The Hunt series Books 1-3: The Hunt series Boxset

by Tim Heath

  “Your man seems to be doing well for himself. It’s brought some interest from the others, I see,” Polzin said, referring to the shortening odds against Andre and his Contestant. They were assuming the new man didn’t yet have the influence the others might––maybe too naive to be able to pull this one off. They had expected he was going to lose.

  “I’m okay, and it’s all going to plan. I’ve purchased every ticket other than my Contestant’s on the plane home. I own the aircrew. That plane isn’t going to go anywhere I don’t want it to.” That had never been done before, Polzin laughing to himself at the prospect of the Contestant getting to the airport, boarding his flight only to find he was the only person on the entire plane.

  “Genius,” Polzin whispered into the lad’s ear, not wanting to let others hear it. The more the bets were rising against Andre, the more significant his prize would be. He could gain $500 million––at least––in new business opportunities before the day was out. That alone could be enough to move him into the top four, especially as some of these same men above him were betting against the young newcomer, and Rurik at Thirteen was far from guaranteed to come out of that event with a win under his belt.

  By the end of the event, all three Russians had indeed managed to safely stop the three Contestants getting away, each of the tickets now recovered, to be claimed by their people the following day. Andre had left it to the last possible moment––when it looked like he was out of luck––all hope lost, the screens showing his man boarding a flight from Pulkovo 2, destined to leave Russian airspace––the point when most games were won––at any moment. A few last minute bets wagered against him, bets he would meet aggressively as only a poker player might have done, appearing to try to cover their own bluff––his opponents instead matching, sensing blood in his rash actions. It would represent about $620 million in future business opportunities before everything was settled.

  The plane was then diverted on Andre’s instruction, suddenly and dramatically ending that particular Hunt, handing victory to Andre, who walked away from his first event a much relieved––and wealthier––man.

  Svetlana closed the event down. The men all left that night though they had been given the option to stay if they wanted, there was more than enough room for them all. She headed out for a late dinner with her husband, the two of them then catching some sleep before preparations were made for their flight to Egypt, where Sergej would open the conference himself.

  Their jet landed a little ahead of schedule, one of many private jets expected that day. Some were already there, taking in the hot mid-June weather, many more were still on their way. Not everyone present enjoyed the heat.

  After the evening session––which finished at six and there were three hours to spare before a lavish dinner was put on––Svetlana was on her way to meet with the T10, ten oligarchs who were amongst some of the very wealthiest men in the world. Over the next two hours, she planned to set out what was ahead for them all.

  Matvey Filipov was waiting for Svetlana part way along the route that would take them to the beach-front property where their meeting was due to take place.

  “Mr Filipov, it’s good to see you,” she said, the two walking together towards the beach house. “Your son did well in St Petersburg.” He’d already heard––as she was sure he would have––but he didn’t let on.

  “Really? That’s good. I don’t see him as much as I would like to now he’s such a busy man himself,” which was a total fabrication. They’d had breakfast together in Monaco that morning before he’d flown on to the conference. “Look, I would like to propose a target for Lev Kaminski and me to go up against each other.”

  It was not how things usually worked––her team organised both the pairings of the companies, making sure they were an equal match, basing their decision on the value and ease of a takeover, as well as selecting which oligarch would compete against the other. Wealth was a factor, and if the Hunt were a mismatch financially, there would not be much of a competition.

  Matvey was Five, and the fact Lev was Three, meant what he’d just said had an element of interest to her. He would have been paired otherwise with Six. He apparently wasn’t trying to pick off a lesser man in his first Hunt in that arena, even if he didn’t appear to know how she ran it. It had always been through her, her rules, her ideas and her influence.

  “I don’t think you understand quite how this goes, Mr Filipov.”

  “Please, call me Matvey, when we aren’t in front of the others, of course.” Hosts had always been referred to by their number within any situation that contained only men from the T10 or the T20. “I’m not trying to undermine the work you and your team have put in. In fact, I want to set the bar higher.”

  She paused, now standing facing him, their eye on a level, her heels adding a little to her already impressive five feet eleven. Most target companies that the T10 pairings were given were valued at about $250 million and above, the most anyone had ever gone up against in a single group being $500 million. Both takeovers had failed––there had been no winner. It had been a messy business, one that she didn’t want repeating. But, equally, she appreciated the balls being shown by a man yet to dip his toes into the water at the Games.

  “How big?”

  “In total, we are talking billions.”

  “Dollars?” She could hardly believe her ears.

  “Yes.”

  “It can’t be done, not within the time frames in which we operate,” and she started to turn as if that was that, conversation over. Matvey grabbed her by the shoulder, not overly forceful, but stopping her from moving away from him. She paused, his hand coming down from her shoulder after a moment.

  “Look, there are two groups of banks––a union––where the combined value is billions but to gain control of the group you only need enough votes.” She’d heard of such groupings, and one actually existed exclusively in Russia, her husband personally involved in it.

