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

by Tim Heath

  Inside were three pages of information, some taken from newspaper clippings, as well as one photo. In short, it told them everything they needed to know about their chief informant in Russia, the man they knew as Andre Philips. Sasha had connected the two only after it was announced in Russia that Andre Filipov was taking over some key companies.

  “Jesus, Andre is Matvey Filipov’s son!” Alex said, reading through the information. “It does explain why he knows so much about it all.”

  “Didn’t he list his father amongst those within the T10?” Anissa scanned her notes as she said this, and it was there, in Andre’s own handwriting. He’d stated Matvey had entered the event the year before, moving Polzin down into the other group in the process. The photo inside the package was of three men standing on the sun-deck of a yacht together––Matvey Filipov, his son Andre and Foma Polzin.

  “Are they working together?”

  “It would certainly look that way, now, wouldn’t you say?”

  Neither did say anything for the moment. They read the information through once more, before locking it all away in the filing cabinet that stood against the wall in their office.

  “Is the son working against his father? Playing it all from the inside? He’s given us a lot of information over the last few years.”

  “But he’s always drip-fed us the information when he’s wanted to. Always on his terms,” Alex said, cutting across Anissa.

  “You have a point.”

  “It does explain why he knew so much, why he had the dates and names.”

  “Does it change how we view what he’s told us up to now?”

  “I don’t know. Andre's kept his real identity hidden from us. I’m assuming that he’s done that because if we knew who he was––the connection he must have to it all, not to mention the split loyalty in regards to his own father––maybe we wouldn’t have taken him so seriously?”

  “Which would be to imply that what he had to say, needed saying.”

  “It would seem that way. And it has all been accurate, after all. We’ve been on the coattails of them all for some time all because of what he’s shared with us.”

  “But we’ve never been on the inside, never where it really mattered, where we could do something to stop them. That’s a concern. Andre's position shows us that he must know a hell of a lot more than what he’s been letting on. He could give us direct access to Matvey Filipov, and we would be able to expose everything he’s been doing.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t want to implicate his father in all this? As the sole heir to his father’s estate he one day stands to gain the lot. If his father's involvement in everything was exposed, wouldn’t that threaten Andre’s future?”

  “And let’s not forget, Matvey has only just added himself to this event. Polzin, from what we know, has been in it much longer. The fact that the three of them are seen in this photo meeting together would suggest they are up to something, working together somehow?”

  “To what end?”

  “I don’t know, but I think that’s what we’ve got to find out.”

  “There’s still no known link back to Six,” Anissa said, referring to the connection their own Deputy Director General, Thomas Price, had with Dmitry Kaminski. Alex and Anissa had been listening in from an adjoining hotel room the last time the two men had met. “The DDG also doesn’t know who our contact is––he’s been asking for his name long enough, wanting to know the man’s actual identity––so we have to assume the reasons are different.”

  “Okay, we tell no one about this, for now.”

  “Agreed.”

  30

  The ten members of the T20 left the summer event in generally good spirits. Hot on the heels of their departure, the latest Forbes results came out, the wealth of these men––and many others––recorded for all the world to see. The figures were often guesses––the men in question would never fully confirm or deny what was the case––but the rankings within the Games was always based on these figures from that one particular source. Sergej Volkov, the husband of Svetlana Volkov, had owned the controlling interest in Forbes since before he had even met his wife.

  The man ranked Eleven, Foma Polzin, had seen a drop in wealth down to $7.2 billion, but that was solely down to the handover of existing companies into the hands of Andre Filipov. Andre's standing had risen as well as his worth, now ranked at Fifteen within the group––joint with Akim Kozlov––both men worth $1.9 billion.

  The lists only worked in hundreds of millions, nothing smaller. That meant three men were tied in Twelfth position––Arseni Markovic, Ukrainian Rurik Sewick and fast riser Aleksey Kuznetsov, the most prominent winner within the Games by far following the collapse of Sokoloff. All three men were worth $2.2 billion, a two hundred million drop in the case of Arseni, who’d bet big against new boy Andre at the previous event, only to see it all backfire.

  The bottom four remained in order, even if each were down one position, starting at Seventeen with Dmitry Kaminski, and he was followed by Motya Utkin, Pavlov with Osip Yakovlev making up the final spot. Of these final four men, only Osip had not lost value on the Forbes index, the other three each down $100 million. These losses could be put down solely to events that had happened within the walls of the Games Room––the business losses a direct result of each Hunt.

  Travelling together back to Monaco, Polzin and Andre were deep in conversation. They’d seen their positions within the group––especially as a twosome––growing. Andre had done well for himself following his first event, and he’d built his business to the tune of $400 million as a result. He would transfer this money to Polzin before the year was out, repaying at least a quarter of the amount Polzin had used to establish him in the first place.

