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

by Tim Heath

  Lunch had been amicable––Matvey had kept things very low key, he wasn’t ready to announce too widely his intention to challenge Putin the following year––and an understanding was reached. They agreed to meet again, if needed, and to work closely together in the future, something Matvey himself had proposed, the Minister like all politicians only too happy to have another high-value benefactor on board.

  Matvey’s main work at the event was with the men who ran the military. These men, having worked closely with President Putin himself for many years already, were immensely loyal to the man they saw as the best fit for their country, the best man to lead their nation. History dictated in the Motherland that unless a President had the military in hand, anything could happen. A coup was hard to stop in a country so vast, an army so large. It was the men who ran these various divisions––the military, the air force, the navy as well as several specialist units––who therefore carried vast amounts of power and with that, responsibility.

  As always, Matvey found that money was an excellent loyalty neutraliser. Throw enough of the stuff in a particular direction, and loyalties could change overnight.

  Putin was due to attend the exhibition himself––this was on the third day of the five-day event––by which time Matvey hoped to already be on his way home, his task completed. That gave him a little over forty-eight hours to mix it up with the men, some of whom he’d never met before, others he’d bumped into irregularly down the years. What was important was that they remembered him––more than that, they respected him. He had to leave them a good impression, someone strong and leader-worthy, someone not afraid to make tough decisions, someone willing to shed blood to save their nation; a true Russian leader––a Presidential type, no less. Someone every Russian looked up to––idolised in fact––and the perfect Russian President.

  The type of leader the West, in general, never understood. Matvey often marvelled how little America and its allies understood about the Russian psyche, how the people wanted their leaders to be strong and ruthless, why that desire had allowed Communism to blossom as it had before a better system was put in place. Matvey understood it, however. And he was now finally placed to become the person he hoped his country could get behind. Someone to pick up from where Putin had taken his nation, but to then take it three steps forward. To make Russia a country that the countries of the world feared once more. To become the genuinely global superpower they already should have been for the past few decades.

  The nation that first sent a man into space, the country that advanced the space race so much that in turn, it spurred the Americans to make a moon landing. Russia should once more be the nation that other nations want to beat. Once again they should be significant competition. They had the resources––both natural and monetary––as well as the people; people willing to give themselves––to die even––for a cause worthy enough. Russians had never shied away from hard work anywhere near as much as those in Europe and the West had done. It was time for his nation to rise once again. Time to take their place at the head of the table. Time to no longer allow weak decisions to govern the futures of their people and their children after them.

  As Matvey mixed with the military, his presence there was noted but not always warmly welcomed. As with any pack of lion cubs, whenever another dominant male entered the picture, there was always fear about what might happen. What would take place if and when the dominant man returned? Putin was due in two days––would Matvey still be strutting his stuff when the Boss arrived?

  As planned, Matvey was already flying back on his jet to Monaco when the President arrived at the event. Matvey’s presence there would get a mention––there were a large number of millionaires and billionaires at the event, given it was a trade fair––and Putin could only guess why that particular oligarch had made the trip to Russia in the first place.

  For Matvey, he had met with each of the key commanders at least twice over the previous two days, the first encounter, especially when he hadn’t ever met them before, always reasonably brief, reasonably civil. They didn’t know who he was, of course, until he said goodbye and left them his card––which they would no doubt pass to someone, or check themselves, to find he was, in fact, a man worth over $11 billion. That made the second meeting all the more comfortable. When Matvey went round again, he found he got a noticeably more positive reception, especially from those who hadn’t known who he was at their first encounter. He’d won their respect. He knew that was always the first stage along the road to winning their loyalty. He was sure he would arrive at that particular destination, before too long, somewhere further down the line.

  Now airborne, thirty minutes into his flight back home, Matvey called Phelan once again.

  “I’m going to send you some detailed information tomorrow,” he said, knowing it was now time for Phelan to get Maggie to do what she needed to do. “It’s important you understand everything involved. Go somewhere quiet and read it all through. Don’t mention anything about it to Miss Thompson. It’ll then be your job to personally convince her that this is what she has to do––this is the cost of her love for you, and all that it means for your future together. I’ll include in the package information that you will then be able to give to her. It’ll prove that the Union is verging on bankruptcy and that her actions are therefore justified. You can pretend this information was given to you––or you obtained it by your own means––whatever you like. I’ll leave that up to you.”

  “And what if she doesn’t do it? What if after everything I say she still doesn’t do what you want? What then?”

  “You’ll have to make her, Phelan. But the information you hand her will do enough to convince her that it’s also now in the best interest of her employer. They can’t risk not acting. It’ll happen, don’t worry.”

