The Financial Terrorist

by John Gubert

  “I’ve seen the Californian operation. And the accountants are going in now. From what I saw, it looks clean. It’s mainly retail customers. They have checking accounts, personal loans, credit cards and some savings products. There’s hardly any big lending other than to other banks. It doesn’t look anything like a Mafia front to me.”

  “Oh, that’s good. When will the audit boys have finished?”

  “We have them in all the banks at the moment. We are also talking of taking on a senior US banker as the Chief Executive for the Americas. I have asked for guidance from the regulators. And, of course, I need you to vet him thoroughly. I’ve said that I depend on you and your peers from the old bank in these respects. You have the contacts and the skill to judge well in these cases.”

  Charles could almost sense the old fool preen himself. He would go back to his chappie at the Bank of England and bluster about having his finger on the pulse or his eye on the ball. And that was what they needed. He would be the man who pushed for the appointment of the Chief Executive in the US. That meant also that he would be the big fall guy when the losses piled up and his choice of chief executive had to take the can.

  Jacqui and Juliet were, by then, packed and ready to go. They were with the new nanny, Claudia. She was a pretty little thing, although not terribly bright. She looked very Italian, darker than Jacqui, and she was a bit plump, but she had the advantage of youth. Charles thought that, by forty, she would be pretty large and pretty jaded. But she looked fine for the moment and Juliet seemed to get on well with her. The other nanny was to fly back over the weekend. Jacqui had talked with her and agreed to her request to quit. She had even given her a little bonus, for which she seemed quite grateful. They suspected that she would be looking for a quiet country house where excitement was talk of a new road or the odd scary mutt. She definitely wasn’t right for their lifestyle.

  Charles accompanied them to the airport. His plane was due about half an hour later. They had agreed to head off together to simplify security. Claire was with them. They had no other security now. Di Maglio had withdrawn it. There were no guards on the door. There were no outriders for the car and there was no special driver. They were in a people mover from the hotel. There were five of them, Jacqui, Juliet and Charles, along with the nanny and Claire. Claire took the back seat and Charles took the front. They would be the lookouts. Jacqui would just make sure that Juliet didn’t feel something strange was happening.

  They headed out to the airport. As always the roads were busy but they appeared to make good time. They could not believe that they were going to have a quiet time of it. Half way to the airport it looked as if that was going to be the case. They still kept vigilant. Claire had pulled her coat over her gun and looked out over the nearby cars. Charles sat and watched the cars they overtook. He checked the road-side for waiting cars. He monitored the feeder roads for unusual manoeuvres. The driver must have thought them a bit strange. Charles, next to him, sat there for the whole time with his hand in his jacket pocket, looking from one side to the other without making any comment.

  They tracked the cars with suspicious looking drivers, and there were even more of those, but they all were false alarms. Soon they were turning into the airport and heading for the departure gates. Charles wanted to see everyone through to international departures before getting over to the domestic flights. They walked to the first class check-in. There was one person in front of them. The buzz of the airport lulled them a bit and Charles started when he heard his name.

  “Mr Rossi, we have a letter for you,” said a polite voice. He turned and saw a man in a chauffeur’s uniform with a manila envelope.

  “Who is it from?”

  “I don’t know. I was just asked to deliver this by the company. I haven’t checked for the sender.”And, then, seeing Juliet looking at them inquisitively, he passed the envelope into her eager hands.

  Charles turned and grabbed the letter from her. In that moment the man disappeared somewhere in the crowd. Standing there with the letter in his hand, Charles wondered if it could it be a bomb. Was it another hoax? He was not going to wait to find out. He grabbed hold of a security man and said, “Someone dropped this. When I tried to return it, he seemed to panic and run. It looks suspicious.”

  “Let me have it. Abe, talk to this gentleman,” he called to another guard as he hurried through a door out of the terminal.

  The man addressed as Abe approached Charles, “What can I do?”

  “It’s nothing. I found an envelope. I was suspicious about it. I gave it to your colleague. I’m seeing my family off to England.”

  He was indifferent and said, “OK. Have a good flight.” He didn’t seem to register the possibility of a bomb. Their faith in airport security dropped another notch.

  By this time, all were checked in. They headed to the departure area, and said goodbye. Juliet covered Charles’ face with kisses. Then Jacqui clung to him for a moment, whispered “be careful” and then clung tighter, her body pressing against his as she kissed him. Claire gave him a brief peck on the cheek and he sensed her body, too, although it never touched him. He pecked the nanny on the cheek, and it felt just like that. He watched them through the checkpoint, waved one last time and then turned to go.

  The security man, to whom he‘d handed the envelope, was there. “Are you Mr Charles Rossi?”

  “Yes.”

  “This was what was in the envelope”. He produced a piece of cardboard and on it was written, ‘Enjoy your last sight of your family.’

  Charles breathed a sigh of horror. “My wife is on the BA flight to London. I’m on the Washington flight. I don’t know if this is a sick joke or not. You’ll have to check out the flights.”

  The security man signalled to two men standing near by. They were big, football player types. “These Gentlemen are FBI. They’d like a word with you.”

