Thirty-seven

HAM WAS SPENDING EVERY DAY AT LAKE WINACHOBEE now, and his students were becoming expert shots, one after another. Only occasionally did he find someone who could not learn to shoot reasonably well. They were usually people with shaky hands.

One morning, after sending a shooting class to the range, Peck whistled at him from his house and waved him over.

“What’s up?” Ham asked.

“I want you to hear a little presentation John’s giving to some of our newer folks,” Peck said, ushering him into his study. A dozen people sat around the room, and John sat in a comfortable armchair, chatting easily with a couple of them. He looked up and saw Ham and Peck enter.

“All right, listen up,” John said to the group. “We know from our previous discussions that the founding fathers of our country intended that it should be run under principles set down in the Bible: whites are the chosen people of God; homosexuals are an abomination and should be exterminated. Also, the paper money issued by the government is unconstitutional, and so are the income tax laws, but of course, we have no chance of getting the Supreme Court to rule that, not without a new Supreme Court. Now, we’re going to see what can be done about avoiding taxes and keeping our financial dealings secret.”

John stood up and went to an easel. He took a felt marking pen and began drawing a chart. “What we’ve done is set up something called a warehouse bank,” he said, pointing to the first block. “We take deposits into numbered accounts, and that’s very important. Once we establish an account and give you a number, we destroy any record that would show who owns the account. This drives the IRS crazy. I saw a quote from one official who said that investigating a warehouse bank is like looking for a needle in a stack of needles.” This got a good laugh.

“Now, let’s say you open your account with ten thousand dollars. We then transfer these funds to certain western banks. When you want to pay a bill, you send an e-mail to the warehouse with your instructions and your account number; that is transmitted to the partner bank, which sends a banker’s draft to your creditor. So the bill is paid without your name being mentioned, only your account number with the creditor. If you want some cash, you request that by e-mail, too, and the money is sent by certified mail or an overnight delivery service.

“At no point in this process are you identified by anything other than an account number, so the IRS can’t examine your bank records to find out how much money you’re depositing or how much you’re spending. This effectively puts a stop to the enforcement of the income tax laws.”

A man raised his hand. “How much can we save in taxes this way?”

“Depends on how much you earn,” John said. “Recently, one of our warehouse bank customers became the first of us to save one million dollars in taxes. I can tell you that we’ve saved our members, collectively, a quarter of a billion dollars in income taxes.”

There was a murmur of approval from around the room.

“Also,” John continued, “we print our own currency, which we use only among our member groups.” He passed around a banknote for everyone to look at.

Ham inspected the paper, which bore an engraving of Jefferson Davis. It had the look and feel of money.

“By drawing our own currency from the warehouse bank instead of U.S. currency, we can trade among ourselves without fear. We also encourage the use of false social security numbers, which confuses the IRS, and we’ve learned to set up trusts that help us do business without attracting their attention.”

“What are the chances of our getting caught doing this?” someone asked.

“We’ve been doing it for more than ten years, and none of us has even been arrested,” John said. “You may have seen accounts in the Jew press of arrests, but they weren’t our people. From time to time, we shut down the warehouse bank and create a new one. We’re a constantly moving target, and the antitax forces in this country have influenced the U.S. Congress to cut funds for IRS audits and investigations, which makes it harder than ever for them to track us down.”

“How can I open an account?” a man asked.

“Peck is going to distribute account application forms now,” John replied. “You’ll notice that nowhere on the form do we ask for your name. You make deposits in cash, and we give receipts to numbers. Not even I know who has which account number.”

Ham received one of the forms and put it in his pocket as the meeting broke up.

Peck walked over. “You going to open an account with us, Ham?”

“I’m going to have to take a close look at this, Peck,” Ham replied. “My income comes mostly from my army pension, although I have some investments. I think I might be too much on record to start hiding stuff. I might raise a red flag that could cause trouble for you.”

“I see your point,” Peck said, “and I appreciate your concern. You let me know what you want to do. I’m sure it will be all right with John.”

“Can I buy some of your currency?” Ham asked. “That makes a lot of sense.”

“Sure, how much you want?”

“I’ve got a couple hundred in my pocket, I guess,” Ham said, digging out some money. He handed Peck four fifties.

Peck went to a safe in the corner, opened it and returned with twenty ten-dollar bills. “Use it to shop at the gun show this weekend.”

“Right,” Ham said. He walked out to the range, his head spinning.