Chapter 28
Ewen passed the joint to Lon, took his shoes off and rested his feet on the burl coffee table.
Lon pointed through the window, across the darkness to the cop shop. At least half the offices in the building glowed white. “The number of lights on is directly proportional to how much crime is happening in the city. With that many lights, I’d estimate…two robberies, one homicide.”
“Friday night in downtown Perth.” Ewen took the joint. “You didn’t mention the stolen water truck.”
Lon slapped his leg. “It’s gotta be a joke, surely.”
“You can’t buy a second-hand, potable water truck, and they can’t build them fast enough. And—it was full. Top news story.”
Lon laughed. “Next we’ll see armed guards at the de-sal plant.” He wiped spit from his lip. “How’s the mentorship progressing?”
“Un-fucken-believable. Up fifty grand.”
“All through Hog’s advice?”
“Yep.” Ewen toked on the joint. “Do you know, I’ve traded all the major currency crosses, cfds, shares. I’ve also bought and sold the Dow Jones Index seven times. It’s a smorgasbord.” He stubbed the roach.
Lon eyed his mate. “There is no such thing as easy money.”
“This is.”
“Then how come everybody doesn’t jump on board?”
“Because you need a genius, come mentor… i.e. Hog.”
“Oh, so he’s a genius now.”
“No denying it, the guy’s switched on.”
“So are you, bro. In a different way. And speaking of smart, all investments involve risk. Are you managing it?”
“Hog has.”
“You leave it to him?”
“No. He defines it. I act on it.”
“Safe?”
“As houses. Risk is the key. Before I place a trade, I’ve already calculated my risk and physically place a stop loss to cover it. No emotion involved. If the stop loss is hit, my position closes automatically.” He turned to his friend. “The most I can lose on any trade is two per cent of my capital. And my win to loss percentage is sixty. Meaning, every six out of ten trades are winners.” He tapped Lon’s arm. Lon rolled his head. “And the profit ratio is two to one. Meaning, my wins are two times greater than my losses. Two fucking times. I’m telling you, I’m the casino.”
Lon returned to staring at the police station. “You are also meant to be investigating him, not using him to buy a yacht.”
“Okay. Let’s talk about this titbit you have for me?”
“Zeya Hogmyre.”
“I’ve seen him. Never introduced. But I want to.”
“Why?” asked Lon.
“He was angry. And we both know with anger there’s usually an issue. And issues can lead to stories. Although, his wife recently divorced him, so I’m guessing he’s not a bundle of joy at the moment.”
“Trust me, forget the wife. The angry is probably directed at his old man, a well-known businessman who is antigay.”
“Hog broached this the other day. Dead set against gay marriage.” Ewen sat straight. “Don’t tell me. Zeya?”
Lon nodded. “I wasn’t one hundred per cent cert. Until someone let slip.”
“Hang on. Back to the start.”
“I’d seen him round the town.”
“The Caprice?”
“Not the gay hangouts. Too obvious. But I could tell. Trust me, this guy had lived in the closet for so long he was practically albino. Having a rich and powerful antigay dad would’ve made this boy move very discreetly. And he’s not alone in the famous stakes. That’s why a party is held every couple of months. Super exclusive. Super, mum’s-the-word.”
“You’ve been?”
“Hell no. I’m not A-listed.”
“Then how do you know?”
“I supplied an organiser with the party drugs once.”
“Who?”
Lon offered a wet look.
“Sorry. What sort? Es?”
“Occasionally. Mostly blow. Ounces. Seriously rich kids. No phones allowed. Two private bouncers run metal detectors over anyone entering. This is a souped-up safe environment where people can be themselves…or their alter egos.”
“How did you find out about Zeya’s involvement if no one is talking?”
“At the start of any new relationship, you’re overflowing with love and life and dying to tell the world. Well, Zeya’s partner let slip to me. In secret.”
Ewen sat back. “So he’s recently divorced, has a secret male lover and his dad, a public figure, is antigay.”
“We’re talking pressure.”
“Something’s gotta go ping.”