by John Gubert
The Inspector nodded curtly and then turned his back on him. Ali came over to me, “I owe you,” he said in a soft voice. “Jacqui knows where I live. Head over there later this afternoon. Perhaps I can help you further.” In a louder voice, he said “if you are planning to leave Monte Carlo later today, perhaps you would do me the honour of having tea with me.”
I made to protest, and he stopped me. “Here is my card. I would be honoured if you have the time. But if you are busy, I would understand.”
With that he and Yussef walked to their car, which had been allowed to park in front of the bank. I turned to the Inspector; “May we leave?”
He nodded and reminded me, “But I need to see those licences and will later today know more about the issue we discussed.”
I was glad he was pursuing that line. It would serve no purpose to have our names all over the papers. I already felt that we had been more high profile than I wanted.
Jacqui and I went over to the car. “Let’s go for a drive,” I said.
I took the car out of Monte Carlo and headed towards Menton and the Italian border. I then turned up into the mountains and eventually found a place to park. We were on a quiet road, well away from anywhere. The cool breeze from the sea blew gently into our faces. The air was salty, even at that height. We could see gulls circling over the rocks far below. Monte Carlo and the other high rise resorts stuck out of the coastline. Man showed his designs were ugly when set against the beauty of the architecture of a thousand years of natural development.
Jacqui lay back in the open topped car. Her eyes were shut. She breathed in the fresh and fragrant air with relish. “I have to say, life’s getting exciting. A bit too exciting for me. I don’t think I could live this style non-stop for too long.”
I put my arm around her and pulled her towards me. She rested her head on my shoulder and we both sat silently.
“Let’s take stock,” I said. “We have deposited the fifty million dollars from Ali in the bank. That’s now with Fucquet.
“I put the casino cheques worth five million one fifty into United. That’s a good reserve. I am glad we used them. They have branches worldwide and so we have access to adequate cash.
“We have the tapes in Fucquet Geneva and United Monte Carlo. Those keep your father in check.
“We still have forty five million to launder. I need to call my father tonight. He will now be in Rio as later this week he has his plastic surgery. I need to talk to him about events in Asia.
“We need two gun permits. Someone is also going to realise that I had two guns. So mine will need to cover both. The only person who would be able to get us those on time is your father. You are going to have to call him.”
“Oh no,” came the reply. “I want nothing to do with him.”
“We’re not going to,” I explained what I had said to the Inspector. “All depends if he wants things to get tough for him. This is a one off. There are no threats from us. If he thinks he can weather the storm, fine. Then we will have to tap Ali for help. I don’t know of anyone else and I’d rather keep our Arab friend at arm’s length.”
Jacqui nodded. I handed her the phone and she dialled her father’s number.
“Hello Uncle Aldo,” she said. “Are you still operating the switchboard? I need to speak to my father.” There was a pause and then I heard something being said on the other side.
Jacqui replied in a very saccharine like tone, “I don’t care if he has no wish to speak to me. I don’t care if he doesn’t give a fuck about what happens to me. This is business. If he wants police crawling over his villa, hang up. Tell him that I have as much desire to talk to him as he is showing about me.” Her face seemed to harden. “This is a trade. I’ll stop him having problems as long as he does us a favour.”
Again a pause. I recognised the gruff tones of Di Maglio as he came to the phone. Jacqui explained what had happened.
“We did a deal with Ali. There was nothing unusual except word got out. There was an attempted ambush on us but we avoided it. After the switch four goons with Uzis stormed the bank. It was the usual one, United Bank of Europe in Monte Carlo. Two of them got hit. The other two gave up. The police have them. Nobody was hurt and we think the police will keep our part quiet. But they want to know that we were carrying guns legally. Charles said it was to protect me from the Russian Mafia. Do you know the Inspector? Charles thought he knew you.” And she gave the details to her father, finishing by adding, “You have loads of fake licences waiting to be filled in. Do that and you should avoid any unwanted attention. If you decide not to, we are not trying to threaten you. We’ll try someone else.”
There was a response and Jacqui said, “That’s a wise choice. OK let me give you the gun details. There are three of them. You know my passport details and Charles is using the one he used at the Carlton. I am sure you have the details. Get someone to deliver them to the Carlton. We are in the room you offered us. But make sure you play no tricks.”
Again there was a comment. “I’ll pass the comment on to him. But you know my views. You can guess my terms. Thanks for the help. It makes life easier.”
With that she turned off the phone. “He will do it. They will be at the hotel tonight by ten. He says he respects you. With experience he thinks you could be a master of crime like him.”
“I don’t think I want that. I want to do it all legally. I have told you. I want to work in the grey area of banking and finance. There are always rules waiting to be broken and legally. Breaking those rules can make one an absolute fortune. With a good legal team, there is no risk. Bugger your father’s drugs and guns. I am going to work with technology and law.”
She smiled. “And I am going to learn from you. I want to become a full partner. After all, I have my masters and got my bachelors with twenty. I don’t want to be a bimbo.”
“I doubt anyone will call you that.” I laughed. “Now I think we should call on Ali after lunch. He does owe us and perhaps we can fast track the last bit of laundering. That would allow us to head off out of this heat all the sooner.”
