M&M took advantage of the Carducci Bombardier that was flying Marco and Patricia to the Channel Islands to meet with a banker and from there went on to Geneva to meet with a very important ally, a line prince of the Saudi Crown. Things would be very momentous in the next few months and he needed the Saudis to invest in a couple of IPOs that were soon to be issued. His wild ride in Sarasota had given M&M a shot of adrenaline and an emotional makeover, but now was time for business and his mind was sharp on.
Marco and Patricia, accompanied by Luigi and Jose, got off the Bombardier in Jersey where they were met by Mr. John Convers of the British Overseas Investment Bank and a security detail sent by Allen Security, these being invisible to the banker and any other observer. It was a tough assignment in the tiny island where a duck out of place is easily noticed.
“Welcome to the island, Mr. Carducci and Ms. Lujan. I have been very keen on meeting with you and thank you for coming all this way. I would have thought we would meet in the Indies, but better, yes, much better that you’re here.”
“I also was set on meeting as soon as possible but circumstances did not allow it until now,” said Marco
“We did hear a rumor…something about an assassination attempt by some deranged prelate or words to that effect?”
“Nothing so dramatic,” said Marco dismissing the matter.
Marco and Patricia went with Convers and the bodyguards followed closely in a second car. The drive to St. Helier from the airport is an easy ten minutes along a pleasant road, but they stopped for lunch at a restaurant that was exceptionally French. Marco was surprised at the menu, but not Patricia.
“This was part of Normandy in the Middle Ages and the influence persists in two things, the cuisine and the affinity for fine wines,” she said.
“And flowers,” added the banker. “They have been cultivated here since time was young and we are preferred suppliers to Her Majesty as the seasons permit.”
“Banks have flourished here as well,” said Marco, touching on the reason of their visit.
“Yes, indeed we have,” answered Convers, “there are more than a hundred banks in Jersey, most of which are foreign branches but some of us are headquartered here.”
“Is there any particular reason for this?”
“The Channel Islands are ascribed directly to the Crown of England, not to the United Kingdom, and that has given us certain independence from regulators…”
“Ah, yes, the ubiquitous regulators; fortunately they seem to out-regulate themselves. For each hole they plug two new ones appear.”
“Yes, but they are a tiresome lot. We might save this discussion for when we are in the safe environ of my office,” said Convers nervously. “Walls here have ears.”
Lunch went by with easy conversation and tidbits of the island’s history, the French, the German occupation during WWII, the summer invasion of hikers and the autumn invasion of bird watchers. Later, in the very comfortable office of the British Overseas Investment Bank, well insulated in the conference room, Convers initiated the conversation.
“We have observed,” he stated, “that when you initiate certain transactions in regards to your portfolios, a significant group of investors from all over the world follow suit. The probabilities of coincidence, our analysts say, are close to zero. This makes us nervous.”
“And…what can I do to assuage your worries?”
“Not much I’m afraid, but it is important that we both know where we stand with each other. Your extended influence answers for well over forty percent of our deposits and managed portfolios, so you understand my feelings of vulnerability.”
“I do. And I also realize how difficult this revelation must be to you, but let me tell you something with equal candor. I have followed your comportment on a daily basis and our satisfaction with it has not been diminished in any way. We consider your bank a solid ally that we value and trust.”
“Yes, but for all intents and purposes, you own us.”
“Not really. We depend on your bank and a number of others that have proven solid and navigate carefully the regulated waters of the financial world for our survival and growth. If any company or private institution in the world followed the laws and regulations to the letter they would cease to exist. The financial wisdom of nations is the greatest oxymoron of all times. The one man who saved the world from economic collapse was Richard Nixon when he eliminated the gold standard for the world’s currency; the US dollar. From that moment on, the value of anything is imaginary because so is currency. The value of any monetary instrument is what the market perceives it to be and in the hands of governments, imagination runs wild. We depend on less-regulated banks to keep the train on the rails and for that matter so do the financial institutions of the over-regulated markets such as the US and Great Britain…or am I wrong?”
