hmmmmmmm,
A(6), A(6)…oh…hmmmmm…I see…” Ted looked decidedly paler than he had
two minutes earlier. He was also uneasily avoiding Steven’s
gaze.
“So what’s the problem?”
“Steven, I can’t really say anything
due to banking regulations, but because you’re such a high value
customer, let me ask; are you in any kind of dispute with, say, the
IRS?” Ted inquired. “Maybe being investigated for something, no
doubt all a big mix-up?”
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re
talking about. I called the cops because my dog was killed last
night, but that’s it. What’s going on? What are you trying to tell
me?” Now the blossom of anxiety was turning into a full-fledged
incipient panic attack. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe
in...
Ted pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I’m so sorry to hear about your dog. No, according to my screen,
your account has been frozen by a law enforcement agency. I can’t
go into more detail. Shouldn’t have even said that. Didn’t…if you
take my meaning.” Ted was not having a good start to his day. That
made two of them.
“That’s impossible. It’s a mistake.”
What the hell was going on here?
“It’s not the bank. It’s actually out
of our hands. I’d suggest if you have an attorney, you get in
contact and have him talk to our headquarters to see about clearing
this up. I’m really sorry we can’t do more.” Ted was ready to
conclude the meeting.
Steven walked out of the branch in the
fog of a daze. Account frozen? A hundred and fifty grand
inaccessible? He looked in his wallet. Three one-dollar bills.
Fucking just great. The bagel had completely lost its appeal now.
His mouth tasted like tin.
He got into his car and called Stan
Caldwell, his attorney and asset protection specialist…and also his
very good friend. Stan listened intently to his story, then
suggested they get together in half an hour in San Clemente. Stan
made his living in part by being ultra-paranoid about privacy
concerns and didn’t like cell phones.
Steven was in turmoil as he drove down
PCH. Why would his account be frozen by a government agency? Didn’t
the IRS have to file something, some sort of notice, if that was
it? Besides, he didn’t owe anything, wasn’t being audited. Could it
be identity theft? That had been a big topic with the Group a few
months back. Could someone have used his ID to do something
illegal, forcing him to jump through hoops to clear it up? What a
pain in the ass.
At least he had a full tank.
Cash wasn’t an immediate concern, as he
still had about seven thousand dollars left from what he’d won in
Vegas at the last bachelor party. But not having access to a little
over a hundred and fifty Gs was an issue, that was for sure. He
wondered if they’d also frozen his credit cards. And who they were. And why. Which brought him right back to the
beginning again...
Stan Caldwell was a very smart man.
Quiet. Looked nothing like an attorney, more like a successful real
estate developer. Heavyset, usually smiling, relaxed, did a lot of
listening and spoke rarely. He had many high net worth clients for
whom he’d structured asset protection solutions. Discretion was his
mantra. His specialty was creating transactions for company sales
so they wound up being tax-free events, which is how Steven and he
had met. They’d been friends ever since.
Steven told him about the account, and
he jotted down the information, asking a question now and then.
Stan assured him he would get to the bottom of it quickly. Steven
then told him about the events of the last thirty-six hours or so;
Avalon, the ISP, Griffen, the website. Again, Stan asked pointed
questions, clarifying a point here, requesting more information
there.
Stan quickly decided that Steven was
playing with very hot water, and cautioned him that not all
factions of society played nice.
“Steven, if you hit a snake on the head
over and over, eventually it will try to bite you. Law of
the
A(6), A(6)…oh…hmmmmm…I see…” Ted looked decidedly paler than he had
two minutes earlier. He was also uneasily avoiding Steven’s
gaze.
“So what’s the problem?”
“Steven, I can’t really say anything
due to banking regulations, but because you’re such a high value
customer, let me ask; are you in any kind of dispute with, say, the
IRS?” Ted inquired. “Maybe being investigated for something, no
doubt all a big mix-up?”
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re
talking about. I called the cops because my dog was killed last
night, but that’s it. What’s going on? What are you trying to tell
me?” Now the blossom of anxiety was turning into a full-fledged
incipient panic attack. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe
in...
Ted pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I’m so sorry to hear about your dog. No, according to my screen,
your account has been frozen by a law enforcement agency. I can’t
go into more detail. Shouldn’t have even said that. Didn’t…if you
take my meaning.” Ted was not having a good start to his day. That
made two of them.
“That’s impossible. It’s a mistake.”
What the hell was going on here?
“It’s not the bank. It’s actually out
of our hands. I’d suggest if you have an attorney, you get in
contact and have him talk to our headquarters to see about clearing
this up. I’m really sorry we can’t do more.” Ted was ready to
conclude the meeting.
Steven walked out of the branch in the
fog of a daze. Account frozen? A hundred and fifty grand
inaccessible? He looked in his wallet. Three one-dollar bills.
Fucking just great. The bagel had completely lost its appeal now.
His mouth tasted like tin.
He got into his car and called Stan
Caldwell, his attorney and asset protection specialist…and also his
very good friend. Stan listened intently to his story, then
suggested they get together in half an hour in San Clemente. Stan
made his living in part by being ultra-paranoid about privacy
concerns and didn’t like cell phones.
Steven was in turmoil as he drove down
PCH. Why would his account be frozen by a government agency? Didn’t
the IRS have to file something, some sort of notice, if that was
it? Besides, he didn’t owe anything, wasn’t being audited. Could it
be identity theft? That had been a big topic with the Group a few
months back. Could someone have used his ID to do something
illegal, forcing him to jump through hoops to clear it up? What a
pain in the ass.
At least he had a full tank.
Cash wasn’t an immediate concern, as he
still had about seven thousand dollars left from what he’d won in
Vegas at the last bachelor party. But not having access to a little
over a hundred and fifty Gs was an issue, that was for sure. He
wondered if they’d also frozen his credit cards. And who they were. And why. Which brought him right back to the
beginning again...
Stan Caldwell was a very smart man.
Quiet. Looked nothing like an attorney, more like a successful real
estate developer. Heavyset, usually smiling, relaxed, did a lot of
listening and spoke rarely. He had many high net worth clients for
whom he’d structured asset protection solutions. Discretion was his
mantra. His specialty was creating transactions for company sales
so they wound up being tax-free events, which is how Steven and he
had met. They’d been friends ever since.
Steven told him about the account, and
he jotted down the information, asking a question now and then.
Stan assured him he would get to the bottom of it quickly. Steven
then told him about the events of the last thirty-six hours or so;
Avalon, the ISP, Griffen, the website. Again, Stan asked pointed
questions, clarifying a point here, requesting more information
there.
Stan quickly decided that Steven was
playing with very hot water, and cautioned him that not all
factions of society played nice.
“Steven, if you hit a snake on the head
over and over, eventually it will try to bite you. Law of
the
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