He knew he would have to be patient, wait for developments, then he and Wong could sit down, and work out what the next step would be, and being patient was not something he was particularly clever at.
Buying the island, and setting up the laboratory, plus meeting running costs, had cost over a billion dollars, but the blip on his company’s balance sheets was barely noticed. Meeting the salaries for the scientists, and ancillary running expenses, had been filtered into his accounts as research and development deductions, and his tax savings had offset much of it. He could fund the project for as long as it took, but Sorensen did not want it to take too long. For the time being though, when he was not thinking about the laboratory, he could concentrate on his business empire.
Frederik’s family was growing up quickly. Young Viktor would soon be finishing high school, and Frederik wanted him to enter Harvard. Perhaps a gap year would be sensible, giving the boy the opportunity to see the world, and mature a little.
Viktor was a good boy, but, Frederik thought, his mother spoilt him too much. She spoilt both their sons, was too soft with them, and a bit of knocking around the world, seeing what the real world was about, would make them better men. Viktor as yet, was undecided on his future. He had considered medicine, something his father approved, but Frederik, secretly, would prefer to see him take over the Sorensen business empire, and he kept planting thoughts in that direction. Thus far, Viktor had ignored the hints.
Frederik had grown up in a family where money was never in short supply, and for his own sons, it had been more so. He had tried not to over-indulge the boys, make them work for things, but Helena found it hard to resist when they asked for something, and the lads were not stupid. Having a billionaire father could not be kept secret, especially from his own children. From a young age, the boys learned how to manage their mother, to get what they wanted.
Keeping his family safe, also became a concern. As his wealth, influence and reputation grew, so too did the awareness that there were those who might harm his family. Frederik took, what he thought, were reasonable precautions to protect them.
The family lived in a walled villa Frederik built on the edge of Stockholm, entered through an electronically controlled gate. Although his home city was as safe as any other in the world, safer than most, Sorensen was often badgered by people asking for donations, or wanting him to fund this or that project, and he wanted his home to be a sanctuary, where he could keep the outside world at bay. He also appreciated that his family offered as a target to would-be kidnappers. He had to protect them, though they must not feel they were living in a gaol, and making his sons realise this, was not easy.
“Viktor, listen to me. Please be aware, there are people who, given the chance, would try to grab you, or your brother, and use you for ransom. You know what happened to your grandparents. Keep your eyes open if you see someone you do not know, who looks, or acts, suspicious.”
“Aw, dad, you worry too much. This is Stockholm, not Africa. No one is going to try to kidnap us.”
Viktor, he knew, thought he was indestructible, but Frederik still insisted the boys be accompanied to school by a bodyguard, despite their protestations. Frederik installed cameras throughout the villa, covering the entrance and exterior walls, as well as the main rooms, which also were fitted with alarm buttons, wired to a system that alerted the police. Sorensen made frequent generous donations to the local police command, sponsoring sporting events and dinners, also providing scholarships for their children, and this ensured the police had his interests at heart.
Frederik had never received direct threats, but in the back of his mind, lay the memory of his parents, and the kidnappers who had cut their heads off. That horror had never left him. It was sufficient for him to worry, and take precautions.
Their security, when flying, was no problem. The family used their private jet, and at home, he hired a former army commando, who carried a pistol, as his wife’s chauffeur. He could not wrap the boys in cotton wool, but he tried to make them aware they were not ordinary citizens. He stressed to them, and Helena, to be alert, and not try to lose their bodyguard, which the boys treated as something of a game. Viktor now being old enough to drive, made keeping them safe even more difficult.
The boys could shoot, both with a hand gun, and rifle, and had self defence training, but they were still boys. Helena thought her husband to be overly paranoid about their safety, but she understood where it came from. She shuddered when remembering the fate of his parents, so, rather than argue with Frederik, she accepted his precautions. Besides, having a rather handsome, youngish man, to drive her around and chat to, was more pleasant than being on her own.
15
“One hundred million American dollars! I thought you said it would cost perhaps ten million. I thought that was bad enough!”
“Yes, I must admit, I was out of the ball park. When I explained the problem to my contact, he told me the cost would depend on the risk. These men take risks. They put their lives at risk. What they do is extra judicial, outside the law, and can put them in gaol, or even get them killed. The nature of the job determines how many people are required, and all of them must be paid. He went away to look into it.
“He came back to me with two proposals to accomplish our aims, and it is better if I do not tell you what they were, you should not know. Believe it or not, the less expensive of the two, is one hundred million. The other was considerably more risky, and would cost double that, and would involve many more men. Also, the first option, hopefully, would attract less publicity, although it is probable there will be some. I told him I would consult with my principal, and advise him of our response. I am sorry, but what we want to achieve, will not come cheaply. Not only that, he wants payment in cash, up front, before he will start.”