“You scare me, Mr. Carducci,” said the banker with a smile.
“Well, what I have to say might scare you a bit more, but rest assured that you and your bank have created an excellent alliance with our group.”
“And what you are going to tell me is…?”
“In the last twelve months, eleven of your seventeen branches have received a little over thirteen billion dollars…in cash.”
The banker almost had a heart attack.
“Don’t fret, Mr. Convers; I can give you the exact figure, down to the dollar. This money was later sent to about twelve hundred different accounts all over the world and much of it stayed here under your care.”
The banker kept staring at Marco without saying a word. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Was this man a government plant by the US or the UK? Anything was possible.
‘So, it might be a tad over forty percent of your deposits, no?” said Marco setting the barb.
“What is it that you want, Mr. Carducci?” asked a very pale banker.
“We are going to increase our business with you, Mr. Convers; here is a list of three banks that I would like you to buy. We will need them in the near future and you will profit generously from these transactions. Just be aware that we all have to profit fairly.”
The banker looked at the list as some color was coming back to his face.
“Two of these are a piece of cake. We can buy them outright without any problem; the third one in Malta might not be so easy.”
“Why is that?” asked Patricia
“Because it belongs to the Camorra from Napoli, they have owned that bank since the thirteenth century when they were Venetian traders with a post there.”
“OK, any suggestions?”
“Yes, there is a very nice opportunity to buy a bank in Cyprus that plays well with the Russians and can be bought through a shell we have in Delaware.”
“Delaware as in the USA?” asked Marco.
“Yes. It’s a lot easier than you think. Delaware has about a million corporations because of its tax and privacy laws. By the time the Fed catches up the property has moved, but the initial transaction is thus made simpler precisely because it’s a US corporation that is buying the bank. Once the transactional protocols are set and tested we buy it from the Delaware Corporation and sell it to a Turkish or Spartan bank that we own.”
“With the…ah…changes taking place at the IOR and the new efforts made by a Middle Eastern group we may see some disruption of the world’s circulation of cash. At this moment some competitors of ours are working to engage a big American consortium who launders more money than we do. So we need British Overseas Investment Bank to up their game. We will need to move about eighteen billion this year. The money comes from the US, Mexico, Guatemala, Panama, Colombia, Peru, Venezuela, Brazil, and South Africa. The money arrives at each location containerized, film-wrapped, counted, weighed, and coded. The protocols upon arrival are yours. That’s what your percentage is for. Use it wisely.”
“Just to confirm, the percentage stays the same, ten percent and every penny comes out of the mint, shiny and clean.”
“I
was thinking that with such a volume…”
“We should reduce the commission?” interrupted Patricia with steel in her eyes.
“Let me make this clear, Mr. Convers, you try something like that again and your bank will cease to exist.”
“Sorry, it’s the banker in me…”
“OK, now that we understand each other, there will be two IPOs, one in the USA and another one in Canada. We want you to manage the Canadian IPO. We are aware that you own Wattenberg & Ilse so there should be no problem.”
“What’s the estimated value and how many shares are we talking about?”
“That is not yet available but in a month max you will have all the paperwork to start your analysis.”
“Do you have a timeframe?”
“Within the year, eight months preferably; in a week you’ll have a preliminary prospectus.”
“You can count on us, Mr. Carducci.”
“I know,” answered Marco without a smile, “and one more thing. I will need assurance that thirty-three percent of the stock will be sold to Canadian financial institutions, funds, and private investors within the country. You can spread the rest.”
“Yes sir.”
Marco knew that the banker was going to play by the rules. His greed and his fear would keep him in line. Patricia caught his eye and gave him a minuscule nod. She agreed. This visit was over. The Bombardier should be landing within the hour.
“OK, Mr. Convers, our business is concluded unless you have something else to discuss…”
“No sir, madam, I think we’re done. I thank you for your understanding and…”
“Forget about it…it never happened. We have about an hour to kill, how about a tour of the town?”
