American Adventure: My Uncle is Don Quixote

Hiss!

Julian’s head instantly started to throb as his libido vanished. Gone were his plans to hook up with some Instagram influencer after work; in their place was the specter of endless trouble.

If it were just a matter of Elizabeth Mellon, he wouldn’t want to cross the Mellon Family, but he was a senior partner now. Within the internal hierarchy, that was equivalent to an MD—a Managing Director—the highest rank in the executive tier.

To put it bluntly, he was the highest-level workhorse. The next step up was true management.

In Julian’s private banking division, the next step up was head of assets for the North American Region. That position would let him lord it over a hundred MDs just like him, telling them to bend over when he said so, or barring them from orgies at his whim...

And that step was often the hardest. Being able to manage a hundred MDs like him meant a hundred MDs like him were his competition.

For Julian, who was in the prime of his life and just into his forties, landing this 500 million USD asset management package from a mysterious offshore source would undoubtedly be a huge leap forward on his path to the top.

If not for the variable of Li Wei’s involvement.

With Li Wei, currently the hottest celebrity in the United States of America, now in the mix, the whole situation had become rather different.

From a capital perspective, he couldn’t care less about Li Wei’s personal wealth, but he couldn’t ignore the man’s immense influence. When you really wanted to get something done, no one wanted to get too involved with a public figure who was always in the spotlight.

And fortunately, Li Wei hadn’t used the recommendation letter he’d provided when applying to Yale. Otherwise, he would have discovered that the letter was completely useless.

Although his old senior, Don Quixote, had taken the fall for him, to a textbook Machiavellian like Julian, once Don Quixote had no more use, any favors he was owed became void.

He had originally thought that, given Don Quixote’s state, he would sooner or later end up in a shelter or on the streets.

The recommendation letter had just been a way to placate the old man. But who would have thought? Fate had actually smiled upon that idealist, giving him a second chance.

Julian stood up from his chair and gazed at the bustling analysts and interns outside his floor-to-ceiling windows. Any single one of them was the cream of the crop, a top graduate from a major university around the globe.

Julian watched these ant-like figures stream in and out of the JPMorgan Chase headquarters. Then he sat back down in his executive chair and started browsing for information on Li Wei and news updates about Don Quixote on his computer.

The light from the computer screen illuminated his face, leaving it half in shadow, half in light.

DING-DONG!

The screen of his hookup phone lit up. It was a call from that influencer on Instagram.

"Get lost," he answered, his expression flat. "I’m busy right now."

He carefully researched the data on Li Wei and Elizabeth, particularly tracing the funding sources for Elizabeth’s foundation. He was surprised to find the money came from the Russian super-oligarch, Sergey.

He rubbed his face in frustration, trying to clear his head, then grabbed his suit jacket and left the office.

Half an hour later, Julian appeared in a discreet penthouse apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan.

This was Veronica’s place—a high-class call girl who specialized in providing "physical detox and psychological counseling" for Wall Street’s ultra-high-net-worth crowd.

She had regular medical check-ups, worked out, and got subtle cosmetic procedures to stay on-trend. More importantly, she held a master’s degree in psychology from an Ivy League University.

Of course, her "consultation fee" of 5,000 USD an hour meant that your average analyst or middle-class professional couldn’t even dream of getting into her pants. Julian, however, enjoyed his fixed weekly appointment here to unwind before picking up his kids from school. It wasn’t just because he’d grown to despise his wife; it was more for Veronica’s absolute discretion and her willingness to listen.

At least she wouldn’t yell at him for only lasting five minutes, unlike his wife.

Afterward, with the lights in the room dimmed low, Veronica, dressed in a silk robe, poured Julian a glass of whiskey.

"You look like you’re tied in knots, Julian," Veronica said, gently massaging his temples. "What is it? Tell me. Did the market crash? Or is the SEC on your tail?"

"Neither," Julian said, lying naked in Veronica’s arms and taking a large gulp of whiskey. "I’m facing a strategic dilemma. On one side, there’s an extremely high expected return. If I pull it off, I’ll be promoted directly into management. But on the other side, the downside risk is that this thing could get very messy. If it backfires, I could be ruined beyond recovery."

Veronica chuckled softly and switched her massage technique.

Julian let out a moan. "My god, Veronica, your massage skills are way better than your skills in bed."

"Thank you," Veronica said, leaning close to Julian’s ear, her breath warm. "I’ll take that as a compliment to my massage skills."

"I want to hear your take on it," Julian said. "What would you do?"

"Julian, you Wall Street types are always so greedy," Veronica said. "You’re already a Managing Director, making a multi-million dollar salary and possessing resources 99.9% of the world could never dream of. Have you forgotten about diminishing marginal utility from economics? Is it really a worthwhile trade to take on a tail risk that could cost you everything, all for a tiny incremental gain at the very top of the pyramid?"

Julian closed his eyes and said nothing more.

