SOUND OF MONEY Chapter Three

The Real Thing

What LW saw were Greenbacks……..U.S. Dollars in various denominations spread everywhere in the bowels of the plane!  Many of the bills were burned on their edges or just toast, caught in the swirl of the inferno and just disappeared as ashes.  But some appeared to be as fresh looking like they had just been printed at the U. S. Mint.

LW had never actually ‘seen’ loads of real money in his life as a money manager for one of Wall Street’s prestige firms. Although he had dealt with millions of dollars on a daily basis it was all digital plusses and minuses on a computer screen, almost like monopoly, without the paper money.

He quickly scanned the remains and figured there weren’t just thousands of dollars, but hundreds of thousands of twenties, fifties, and hundreds packed away in these metal containers.

“Jeezsus!” was the only word that came to the lips of LW  He kept repeating it over and over again, sounding like a born again Evangelist trying to bring the congregation to its feet.

“Oh My God!” He blurted out as he scanned the number of suitcase-like aluminum containers.

Some of the unopened ones had been ejected out of the cargo space by the plane breaking in half and landed more than 30 yards away onto his property.  Most of the other containers were lying next to the black plastic bags, which contained the ash remains of the pilots.  A contrast of images not lost on LW’s sensibilities

He counted at least ten cases that were unharmed in the crash.  How much money they contained would wait until later, after he had a chance to think. Someone somewhere must know that this money didn’t make it to its destination. Could it be drug money, mafia ransom money, political payoff money or perhaps one of the biggest banks heists in history?

Whatever kind of money it was; LW knew someone would eventually, come looking for it.  “Jeezsus Keyrist, what to do”?  He muttered to himself.

The normally unflappable man formerly known as William Woodshire III was beginning to come unglued.  The man who in his early life led a platoon in Iraq as a decorated Marine Captain, and someone more recently who dealt in the millions in a most stressful environment of high stakes gambling with other people’s money, was now on the edge of starting to come unraveled.

It has to be drug money he thought, no one hires a cargo plane to move currency like this if it was a legitimate business deal.  That is what banks are for……high tech movement of money through the banking system and clearing houses.   And then his suspicion was confirmed when he opened a few of the undamaged cases and found tightly wrapped plastic bags filled with white powder…….kilos of heroin

Drugs and money…….where was it coming from and where was it going?  LW pondered.

Okay, first things first.  I have to do something with the ashes,” he thought to himself as his mind raced with conflicting ideas.  “Graves, yes I’ll dig graves and hide them away somewhere not close to the cabin.  Oh that is not a good idea, what happens if the Feds or local police come looking and I’ve gotten rid of the ashes?  Won’t go over well with them,” he thought.

His mind was going back and forth with thoughts of the money, the bodies, the drug lords, the police, and the cargo plane and on and on.

And then there was the injured woman who was lying in his cabin’s guest room.

        “What a fucking mess!” he shouted to no one as he looked once again at the remains of the pilots lying on the ground.

LW needed information about this plane and the place to find it was the Internet.  Yes, he might be living in the wilderness, but he had a satellite connection, which kept him remotely connected to civilization.

He hurried inside and after checking on the woman in the guest room, he searched the internet for information on missing planes, plane crashes, and how to identify any plane that has been in a crash.

Then by chance, he found what he needed.

He went outside to check on the scraped and burned engines, which were still somewhat intact but the serial numbers were not legible.  He then looked for the orange Emergency Transmitter Locater and a cockpit voice recorder which most planes carried so they could be found if disaster struck.

The ETL too was burned and it appeared as if its antennae were broken off in the crash, which meant that it couldn’t send signals and therefore no one would know where it crashed. There was no cockpit voice recorder found either.

The tail section was intact and had a series of numbers beginning with “N” so he copied these down and went back into the cabin.

On his way, he wondered whether the FAA would want to know why he was inquiring and, more importantly, how long would it take for them to determine ownership or if indeed the plane had been reported missing.

        “So many questions and so little time” was his recurring thought.  He had to try, so he prepared a message to the FAA and his inquiry was such that it might have appeared he was just checking out a plane before purchasing it.