The pontiff looked at his advisor, his mind struggling with the figure, and mentally wondering where he could firstly find such a sum, then conceal it in the Vatican books. He would have to consult his cardinal in charge of Vatican finances, and that would mean divulging what the money was for.
“There must be no publicity that would involve the church. Whatever course of action is taken against that terrible laboratory, the church must not be implicated.”
“Of course, that goes without saying. My contact does not know he is dealing with the church.”
It was leaks, that worried the Pontiff. Some of his staff were prone to gossip, and keeping secrets in the Vatican was not easy. He would need to stress this to his Cardinal. He needed time to reflect on this.
“I will have to give this some thought. How much time do we have?”
“I really have no idea. We know so little about what is actually happening in this Sorensen fellow’s laboratory. We have tried to learn more, but without luck. The scientists working there will not discuss it, but from a few tidbits our people have picked up, they seemed upbeat, which could mean they are making progress. We only have the general concept of what it is they are trying to develop. Monseigneur Findlay could not add anything further. It is some form of mass contraceptive that is intended to be applied to whole communities. Its objective is to severely curtail human reproduction, and thus reduce populations, drastically. That, really, is all we know.
“How long it will take them to reach the point where it can be applied, we simply do not know. My guess would be, we do not have too much time. From what I understand of scientific development, it is unpredictable how long these things can take. I know that progress is made much more quickly today, because of better equipment, for instance, finding vaccinations for some diseases, but then again, it could take years. We do hear of breakthroughs, when everything changes quickly. When they do come up with something, it might only be a few weeks, even days, before it can be used. Again, we are guessing, but by then, it may be too late.”
“Yes. It is a difficult problem. We must pray about it, and I must make some enqu
iries. I will let you know.”
The Pontiff’s meeting with his finance Cardinal was held behind closed doors, and proceeded only after Cardinal DelZoto had given his most solemn promise, to keep his mouth shut. Vows of silence were not uncommon with the clergy, but His Holiness had particularly stressed the need for secrecy in this case, and DelZoto understood why, when the problem had been outlined.
“There is no way to accomplish this more cheaply?”
DelZoto’s job was to supervise the treasury of the Vatican, which meant he had a general knowledge of the church’s finances, worldwide. He knew he could easily find the one hundred million his Pope had just requested, but his instinct to save money for the church, could not easily be ignored.
“I am afraid not. I know it is a large sum, but there is so much at stake here for the church, the amount is really irrelevant. If this fiendish scheme was to be implemented, the church, in time, would be decimated. Within a generation, the numbers of the faithful would be so diminished, we would lose this amount of money almost every week, because of smaller congregations.”
DelZoto nodded.
“Hm, yes, I can see that. I will go through our books, and see where we can find this money.” He did not want his Holiness to think that sums like this grew on trees, and could be found by simply snapping fingers, but DelZoto already knew where he could take the money, with no questions asked. Hiding it in the books would be simple, but he did not want to convey that impression either.
“I will report as soon as I can, within a day or two, if that is in order?”
“Of course, I look forward to your report.”
The pope’s ring duly kissed, DelZoto excused himself, and retired to his office. The money had to be in cash, and that would mean using several banks to get it in, which could take a few days. It was unlikely any one bank would hold that much cash, in American dollars. He would pre-warn the managers, and arrange for the money to be brought to him by armoured security vans. The Vatican’s bankers were occasionally asked to perform unusual tasks, and while this one certainly fell into that category, he knew the managers would not ask awkward questions.
A week later, the pope was again closeted with his special advisor. Having made the decision, now the problem was logistics, and security.
“This is a very large sum of money. How can we be sure that it will achieve our objective? Are you certain you can trust this person you speak to? Are you sure he will do what he promised, and not just take the money, and do nothing, because if he did, there is little we could do about it?”
“I believe he can be trusted. The group he represents will quickly know he has the money, and they pride themselves on fulfilling assignments they take on. I know it sounds strange, when thinking what these people do, but they actually see themselves as reliable contractors. I think they depend on their reputation, to get further business.”
“I hope you are correct. It would be dreadful if the church parted with this much money, and we were still left with the problem.”
“Quite so, but we have little choice. I have told him we will pay one half in advance, and the balance on completion. He wasn’t happy at first, but I put forward a deal that he eventually accepted. He believes I represent a major soft drink company, that it is their money, and he only laughed when I first proposed the deal. He asked what chance he would have of getting the balance when the job was done, and I understood what he was saying, he could scarcely sue to recover the money, could he?
“What we agreed is, I will put half of the money in a joint bank account in his name and my name, with both our signatures required to sign. He knows the money is there then, and we can’t take it back. He accepted that. No, we have to trust him, and keep fingers crossed. I am confidant he will do what he says.”
“How will you get the money to him?”
