by John Gubert
“This is the dangerous bit,” I said to Jacqui. “Keep your eyes open and try to avoid stopping at traffic lights. Better slow down before you get to them. Attack is always more difficult if we are moving. Even if we are moving at a slow speed.”
Jacqui was doing well. We were now approaching the centre of Monte Carlo. Even on the traditionally quiet Monday mornings, we could expect some delays. Here we could not avoid some stops. I took my gun from beneath my jacket and held it behind a newspaper that had been lying on the back seat. I was nervous. I wondered if every head of hair was not a wig. I questioned why people looked towards us as we passed. I kept a watch out for possible lookouts. I scoured the roofs.
“Up there,” called Jacqui. “The man has a walkie talkie.”
I followed her look to the balcony of a flat. The man was talking into something and it looked like a walkie talkie.
“I know nothing about it,” shrieked Yussef in terror. “Shut up,” I snarled. “Pray. But pray in fucking silence. I don’t want a load of bloody wailing.” If anything, Yussef seemed more scared than ever.
I called to Jacqui. “Take the next turning but don’t indicate in advance and make sure the road is not blocked or a one way.”
She turned right and then left. She pulled in front of the on coming traffic at the junction, forcing cars to stop suddenly in noisy protest. She drove down the middle of the road before pulling right at another junction.
“I’ll turn left and then left again. By then we should have done a semi circle and find ourselves back on the road again. If there is anything, then I hope we have missed it.”
“Well done,” I muttered as she turned left again. I glanced back up the road. “There’s a lorry that’s spilt its load back there. It could have been a trap. Someone knows we are here. Let’s get to the bank and into the vault.”
We stopped in front of the bank. There was restricted parking. I told Jacqui, “I don’t want you alone. I can’t see police or parking wardens at the moment. At best we get a ticket. At worst they tow us away. I’ll see if one of the bank people will park the car. If not, hell it’s only rented.”
I got out, one hand on the case and the other on the gun. My jacket covered my gun hand. “Out,” I snarled to Yussef. “Walk slowly in front of me.” Jacqui was by my side and I heard the doors of the Mercedes lock automatically. “Move,” I snarled to Yussef. It was ten thirty and we walked unhindered into the bank.
I was surprised to find Ali already there. “I thought you may be early and so I stopped by before our appointment. Let’s get into the vault. It’s safer than up here.”
Ali had arranged a small private room for us. I placed the case on the table. I locked the door from inside for there was a key there. I turned to Yussef, “I hope you did not find the journey too unpleasant. I was nervous too. That made me rude. I apologise if I offended you. I realised I said some rude things about your religion. I shouldn’t have.”
Yussef seemed to smile, but he was obviously still petrified. I doubted if he could shoot or even overpower Jacqui. But I kept that thought to myself.
Ali turned to Jacqui. “Are you armed?” She nodded and picked up her handbag.
“Put your gun in my pocket,” I said to Jacqui. “There’s no need to give Ali a gun. That is if he hasn’t one already.” We already knew Yussef was not armed. I quickly looked round the room. There were no other entrances and no place to hide a person or even a gun. I opened the case.
Ali picked up several random wads of notes. He counted a few. He had an obvious stab at the number of wads and satisfied himself of the number. He took out an eyeglass of the type used by jewellers and scrutinised a random selection. He took out a pen. I saw it was a light and he used it to check the watermarks on the notes. All in all he spent some twenty minutes hard at work. Jacqui was seated on the only other chair. Yussef stood well away from me.
“It’s good,” said Ali. “I have set up an account here numbered 6081738. It holds already fifty million dollars from a wire transfer. The money arrived at 10 am today. The bank transfer funds within the branch in real time. I will move the funds to your account and you will see them arrive. The bank will confirm to you in writing that the funds have been moved to your account with finality and irrevocability.”
