“Great idea. Where shall we go to walk off some of that stress?”
The next morning, Kent was in his office when his phone rang. “I have Mr. Baumgart for you,” said Tara.
“Hello, Dieter. What can I do for you?”
Kent still hadn’t worked out whether Baumgart was an innocent in all of this. Until he was certain, he’d decided to play things straight and to act as normally as possible; whatever normal is in these circumstances, he thought.
“Some good news. We have another transaction we’d like you to handle for us,” said Baumgart.
Kent knew he’d have to go along with Tritona’s wishes, but he knew each additional transaction was getting him more deeply involved. Each deal would count further against him if it was subsequently discovered by the authorities that Tritona was backed by criminals, and he hadn’t reported his suspicions. It would look as though he’d been complicit in the whole thing. But they had him over a barrel.
“Great. What is it?” Did that sound enthusiastic enough?
“We’ve heard the UK government is planning to sell off the high-speed electric train line between London and the Channel Tunnel. It’s called ‘High Speed 1,’ I believe.”
“That’s right. In order to reduce the level of government debt, there are plans to sell off a number of nationally owned assets. To be honest, we haven’t considered bidding for these assets as the prospective returns from such deals are far lower than our normal target range. The other thing is that the large number of infrastructure funds chasing the same assets just bids up the price in the auction. We prefer deals that aren’t auctioned this way, so we can negotiate better terms.”
“I understand all that. However, our investors have just given us a lot more capital to deploy. The returns on cash are poor at the moment, so we’re prepared to accept lower returns if we can put the capital into high-quality assets such as this.”
I really don’t want to do this deal, Kent thought. Now he was being asked to be the front for Tritona in the purchase of an asset from the UK government. How bad can this get?
Kent once more tried to dissuade Baumgart, pointing out the poor returns, but he seemed prepared to accept them.
There’s no choice. “We’d be delighted to handle the negotiations for you, Dieter. We’ll flag your interest in the asset with the advisers handling the auction for the government and take it from there.”
“Many thanks. Keep us informed of your progress. Remember, we have no objection to paying a full price for this asset.”
“I’ll let you know how we get on in the auction process. ’Bye for now.” Kent rested his head in his hands and exhaled loudly. How could he represent Tritona as a reputable buyer with the UK government? He knew they were anything but reputable. If this all comes out, the authorities are bound to say we were doing it for the money. I’ll be facing a long prison sentence.
Kent asked Kirkland to handle the day-to-day aspects of the deal. While he had no appetite for the transaction, he needed to be seen to take all of the right steps. He did his best to sound enthusiastic for the microphones, in case they were listening to him. They spent an hour in his office discussing the deal and how to approach the auction.
“Are they crazy?” asked Kirkland, shaking her head. “Tritona does understand the poor returns they’re likely to receive from such an investment?” She was raising precisely the right investment issue, as usual. Sometimes, she’s too damn bright.
“They do. I’ve explained all that to Dieter, but he’s prepared to accept lower returns in exchange for the certainty of the yield from this high-quality asset.”
“Is the deal going into the fund or will it be held by Tritona?”
“It’ll be held by Tritona.”
“Thank God for that. At least it won’t dilute our overall fund returns.”
“Dead right. It wouldn’t be a suitable investment for our fund in any event. This is not a distressed deal.”
“I’ll need to make it clear to the government’s advisers we’re not the principal in this and that we act for Tritona.”
“I agree,” said Kent. He knew the process involved in bidding for government assets only too well. It would mean CBC vouching for the identity and good standing of Tritona. The government’s advisers would accept the word of CBC as a regulated firm.
This whole thing is fucking sick. This is all going to end badly for me. I know it.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The funeral service for Merriman’s parents was more difficult than he’d expected. Knowing he was responsible for their deaths had deprived him of sleep, and the guilt was eating up his insides. While he was exhausted, he was comforted by the large turnout of friends and family. There were many DEA staff members at the service. Merriman’s own team was represented, and there were many former colleagues of his father from his years in the service. It soothed Merriman a little to be reminded of the affection and respect many people held for his parents. They were good people who’d made a difference with their lives, he thought. That should be celebrated.
As he stood above his parents’ grave, Merriman vowed he’d never rest until Felix Safuentes was brought down, and every penny of his seized. I’ll make it my life’s work to capture that animal and put him down. Whatever it takes. I owe it to you, Mom and Dad, and to the agents who lost their lives through my stupidity and impatience.
Merriman was back at his desk a week later. On his third morning back, he was summoned to Robert Butler’s office. Although Butler was the most senior member of the DEA’s leadership team, like Merriman, he’d come up the hard way, rising through the ranks on merit and years spent in the field. He was a career DEA man in his late fifties, with a reputation for taking no prisoners and not suffering fools lightly. He’d told Merriman many times how much he respected his work and the progress he was making in the war against the cartels.
“Come on in, Mark,” said Butler when Merriman tapped on his open office door.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yeah. Grab a seat. Can’t tell you how sorry I was to hear about your parents. It must’ve been tough for you. Your father was a good man.”
