Ron Donaldo: Rise Of The Apex Don

Chapter 36

"Everything," Ron said. He pointed at the red numbers on the screen. "Send the secret debt files. Send the proof of the illegal loans. Send the receipts showing they paid a private mercenary army. Email it to the FBI. Email it to the Securities and Exchange Commission. Email it to the front page of every major newspaper and financial news station in the world."

Silas smiled a slow, nervous, excited smile. He understood. It was the perfect financial attack. It was a nuclear bomb made of numbers. 

"Yes, my King," Silas said. He turned back to the keyboard. His fingers flew across the keys, setting up the massive short sale. He locked in the Voretti money. He queued the emails to hundreds of reporters and government agencies. 

"Ready, Sir," Silas said, holding his finger hovering over the Enter key. 

Ron looked at the clock. 

9:29 AM. 

Fifty seconds. Forty seconds. Thirty seconds. 

Ron thought about Theresa. He thought about Marcus hiding under his desk. He thought about the dirty police chief. They had built their entire lives on this fake, hollow company. 

9:30 AM. 

"Burn it down, Silas," Ron ordered. 

Silas slammed his finger onto the Enter key. 

Beep.

The files flew out into the world. The short sale was locked in. 

...

A thousand miles away, in the bright, loud trading floors of Wall Street, the opening bell rang loudly. 

Traders in nice suits began shouting, buying and selling stocks. The giant green and red numbers rolled across the massive digital screens above their heads. 

Sterling Tech (Ticker: STCH) opened the day at $120.00 per share. It was a strong, healthy stock. 

Then, the emails arrived. 

At exactly 9:31 AM, the biggest financial news station on television broke into their normal broadcast with a red BREAKING NEWS banner. 

A news anchor looked directly into the camera. He looked shocked. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have just received a massive, unverified data dump regarding Sterling Tech," the news anchor said, reading quickly from a piece of paper. "The documents appear to show that the company is hiding fifty billion dollars in illegal, off-the-books debt. They are totally insolvent. Furthermore, the documents suggest the company is funding private mercenary armies."

On the trading floor, absolute panic exploded. 

Traders stopped shouting about buying. They started screaming about selling. 

"Sell! Sell Sterling Tech!" a man screamed, waving his hands wildly. 

"There are no buyers!" another trader yelled back. "Everyone is selling!"

On the massive digital screen, the price of Sterling Tech stock began to move. 

It was not a normal drop. It was a terminal crawl downward. It was a death spiral. 

$120.00... 

$95.00... 

$70.00... 

Inside the black armored truck, Ron and Silas watched the live stock ticker on their monitors. 

"It is working, Sir," Silas whispered. He could not believe his eyes. "The market is terrified. Institutional investors are dumping millions of shares every second."

$50.00... 

$30.00... 

Back in Oakhaven, Marcus Thorne was sitting in the dark, locked in the back of the transport truck with Dr. Aris. Marcus had a small tablet that an Iron Legion guard had given him. 

Marcus watched the stock price fall. 

He began to cry. Deep, painful, ugly sobs shook his chest. His entire life’s work, his pride, his stolen wealth—it was all evaporating into thin air. He was watching his own funeral live on a digital screen. 

$15.00... 

$8.00... 

"The FBI just released a statement!" Silas shouted, reading a new headline. "They have officially frozen all of Sterling Tech’s public bank accounts! They are sending agents to arrest the entire Board of Directors!"

$4.00... 

$1.00... 

$0.25... 

At 9:45 AM, exactly fifteen minutes after the market opened, the New York Stock Exchange officially halted trading on Sterling Tech. 

The final price was locked on the screen. 

$0.00

The company was dead. The empire was gone. 

"We did it," Silas breathed, leaning back in his chair. He wiped sweat from his face. "The short sale executed perfectly. Sir... the Voretti money just multiplied. You did not just destroy the company. You just made three billion dollars in pure, clean cash."

Ron looked at the zero on the screen. 

He did not smile. He did not celebrate. He felt a strange, hollow peace in his chest. The thing that had caused him so much pain was finally gone forever. Marcus was ruined. Theresa was ruined. The Director's shield was completely broken. 

"Good work, Silas," Ron said softly. 

He stood up, ready to tell General Vance to turn the trucks around. It was time to deal with their prisoners. 

But suddenly, Silas’s computer screen turned completely black. 

The live stock ticker disappeared. 

A loud, harsh electronic screech came through the truck's speakers. 

"Silas, what is that?" Ron asked quickly, his instincts going on high alert. 

"I... I don't know, Sir!" Silas yelled, typing furiously on his keyboard. "Someone is hacking directly into my encrypted feed! The firewall is melting!"

A single, glowing red symbol appeared in the center of the black screen. It was an eagle holding a bundle of arrows. It was a military seal. 

The smooth, cold voice of The Director came through the speakers. He was not calling on a phone this time. He had hijacked their entire system. 

"Congratulations, Ronald," The Director said. His voice was no longer polite. It was dripping with pure, toxic anger. "You burned my castle. You destroyed my company. You killed my golden goose."

"It is over, Director," Ron said loudly into the microphone. "You have no money. You have no shield. The FBI is looking at your secret accounts right now. You are a hunted man."

The Director laughed. It was a dark, hollow sound that made the hairs on Ron’s arms stand up. 

"You think the FBI scares me, Ronald?" The Director asked. "You think you beat me because you played a clever game with money? I told you, I am not a businessman. I am the man who controls the board."

Suddenly, Silas’s screen changed again. 

It showed a live video feed from a news helicopter flying high above the city of Oakhaven. 

The sun was shining on the dark, powerless city. But on the main highway leading into Oakhaven, there was movement. 

A massive convoy was driving toward the city. But it was not police cars. It was not Blackwater mercenaries. 

It was a line of heavy, dark green military tanks. Hundreds of armored troop carriers. Thousands of soldiers in full combat gear. 

"Sir," Silas whispered, his voice trembling with absolute terror. "That... that is the National Guard. That is the actual United States Military."

"I am the man who whispers in the ear of the President, Ronald," The Director’s voice echoed through the truck. "I just told the government that a dangerous terrorist named Ron Donaldo stole a radioactive dirty bomb, caused a city-wide blackout, and used a private army to destroy the city’s economy."

Ron stared at the screen. The tanks were rolling over the bridge into Oakhaven. Helicopters were filling the sky. 

"You wanted to be a Warlord, Apex," The Director said softly. "Now, you get a real war. The United States Military has orders to shoot you and the Iron Legion on sight. There is no trial. There is no arrest. Only death."

Click. 

The transmission ended. 

The screen went dark. 

Ron stood in the silent truck. He had beaten the company, but he had just started a war against his own country. He looked at his bandaged hands.