“We have discussed that. I will take the cash in a couple of large suitcases. Even with half the full payment, there is a lot of paper, and it is heavy. I will have bodyguards, and we have arranged to meet at the airport, where suitcases attract little attention. I will simply hand them over to him. No one will notice, and that will be that.”
A week later, at precisely ten in the morning, a large black limousine pulled into the drop-off zone for terminal one, at Fiumicino International. The driver quickly got out, and greeted the two men who were standing next to two large suitcases, near the arrivals entrance. Three other men in the car remained seated.
The men heaved the two bags into the car’s cavernous trunk. Moments later the car departed. The two men remained on the footpath watching it drive away, and were joined by another, who had observed from a short distance away, then all three headed for the taxis.
One made a call to report the handover, and the pope was informed.
The Pontiff replaced the telephone, crossed himself, then knelt on one knee to pray. The prayer was simple. It was that the devil’s work would be stopped, and no one would be harmed in the process.
16
The four men in the room sat, one on each side, around the square table. Outside the locked door, two men, cradling AK47 assault rifles, stood guard.
The house where they met was deceptive. From a distance, there was nothing particularly unusual about it. Set behind a grove of olive trees, it resembled a large country farm house, but on a closer inspection, one might have noticed the windows were smaller than one would expect for such a large building. An even closer inspection, would reveal the glass in these windows was almost two inches thick. This was not an ordinary house, and the men meeting there, were no ordinary men.
Before the law eventually caught up with him and threw him in gaol, Bernardo Provenzano had pulled the strings that had taken the brotherhood in a new direction. When he first took on the mantle of godfather, he had the sense to see that fighting the government, physically, was a waste of resources, and would be ultimately futile.
The gunfights they had had with police, left many of the brethren dead or wounded, and several family members in gaol. Challenging the power of the police, and the state that backed them, with guns, had been a tactical mistake. The bombings and assassinations of the early 1900’s, and the threats to public officials, had eventually began to backfire on the brotherhood. Public opinion turned against them. Killing cabinet ministers, targeting senior police, and blowing up public buildings, seemingly a good idea at first, had got out of hand, and in the end, achieved little.
The press had loved it. It filled the papers and news channels, but it had turned the public against the organisation. Harsh penalties had been meted out to those who were caught, and the police began to shoot first, and discuss business later.
Now in charge, Bernardo had brought together the heads of family for a serious conference, and there he hammered out a new set of rules. He sought consensus from the bickering men. They had to stop the infighting which was destroying them, and unite their resources. The Ndrangheta had to get smart, if it wanted to survive. They were a brotherhood. They had to act like one.
Blackmail, threats to businesses, stand-over tactics to extract money, these could still be used, but they must be kept low key. There was to be no more public demonstrations of power. The brotherhood had to get smart to make serious money. Drugs were their main business, but they were always open to other ways to make good money.
They had to use the new technology, work their way inside financial institutions, do homework on those public officials who controlled things, like contracts, and work orders. When they found a weakness, they would set up situations where the official was compromised, then they would apply pressure. They would work from the inside. They would ensure contracts were awarded to family members, at inflated prices. Funds would be directed their way, and filtered into their bank accounts. Fear might still be their greatest weapon, but it had to be used intelligently.
He had ordered the building of thi
s house before his arrest. Mindful of the bombings and internecine fighting that had almost brought the brotherhood to an end, and wanting to keep his family safe, he had it designed it as a fortress. From a distance, the headquarters of the Cosa Nostra might look like a farm cottage set in an olive orchard, but its walls were eight inches thick of double reinforced concrete, the windows were glazed with bullet proof glass, and under the apparently normal tiled roof, a second roof of thick reinforced concrete rested on the sturdy walls. It was blast proof, with escape tunnels beneath the floor.
The entrance to the house wound along a lane-way, bounded by high stone walls, and a large steel sliding gate brought would be visitors to an abrupt halt. Only after appropriate words were spoken into the voice box, would it roll open, to permit entry. Cameras covered every inch of the driveway.
Niccolo Abello, Giovanni Acerbi, Domenico Balboni, and Matteo Bramboni, each headed the four extended families who ruled the Corleonesi coalition. All had committed murders, none had been convicted. All were respected, and feared by their respective families. Bramboni was the eldest of the group, and also the toughest, and he had taken over the house, simply known as the Olive farm, after Bernardo Provenzano was put away. No one challenged his right to live there. Bramboni considered himself the smartest of the family heads, which he was. His leadership was not questioned.
He had summoned the others to this meeting, to report on his negotiations with the businessman from Rome. The man claimed to represent a soft drink company, but it had not taken Bramboni long to learn he was from the Vatican. It was the church which wanted to hire him, to do some dirty work, and Matteo found this intriguing. He was happy to let the man continue to think he was fooled, but the knowledge he was being lied to, put him on high alert.
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