titles, and other documents. Every thirty seconds or so, he looked out to make sure that Arsenault was still sitting at his wine-tasting table with a look that said, âWas I just kicked upside the head?â
Ordinarily, given the quality of the jewelry, Monarch would have been stuffing it all into sacks along with the gold coins and bars that filled at least fifteen drawers. But there was no way he could carry even a fraction of what the Arsenaults had squirreled away in precious metals and stones.
Besides, Monarch believed there was something equally valuable and infinitely more transportable and negotiable in the vault. He found it, or them actually, stored in legal-size clasp envelopes in a wide drawer at the bottom of the rear wall.
Corporate and government âbearer bondsâ are unregistered. There is no recording of ownership or the transaction that led to ownership. If you are in possession of such bonds, they are yours, hence the term âbearer.â Prior to 1982, such financial instruments were commonplace. The United States used to issue them in denominations of up to a million dollars.
But in the late 1970s, due to their involvement in money laundering schemes, the issuance of such bonds in America was greatly curtailed. All bearer bonds issued by the United States prior to 1982 matured by 2007. But as of 2009, there were still about $100 million in bearer paper yet to be redeemed. A quick look in the first envelope and Monarch knew he was looking at approximately $4.5 million in negotiable U.S. instruments. The second envelope contained bearer bonds worth $7.2 million. The remaining three envelopes contained similar paper issued in 1977 by Ford and IBM, and worth $8.24 million.
Total haul: $19.94 million.
It was enough, more than enough, Monarch decided. He tucked the five envelopes inside the jacket and under his left arm. Leaving the vault, he glanced at Saunders and Pratt, and saw they were laboring for breath. Animal tranquilizers can be tricky things when administered to humans. People under their influence have been known to suffer respiratory failure.
Arsenault, however, was still looking off into the distance with the stunned expression of an absinthe drinker on a binge, and in a singsong voice, kept saying, âI know ⦠I know.â
The thief retrieved the cigarette pack from his pocket once again. After reloading the fake cigarette with the last dart, he got out that small hypodermic syringe. By that time, the security chief was making asthmatic noises and the attorney was choking on every second breath.
Monarch checked his watch: 8:26 P.M. He now had nineteen minutes before someone might come looking for Arsenault and his aides. He found and retrieved the darts from Pratt and Saunders, and then used the syringe to shoot them each with diprenorphine, an opiate antagonist that would neutralize the effects of the tranquilizers. Theyâd come around within fifteen or twenty minutes, suffering headaches of biblical proportions but essentially okay.
Standing and turning to check Arsenault, Monarch figured it would be closer to an hour before the mogul would own his own thoughts. At the moment, he was pointing at the thief, jabbing the air as if he were on an invisible phone.
âDonât worry, senor,â Monarch said. âYou will feel better in the morning.â
As he headed toward the door, he held the champagne flute in his left hand to camouflage the fact he had the envelopes clasped under his armpit, and had the fake cigarette between the index and middle fingers of his right hand.
âExiting,â he said.
Then Monarch opened the wine cellar door.
Louisa Arsenault seemed to have been reaching for that same door from the opposite side. The mogulâs wife stumbled, surprised, looked right into the thiefâs face at close quarters, and then past him, seeing Saunders and Pratt on the floor, and her husband looking like heâd drunk the
Learning to Kill: Stories