  “You don’t understand, you’ll have to search the planes and luggage. You saw the letter.”

  He nodded, “It’ll be done. But this way please.”

  He led him down a corridor marked “staff only” at the side of the terminal. The two FBI men were following. “We need your details and we need to interview you about possible suspects.”

  Suddenly, one of the FBI men came close to him. He was pushed forward and the next thing he knew he was falling through a hole in the ground. Then it all went black. He came to and saw the three men peering down at him. “Trip, sir, did you?” asked the security man. Charles knew now that he wasn’t one. But that didn’t help.

  He didn’t answer. One of the supposed FBI men moved forward and kicked him in the ribs. “We got a message for your father-in-law. And it’s going to be your head in a box. We’ll do just as we did with Magya.”

  Charles started to stand up. They let him. That surprised him. They had him cornered and there were three of them. But if they planned to kill him, he could see no purpose in delaying. He wondered, or perhaps hoped, that he had got it wrong. His gun was still in the leg holster. He had put it there on getting from the car. It was still there, he hadn’t been searched. It was his only chance if they planned to kill him. If they didn’t, their joke would have backfired. As he pulled himself up, he drew the gun and pulled the trigger. He heard the click. He heard another click. They had searched him. The gun was empty.

  He looked in their faces and saw the sneers of glee at his shock. But they had not noticed the iron bar he saw propped against the wall to his left. As he flung the gun down in mock anger, they started to laugh openly.

  And, as they did, he grabbed the bar in both hands and swung it round with all his strength at head height.

  It smashed into the first man’s head with a sickening crack and he tumbled down. As it progressed to the next one, it had the same effect. The third leapt back and drew a gun, but he was not quick enough. Charles raised the bar upwards again and slammed it between his legs. He screamed in pain and fell to the floor. His gun
clattered across the room.

  Charles quickly picked up his own gun, unloaded as it was, as well as the man’s and headed off. First, though, he wiped the bar clean. There was no point in leaving unnecessary clues.

  As he closed the door, one of the men on the floor was coming round. The one he’d hit last was still rolling over the floor, groaning. The third was still out cold. Charles wondered if the blow had killed him. It was possible.

  He grabbed a chair and pushed it against the door that opened outwards. That would delay them for a moment.

  He was in a room and the only exit appeared to be a ladder up to the next level. At the bottom of the ladder was his case. He must have fallen down that gap and dropped the case on the way. He could have been dragged into the side room afterwards. He now realised he had been out longer than he had thought. They had after all had time to check him out and empty the gun. He also realised now that his head hurt badly.

  He climbed awkwardly up the ladder, carrying the case. There was a trap door and he now lowered that. It had a sliding bolt that he slammed shut. That would prevent anyone from following too soon.

  He dusted himself down and ran his fingers through his hair. He found the corridor again and moments later he was back in the terminal. He looked for the sign to American Airlines’ domestic flights and headed there. The whole incident had only taken a quarter of an hour by his watch. He breathed a sigh of relief. He would make his plane.

  He also knew the whole thing was a hoax; something else to scare him. Otherwise, they would have just killed him whilst he lay unconscious. You don’t hang around on a job like that.

  He checked in and then went to the toilets to clean up. He wasn’t in too bad a shape. His head ached and he was a bit bruised. He dumped the spare gun in a toilet cistern, reloaded his own and then went through security to hand it over. He sat in the holding area and waited for the plane. He didn’t bother going to the executive lounge, he sat and wondered who knew they would be at the airport. This incident had been planned. But who could have planned it?

  He thought carefully. The hotel knew they were leaving as he had booked the car. Di Maglio and his people knew. The airlines knew. All three could have been the source of the information.

  He then thought back to their arrival. Someone had tracked the incoming car. They must have followed it in. The airline didn’t know what car they were getting. Di Maglio knew. The hotel must have known as they had a place reserved for it.

  Then he thought about the incidents on the motorway. That gave him no new leads.

  Then there was the gift to Juliet from Di Maglio. He knew about it. Someone else knew who it was for. Anyone, though, could have guessed. Di Maglio was hardly likely to give a doll’s house to one of his thugs.

  Then there was the attack at the hotel. That also gave no leads, anyone could have been watching them.

  He thought back to the incident in New York. It involved a Di Maglio driver and so far he had escaped the normal penalties.

  Could Di Maglio be organising all this? Even for Charles, who had no great love for him, such an option appeared to be unrealistic. Jacqui infuriated her father but he genuinely loved her. And he had real affection for Juliet. Charles shook his head. He‘d need to track the next almost inevitable attempt. Sooner or later there would be a clue.

  The plane was called and he headed to the gate. He wondered if his attackers had escaped or not. He wasn’t terribly worried about them. He personally couldn’t have cared if they starved to death. He was just relieved to have seen the family back to the safety of England. And he would soon join them after the last stop in Washington.

  On the plane, his neighbour was a computer addict. He sat around and worked or played all his way to Washington. Charles read the papers and the magazines they throw at passengers. He avoided the food, which on most US domestic flights is limited to say the least. He realised he had dozed off a bit when he heard a voice in the background tell them they had fifteen minutes to landing. He put together his papers and looked at the inky night sky around the US capital.