  “Go on.”

  He handed her the information. Matvey knew that if this were going to be done, it would have to look like it was coming from her as if it was all her idea. That way it would be harder for those assigned the task of attempting takeovers of the banks, to back down in front of their peers.

  She scanned through the information. The first group had eleven banks in its union, and the second had nine. Individual banks in the first group of eleven ranged from $11 billion down to $4 billion, so the union as a whole had a net worth of $72.10 billion––off the scale compared to anything she’d ever proposed before. The second grouping of nine banks––based mainly in the US––ranged from $9 billion for the most asset-rich of the banks, down to $5 billion, giving a total union strength asset base of $63 billion. The mismatch in size between the two unions was noticeable, as was the fact that Matvey had put his name on the first group of banks––the larger, more asset heavy union. He was putting himself at a considerable disadvantage against his would-be opponent.

  “Matvey, what you are proposing is impossible.” The values involved made the whole scheme look like it would be defeated before they could even start. She knew Matvey was worth about $11.7 billion––a lot by anyone’s reckoning––but nothing compared with the size of the fish he was proposing going up against. Though each of the banks involved were relatively small––certainly globally speaking, where some banks had deposits, let alone assets, in the hundreds or even thousands of billions––the strength of being a part of a small union, gave them protection. That was why the smaller banks wanted to form unions together.

  The union of nine––the second group Matvey was proposing, where Lev Kaminski’s name was written against the list––worked in the way some banking institutes preferred to work together. While each company was legally its own entity, no one could take over the bank without the union’s say so, each of the nine member banks holding one vote. You would have to, therefore, have five banks agreeing on a decision before anything could happen t
o one individual member, and all nine banks were committed to ensuring the survival and safety of each of their members. Strength came in numbers for banks like them.

  “Individually, you might be right, and certainly within the three-year time frame.”

  “The timing is a guide, Matvey, but if anything drags on for too long, how can we ever celebrate a winner? Besides, the values involved are too much for anyone to be able to cope with. It’s just not realistic.” Once more she moved as if to continue her walk towards the venue, Matvey again stopping her, much to her growing annoyance.

  “That’s why I propose you pair five against five.” Up to that point the pairings had been individual––one oligarch against another closely matched opponent.

  Men of such wealth didn’t ever work in teams very well, they were all where they were today because of their nature as soloists, autocratic leaders in a dog eat dog business environment, and each of them in their own field was very much the top dog.

  “Five of you working together against another five for a target this big?” The sheer bravado of the idea had merits of its own, she could see that, and she even entertained a small smile on her face as she thought through what he was asking. “We’ve never done anything like this before. I don’t think anyone has ever attempted such a thing.”

  “Well, there’s always a first. I’ll let you decide which five should work together, if you decide to go with it, of course.” He could see the idea was taking root, and there was no need to push the thought any further––better she took ownership––better by far if it looked to all the others as if it was her idea all along.

  “Give me some time to look through what you’ve presented, but I’ll say this, you have certainly put forward something different, something that would take us to unprecedented levels.” She paused for effect, before adding, “I like it.”

  He left her to it, hopeful his gamble would pay off. This was the only Hunt in which he was interested. He didn’t see why more firms should have to suffer hostile takeovers in what was yet another game to these billionaires.

  No, he trusted he’d done enough, though the proof would be in the next few minutes, when she would stand before them all, announcing what was going to happen. The fact he’d put himself against a more sizeable opponent, listing his name against the harder target, would surely work in his favour. She would no doubt balance out the players a little––that much would be a gamble––but whoever he was paired with, whatever other four oligarchs he would have to work with, he had a plan. There was a method to his madness.

  Twenty minutes later, Svetlana was the last to arrive at the venue for their meeting. The room was filled with quiet murmurs, but when the Chair took her position out front, conversations suddenly came to an end.

  “Gentlemen, I would like to welcome you to our most spectacular gathering yet,” she started, and Matvey knew in that instant that he’d got her, knew without any doubt what was coming next. “As I look around this group, I see a room of very proud men, accomplished individuals who pride themselves in their pursuit of excellence. And rightly so, for you are all exceedingly successful in the many fields you operate. That is why I am putting before you today a challenge so thrilling that it will make what you’ve attempted thus far seem like child’s play. I’m intentionally raising the bar for you all, gentlemen, and I know that you’ll rise to the challenge. Equally exciting for me to observe, will be the fact you’ll be working in teams for this contest––five men against five men––which I know for all of you is not something you’ve often done. That is because you have always been top dog, the alpha male. On this challenge, you’ll need the support, influence and wealth of your fellow teammates to have any chance to pull it off, because the target you’ll each be going up against is on a scale never seen before––maybe never even attempted before, by anyone.” There was absolute silence.

  Over the following ten minutes, she outlined the details of the challenge, everything Matvey had proposed––as if it had been her plan all along.