He was hoping there were maintenance records on this plane.  The owners would have to complete an FAA Form 337 if any major repairs were performed. Then LW thought more about it and decided not to send his message off to the FAA, and this was the beginning of a series of smart moves on his part.

What about the ashes and totally burned body parts?” He said to himself.

He checked the New Mexico and Colorado burial laws on the Internet and found that if the ashes are not buried close to a water source, then the burial could be considered legal. So LW started digging and just like the Mordecai character in the High Plains Drifter movie, he dug and dug until he couldn’t dig any more and then he changed his mind. “What the hell am I doing”?  He blurted out.

This thought kept running through his mind.  Twenty-four hours earlier his main concern in life was keeping his essential supplies up to snuff. Now his entire plan to just chill out and adopt a new life style had come to a flaming end.

He left the bagged remains of the pilots and began moving the ten metal suitcases to the secured shelter hidden well below the cabin, which took most of the day. He knew they would be safe there no matter what happened next. The other containers, which had been damaged, were left in the plane’s cargo compartment.  He didn’t try to open them.

LW thought that if anyone did come a knockin’; they would think that this was all the cargo on the plane.   Or so he hoped.

He kept checking on the mysterious woman lying in his guest room, who seemed to be either still unconscious or sleeping.  If she stayed that way much longer he thought he would have to get emergency medical help for her.  An action he hoped to avoid.

After dinner and checking the Internet once again for any news of a missing plane he went to the porch and laid down on the chaise lounge, feeling physically and mentally exhausted. He was tossing and turning still thinking about what to do with the bodies, the woman, and the money, the plane, the money, and the God Damn drugs!

Finally he fell asleep and didn’t awaken until 9:15 the next morning when he heard a blood curdling scream from the guest room.  Quickly he jumped up and ran to the room where he saw the woman sitting upright in the bed with fright written all over her face.

He tried to speak softly so as not to frighten her more but his heart was beating so fast that he exclaimed “Are you alright?”

The woman began to cry and put her hands up as to push him away, even though he was still at the door of the room.

“Por favor, ¡por favor no me lastimes más!” she said.

Having only a rudimentary understanding of Spanish, LW knew she was pleading by saying “please, please” but not the rest of her response.

Again he said “Are you alright?  It’s ok I’m not going to hurt you,” as he began walking slowing to her bedside.

He held out his hand hoping she would understand he was only trying to help her, but she continued to plead with him as she covered her face with the blanket, “No me pegues. No me pegues.”

This movement covering her face he took to mean that she thought he was going to harm her.

        “No Senorita, I won’t hurt you.  I am here to help you.” He said softly as he approached the bed.  “My name is Lone Wolf and I want to help you.”

He asked her name as she continued to cry, but now as she pulled the blanket away from her face, he noticed the numerous abrasions, which covered her neck, chin, and cheeks.  The hat she was wearing must have been protection for her forehead and hair.

Please Senorita, tell me your name?” he asked.

She didn’t respond, but just looked at him, still with a frightened look on her face.

LW left the room and minutes later brought back a glass of water and a dampened cloth and handed it to her.

She almost inhaled the water and placed the wash cloth across her eyes and forehead, leaving it there as she began to speak again in Spanish.

Mi nombre es Lucíana.” She said and then added “¿Dónde estoy? ¿Por qué estoy aquí?”

He surmised that the questions were about where she was and how she got there.

In a combination of English and Spanish he tried to explain that she was the only survivor of a plane crash, which fell onto his property two nights before in the mountains of New Mexico and Colorado.

He wasn’t sure if she understood him but she stopped crying and seemed to accept the fact that he wasn’t there to harm her, but to help her.

After thinking about how he was going to communicate with ‘Luciana’ he took his smart phone and opened the translation app and began dictating the situation they both found themselves in and how he wanted to help her.

He then played the translation to her in Spanish.  She got the look of complete surprise on her face as she listened to the voice speaking in Spanish from his phone.