I nodded. The words of finality and irrevocability were important. They meant that the money could not be returned for any reason to Ali’s account. He continued, “The manager is waiting for us and will sign the letter of confirmation in our presence.”
I queried, “Is one signature enough?”
“You must ask him for a copy of his power of attorney. I suggested he had one ready,” he responded.
“How do I know he is the manager?” I asked.
“I assume the fact that he is in the manager’s office is not enough. But Mlle Jacqui knows him of old. He is Fruget who has been manager here for four years. He will come back down with us for Jacqui to confirm his identity.”
Jacqui nodded her agreement. “Let’s go. Ali,” I said.
He put his hand in his pocket and removed a gun. He held it by the barrel and made sure I could see his every move. He gave it to his son. “If we are not back in half an hour, kill her. It has a silencer. Then walk out and shut the door behind you. Keep away from her at all times. Or, if you do shoot her, you will be covered in blood and are unlikely to get out. Keep your cool. I think the chances of Mr Charles and I not returning are no less than nil.”
I turned to him; “There is an outside chance that we could be attacked in the lobby. If you hear shooting there, keep cool and wait. You have no cash here and so you should be safe.”
“Yes,” said Ali. “But still kill the girl if I do not return. It may be unfortunate but it is necessary for my protection. Otherwise Mr Charles could have me killed and double-cross us.”
We went up to the lobby and into the office of the manager. The lobby was empty. I told Ali to check it out first.
I checked the papers. They were in order. I looked at the screen. Ali asked for the transfer. Account number 6081730 saw its balance of fifty million dollars reduce to zero. Our account number 4179267 was credited. I said to the manager, “I want this instruction completed before we leave the office.”
He looked surprised but filled in a form and asked me to sign it. I did as requested. He typed in some details and showed them to me. They were an instruction to pay fifty million dollars to our account in Fucquet. I noticed the manager was careful that Ali did not see these details. He was good at his job. He called in a colleague to authorise the instruction and then said, “I have sent off the payment instruction by SWIFT. It will be with your other bank later today and cover will be in New York this afternoon.”
“One more thing,” I said. “I want to pay these into my account.” He took the five million odd of cheques and again filled in a form for me to sign. He called in a clerk who took everything away and soon returned with a stamped receipt.
We had left Jacqui and Yussef at five to eleven. It was now eleven fifteen. We all three left the office and headed for the lobby and the stairs to the vault. Once again I got Ali to check the lobby and see there was nobody suspicious around. He confirmed this to be the case.
Jacqui was looking a bit tense when we walked in. Mind you so was Yussef. She greeted the manager and nodded to me. I placed the case on the table and pushed it over to Ali. “You can have the case if you want,” I said. “The contents include your fee as promised.”
“Don’t wait for me while I put it away,” he said. “We will meet again no doubt.” With a nod, he dismissed us.
I walked out with Jacqui, passing her her gun. We walked from the bank. Our car was untouched and we got in. I then saw the sudden movement. Four masked men jumped out of a car that drew up in front of the bank. “Down,” I shouted to Jacqui as they rushed towards us. I twisted myself round to get the best view, my weapon ready. They ignored our car and stormed into the bank. “They’re after Ali,” I call
ed. “Do we go in?”
“We’ve got to,” she said “He’ll have taken precautions and we need him alive and safe.”
“Let me go first in case there is a trap,” I called. I ran up to the bank and, just outside the door, drew my gun. I had noticed a desk by the entrance and I dived for it. I got there and waited for the gunfire. There was none. I tried to fathom the reason for the silence.
A voice called out, “We knew you fuckers were in the car and would come back. Get out from behind the desk and pass over your gun or you die after this kid.”
I could now see one of the masked men holding a young girl cashier by the throat. He was armed with an Uzi sub-machine gun. That seemed standard for the type. He was alone, keeping watch on the staff and customers. There were about ten huddled together, clearly petrified. The girl was in a half faint. Her face was white. Her eyes stared petrified ahead of her and she was trembling.
