THE GREATEST HEIST BOOK 2 | Chapter 5 The Lair
When Ken Starr killed Prosecutor Ann Marie Villafaña’s investigation, he shielded an entire network from public view. This is what was missed.
Little St. James, US Virgin Islands
The helicopter breaks through low clouds. Wind pushes hard from the east. Below, the Atlantic hammers volcanic cliffs—no gentle Caribbean here, just exposed rock and wild water crashing against stone.
Little Saint James. Seventy-two acres, two miles southeast of St. Thomas in the United States Virgin Islands. Sixteen hundred miles from New York. Epstein bought it in 1998 for $7.95 million. He called it “Little St. Jeff.”
Ghislaine Maxwell keeps one hand steady on the cyclic. Tail number N491GM. The aircraft Epstein bought her (it cost the same as the Island). He insisted her initials be on the tail.
She looked over at her passenger, “Don’t worry Jes. I’ve been flying since I was a teenager “—her father taught her.
Today’s passenger: Jes Staley. JPMorgan executive. Future CEO of Barclays. Epstein’s most trusted friend.
Staley steps off, happy to be on solid ground, just as a gust of wind comes straight off the ocean, pushing him towards the Estate. He’s greeted by Epstein staffer at the foot of the twisty path that leads to the main house—no straight lines here. “Deception requires encryption.” Palm fronds thrash overhead. The pool reflects churning sky. Stone walls keep some of the weather out. Not all of it.
DECEPTION
Inside the study, four overstuffed velvet chairs face inward, as if they still held their last occupants engaged in late-night animated conversation. The room is quiet except for the sound of wind against glass.
And chalk furiously crashing against a chalkboard.
Epstein’s favorite sound. A math teacher at work.
He writes:
POWER, and underlines it.
Underneath: Financial. Physics. Intellectual. Political.
These are the four domains. The territories that matter.
He pauses.
DECEPTION, and underlines the word.
Underneath: Illusion & Fear.
This is the method. The tool that makes everything possible.
Above that:
PLANTS, smaller but underlined.
Underneath: Truth. Health. Holy.
These are the intelligence categories. What you need to know about a target to make them useful. Their truth—what they really want. Their health—where they’re vulnerable. Their holy—what will compromise them.
To the right: APPEARS, underlined.
Then: Music / ABX
A/Y Mix / M Mix
And at the bottom, bracketed together, a mini equation:
( Time – DC / UC )
Dark Brain
Direct Conscious? Unconscious? Timing for when targets know they’re being used and when they don’t. Keep it below conscious awareness. Dark Brain—the part that operates without ever surfacing.
The math teacher who became an intelligence operative created an algorithm for what he did: an equation for acquiring power through systematic deception.
Epstein had written about this years earlier in an essay about evolutionary biology:
“Predators in search of free energy would be able to decipher and consume, if it weren’t couched in a multi-layered encrypted form. Even self-deception acts as a defensive strategy.”
The modeling business was the encrypted form. The algorithm on the blackboard was how you extracted value from it.
He steps back. Studies what he’s written. The formula is complete.
He picks up the phone. Dials.
“Stephen? About the fellowship —I’ve been thinking about what drives group behavior —Every group.”
“You always know the right questions,” Professor Stephen Kosslyn. Chair of Harvard’s Psychology Department. Someone Epstein has been funding for years.
“The very idea of survival requires deception,” Epstein says, his eyes still on the blackboard. “It’s biology. Predators deceive. Prey deceive. Even cells deceive each other.”
He pauses. Lets it land.
“People can act as prosthetics. They become extensions of ourselves. Augmenting our cognitive abilities.”
What Kosslyn hears: Fascinating social psychology theory.
What Epstein sees: The operational framework he just mapped on the blackboard, translated into academic language.
“Jeff, you synthesize better than anyone I know,” Kosslyn replies.
“That’s why I’m applying [for the Harvard fellowship], Steven.”
“I’d love to have you here.”
“Well I hope to be accepted.”
Epstein hangs up. He had no business being a prestigious Harvard fellow, yet he was accepted and renewed for a second year.
The blackboard remains behind him. Under INTELLECTUAL, he could write a new name now: Kosslyn. Harvard. Legitimacy acquired.
The algorithm works.
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