  The journey to the hotel was uneventful. That was just as well as he had only a small amount of ammunition for the gun. Jacqui and Juliet would only arrive back around five a.m. his time. He decided to crash out and catch them when they arrived. He wanted to know that they had arrived safely.

  He left a message for Giovanni. He suggested they met for breakfast in the coffee shop. He wanted to quiz him on his suspicions about Di Maglio. The message, however, said that he merely wanted to discuss strategy.

  He watched the evening news, finally switching it off in frustration. The news was about alleged presidential misdemeanours. Since Nixon, US Presidents had tended to be pilloried for misdemeanours. The only exception had been Ronald Reagan. One could only guess they felt that he’d been pilloried enough for his acting in his youth.

  He was asleep soon afterwards. He had put the alarm on for five so that he could call home at ten UK time. They would all be in mid flight now. Juliet would be sleeping, he supposed the others would be too. With that thought in mind, he slept till the alarm woke him from his uneasy sleep.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The moment Charles awoke, he turned over and grabbed the phone. He dialled the house and on the second ring Jacqui answered. Juliet had also picked up the extension.

  “Did all go well?”

  “I had two ice creams on the plane. And the captain sounded nice,” said a solemn voice.

  “That sounds fun. My pilot wasn’t anything like that.”

  Jacqui came on the line again, “Did everything go smoothly your end?”

  “Perfectly. There was a slight incident at the airport. Nothing I couldn’t handle. It was another attempt to scare us. But I think they got more than they bargained for and came off a bit worse for wear.”

  Jacqui was unable to probe deeper as Juliet was still on the other phone, but Charles could hear the anxiety in her voice, “Do be careful. Just get the work done and then head off for home.”

  “That’s what I plan. I am expecting to have breakfast with Giovanni. Then I’ll head to the Washington Federal Reserve. After that, I prepare for the return trip via New York. When will you go to the office?”

  “I’ll go in after lunch. I’ve asked to be brought up to date on all that’s outstanding. Then I can put in a full day tomorrow. I suppose you’ll head straight in from the airport.”

  “That’s best. We can then have a quiet weekend. Has Maria moved in?”

  “She already had by the time I got back. She and Claire have taken the two master guest suites on the top floor. They say they have all they need. Maria had checked out all the security arrangements and was happy about them. She and I will go in together tomorrow. Claire will watch over Juliet. All’s fine here, I only wish that you had better security.”

  “I’ll be with Giovanni all morning. And the way to the airport here is hardly good territory for troublemakers.”

  She agreed and they carried on talking for a few minutes. It was just before six. Charles called down for coffee and headed to the bathroom. He had showered before the coffee arrived. He was still towelling his hair as he walked over to the door as the bell rang and a quiet voice said ‘room service’.

  After carefully checking who was there, he opened the door and the waiter walked in. He placed the tray on the table. Charles tipped him the mandatory five dollars and shut the door behind him. He wished he could get some more bullets, he hated going around with an almost useless gun. Perhaps he could arrange something with Giovanni.

  He watched the television news. If anything it was more tedious than the day before. For a moment he relaxed, enjoying the coffee and thinking through the issues and tasks facing him when he got back to London.

  The next months would be laborious preparation. They would finalise the take-over, put in place the financial deals and then endure the long wait for the right moment to pull down the whole p
ack of cards.

  Charles was directly involved in the first part of the process, although his only direct role in the scam itself was to organise the fake lending and ensure neither he nor Jacqui signed anything incriminating.

  He knew that both Sir Brian and Lord Dunkillin rarely read routine documents in their signature books. This was especially the case after long lunches in their clubs. On one such day, Maria would, in Charles’ absence, seek authorisation for some tedious but acceptable loans, and then get them to sign some other fairly incriminating documents. Charles knew exactly what those documents would contain and how he would be able to embellish them.

  Maria knew well how to distract the two. They liked to feel her lean close to them and she would do this if they asked for explanations. The poor buffoons would not be thinking of the papers in front of them. They would be dreaming of stripping off Maria. She would have, if required, but definitely not of her own volition. So they would be duped and frustrated at the same time. Charles felt no sympathy and no remorse.

  He went down to the breakfast room. Giovanni had arrived and was already at a table in the corner. He was drinking some infusion that looked herbal.

  He looked more ghostly than Charles could remember. His body was bent, as if with fatigue and worry. His hands shook slightly as he greeted him. His lips were bloodless, while his eyes appeared bloodshot. Was he ill? Charles said nothing, but wondered if he could get him to talk about Di Maglio. If he was ill, it might be possible to get information.

  Once Charles had sat down and ordered some more coffee, this time with toast, he started to talk, “Giovanni, I have three things on my agenda. The first is this morning’s meeting. The second relates to the new Chief Executive. And the final one is about the Rastinov issue. Do you have anything else?”

  He shook his head and waited. Charles asked, “How do we play the meeting today?”

  “We say that we hope to progress to agreement in principle on the take-over by the end of the month. That’s ten days and should be ample. I need to draw up some documents and that should be easy to achieve in that time.”