When the plane departed, John Convers took a deep breath. That stupid, stupid Australian had told him that Carducci was a pushover. He would keep away from Edmund Cartwright, far, far away. He could still feel Patricia’s and Marco’s eyes on him when he was going to propose a modest increase in the rate. It chilled his blood.
Marco’s next stop was Luxembourg, then Monaco, San Merino, and then Lugano to meet with M&M. He had to repeat the exercise he had done in Jersey with these other banks that needed some re-adjustment before business got more complex. By the time they reached Lugano, Marco and Patricia had visited five countries in two days. It was exhausting but needed doing.
The approach to Lugano-Agno airport is exceptionally beautiful as you glide over the lake and into the narrow valley that cradles the runway and airport facilities, which are close to the town of Agno; and you get a magnificent birds-eye view of it on the approach or departure. This time of year the mountains are still white but as spring approaches the white turns to blue and then the melt floods the rivers and the whole landscape acquires innumerable tones of green that contrast with the white structures of the surrounding towns. The big Bombardier was not the only private jet by far but it was the biggest. M&M was there to receive them with a mean looking security detail that made Luigi and Jose look like turtle doves. M&M was taking no chances with “family.” The ride to Lugano is a short ten minutes along a narrow road surrounded by houses with gardens that compete with each other. M&M’s villa overlooking the lake left Patricia breathless. It is one of the most beautiful settings in the world, even though it’s getting a little bit overpopulated as Swiss from other Cantons find the Italian lifestyle of the Luganese relaxing compared to the arthritic north of the country.
“I’m overjoyed that you are here. First personally and as a businessman because the meeting I had in Geneva was momentous indeed. My people will take care of your bags and arrange the accommodation of your entourage. We reserved rooms for the air-crew close to the airport as per your instructions. I have arranged for a van with driver in case they want to come to town for dinner or something. They will never be more than ten minutes from the airport.”
As he talked, M&M guided them down two short sets of stairs and into a wide living room that was totally surrounded by glass with view onto the lake. Now even Marco was short of breath at the sight. And there was yet another surprise; in a comfortable leather smoking chair, enjoying a glass of wine and dressed casually, was Amiable Manning.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Across the ocean Tommy Liguria was flying east to meet with Ian Carlo de la Rosa. He was wondering what the boss wanted. He always thought of Ian Carlo as the boss since he had been given a big chunk of Carducci business. He had no concerns; whatever Ian Carlo wanted it was fine with him. He had played his hand as clean as could be and Ian Carlo had reciprocated by giving him increased access to interesting markets. Ian Carlo’s G550 had picked him up at the crack of dawn and he would be in New York in time for a late lunch with the boss. He had been served a nice breakfast and the flight attendant had offered him a selection of movies and music. He watched an old spaghetti western that Ian Carlo seemed to enjoy because he had a big collection of them on board and before he knew it the plane started it’s descent for MacArthur where Ian Carlo’s chopper would be waiting for him. Tommy had never been an extravagant guy even living in glitter town where limos and private jets were the standard. He kept it simple, took care of his family and his mom. He had developed a taste for golf but never really had the time for it. Tommy Lee put in a good ten hours a day, Saturdays included. He was a demanding boss but led by example and with his second on board, Joe Tellez, he had developed a great work ethic among his people and had acquired respect among his peers. The chopper took Tommy to a building in downtown Manhattan where Ian Carlo was waiting for him in the company of an older man he did not know and a younger one who was a newer version of the aforementioned. He was introduced to Ernie and Samuel Goldman and they went directly to the offices of Goldman & Goldman Jr., Attorneys at Law.
Patricia was all smiles when she hugged Amiable. There was no doubt in her mind why he was here. She had caught that flash the instant these two had set eyes on each other. Naturally, Marco was far clumsier socially than Patricia and was naïve enough to ask Amiable what he was doing in Lugano. It was M&M who answered:
“A vacation; Amiable is here on vacation. He will be my guest for as long as he wishes to stay. He only arrived yesterday evening via Milano and while we have our meetings he will get a tour of the area. It is lovely, you know.”