“Thanks.”
“How are you coping?”
Merriman bit on his upper lip. “What makes it so hard to accept is that I was the one who authorized the attempted capture of Safuentes. If only I’d…”
Butler shook his head. “You can’t blame yourself. The work we do is fraught with risk and, sometimes, we make mistakes. It goes with the territory. Come on, you know that.”
“I guess so.” Merriman had spent the last three weeks beating himself up. It helped to know Butler, at least, understood what he’d been trying to do. “I’m trying to channel my energy into our work on the cartel’s assets. I plan to hit those bastards hard.”
“We can do more than that.” Butler got up from his desk and closed his office door.
Merriman frowned. “What do you have in mind?”
“We take attacks on our people on US soil as nothing short of an act of war. These idiots have no idea what they’ve unleashed.”
“What do you mean, Bob?”
“The Caruana cartel has carried out an act of provocation with the murder of your parents. They invaded our country and attacked our citizens. If they think they can do this and get away with it, there’ll be no stopping them. We’ve gotta send the cartel a clear message they’ve crossed the line.”
Merriman sat forward in his chair. “You have something in mind?”
“This is in strict confidence, Mark, okay?” He stood, closed his office door, and then sat on the corner of his desk, waiting for Merriman to respond.
“Sure. What is it?”
“You need to keep this to your senior team members only.”
“Understood.”
Butler leaned forward and lowered his voice. “The Secretary of State has cleared this at the highest level of government. She’s authorized a black ops team to attack t
he Caruana cartel’s headquarters in Mexico.”
“You mean Isla Tiburon?”
“You bet I do. The operation is not official and will remain secret. You know as well as I do what this means.” Butler leaned further forward, leaning his elbows onto his desk. “It represents an armed incursion on a sovereign state.”
“This is unprecedented.”
“It is, but this is war. The US must defend itself. The Secretary of State cannot allow the cartel’s actions to go unpunished, but she knows we’d never get the Mexican government to allow an assault on their soil. Besides, we’re not entirely sure who we can trust over there.”
“I hear you on that, Bob. Obviously, I’ll do everything I can to help.”
“That’s why I asked you to come and see me. Your team has most of the current intel on the Caruana headquarters. I need you to share what you know with the people heading up the black ops team, so they can digest everything before going in. I’ll get them to contact you.”
“We’ll share everything we have. If we pull this off, Felix Safuentes will be no more than a footnote in history.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
The distinctive roar of the Sikorsky Super Stallion helicopter’s seven-blade rotor could be heard from miles away. That night, they came in from the east so the prevailing wind would carry the sound of the rotors away from the cartel’s headquarters. Each one of the eight aircraft carried fifty-five heavily armed US Navy SEALs. It was still dark as they approached Isla Tiburon at four a.m.
Special operations snipers had been dropped onto the island an hour before the attack. They’d been ready to take out any guards patrolling the outside of the cartel’s headquarters. As they came in to land, the SEALs were confident that no one inside the building would be aware of the impending attack. Surprise was on their side.
Merriman was with Bob Butler and senior defense staff in a special war room at the Pentagon. They sat along one side of a conference table watching a live video feed of the impending attack from helmet cameras worn by many of the SEALs.
“I feel like I’m with them,” said Merriman close to Butler’s ear.
“It’s clever technology,” Butler agreed.
Merriman’s heart was thumping in his chest at the thought of the attack. He could feel the adrenaline racing through him. This is for you, Mom and Dad. This is the moment we turn the war by wiping Safuentes off the face of the earth.
The helicopters landed four hundred yards away. The troops jumped from the aircraft four at a time and ran toward the building. After disabling the CCTV cameras, they placed explosives against the large metal doors and blew them open. Half of the men rushed into the stairwell and down to the first floor, where intelligence reports had indicated they’d find the sleeping quarters and most of the cartel’s personnel. There was no one there.
“What the fuck is this?” said Butler.
“Absolute silence, please,” barked the senior defense officer at the head of the conference table.
When the SEALs turned to run back to the stairwell, they were met by a hail of bullets from the cartel’s enforcers; they’d walked into a trap. The operation had been compromised. Blood filled the lens of the camera linking to the war room. The operator switched to another camera. Men were falling to the ground, torn apart by the bullets.
“My God,” said Merriman under his breath. This is a bloodbath. Butler held his head in his hands, unable to watch the carnage.
By the time the other half of the US personnel reached the first floor, the enforcers had disappeared. The first group had suffered massive injuries and many fatalities.
Moments later, the video screen filled with bright light as the remaining SEALs threw explosive charges down the stairwell to clear the area. They followed up with grenades thrown into the second floor. When they entered the space, they were sprayed with bullets from enforcers lined along the back of the room. It took fifteen minutes to eliminate the enemy on that floor before the SEALs could make their way down to the next level.