“I agree. There’s no harm, in seeing what he will say. He knows we did not set him up. He may have an idea who it was. It couldn’t have come from our side unless my father was trailing us. But even then he would not have known we had that sort of money on board. And he would not have been so stupid as to hit us in the bank. There were better places en route. Even the ambush in town was amazingly high risk. It all smacks of amateurs. And my father is no amateur nor are most of his associates.”
We stayed in the car looking along the coastline. We needed the quiet to recover and recharge. I looked at my watch. It was getting on to three. I realised also I was hungry and thirsty. “No good trying to lunch. Let’s get fed by Ali and see what he has to say.”
I drove off and headed back to the main road and the turnoff for Monte Carlo. I still kept a careful eye open for all the following traffic. I watched for any sign of trouble ahead. But it went smoothly. Jacqui had never been to Ali’s house before but knew the area well enough to direct me. The house was actually on the French side of the border.
We pulled up in front of two iron gates. The house was a fairly classical villa. I doubted it was that big. It may have had five or six bedrooms. It stood in about three-quarters of an acre of well-tended gardens. It had white shutters, black painted railings, carefully sculpted bushes, and tall phallic pines. It gave the impression of being well cared for. The sort of house that will set one back a few million in a place like that. It was convenient for Monte Carlo and a quick drive, other than in the chaos of the peak summer season, from Nice Airport.
I hooted and someone appeared. I noticed that there was a video camera behind the gate. The man approaching talked into a mobile and then opened the gates with a remote control. We drove in and the gates immediately started to close again. I headed to the house. Ali stood there in full Arab dress. Behind him was Yussef in a dark suit. Ali smiled a warm welcome at us. Yu
ssef scowled at me. That didn’t bother me, as he was not going to do anything that upset his father.
“Come in,” said Ali as he kissed Jacqui on the cheeks and gave me, surprisingly, a warm hug. “What can I offer you?”
“We’re starving and thirsty,” announced Jacqui. “But Ali, can we have European food rather than spicy lamb and stuff?”
He smiled, “I thought you would eat. They have prepared Scottish salmon sandwiches, some fresh dressed lobster, salade nicoise with fresh anchovies and a cheese board. You can eat what you wish. If you prefer hot food…”
“Ali,” said Jacqui. “You’re great. Just take us to the table.”
“And to drink?” said our host questioningly.
“Could I have some chilled white wine? Charles, what do you want?”
I stopped looking around the house. I had been quite taken by the interior. Ali was obviously a keen collector of antiques. He had a range of beautiful ornaments and decorations from all corners of the world.
Persian carpets adorned the walls and the floors. There were paintings that looked as if they were from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, perhaps not from the great artists but definitely from members of their schools. The ornaments ranged from antique hookahs, to fine old English china and on to beautiful carvings in wood and stone.
And in a corner nestled an old writing desk with a bank of drawers and cubby-holes. It was obviously used as indeed it had been for a good two hundred years. Yet it was in perfect condition. Ali was an enigma I decided. The story of his life, the reality of his business and the personality stamped on this property were totally incompatible.
I responded to the question, “I’d love a beer, a Kronenbourg rather than anything else. And I’d love some food. I’m starving.”
We sat down and ate. I asked Ali if he recognised the thugs at the bank. He shook his head. “They may have been freelance,” he said. “Yussef says he told some friends in the casino that he had to be home early on Sunday. He said that I had a big job for him on Monday. As my Jewish friends would say his stupidity sometimes makes me meshugener.”
Yussef scowled at this. I thought our relationship with him was going from worse to worse. At first I thought he just stank. Now I knew he was stupid. We had realised he was sulky. I had also established he was a coward. There was little I could think of in his favour.
Ali continued, “Perhaps someone overheard him. Perhaps he was drunk and said more than he can remember. I do not know. Will you be alright?”
“We will see the police tomorrow and should be able to settle things. If the gunmen were just opportunists, that will make it easier. It would have been harder if they knew us and had targeted us for other reasons.”
Ali said, “You defend yourselves so well, I doubt I could help you in that area. But I owe you much. Is there anything I can do?”
“There is one thing,” I said. “Can you launder another big sum?”
“How much?”
“We have forty five million.”
“Where is it?”
“Same place as before.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow?”
Ali thought. “OK. But because I trust you now I will make it simpler. I will take delivery of the cash in Cannes at your bank and bring with me a banker’s payment drawn on the United. We can both have it validated in United’s Cannes office before we exchange. I will also make sure that Yussef is out of circulation till we have finished the trade. This time there will be no problems.”
“Excellent,” I said. “Ali that was delicious. I need to head back to Cannes with Jacqui. We should go soon. Why not meet at our hotel. It’s the Carlton. The main United Bank branch is nearby and then we can go on to exchange the cash and the payment. I will arrange secure transport. If you want to make things even easier I can assign my safe box in the bank to you.”
Ali liked the idea. “Is it secure?” he asked. “The bank think these are office papers. And the vault is an old one. It’s as safe as they make them.”