He then tried to find out the who, what, when, where, why, and how about the plane crash and the cargo the plane was carrying before it nosedived onto his property.

So he tried to find out if she spoke any English.  “Se Hablas ingles?”  She replied, “Si, a leetal.”

He began to rattle off his questions and through her broken English he found out

that the plane had originated in Mexico, stopping somewhere outside of Las Cruces

where something terrible happened.  She told him the story from the time the plane

landed until it left the ground and started flying again toward its destination.


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Sound of Money Chapter Two

Chapter Two

The Mystery Unfolds

A ball of fire raged some 200 yards away from his cabin.  The wind was whipping fire red embers around like a devil twister and as they rose above toward the night sky they were being extinguished by the heavy rains.

Lightning would momentarily light up the sky and through the fog and rain he thought the fire was coming from a twin-engine plane.  It appeared to have broken in half and was spewing out its fuel to feed the raging fire.  It apparently had failed to make it over the ridge and crashed directly into the clearing on his property. As it lay there burning, melting the planes aluminum skin, it was slowly sinking deeper into the crater it had made upon impact. The fire was so intense, he could feel the heat on his face from where he stood on the porch of his cabin.

His immediate thought about whether he should call the authorities lasted about two seconds. He left ‘authority’ behind when he parted ways with civilization.  Anyway, he surmised, no one needed to be called now since there was a storm raging and rescuers would never make it up the mountain road, nor fly in by medicopter.

But what to do?

After an hour or so, the torrential rains dampened the area enough so that the fire seemed to be burning itself out not causing any brush fires near his cabin. The fog accompanying the heavy rain was acting as a retardant on the smoking remnants. He knew that was a good sign, as the woods were thick with high tinder brush growth, which had developed during the hot and arid summer.

He grabbed his rain coat and flashlight then cautiously approached the now smoldering debris, as the strongest part storm seemed to move toward the upper part of the mountain.

He stood there in a tempered state of wonderment trying to take it all in as to what had just happened.  He wondered if the plane had been hit by lightning and then took a nose dive into the area right adjacent to the large trees, which surrounded his property.

LW got close enough to inspect the remains of the plane and then became nauseous as he saw just ashes where the pilots would have been sitting in the cockpit. The bodies were burnt-to-a-crisp and totally unrecognizable.

But then through the mist he noticed a third body, which must have been thrown away from the wreckage and was now laying motionless on the grassy area still strapped into the plane’s passenger seat.

The sight was sickening to say the least.  Two fried corpses were sitting only 200 yards from his cabin and another body lying away from the main section of the plane. Nothing in his life experiences, even his Marine tours, had prepared him for the decisions he was about to make.

Should he wait until morning to find out what happened or not? He thought about going back to his cabin for the night, as his inspection of the wreckage found no other passengers in the cargo hold of the downed plane.

There was nothing he could do for anyone in the plane, and it was too dark and stormy to check for anything else. But then he heard moans from the person strapped in the passenger seat, which had been torn loose from the plane upon impact.

He rushed over to it, and the partially clothed body was that of a woman knocked unconscious in the crash.  LW took his rain coat off and slowly covered her with it being careful not to move her.  Her moans continued and as he began to loosen the strap in the seat noticed her hands and feet were bound with plastic handcuffs. He carefully unbuckled her and put his arms under her limp body and carried her to the cabin’s porch.  He laid her down on the chaise lounge and went into the cabin to fetch a knife, blanket and first aid kit.

The woman remained motionless as he tried to revive her with no success.  She appeared not to have any broken bones but did have a number of abrasions and contusions about her arms, upper body, and face resulting from being thrown out of the plane. He removed her remaining clothes and began cleaning the wounds as best he could on the exposed areas.

She lay motionless as he finished bandaging her and then carried her inside placing her on the bed in the guestroom. He sat for a while, watching to see if she moved, but she still appeared to be knocked out.

How ironic he thought, his first guest was an unconscious woman who was a survivor of a horrendous plane crash.

He didn’t sleep very well that stormy July night, tossing and turning like a wet blanket in a washing machine.   After finally getting to sleep, he awoke at the crack of dawn and quickly arose to check on his guest.