  It was a marvellous performance, and by the end of her speech, the atmosphere within the room had changed from outright shock to expectation. From feeling the task was impossible to quiet confidence that this would be something spectacular, that the winning group would have pulled off something rarely, if ever, seen before.

  She then announced the groupings, working through the list carefully to balance out the oligarchs as much as possible. Against the Union with eleven banks in it––the one Matvey had put himself down for––was: Mark (One), Vladimir (Four), Matvey (Five), Yefrem (Eight) and Valery (Nine). The other group of five men were Roman (Two), Lev (Three), Viktor (Six), Dima (Seven) and Timur (Ten). That placed Matvey and his team––a team he would look to take the lead on despite not being the wealthiest in the group––with a combined worth of $58 billion. That was $1 billion more than the other team but still $14.1 billion less than the total assets of the union they were trying to break. The other group were $6 billion short of the total value, and in order to break either union, only a majority vote was needed. You, therefore, didn’t have to take over every single bank to control the whole of the union.

  Still, the task was massive. Seeing as it had been presented to them as a complete proposition, not one of the men within the room voiced an objection––if this was what Svetlana was putting forward, then this was what they would do––and each group, men now working together in the unlikeliest of teams, went their separate ways, following the closing address from Svetlana, who had confirmed they would meet up at New Year in St Petersburg––something new for the group––to see how each side was faring. She wanted to use that opportunity to make sure it wasn’t all becoming impossible for them.

  Attending the rest of the conference was a formality––thankfully none of the banks listed as their latest targets had any representation at that particular event, but that wouldn’t be true for other functions they would attend in the future.

  What Matvey hadn’t pointed out––something that alarmed Lev Kaminski the moment it was announced––was that amongst the top four banks within the Union Matvey’s group had to try and take over, was the bank owned by another Russian––an oligarch in the T20 and Lev’s nephew. The man in question was Dmitry Kaminski, would-be political opponent to Matvey Filipov in the Russian Presidential elections due to take place in March 2018––if indeed the two of them decided to stand.

  Lev was in a bright mood as he gathered with his team of fellow Russians.

  “Men, we’ve got the easier task for sure, and we only need to get inside five of these nine banks in order to gain control of the union,” he said, pulling them in closer as he whispered the next part. “What I don’t think the others will know––and when they find out it’ll be too late––is that whereas in our target the nine banks each have one vote that counts towards the whole, the other Union is set up differently. I should know, my nephew owns one of the group’s bigger players,” and there was a murmur of enjoyment at that piece of information, the men feeling they already had an inside track. They would certainly warn his nephew that an attempt was about to be made on some of the weaker banks within his Union. “Amongst the eleven banks, the top four banks, which includes Dmitry’s,” they all knew Dmitry Kaminski was the nephew in question, “have much greater worth than the other seven, so these four firms hold two votes each, the other seven only one.”

  “So they could spend years and all their money taking out the smallest seven banks only to still not have a controlling interest!” Roman commented, the realisation coming across every face at that moment.

  “Exactly. And believe me, this is not common knowledge. The others won’t have a clue what they are walking into. The biggest four banks are each as big as any we are up against. That means these top four banks are out of reach, and of course, they will go for the smaller banks anyway. They’ll run out of fight––and probably money––long before they realise it was all a lost cause.”


  “God, that’ll leave them all exposed.”

  “Exactly. If we pull this off, we can even finish off those five T10 men as the icing on the cake.”

  It was crazy how quickly alliances could form, but faced with a task and a group of men who had become the opposing team, that’s what happened almost immediately.

  However, walking along the sandy beach outside, Matvey was carefully explaining the same thing about how the votes worked––fully aware of the Union’s unique makeup. There was no point them targeting the seven smallest banks in order to get enough votes, they would have to go directly up against the four biggest––and he knew exactly how to do that.

  At Vauxhall Cross, Alex and Anissa had been getting their heads down with everything they were being asked to do, while never taking their eyes from the ongoing situation with the Russians. They’d tracked the latest three lottery tickets claimed within a day of their expiry, none of the three winners going public. They had managed to obtain a little information on one of the winners, but it didn’t tell them very much.

  Alex had been working through the businesses he’d been sent and was beginning to get a clearer picture of what had happened. Russian businessmen had explicitly targeted companies––some of which were British owned––and attempted takeovers. Some were successful, others not. By his rough estimate, twenty-five thousand jobs had been affected so far and counting. Not all of these posts were lost. A decent percentage had been retained within the newly acquired companies, but for the rest, lives were turned upside down. That happened more often in the situations where a takeover was unsuccessful, leaving the target company in free-fall afterwards––bankruptcy declared in some cases less than a year after the initial stay of execution.

  They’d heard much less from Sasha as the months went by, assuming he too was getting on with things. It was a surprise, therefore, a pleasant one at that, when Sasha Barkov, using another name that only the two British agents knew, sent them a package.