  Andre wanted to be debt free as soon as possible, while Polzin cared more about the younger man’s position within the Games than he did the money he’d lent him. It was important Andre remained strong enough to compete. Any poker player knew that there reached a particular point on the table––a tipping point––when one player had enough to dominate the rest, where it didn’t matter what the cards did after that point, the final result was inevitable.

  Too weak, and Andre’s position would be quickly wiped out and taken from him. There were already a few of the men making comments, some seeing it all as serving Polzin and his growing control of their group. If the others could find a way of getting between them––of destroying Andre before he could get started––they would.

  That much had been clear this last time they all gathered together. Andre had been somewhat fortunate that time, even if he would have called it being the most prepared, the most ingenious even.

  Mr Platinum, Motya Utkin, had left the T20 event on his own, but had suggested Pavlov and Osip Yakovlev––his fellow two members of the bottom three––meet at the address he’d given them. The three men sat talking, overlooking the river Neva where substantial cruise ships could be seen docked. Utkin could see the danger in alliances forming, in men working together to take control of the Games. As the three weakest players––relatively speaking despite their billions––he wanted to build in some protection.

  “Friends, I think it would be wise if we were to look out for one another,” he started, outlining a little of his thinking, strength in numbers. Together they were worth $4 billion and with a wide range of connections. Only Foma Polzin––Eleven––was worth more by himself. Together they would be a much stronger force.

  It would be against the rules, of course, each man was meant to be working alone, but they all knew it had happened before and was sure to happen again. Motya had pointed out the connection between Polzin and Andre, the latter rising the league to a joint fifteenth place already, despite only just having arrived. It might be their money he would be taking next.

  They agreed. They would lay aside any differences––after being involved in so many events together, there were always things that had been said that they now regretted�
��–and instead agreed to look out for each other, to help one another when they could, and to remain loyal, no matter what might come their way.

  Each man was taking a considerable risk in agreeing to this. Having said what they said, it would be easier for two of them to turn on the third, profiting substantially from any such betrayal. But they knew that was a risk worth taking––there was much more to be gained by working together, taking a more significant piece of the pie from much larger targets, than to fight amongst themselves, leaving one of them most likely out of the event altogether.

  None of them dared imagine that an event like Sokoloff’s collapse could happen to them. A year ago, Sokoloff, a man worth double what they each had, would also have thought it impossible and yet he had still come crashing down, his world broken into pieces.

  As Dmitry Kaminski sat in first class waiting to take off for his flight back to London, his phone was ringing. He had stayed on a few days in Russia to clear up some other business and was only just heading back––the events in Egypt were already producing ripples. It was his Uncle Lev on the phone, and he had hard words for his nephew to hear.

  “Watch out, they’re coming for your banking Union,” he’d said, before going into a little more detail about what had happened, how nothing on this scale had been attempted before. Lev suspected someone else had put the proposal to Svetlana. Previously she had only ever selected a company worth a measly $500 million compared to the Union of banks Dmitry was a part of––their value holding at $72 billion in the latest Forbes numbers.

  “What they are trying is impossible,” Dmitry said, his pulse already rising. Much of his wealth was tied up in his bank; even though he had a broad investment portfolio, his primary meal ticket to all the best events in London coming directly because of his ownership of that particular financial institution.

  “Keep these comments off the record, of course, but I would find some way of letting the weaker firms in the Union know.”

  “That doesn’t matter, and they don’t control enough votes.”

  “And there’s no other way in?”

  “No, of course not,” Dmitry said, though his voice was not as confident as it could have been.

  “Good,” Lev said regardless, picking up on the slight anxiety his nephew must be feeling. If Dmitry’s Union could hold off the threat––and knowing the attempt was coming was half the battle––it would improve the chance of Lev and his team winning the event.

  Lev was playing both sides. Look to maximise what you can do while looking to limit the damage the others could inflict. Win-win as far as he was concerned.

  It was nearing the end of July as Matvey joined the other four fellow oligarchs-cum-teammates in an event he’d planned, each man having spent time researching, now reporting back what they had discovered. For all involved, this was not only about winning an event. If they could pull this off, it would propel them all into uncharted territory.

  A few boats could be seen off the coast, far enough away to not bother about, the warm Caribbean sea lapping gently onto the beach as they walked together. Matvey had taken the lead within the group, not easy for the others when each man was a leader in his own right. He apparently had an inside track on this one––he’d told them all back in Egypt that it had been his proposition in the first place. Whether they believed that or not, he had their attention and they were happy for him to pull things together, for the time being at least.

  Security personnel, as with the Games events themselves, remained outside. What went on amongst the five of them––what they discussed––had to stay between them. If word got out of what they were proposing, it would bring an end to it all before they’d even got started.

  Once the stock markets got wind, it would be an open pursuit, a fight to the death. And this time, the proposed target had a genuine chance of biting back. Like a lion taking on a crocodile. Kill, or be killed.