“OK. I’ll come quietly. Don’t hurt the kid. I’ll hold the gun by the barrel and then slide it across the floor to you. My friend will then do the same. She is just behind the door.”
I stepped out. I then realised there were two of them. The other was in a corner, half hidden by a pillar. He was on his own but with a clear view of the captured staff and customers. I stepped slowly out, my hands apart and the gun in my left hand. I lowered it to the floor and kicked it across with the side of my foot. At that point, Jacqui came from behind the door. She carried her handbag, but no gun was in sight.
“Push your bag across the room” came the call.
Jacqui bent down, facing the two gunmen. She did it unusually awkwardly. Her skirt rode up her legs revealing her crotch. Her open jacket pulled at the fabric of her silk T-shirt showing a bra strap. I saw the two were distracted and swiftly bent down and drew the gun from my home-made leg holster. The gunman behind the pillar turned to me but he knew it was too late as my gun roared while his was still pointing at the ground. Two bullets hit him in the stomach and had him sprawling. His gun skidded from his hand to the corner of the room as I dived to that same corner to avoid the bullets of his partner.
They missed me as I slid away from the desk area, skidding across the floor and grabbing the sub-machine gun as I hit against the wall. I saw Jacqui had pulled out her gun. She had pushed it into the back of her waistband, hidden from the gunmen’s view. Her bullet hit the man and made him pause. But it was not going to stop him. A burst of fire from me that sliced into his legs did and he fell to the ground screaming in agony. Jacqui picked up his gun.
“Frisk them,” I called. “And keep a watch on them and the door. Get the police someone.” With that I pushed my remaining gun back in my trouser band and eased downstairs. Half way down was a one way mirror that gave a view of the vault. I had noticed that on my trips down. It was a clever security device but also allowed me to see the position of the gunmen before they could see me.
The two gunmen held Ali and Yussef. Both had Uzis and both Uzis were pointing at their captives. A large safe box was open and in front of it was my case. Ali had obviously not yet put the money away when the gunmen came in. They had obviously heard the gunfire and were waiting for an all clear from their comrades. Or perhaps they expected a fight with us. I suspect, from their appearance, that they did not think the latter was likely. I also saw I could not attack them for they would automatically kill their hostages. I had to negotiate.
“We’ve got your friends and you’ve two minutes to get out. They are calling the police up there. I don’t give a fuck if you go to jail or not. If you shoot one of my friends, I’ll kill you both. If you try to use them as hostages, I’ll do the same. I have a perfect sight of you and killing you will make me a hero. So decide quickly. Drop your guns and run. Take your friends if you want. Although they are in a bad state and I would think they’d slow you down. But you now have a minute left; at the most.”
They knew they could not win. They did not want a murder charge if the police came and that was the best they could hope for if they tried to escape. They wanted to run. They knew they had failed.
“Drop your guns and I’ll take you to the door of the bank. From there on you find your own way out. Choose.”
They knew they would have to trust me. They had no choice. They pushed their guns away and moved towards me. The moment Ali and Yussef were behind them, I came fully into view. I was holding the Uzi and pointing it straight at them. “OK dumbos. You tried to cross the wrong guy. Who sent you?”
They looked at me sullenly. One said nervously, “We’ve got to get out of here.”
“OK,” I said “But you’re under arrest. I’m making a citizen’s arrest and handing you over.”
I turned to Ali. “As the police will be here soon, I’d pack your box unless you want them to ask questions. And by the way I suggest you keep quiet about the fact that we know each other. Play the innocent customer caught in a hostage crisis. Otherwise we could be in trouble.”
I walked up the stairs with the two gunmen, having picked up their weapons on the way. They entered the lobby just as the police stormed in. I thought for a moment that the police would shoot me. “I’ve arrested these two,” I shouted.
They grabbed them and marched them to a van outside. I saw a medic come in to look at the two wounded on the floor. I handed the hardware to an inspector. The young girl hostage ran up to me crying and threw her arms around my neck, kissing me repeatedly.