She was no longer moaning and appeared to be sleeping peacefully. He quietly left the room and peered out of the window.  He was hoping it was just a bad dream, but there in the distance he saw the pieces of a downed plane strewn about the area.

It was no dream.

Questions raced through Lone Wolf’s mind as he went outside to inspect the crash site.  ”What now? What to do with a crashed and burned plane?  Who were the two dead men in the plane and would the authorities be checking and coming to his quiet corner of the world? And who in the hell was the woman passenger? Why was she being held captive?” 

There wasn’t any obvious way to camouflage the remains of the aircraft although since it was near to some damaged trees, he could cut them and have them fall on the plane.  From the air, it would then look as if some trees damaged in a storm had fallen down.

Lone Wolf knew about this type of plane because one of his trading specialties was in airlines.  He knew the industry inside and out and identified the plane as a ‘de Havilland A CC-115 Buffalo’. This particular model of the de Havilland was used primarily for transport and was built in the mid-1960s.

But what was it transporting? His immediate concern however was what to do with the pilot’s bodies and the woman?  He then pondered, “Was there any way to determine who the hell they were….and where they were coming from and headed.”

Obviously there would be people on both ends of this aborted trip who would want answers to what happened to them.

And what about the cargo?  Later he would check to see if anything was left of whatever was being transported in this mid-sized plane.

So LW went back into the cabin to check on his guest.  She wasn’t yet awake but seemed to be breathing normally.

He made his usual breakfast trying to stick to a certain routine he adopted back when he was in civilization and didn’t want to forgo it because of what just happened.  With his mind racing he just stared at the food and couldn’t eat anything.

Still early in the morning with the sun rising slowly over the eastern ridge of mountains, which were miles away, LW started to develop his plan.    He began to come to grips with the immediate problem of what to do with the remains.

Pulling together his supplies; gloves, chain saw, and heavy plastic bags, he headed out toward the disaster scene.  His first order of business was to try and determine who these unfortunate people were who lost their lives the night before. It wasn’t going to be easy, as the bodies were burned to ashes including any ID’s. Then he found that all the plane’s identification papers, route maps and flight plans were all burned in the fire.

It was gruesome business, cutting the fire proof straps and scrapping the ashes from the cockpit, which had been torn open during the crash landing.  He placed each of the remains in the black plastic bags and put them aside.

If that horrifying experience wasn’t enough to shake LW what he discovered next was mind-boggling.

Scattered in the cargo part of the plane were shinny metal suitcases, some still seemingly in good shape, save for some dents and burn marks

Others Some of them were partially opened and some of the contents had partially spilled out.  LW stood motionless for a moment and then exclaimed, “What……the…..hell?”

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#Me Too and YOU??

via #Me Too Movement Oy Vey!!

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#Me Too Movement Oy Vey!!

Top Ten Things Men Can’t Say To Women

in Their Office, Organization, or Company.

10.    Hello.

9.     A few of us are going out for a drink to celebrate Friday.

8.     You look terrific!

7.    Can you tell me the directions to the _______Department

6.    Here let me get that door for you.

5.    What’s your dream job here?

4.    Wow….great looking shoes.

3.    I’m going out for coffee, would you like me to pick some up for you?

2.   Your outfit looks nice on you!

1.   What do you think about the @MeToo Movement?

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via Sound of Money Chapter One of the Book

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Sound of Money Chapter One of the Book

                                                                                                             DJV MURPHY 5/15/18/29/18

                                                     THE SOUND OF MONEY

Chapter One
                                                           The Escape

This was one wicked storm.

Wind whipping thru and bending the huge pine trees sounded like a constant loud swooshing noise. The Torrents of rain and hailstones hitting the tin roof and lightning crackling through the shook his cabin.

It was normally so quiet that in the evenings only the occasional coyote’s shrill yip-howls could be heard. Even the crickets and birds, which filled the early evening hours, became quiet and stayed that way until dawn.