A shard of shrapnel hit the helmet lens as explosive charges lit up the accounting floor. The senior officer in the war room nodded to the video operator. The view switched to another camera as a door ricocheted off the wall, narrowly missing the camera. Merriman flinched. When the room came back into focus, it was obvious from the blood on the walls that many of the troops had been killed by the explosions.
A fire took hold of the building, filling the space with smoke. Flames licked at the heels of the retreating Seals. They regrouped at the helicopters to put on breathing masks before making their way back down the stairwell. The thick smoke made progress difficult and slow. Visibility back at the Pentagon was poor. Merriman could only imagine the horror of fighting an unknown enemy in the dark.
Gradually, the SEALs made their way to the lowest levels and to Jivaro’s suite. The smoke thinned and visibility was restored, as the SEALs were below the fire at this level. There were no cartel personnel left in the building. They’d later discover an elevator from Jivaro’s suite to the sea, providing an escape route for any remaining enforcers.
An hour and a half after landing, the Americans had captured none of the fifteen lieutenants and there was no sign of Felix Safuentes. The SEALs loaded up the helicopters with their wounded and the handful of remaining injured enforcers and returned to their aircraft carrier.
“Gentlemen, we have witnessed an unmitigated disaster,” said the defense officer after the live feeds were terminated. “The cartel must have known we were coming. This was a turkey shoot.”
“We have to find the leak. All of our operations will be at risk until we do,” said Merriman. “This could set us back years.”
“When we find him, I’ll personally string him up,” said Butler. He had the stoop of a defeated man.
The subsequent debriefing was sober listening for Merriman. The SEALs had lost almost a third of their men in the firefight, with many more injured. His hopes of capturing Safuentes, discovering promising intelligence from the cartel’s IT systems, and avenging the death of his parents had come to nothing.
Safuentes will savor this victory and expect us to retreat, but that’s not gonna happen. We will prevail.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Kent was returning to his office a month later after the usual Tuesday morning investment committee meeting when Tara handed him a note.
“That’s a telephone message from a Mr. Cartwright from a firm called Adderley Dickins. He wants to speak to you about a new deal opportunity,” she said.
Kent walked to his desk and threw the message on top of all the others next to his phone. He’d make the call later. In normal circumstances, he’d deal with a new investment inquiry immediately. There was nothing quite like the excitement of a new deal. But, these were far from normal times. He’d lost most of his appetite for new transactions. They were just one more reason for the authorities to throw the book at him, if it was ever discovered he was investing criminal money.
Kirkland stood at Kent’s door. “Do you have a moment, John?” she asked.
“Sure, come on in.”
“I’m not sure about this high-speed rail deal. We’re beyond the first auction with our opening bid, and the final bids are due in by the end of next week.”
“What’s the problem? Sounds like you’re making good progress.”
“I’ve been liaising with the Tritona team, and they’ve told me to make sure we win the bid by paying whatever it takes.”
She realizes paying too high a price for this asset is economic madness, Kent thought. Is she becoming suspicious? He had to make sure Tritona got what it wanted, no matter how poor the prospective investment returns might be. If necessary, he resolved he would take over the running of the rail deal himself.
“I raised the issue of returns with Dieter a few days back. He’s still comfortable paying a very high price for this quality of asset. His plan is to raise the end customer pricing on the rail line. No doubt, he b
elieves that will substantially improve the bottom line.” Kent was playing to the hidden microphones. He did his best to rationalize Tritona’s actions, but he was dealing with his most intelligent partner.
“It’s a big risk, though. He may not be able to raise prices. The way this auction is going he’ll have to force through massive fare increases to make it pay.”
“Believe me, Dieter is aware of the risks. Besides, the poorer returns will not sit inside our fund, remember. The company will be held directly by Tritona. We’ll just manage it for them.”
“Okay,” she said, looking less than convinced. “I just needed to make sure they understand the implications of paying to win this auction next week. It’s not a deal I’m comfortable with.”
“They do. We’ve done our job by pointing out the reduced investment returns. In spite of that, Tritona want to acquire this asset. We have to win this one for them.” Kent pointedly picked up his phone. Got to get rid of her. “Is there anything else?”
Kirkland took the hint. “No. Thanks for your help.” She looked confused as she stood up to leave.
As Kirkland left Kent’s office, Tara came in. “That Mr. Cartwright has been on again. He says he must speak to you about this deal today as it’s time sensitive. He was quite pushy, almost rude,” she said.
Kent held up his left palm. “Okay. Okay. I’m doing it now.” He punched in the numbers.
“Can I speak to Mr. Cartwright, please? This is John Kent from CBC returning his call.”
“Mr. Kent, thanks for coming back to me,” said Cartwright. “Sorry about the urgency. We have a deal which I think is just right for CBC, but there’s not much time to do it, if you’re interested.”
“Can you give me an outline of the deal on the phone? I want to be sure it meets our investment criteria.” Kent smirked as he said those words. Since acting for Tritona, CBC had completed many deals way off CBC’s investment strategy. They did whatever Tritona wanted these days.
The Geneva Connection Page 16