  Mark Orlov––the wealthiest man present––remained silent, as did Matvey. It was Valery Holub, Yefrem Fyodorov and then Vladimir Popov who first outlined what they’d found out while taking a look at some of the weaker banks within the Union, the ones with the least assets, and therefore the least protection.

  The general tone of the contributions from each of them was much the same––if there was a way in, they hadn’t found it, and as soon as the first move was made against one bank, the others would shut up shop.

  It couldn’t be done. In short, they didn’t have enough resources nor the influence to pull something of this size off. There were only five of them and even if they were able to shake one bank loose, that was nothing like enough; they needed to control at least six of the banks.

  “Actually,” Matvey said, breaking into the increasingly downbeat, defeated flow of conversation he heard, “not even getting seven banks on our side would be enough. It’s the top four banks that hold the eight votes between them. It’s these four, therefore, that have the power, which controls the Union. We get to them, and we get them all.”

  “How is that even remotely possible?” Valery said, voicing something the other two were no doubt thinking at that moment. Only Mark seemed to keep his thoughts silent behind his watchful eyes.

  “Listen, we’ll never get to any of these banks by going directly at them. Picture a forest,” Matvey said, standing up and slowly pacing around the floor in front of them all, talking with his hands as was his custom when he got most animated. “The biggest trees are in the middle of the deepest forest, hemmed in on every side, protected and secure. There’s no way in. The same as you currently feel about these major banks within our target Union. So, first, we have to clear some space, make room for the downfall of the biggest trees.”

  “You’re suggesting we go after other businesses that aren’t even a part of the Union?” Valery could see there might be some logic, but equally, it required additional time and resources, something they didn’t have against an opponent this size.

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “Carry out other aggressive takeovers to build wealth, you mean? To what end? So we can then mount a bigger attempt later? They’ll still shut up shop the moment the first attempt is made.”

  “Direct assault isn’t an option this time, and that’s my whole point.”

  “You mean, we don’t have a chance to win this even before we’ve had a go?”

  “Not if we rely on going in through the front door, no. They have enough security in place––so to speak––to fend us off. They would close ranks, secure everything up, and we would be left no option but to give up. You can be sure they would then be observing us. They might even deem their best form of defence would be to attack us, go for our own businesses.”

  “What?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past them,” Mark said, the first time he’d voiced his thoughts in the conversation up to that point. “It’s what I would do.”

  “So we’ve been given this challenge to what, destroy us? Is that what it’s about?”

  “No, but we have to be careful, that’s all,” Matvey said, taking back the floor, happy that Mark seemed to be seeing things from his perspective, though he was far from working out his wealthiest teammate. “There is one weakness that gives us a way in with the top four banks,” he said, dropping some information he’d pulled from his bag onto the table. They glanced at the pile of papers in front of them, as he continued speaking. “During the economic crash, these four banks, in particular, plugged holes in other companies that they couldn’t afford to plug––propped up businesses that they shouldn’t have committed to. These businesses are still on the ropes today, owing huge sums, to the tune of billions, to these four banks. These handouts were made possible due to a huge loan issued to the Union, enabling them to lend the money out.”

  “So, we take out the businesses the banks lent the money to, thereby wiping out the chance for the banks to ever reclaim this money, and then call in the loan,” Mark jumped in, seeing the
way through.

  “Exactly,” Matvey added. There was an excited murmur around the room. The banks would not be able to repay the money they had borrowed, and with the companies they had lent this money to going under, they would have no option themselves but to declare bankruptcy. That would allow anyone––them for sure––to sneak in and prop up the failing banks, obtaining ownership and therefore the controlling vote for the entire Union in the process. It just took the falling of these four giant trees.

  The information Matvey had produced listed the companies they were to target. There were five that they needed to put out of business, and thus deny the banks the chance ever to receive repayments of the massive loans they had made. Then there was the one firm that had made the substantial credit to the banks in the first place. Once this mega-insurer demanded the return of its investment––a move that would be a little unethical but well within its rights––it would leave the four target banks with no option. They would be destroyed as a result.

  “You’ve got some balls I’ll give you that,” Mark said, “but I can see why you set this challenge before us all. It could work.”

  “It will work,” Matvey said, his own men and women already in place within all six companies he’d given as their immediate targets. These people held critical roles in the firms that needed shutting down––though the Russians would still require direct action––and crucially he had someone on the management committee which ran the giant firm that would then suddenly call in the debt.

  Each of his contacts within the firms would be landed lucrative new roles once the dust settled. He would make sure none of their records was too discredited, aside from the apparent immediate fall-out of each collapse. Matvey had roles lined up for them at the mega-insurer, and though they would take a hit when their large loan wasn’t returned, he knew a company of that size could handle it. The same, thankfully, couldn’t be said for the four banks in question.