But then he heard a sound like something he had never heard before that shook the foundation of his cabin. It wasn’t the storm or the crackle of thunder this time. A most God-awful noise filled the ears of Lone Wolf as he sat in his secluded cabin.

“What the hell was that?” He looked out into a pitch black night where he saw something terribly shocking. His new lifestyle, as he had planned it the year before, was about to end.
Lone Wolf came to the high plains, as he referred to them, with only one goal in mind. He desperately wanted to get out of the rat race and away from the vermin who were nipping at his heels back East.

Lone Wolf…..the adopted name of a guy with a West Point education and service as a Captain in Special Forces, whose father was a former Senator, a mother who, during her lifetime, had led almost all high-society fundraisers in the City, cashed in his chips at the age of 50 and just disappeared. His ex-wife thought it a classic case of mid-life crisis, but this wasn’t what drove him to attempt to disappear into thin air.

William Woodshire III wanted nothing but to get out of New York and away from the money game, the politics, the charity benefits, and his gut-wrenching divorce from his wife Bennie.

Oh yes, then there were the investigations, first by the SEC of his firm and then the FBI’s interrogation. The government’s inquiry about possible insider trading and other under-the-table dealing was the final straw that led to his decision to seek a different environment. He didn’t want to wait around for the Feds to take him on a perp walk, as they liked to do for high profile types like him.

He knew of a few others who found themselves the main subjects of the TV series “American Greed” because of the witch-hunt the government conducted against those on Wall Street. The media was having a field day watching some of the titans of ‘The Street’ come tumbling down from their rarified life styles.

He chose the area in which he now had begun his new life, because he loved the movie “High Plains Drifter” with Clint Eastwood. Lone Wolf admired character’s life style in this popular Western portrayed as a loner. His ambition was to vanish into thin air just like the character in the movie.

That is exactly what L. W., as he called himself, did after his divorce and being taken to the cleaners by his now ex-wife. Well he wasn’t exactly cleaned out by Bennie as he had hidden away a sum of cryptocurrency in an offshore account, which he planned to use to support his new life off the radar.

As the screenplay described it, the Eastwood character just disappeared into thin air at the end of the movie. It was this inspiration for the former Captain Woodshire to move on with his life and become Lone Wolf.

The next day, the stranger departs; slowly riding through the ruined
Town in the same manner that he arrived at the film’s beginning.
At the cemetery, he passes by Mordecai, who is carving a fresh headstone.
Mordecai comments to the departing stranger that he never did know name
to which the stranger replies cryptically “Yes, you do.”
As the stranger rides out, it is revealed that the headstone engraved by
The stranger rides off into the distance, his image absorbed by
a mirage, seemingly vanishing into thin air.

Woodshire wanted that appearance of just fading away, so he got out before his world came crashing down around him. He quit his job, quit his club memberships, and basically quit the Eastern version of contemporary America.

There were no going away parties, no newspaper announcements of his retirement, and no good luck pats on the back from his partners and peers for this highly successful Wall Streeter.

Of course the SEC and the FBI investigations were also a catalyst for his earlier than planned disappearance. The Feds thought he had managed some illegal schemes but couldn’t close in on him with enough evidence. They were not happy when he disappeared.

“Lone Wolf” was born out of despair and disillusionment with his own state of affairs and what he considered the fed’s intrusion into his business dealings. He did nothing others in the business were doing.

His trek to the western frontier took quick planning, even though he had visited the area a number of times on hunting trips. He read numerous accounts about how to just leave it all behind and searched the Net about living on one’s own in an isolated place.

He set out to buy the latest in technology; a high-tech laptop, programmed as a stealth computer so it couldn’t be detected, two untraceable smart phones with satellite assist software, a high end off- the-grid WiFi set up, and the top of the line solar battery setup.
Just because he was going to a wilderness area didn’t mean he had to leave everything behind. He wanted to keep up to date with the world and finances while his former world knew only that he disappeared.

He already had a shell company, which held his Bitcoin stash, so it would be easy for him to buy property without a trace to his name. His objective was to find a secluded area on a ridge of a plateau high up in a mountainous region. He found the ideal spot on the border of New Mexico and Colorado,

The search led him to an out of the way ranch with lots of acres adjacent to a forest in a remote area accessed only by a small winding mountain road. He liked the idea of having only one way in as he didn’t want anyone wandering onto his new home site.