“Hold on,” I joked, “Or we’ll have to get married. I’m glad you feel better.”
The inspector turned to me. “I think we need to have a discussion. And I need to see your licence for that gun.”
“I haven’t got it with me. I have a Swiss licence. I’m pretty sure I have it at my flat here in Monte Carlo. It may though be with my stuff in Cannes. I am based there at the moment but inspector, perhaps we could talk in private in the office?”
I went there with him. “I am a businessman. I am setting up an investment company with some colleagues based here in Monte Carlo. My girlfriend is called Jacqui Di Maglio. You may know her father. He is from New York. He has a villa along the coast.”
The way the Inspector reacted when I mentioned Di Maglio told me two things. The first was that he knew him. And the second was that he knew he was Mafia.
I continued, “There have been a series of threats against the Di Maglio family by some Russian criminals who have based themselves in Western Europe. I know that there has been nothing specific but hints of possible kidnappings and ransom. For obvious reasons such issues are hardly for the police.”
The inspector nodded grimly. Once again I tried to read his thoughts. I suspected he thought that he would lose no sleep if there were a few Di Maglios less in the world. He seemed that sort of a policeman. Protect the innocent and zero tolerance for the guilty or suspect.
I nevertheless carried on with my monologue. “As a result, Mr Di Maglio advised me to carry a gun. A handgun that could fit into my briefcase. His daughter also carries a small pistol in her purse although I doubt it is very effective. You will see that one gunman has wounds in the stomach from my gun and the other may have a slight wound from Jacqui’s. Obviously the Uzis belonged to the gunmen. There should be four as they were each carrying one.”
“Look, everyone in this bank swears that you came to their rescue. You stopped a hostage crisis developing. And innocent people could have been killed,” responded the inspector. I noted I was right about one thing. He had no care for ill doers. His sympathies lay squarely with the innocent bystanders who obeyed the law.
He continued: “Produce your gun licences in twenty four hours at the station, and there will be no charges. I need your passports to be surrendered until you do. As an exception I will not take your guns away. I half believe your story.”
“Thank you Inspector,” I said. “There is one other issue. I would rather have no publicity. It will bring Miss Di Maglio and me to prominence. And that is risky. Do we need to be involved any furthe
r?”
The Inspector thought, “I need statements. You stormed the building. I know you had been there earlier. I expect we could conceal your identities, at least officially.”
“Inspector,” I suggested. “Could it be that the press are led to believe that it was the forces of law and order who acted quickly? Perhaps police doing undercover work? They could pretend they were by the bank by chance and acted quickly. They of course could not be identified for fear of destroying the case they are working on. It would be good for the image of the police.”
The Inspector liked the thought. He knew though he had to refer such a suggestion upwards. I left it with him. The important thing now was to get a gun licence. I had my passport and I expected Jacqui had hers in her bag. I called her in and she produced it. A US passport went alongside mine and was handed to the Inspector. He put them in his pocket, walked over to the desk and wrote a receipt. He had to take them out of his pocket again when I asked him to note the two passport numbers on his receipt. Our friend, I noted, was not one for paperwork.
He turned to me. “The staff have been warned not to talk to anyone. They have been told that they would be charged if they revealed any names. As it appears the manager and his deputy are the only ones who are sure of your identities, that is really no problem. The two other customers in the bank are giving their statements. They want to thank you. It’s the two who were in the vault. They’re a couple of rich Arabs. One stinks like a whore. The other is as smarmy as they come.”
I noted another feature of the Inspector’s make up. He did not like foreigners too much, and above all he most likely loathed Arabs. That is not unusual in the South of France where racism is quite rife. At that point Ali and Yussef came up from the vault. They were shaken but recovering.
Ali turned to the Inspector; “My car will be here soon. You have my address and will bring the statement there for correction and signature. I hope I do not have further involvement.”