  The call ended. Matvey didn’t want to get into a conversation about the what ifs. There were, of course, no guarantees––he didn’t like strong-arm tactics, but he’d get ruthless if he needed. It had all been planned too carefully, too painstakingly, for years for it to all come unstuck over a few morals. Yes, if Maggie instructed her employer to call in the loan it would be considered entirely irregular, totally unethical and a breach of trust. But it would be justified, and prove to be when the Union couldn’t produce the money. Only then would her actions be seen for what they were in the bright light of day. Before that, there would be a hell of a storm, and as much as he would like to be on the inside to see what went on, he would have to be content to watch from the sidelines.

  7

  Breakfast was busy as usual at Anissa’s house as her two boys fought over the cereal boxes and tried not to pour milk everywhere, which they semi-successfully managed. Her husband Paul was sitting in the lounge with his coffee and the paper, the television on in the background. Anissa glanced over at it when Dmitry Kaminski’s face appeared, his name displayed along a moving ticker on the bottom of the BBC screen at that same moment.

  “Can you turn it up please?” Anissa called, coming into the lounge, her husband glancing at the screen as the sound increased, though he soon went back to his paper.

  “In an unprecedented economic move, the US giant JP Morgan Chase’s London lending division last night called in the loan of $100 billion that it made less than four years ago to the Meridian Capital Union. They have stated that it had made this move based on unconfirmed reports suggesting that solvency within the Union––to which British-based Russian billionaire Dmitry Kaminski is a senior figure––was now questionable.

  “Representatives from JP Morgan Chase and Meridian Capital have refused to comment, but all trading in the Banking Union’s shares have been suspended immediately, the share price having dropped ten per cent at the close of business last night based on the emergence of the rumours.”

  The news reporter moved on to another story, Anissa standing there for a moment, the sound switched back to mute. She wouldn’t have thought much about it––business ne
ver interested her all that much––except for the inclusion of Kaminski in it all, and very centrally too, from what the report suggested. She pulled out her phone and went back into the kitchen, as her boys were just finishing, each chasing the other out and upstairs, seeing who could brush their teeth the first.

  “Alex, it’s me. I’ve just seen a report on the news that was all about Kaminski’s Banking Union. Something about a loan they’d been given being called in and the BBC seemed to suggest that was something the bank might not be able to do. Read up everything you can on it, and I’ll see you in the office later. My gut says it's connected to the Games.” Anything involving one of their target oligarchs was potentially linked to the Games, especially when it came to Kaminski, a man who they knew their own Deputy Director General was meeting with in secret, intending to support the Russian, unofficially, in his run for President.

  “Okay, will do.” Alex had not seen any of the reports, though a quick search on the BBC News website would get him up to speed. He spent the next forty minutes getting his head around as much as possible, before jumping in the shower and getting ready to leave for the office. He left before eight in the morning.

  "You cannot just ignore this, Maggie."

  He had stopped there, and his comment had hung in the air for a long and challenging couple of hours. Since then Phelan had said nothing more to Maggie regarding her role at JP Morgan Chase and what he had shown her.

  It had been early that morning that Phelan had finally dared to raise the thing he'd been dreading mentioning for months. Having been sent the information promised by Matvey the day before, Phelan had digested it as best he could, thinking through exactly what he was going to do, how he could get Maggie to break faith on a billion dollar deal.

  "We need to talk," he'd said, Maggie instantly on edge, the fear in her eyes assuming it was about them, not about business. When he then first mentioned the information, Maggie was initially relieved that he wasn't about to break up with her. Then the full extent of what he was asking sank in.

  "Are you crazy? I can't just instruct my bosses to cancel the agreement."

  Using his cover story that he was now a retired stock market trader––a lie but it explained the money and the ability to no longer work––Phelan then built on that to explain to her that a concerned friend had sent him the report about Meridian in the first place. Why he was now passing it on to Maggie.

  "You have to understand, something like this has rarely been done before, Phelan. It's unethical. It would most probably bankrupt Meridian Credit for certain."

  "It's going to happen anyway, Maggie, whatever you do. Better for you to get something back than nothing."

  "I can't." Maggie just couldn't see herself squaring it with her boss.

  Phelan then explained how billions of pounds were held in the bank, that pensioners were about to lose everything if the rumours were true. And given what information his friend had just handed him if there was any truth in the matter she needed to use her role within the firm to force the Union’s hand.

  "I could lose my job, Phelan. Meridian won't be happy if I do this. They'll undoubtedly file a complaint."

  "And what will JP Morgan do if they find out you knew about this and did nothing?" It was a move Phelan had wanted to avoid, the threat implied but clear enough. At least he hadn't needed to threaten her about their relationship––do this, or I'm off. He knew he couldn't say that with any real conviction, though it would inevitably have produced a quicker result.

  Maggie realised that Matvey would be likely to point this out to her employers after the event if she did nothing, though she wasn't going to mention any of that to Phelan.

  "You cannot just ignore this, Maggie. Innocent people are going to lose everything. You have the chance to stop that happening."

  It worked. Maggie was happy to destroy a multi-billion dollar Union because her fiancé had passed her some information from a friend and didn’t want innocent people to be affected.

