to do that," I said. "That's one reason I don't see her as often as I'd like. Well, that and she's met someone who needs more philosophical and spiritual help than I do."

"Spiritual?" Jack inquired. "You?"

"My requirements are zero from my perspective, not from hers. But in that regard, she's a bit frustrated with me because I reject any and all notions of god in whatever form. Buddhism is interesting in that it's more philosophy than religion."

"Is Keiko Buddhist?" Jack asked.

"Shinto," I replied. "With her, that incorporates elements of Zen Buddhism. What's interesting is, according to Keiko, Shinto has no leader, no defined set of religious texts, and an extremely wide variation of practices and beliefs. In many ways, it's more a tradition and practice, with the only truly common thing being a belief in «kami» — animating spirits. In Keiko's mind, it's inexorably linked to being Japanese, and one cannot be Japanese without a belief in «kami», nor can one truly believe in «kami» without being Japanese."

"So you couldn't 'convert'?" Ellie asked.

"Not really. From what I understand, even living in Japan and speaking Japanese is insufficient to cease being foreign to what she calls Japanese 'culturalism'. Basically, to be Japanese, one must not only follow Japanese tradition and culture and speak the language but also be ethnically Japanese."

"That sounds almost racist," Jack observed.

"Which is, at least in part, why Keiko identifies as 'Japanese-American' and refers to herself as 'Sansei', a word that means the child of someone who is 'Nisei', which is a word that means the child of Japanese immigrants. Her aunt married an American, and her grandfather fully accepted him. Keiko's grandfather was born in Hawaiߴi before it became a state. The generations maintain Japanese culture and practices, though it varies greatly even within the family."

"You sound as if you guys are serious," Ellie observed.

"I think the best answer is we're exploring a shared future," I replied. "But neither of us is in a hurry."

We finished eating, and Jack went upstairs to kiss Kristy goodbye.

"Would you be interested in getting together with me and some of the girls for an end-of-the-semester fling?" Ellie asked after Jack had gone up the stairs.

"What did you have in mind?" I asked.

"Aurelio's for pizza, then hanging out here?"

"The last day of exams is June 10th, right?"

"Yes. We were thinking that evening."

"Who?" I asked.

"Me, Miranda, Kasey, and Meg, plus maybe one or two other girls we hang out with."

"So that kind of party?" I asked.

Ellie laughed, "What did you expect?!"

"Point taken," I chuckled. "I don't see why not. You guys are all invited here for Memorial Day."

"Bianca let us know, and I'm pretty sure we'll all be here."

Jack returned, and the three of us left the house, got into my car, and headed into the city. We dropped Ellie at Loyola along the way, and when I arrived at the office, I performed my usual morning routine of making a fresh pot of coffee, getting an update on overnight trading from Rich, and then starting work on my analyst report.

It would be a very busy two weeks as Tony was on his 'sensitive leave', so he'd be out of the office for two weeks. That meant that Joel and I would have to cover his research as well, though not as in-depth. That wasn't a serious problem, as Mr. Matheson would receive the analyst reports from other teams, though those would not have the same narrow focus of stocks impacted in significant ways by FX events.

I turned in my morning report before Mr. Matheson arrived, as usual, and left a note saying I wanted to speak to him. About ten minutes after he came into the office, Mia called to let me know he could see me.

"What's up, Kane?"

"I've run into some severe limitations of VisiCalc," I said. "I can do a very rudimentary analysis, but to do a proper analysis, I'd need a custom program. The other limitation is I don't have intraday pricing, and I had a chat with Phil about that. I can get strike prices for trades we've made, but there is no easy way to get intraday numbers."

"Bottom line?" he asked.

"By the end of the week, I'll be able to tell you, roughly, if perfect execution based on opening and closing prices could generate the massive beat he claims to have put on the S&P 500 is theoretically possible with perfect knowledge."

"Nobody has perfect knowledge, or we'd all be on a tropical beach drinking some kind of fruit drink with rum in it!"

"Exactly. But the point is, if, with perfect knowledge, you can't do it, then it's not possible. If, with perfect knowledge, you could do it, then it's possible, even if it's not probable. I'll look at the index, of course, but I'm also going to look at if it could be done with baskets of individual shares. The problem with that is that I don't know what shares he might have traded, so I'm going to look at the biggest movers during the month, both in terms of volume and price. But that's a TON of work, and VisiCalc is fairly slow. It might take an hour to generate one scenario, if not longer."

"Bottom line?" he asked again.

"I believe we need to hire someone who can write customized data analytics programs."

"That would be Phil's department, so you'd need to talk to Jack Nelson."

"Actually, I think you should hire the person for your team. Call them an analyst, if that's necessary, but have them take over the spreadsheet work, along with the other computer stuff I'm doing. I'm not an expert by any means, and my housemate, who's just finishing her Sophomore year, is light years ahead of me."

"This is the one who helped you with the spreadsheet?"

"Yes. She had a number of good ideas and suggestions and knows which programs she'd need to do a proper job. I'll point out that simply analyzing the possible Madoff trades is going to take all my time this week, except for the time I spend on my morning reports, which is longer than usual because Tony is out."

"It's an interesting idea, and I do want you to focus on your analysis, though the computers clearly help you in that regard."