"Since it’s such a dangerous deal," she continued, "why not offload the risk? Isn’t that what you people on Wall Street do best?"

Her words were a wake-up call for Julian.

Yes, all he had to do was transfer the risk. Adam’s backer didn’t care whose hand pressed the pause button. As long as that offshore capital was frozen for three months, he would still get his payout.

"You’re a genius, Veronica," Julian said, opening his eyes to look at her. "Why don’t you just quit this and come to JPMorgan Chase? Be my intern?"

"Oh god, don’t be ridiculous, Julian," Veronica said, covering her mouth as she laughed. "I could never handle all that math."

That night, Julian lay in bed beside his wife, scrolling rapidly through the contacts on his phone, searching for a suitable partner at another bank.

This person’s rank couldn’t be too high, nor too low. They needed to have the authority to launch an investigation, but not be so powerful that Julian would make a mortal enemy of them if things went south.

After weighing his options, his eyes finally landed on one name: Mark.

Mark, a partner at Merrill Lynch Securities. Julian had heard the poor bastard had recently gotten himself into a serious financial crisis, and the compliance department was supposedly investigating him.

A partner who was desperate for money and needed a major success to patch his holes and prove his worth was the perfect scapegoat.

Around noon, on the pretext of discussing a joint cross-bank endorsement and due diligence, Julian invited Mark to a high-end cigar bar, playing to his tastes.

Mark had just been pulled back from the abyss of near-bankruptcy by Li Wei, and his spirit was only just beginning to recover.

Seeing Julian’s invitation, Mark’s eyes filled with vigilance, distrust, envy, and a hint of hatred.

"Julian? To what do I owe the pleasure?" Mark said as he sat on the leather sofa, not touching the cigars on the table. "A big shot from JPMorgan Chase, coming down to a humble firm like ours for a smoke?"

"Mark, let’s cut to the chase. I know you’ve had a rough time lately," Julian said directly. "I have a piece of business on my hands. A startup charitable foundation is about to have 50 million USD in bridge funding come in from Europe, and it will pass through JPMorgan Chase’s clearing network. But I have too many projects on my plate, and our compliance procedures are airtight. I simply don’t have the energy to deal with a fund that’s been tagged as high-risk."

"Fifty million USD," Mark said with a frown. "For just a startup foundation? Why would you be handling something like this personally?"

"Because a friend asked me to take care of it," Julian said, leaning back into the sofa. "And I’m too busy to refuse. I’m overseeing a ten-billion-dollar M&A deal right now. If I trigger a federal audit over this 50 million and it delays my main project, it’s not worth it. So, I was thinking of passing this endorsement and due diligence case over to you."

"What’s in it for me?" Mark hesitated. "And I’ll need all the information on this foundation. I can’t give you an answer until I’ve reviewed it."

"I know Merrill Lynch has been expanding its private wealth management and offshore capital pools. If you can take on the due diligence for this fund in Merrill’s name, and use an anti-money laundering pretext to issue a report on its activity," Julian held up three fingers, "Just for three months. Keep it tied up in the clearing network for three months. When it’s done, I’ll cut you in on the sub-underwriting rights for a 300 million USD asset management package."

Sub-underwriting rights to 300 million USD. Mark’s hand, holding the cigar, trembled slightly. That was no small sum.

It wasn’t surprising that Julian could get business like this. Any cross-border USD transfer, regardless of its origin, ultimately had to pass through the United States of America’s clearing system. And as the world’s largest USD clearing bank, it was perfectly normal for JPMorgan Chase to handle such transactions.

And delaying it for three months, as Julian suggested, would be simple for Mark. He could just cite an inability to identify the ultimate beneficial owner or a need for more complete proof-of-funds documentation, and send the money right back to the intermediary bank. The back-and-forth alone could easily eat up two months.

"Mark, I miss our time together at JPMorgan Chase. We’ve been friends for ten years, haven’t we?" Julian patted Mark’s shoulder. "I know you’re under investigation by Merrill’s compliance department and desperately need a big win to turn things around. This is your chance, isn’t it?"

But Mark had never really respected Julian, not because Julian had wronged him personally, but because he’d let Don Quixote take the fall.

On top of that, Mark had just been betrayed by David, a man he’d known for over ten years. He was paranoid, seeing shadows everywhere. He could only trust a fraction of what Julian was saying.

"Tell me about the background of this foundation and the funds," Mark asked. "I need a general overview first."

"No problem," Julian said. "The foundation is a small one affiliated with the Mellon Family, just recently established. It’s in the name of some obscure young woman from a minor branch of the Mellon Family. As for the 50 million USD, if I recall correctly, the funds belong to the Russian super-oligarch Sergey, but the operator and ultimate beneficiary should be his only daughter, Anna Sergeyevna Volkova. Here are their photos and basic information."

With that, Julian handed a file folder to Mark.

"Huh?!" Mark cried out suddenly the moment he saw Anna’s photo.