His secret preparation for disappearing mirrored how he went about his business; after all he didn’t rise to the top of the money-trading world without being organized and doing his homework. So he escaped to the quiet serenity of New Mexico. It was a beautiful plateau region in the north central part of the State, green with majestic Conifer, Douglas Pine and Aspen trees. It had spectacular views to the mountains and a tuya ridge upon which his ranch was located.

The cabin had the latest solar technology providing a constant source of electricity plus a deep storage area adjacent to the cabin where he could store his emergency food supplies at an even 50/55 degrees.  This subterranean space was hidden by over-grown foliage adjacent to his new home. He thought it might have been an abandoned mine, which led to a widened passage directly under his cabin.

He was particularly drawn to this property because of its isolated location and up-to-date cabin, but as a bonus he thought he could utilize the underground space to his advantage.
If anyone came snooping around, they would never discover the area below his cabin. He still feared that one day the Feds might show up, and he could comfortably hide out in this special space after he cleaned it and made it livable. It would also serve as a perfect storage area for his wine, keeping it at a constant temperature year-round just the way L. W. wanted.

But then one night the idyllic life style he had settled into was chattered by a tremendous explosion. With the quickness of a startled deer and in the midst of the raging storm he raced outside to see what happened.

The wind was howling and swirling around but through the torrents of rain he couldn’t believe his eyes. “Oh my God!” he murmured to himself as he stood on his cabin’s porch and looked out and witnessed a most frightening sight

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What About Elvis?

“Damn Clyde, take a look-see at this one!” Delton said as he handed him an envelope and the wrinkled one page form and began laughing uncontrollably.

Clyde took the form, pushing away the stack of envelopes and other forms, which were now piled high on his desk like mounds of packing material in an Amazon warehouse.

After glancing at the scribbled handwriting he quickly scanned the rest of the application and started laughing so hard he almost couldn’t catch his breath.

“Can you believe it? This guy must either be the last of the great jokesters or is totally delusional,” remarked Delton, now bent over and trying to catch his breath. “Eighty fricking years old!” he exclaimed. “This old codger is still trying to do his thing.”

“Man oh man, this contest attracts one nut case after another,” Clyde shouted back still laughing. “I think I peed my pants!”

The contest, as Clyde referred to it, was the Tenth Annual event featuring Elvis Tribute Artists who were invited to come and perform in the small town of River Bottom, Mississippi….just a stone’s throw from Elvis’ birth place in Tupelo.

No one would have predicted years back that Clyde and Delton, partners in the CD Recording Studio and CD Records and desperate for a break, would have become so successful with their tribute idea.

Back then with new technology available in the music industry their business fell off faster than water flowing down the Mississippi after a spring rain. The last recording artist they had signed for their label was a local woman whose “thing” was recording Southern fried food recipes in different languages.

Its sales were slower than an earthworm crawling up a slippery slope. Not being a big seller would be putting it mildly.
With new software available on the cheap, along with bargain basement computers, garage band record producers by the thousands had cut into their business. Clyde and Delton knew they were fighting a losing battle against recording software that emulated what old studio consoles and tape recorders could do at a fraction of the price. After a few beers they would begin cursing the most widely used programs like ‘GarageBand’ owned by Apple.

“Why oh why Clyde, do we not have any luck, hell even clocks tell the right time twice a day,” Delton lamented.

When the pair got down in the dumps they liked to recall the story of what happened at Sun Records many years earlier when someone walked in and knocked the socks off the owner. They always hoped it would be their salvation as well.

As the story goes, it seems as if Jerry Lee Lewis was playing the piano for a Carl Perkins recording session when Elvis Presley walked in unannounced. At the end of the Perkins session, the owner of Sun Records Sam Phillips took Elvis aside and had him do a quick audition.

What happened next turned out to be an incredible story in its own right.

For more of this frivolity check out the book on

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