  That very next day, Maggie called an emergency meeting with the London-based board––something that was rarely done. Her proposal to her bosses had initially received some stiff resistance from them all––it was not an ethical move for the firm to make––but the information she was handing them, not to mention her track record at the company, had prevailed. If they didn’t get the first strike in, they would risk having to write off the entire balance of the loan. At the end of what had been a very stressful day for Maggie, the move got sanctioned. She left the office after seven that evening, exhausted but relieved.

  Kaminski got the call put through to him personally at seven the previous day. He was still in his office. It had been a week since he’d met with MI6’s Thomas Price, and he assumed things were working away in the background. Being told by the American office of JP Morgan Chase––though it was Maggie’s decision, she wasn’t going to make the call to the Union herself––that they were demanding the full and immediate repayment of their $100 billion loan, most of which was still outstanding given the sizeable nature of interest applied, was a hammer blow.

  He’d screamed blue murder, demanding to speak to the chairman himself, whom he was put through to moments later, but their decision was final. If Meridian defaulted on their next repayment, they would be forced to take legal action.

  Kaminski came straight off that call and immediately contacted Price, getting his voicemail initially, before being called straight back. The share price had already plummeted ten per cent by that point, markets now closed in London, though there were still three hours to go on Wall Street.

  Price worked hard to appease the man who was screaming down insult after insult, not necessarily all directed at the British MI6 employee, but sounding off in general. Price agreed to get trading stopped in shares of Meridian Capital, to limit the damage. Kaminski demanded to know why nothing had been done with JP Morgan Chase, despite having mentioned them before and asking him to intervene. The British had failed to come through for him on this one.

  Kaminski knew there was no way his Union could cover the loan––they’d foolishly, as it was now clear, overstretched themselves with how they’d refinanced other businesses. Greedy for excessive interest on the repayments and now that had caught up with them. They were a sitting duck in an ocean of sharks. A slow and cumbersome tanker in a sea of submarines––easy pickings.

  It was even quieter than usual at Duke’s club as Price arrived, surprised for once to see Kaminski already waiting for him when he got there. It was clear that the urgent situation for the Russian caused his clock to run faster.

  Neither man greeted the other, just sitting down in the same seats in the same booth they always used. They were the only ones in the club at that moment, besides the man who worked behind the bar and the two men who always stood just inside the doors to keep out those who were not on the small select list of members.

  “You need to tell me what you can do. What you are going to do.”

  “And what is it you think I can do for you, Dmitry?”

  “To at least do something, anything! Last time we met here you promised me you’d find a way of getting to them. I told you of the danger, reminded you of your commitments to me, and asked you to get involved.”

  “I did start to get involved.”

  “Well it was obviously too bloody late, wasn’t it! Last night was my worst nightmare realised. Very few people––if anyone––knew that I was vulnerable in this way. This isn’t chance––it’s insider dealing, it’s espionage.”

  “Look, Dmitry, you’ve said it yourself regarding the loan being called in, based on rumours that you aren’t solvent enough to be able to pay anything back––all indeed founded on fact, not speculation. Therefore, as much as I don’t like to say it, there isn’t much we can do about this for you. You’ve brought it on yourself. You’ll just have to cover the cost personally, no?” Price had no real idea what the numbers involved were but knew the man in front of him was on
e of the wealthiest men in the country at that moment.

  “I don’t have that type of money! No one does.” There was worry showing on his usually calm face––Price was almost starting to pity the man.

  “So what options do you have?” Price was for the first time beginning to understand the gravity of the situation.

  “There aren’t any. This will destroy the Banking Union––all eleven banks left vulnerable, no doubt picked off very soon by any number of groups just waiting to acquire them––and I’ll be drained financially due to my own bank’s role in it all. I mean, I was the bloody key signatory on the loan agreements. They could take everything from me if it came to that. I’d be ruined!”

  “Isn’t that being overly dramatic? I’ll speak with them again, get some political power involved. There must be some way of lessening the impact on this all, slowing it down?”

  “To what end? Once news gets out, I’ll be finished. No one will want to support a man for the Kremlin whose face is splashed over every newspaper with the words bankruptcy and fraud bandied about as they most likely will be.”

  “I’ll personally make sure that doesn’t happen, Dmitry. You have my word on that one.”

  “Your word? A year ago you told me you’d do everything within your power to support my run for Presidency, and now what, where has that got me today?”

  “Can your uncle step in? He must know some compelling people.” Thomas was well aware of who Lev Kaminski was––he’d been thoroughly vetted in the report that was done on Dmitry, as they first looked to develop a relationship with the man they hoped would one day become President of Russia. Dmitry was distant enough from his uncle for the British not to have felt the need to get alongside Lev as well, nor would he have been an easy catch, unlike his nephew. Now that gamble looked like it was about to misfire.