I had carefully once again not told him the name of the bank. I preferred him not to know the real location, at least for certain. I suspected though that he had guessed which one it was.
We all shook hands this time. I even shook hands with Yussef. His warm fleshy and sweaty hand matched my impression of his whole nature. Poor Ali would die a rich man and Yussef would squander his fortune in a matter of years.
THE ROAD FROM FRANCE
We left the house overlooking Monte Carlo and headed up to the main road and the motorway. The blue of the sky was darkening as night approached. The sun decided to show its face for almost the first time that day, as we headed towards Cannes.
But soon it disappeared behind a growing bank of cloud, which in turn shut out the light of the moon and stars. The night adopted a gloomy look. The air felt heavier. The shadows from the headlamps of the cars hurtling along the motorway offered the only light. The world looked a tired place. The shut windows of the car, the roof now firmly closed, acted as a barrier to this depressing landscape. Somehow though they did not shut it out entirely and the sadness of the evening got through to us all the same.
I looked over at Jacqui. She sat there quietly, looking ahead out of eyes touched with sadness. She noticed me catch that look and realised that I had recognised it. She said she was thinking of her parents. Her mother had had the choice between staying with her husband and being with her daughter or losing them both. When she made that choice and left, she had never said goodbye. Since she had left, she had never called, never sent a message or even a card on birthdays. The only sight Jacqui had had of her was in fashion magazines. Her memory of her mother was from Paris Match and Vogue.
Her troubles with her father started when she left for university. It had been almost as if he refused to think she had a life of her own. He had people watch her. He tried to rule her. He sought to bring her into the business. Without a son, he had no natural successor. At first he wanted her to be the first woman Don. Then he decided that was not right. So he said that he wanted her to run his legitimate businesses. She loathed the illegal business and refused to have much to do with it. She had done holiday work for him. She was mainly involved in money laundering, but had also attended meetings at his legitimate businesses. She could not understand why he wanted to retain the old links. He had the largest chain of brothels; he ran the biggest protection rackets and owned the major drug distributors on the East Coast and in the South of the USA. He had similar businesses in France, Italy, Spain and Portugal. He had embraced evil and loved it too much to let it go.
Then she explained how she had come to meet me again. She thought I had deserted her. She suspected that her father had bought me off, for that would have been his style. By the time she met my parents, she was desperate. Her aunt had deceived her. She felt terribly alone. She could not understand why she had trusted my parents. She had acted irrationally at that point, perhaps by instinct. Now she had met me, and she was scared. She knew I would not hurt her, but she was scared she would lose me. Everything was going to change. We either would become very powerful, or she thought in time I would be seduced by her father’s wealth.
“It’s easy for me as he is a multi millionaire, perhaps a billionaire, through his legal holdings. And, even if he hates me, he will leave the bulk to me. But you aim for that sort of money and you want it in your own right. I can see that’s important for you. You are like my grandparents. Nothing will stop you in your fight to satisfy your ambition. So I’ll always be a bit concerned.”
“I do want to win this battle. It’s important for me and also my parents. But I told you that I work within boundaries. It’s that that differentiates me from your father. I can’t prove it though. I can’t guarantee what I would do if we failed. Do you remember the other day when we were going through the mountains near Mont Blanc? Perhaps we would go to earth in a mountain village or a hut on a lonely sea-shore somewhere in the sun?”
&n
bsp; She smiled, although there were still signs of sadness in her eyes. “Don’t let me down. Let’s find the right mountain. Let’s get to the right beach.”
I nodded. “Let’s go up one of those mountains tonight. Book into the Moulin at Mougins for dinner. Make it late, say nine thirty. I need to call Fucquet and then my father. We are going to succeed. And then we can plan our lives.”
She looked at me and whispered questioningly, “Together?”
I looked back at her, put my fingers to my lips, and blew a kiss. “As together as we can. And for always.”
The sadness was still there, but now it was mixed with hope. I smiled at her again as we drove on and came to the exit road for Cannes and the Carlton. I pulled up in front of the elegant hotel and handed the keys to the doorman. “We will need it again tonight.”
We walked through the lobby where just a couple of days before I had confronted Di Maglio. As we walked through a voice called “M. De Roche, I have some papers for you.”
The speaker was a tall, dark haired man of about thirty. He was impeccably dressed in a double-breasted pale grey suit. His hand stitched shirt and wine red silk tie fitted to perfection. He bowed to Jacqui and she backed away. “So nice to see you again. When you tire of him, I can offer you a job. You’d earn good money.”
Her eyes sparked with fury as she pulled herself back and slapped him full in the face. The smack resounded across the lounge, but not so much as the one that followed. The man reeled back as people around looked on in wonder. Some seemed amused while some seemed worried.
I intervened and took the man by the arm. “What have you for me?”
He threw an envelope at me and in fury spat out the words “Whore. Bitch. Whore” at Jacqui.
I looked at him coolly and he did not expect any trouble. He did not notice my hand go for the barrel of my gun, check that the safety catch was on, and then draw it out like a club. As my hand lashed forward the metal hit him full force in the mouth. His nose and mouth spurted blood as I moved in again and clubbed him under the chin.