Endgame Excerpt
Chapter 1
Bob Gordon sat behind his mahogany desk, a confident look on his face, looking forward to hyping a new penny stock. Swept up in a lavish lifestyle, he appreciated the finer things of life—tailored fitted suits, expensive sports cars, and a beautiful home on the inter-coastal waterway. He didn’t believe in keeping his money tied up in the stock market for long. Being in the stock market for any longer than a month went against his trading philosophy, a fools game to avoid at all cost.
Addicted to making fast cash, he purchased stocks that were poised to climb hundreds of percent over a short period of time. It wasn’t hard to do, a scam he’d perfected over many years. He’d purchase worthless penny stocks, at rock bottom prices, and set out to convince many naïve investors to purchase them, too. Through a deceptive marketing campaign, he’d entice investors to buy the stocks like hotcakes, driving up the share price. Realizing he’d lured them into a trap, he’d sell the stocks at the top for huge gains. The stocks were guaranteed to crash, leaving investors with heavy losses. His system worked like a charm. So easy to swindle people out of their money. Nothing to it really. Just rig the game and cash out profits.
But to keep up the winning streak, he needed more fools, people who would jump at the opportunity to get rich quick. Even though the penny stocks were worthless, burdened by high levels of debt and no real sales, he could still make a fortune from them. Brilliant at the art of deception, he looked forward to working his magic, convincing gullible investors that his penny stocks were their ticket to paradise. A great way to double or even triple their money. In no time at all, they could be living on easy street. Not a care in the world.
Gordon had collected many names and phone numbers from people who’d subscribed to his newsletter, the Golden Report—a monthly report that claimed a penny stock was on the verge of developing a revolutionary technology that would change the world. According to his most recent newsletter, which was based on bold face lies and fabrications, he featured a little biotech company that was on the verge of releasing a new drug, one that promised to reverse clogged, damaged arteries.
When this new drug was able to come to market, it was guaranteed to spread across the country like wildfire, preventing millions of people from having heart attacks and strokes. Through a campaign of false and misleading advertisements, he took to the airwaves, touting this small biotech company on social media sites, online stock bulletin boards, online articles, and non-stop cold calls. Great at persuading people to see his point-of-view, he’d convinced many investors to purchase tons of shares of Dome Labs—claiming the release of their new drug was guaranteed to make the investors filthy rich.
Making a sizable investment in this biotech company would, without a shadow of doubt, turn them into multi-millionaires. Overnight success stories. People who everyone looked up to and admired. Rubbing his hands together, he imagined how much cash he was going to make from this venture. Dizzy with excitement, he pictured the money on his mahogany desk, all crisp one hundred dollar bills, stacked into neat piles, piled high to the ceiling. What a great sight. Absolutely beautiful. Making money was an obsession for him, something he thought about all the time. Smirking, he scoffed at all the gullible people he intended to rip off, extremely thankful a sucker was born every minute.
Taking advantage of innocent people, finding their weaknesses and using it against them, was second nature to him. In fact, it turned him on. Really got his juices flowing. No better feeling in the world. He was, after all, an expert at deceiving people, a skill he’d honed while serving a five year prison term for white collar crimes—mail, wire, and bank fraud. Anxious to prey on his next victim, he picked up the phone, dialed the first number on his long list of names, and waited with bated breath.
“Hello?”
“Peter Prescott please.”
“That’s me. How can I help you?”
Gordon couldn’t wait to run his scam. “This is Bob. Bob Gordon. From Frontier Investments.”
“Oh, yes.” Prescott sounded genuinely interested. “You put out that stock newsletter, right?”
“That’s right. The Golden Report. I highlighted a diamond in the ruff, so to speak.”
“Is it possible? I mean, your claim seems too good to be true.”
Gordon felt a charge of electricity. This was an important part of the scam, when he set the groundwork for a carefully laid trap. He kept his tone calm and even, gifted at using his keen intellect to deceive people. “This is a chance of a lifetime,” Gordon said. “I’m offering you a ground floor opportunity.”
“Why isn’t this medical breakthrough all over the news?”
Gordon felt butterflies in his stomach. Time to lay it on thick. “Most people are in the dark about it right now. Except for a handful of people. Executives. Top-level management. And a few investors.”
“Sounds interesting.” Prescott sounded unsure, hesitant. “But I’m still skeptical.”
“I’m related to one of the owners of the company. Tom Burton, the Chief Financial Officer.”
There was a long pause on the line. “Oh, I see. Very interesting. I’m listening.”
Gordon laughed. “I have the inside scoop, so to speak. And believe me, it’s nothing short of a miracle. The most amazing development in modern day history. Tomorrow morning, a few members of the company are going to contact the press. Make a public announcement that they’ve developed a revolutionary drug. One that will prevent heart attacks and strokes.”
“Fantastic news. Really impressive. But I still don’t have any proof.”
Gordon fought to keep his rising temper under control. One tough fish to catch. Only nibbling at the bait. Got to get him to swallow it. Hook, line, and sinker. He took a deep breath to clear his head. “Did you read my latest newsletter, the one about Dome Labs?”
“Oh, yes. Quite impressive. Already up over a hundred percent. And still climbing.”
“That’s right. Nothing can stop it now. Heading into the Stratosphere.”
There was another long pause on the line. “Well, you did recommend Dome Labs at the beginning of the week.” Prescott sounded interested, less skeptical. “And the share price has more than doubled since then. Great call. An incredible call. You hit it out of the ballpark, that’s for sure.”
“Don’t forget about the big announcement tomorrow morning. Live on TV. MSNBC.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Don’t miss the boat. Put all your money into Dome Labs before the big announcement. Once the cat is out of the bag, it’s going to be too late. Going to take off like a rocket. Straight up. One, two, three or even four hundred percent. And that’s just for starters. Might even go higher. The sky is the limit. Really amazing. No ceiling. No stopping it.”
“Made a believer out of me. I’ll purchase shares today.”
“Congratulations. You’ve turned the corner. You’re going to get filthy rich.”
“Thanks for the tip. Much appreciated.”
Gordon hung up the phone, pleased with his conversation. Happy he’d convinced another fool to invest in a worthless penny stock. Crossing off his name, he looked at the next victim on his list, the people who had subscribed to his email stock newsletter. Everything was going according to his plan. Time to reel in another big fish. So many suckers to rip off. He sat back in his leather chair, crossed his legs, and raised his glass of red wine. Ah, here’s to the finer things of life.
Copyright © 2024 RUSSELL WILLIAMS
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental and is not the intention of the author.