“I won’t be imposing for too long,” said Amiable. “I have a job to go back to. I was lucky to get a paid leave for having helped in the closure of the Meredith case. It was a political home run for my bosses and they were happy to see me off for a few days. You know how it is…politicians.”
“Nonsense,” said M&M. “You haven’t been to Europe before and there is so much to see. Venice is only four hours away and Rome a short flight…then Paris; we must go to Paris.”
Finally the dime dropped and Marco caught on. Patricia saw it in his eyes and burst out laughing, he was so clueless. Her laughter made the others look and she was not shy to explain the motive of her laughter which elicited equal merriment in M&M but face reddening embarrassment in Amiable. But he saw no malice in either Patricia or M&M so he lowered his guard and had a bit of fun at Marco’s expense. Dinner was a feast among friends and local cuisine was the fare. Fresh-fried smelt from the lake, roast lamb with carrots and pearl onions in a thick wine sauce, a variety of cheeses new to all but M&M, as they were local produce. Fruit was scarce at this time of year but South African pears and grapes were served with the cheese. A chocolate soufflé so light that it could have flown off by itself closed the meal. Coffee, cognac, and Sambuca were offered but no takers. Patricia had kept to San Pellegrino all evening, much to her regret because the wines tabled were exceptional and rare.
Lunch at Goldman’s office was a simple variety of sandwiches from a local deli, water, fruit juice and soda, and Snicker bars in case of a sweet tooth; it was Ian Carlo who invariably had to have dessert. The lead was taken by Samuel Goldman from the beginning and he dragged Tommy from his earliest memories to what he had for
breakfast on the flight over. The meeting was being observed by two behavioral psychologists via CCTV who fed Samuel questions via earplug. It was grueling but did not faze Tommy, who kept his cool throughout the whole ordeal. What did surprise Ian Carlo was that Tommy was planning to marry his pregnant girlfriend Tatiana, whom Ian Carlo had met on Long Island what seemed a long time ago. The management of the Vegas outfit was not a problem because it came across clearly that Tellez, Tommy’s lieutenant, was loyal, capable and decisive. A few years ago the fact that he wasn’t fully Italian would have been a problem, but today it was considered an asset in a place like Vegas where the Mexican influence was everyday greater. The other advantage was that the system did not depend too much on local talent. The encryption of all orders and the separation of functions kept things tidy. Not even Tommy knew about the pipelines and that wouldn’t change even if he took over the New York family. At the very end of the day Samuel floated the idea of Tommy taking over the New York operation and to everyone’s surprise Tommy didn’t jump at it. He asked a lot of questions, quite smart ones in Ernie’s opinion, and said he needed the night to think about it. This gained Tommy a lot of respect with the Goldman but Ian Carlo was a bit irked as he did not like to wait for others to decide. Ernie counseled him to patience and the meeting was set up for early next morning. A suite at the Plaza and a good night sleep was what Tommy needed, that and four hours of solid thinking.
Morning came with a start. Tommy forgot where he was and took a second to reorient himself. New York, the Plaza Hotel, the biggest promotion of his life, the scariest promotion of his life, the craziest promotion of his life…a game-changer. He could understand why a guy like De la Rosa wanted to be governor of New York; he had all the qualifications needed. He had no scruples, all the leadership a man could want, more money than God, and a rap sheet without even a parking ticket on it. He was a practicing Catholic, with a wife and kid…soon to be two, high school football star, connected to everyone and everything…wow! And he, Tommy, had to fill the man’s shoes in the toughest mafia environment in the US. Well, why not, he thought. I can do this. So he showered, got dressed like he was already the man, and headed off to breakfast in the courtyard restaurant where he would meet with Ian Carlo one on one.
The Carducci Convergence Page 35