The Financial Terrorist

by John Gubert

  “You do surprise me, but I know you are. I had a look at your tax records. I was impressed. You could almost support the whole of my division with your taxes.”

  “Glad to know you spend your time so effectively. So you enjoy chasing after the records of the honest citizen. But then you have so much trouble catching the dishonest ones.”

  “Don’t be sarcastic,” she replied tartly.

  He arched his eyebrows and took her by the arm. With that they took the bus to the airport and headed for the plane. An hour or so later, they were taxiing into City Airport in the heart of London. Faithful Douglas was waiting.

  “Do you want a lift?” he asked.

  She smiled, “We don’t live in the same locality. I’ll hop on a tube. Government wages, you know.”

  “Call me on the number I gave last week. Either Jacqui or I will give you instructions. Otherwise keep a low profile. And be careful. You’re in play already.”

  She nodded. She waved ‘good-bye’ and disappeared into the distance. Charles joined Douglas and was taken home, but on the way they picked up Jacqui at the office.

  “How did it go?” she enquired.

  “Well. The girl’s good. She’ll be up to it. Mind you, I would have been surprised if it were otherwise. She’s one of Delaney’s top operators. He’s no amateur. She’s not, either. But it’s far tougher than anything she’ll have done before.”

  “When do we start discussing with my father?”

  “I thought about that. My idea was that I should talk to Giovanni and ask his advice. He’ll recommend that we agree. He wants to bring peace. That’ll reduce the price at the least.”

  “When will you talk to him?”

  “He’s coming over for the board meeting on Thursday. We can invite him over for dinner and tackle him then.”

  She agreed and said she’d sort it. She was now beginning to show slight signs of her pregnancy. Charles noticed her shirt was a bit tight. She saw him looking at her and laughed.

  “It’ll have to be a shopping spree this weekend. I need new clothes. It will have to be something a bit bigger than the current lot around the waist and a bit less body hugging. Otherwise, everybody’s going to know. And that’s not good for business.”

  Work took over again. The scams progressed on all fronts. The money was lent. The money was laundered. The transfers were approved. The wires buzzed. The cash moved in and out of accounts. Then, in the end, their accounts were credited.

  The deals were done on stock markets, on futures market, in over the counter markets, on foreign exchanges and in the money market. The shares were ramped. The prices were falsified. The shares were sold. The fund boom continued. More money came to them. More losses were built up at the bank, and still there was no record of the pending problems.

  On Thursday, the board meeting was a good-humoured affair. It looked as if the year’s results would make everybody a millionaire and so everybody was happy. The US acquisition seemed like a miracle and all in the garden was rosy. The board was hoodwinked. The board was dumb. Giovanni, Jacqui and Charles sat in full control of the facts and marvelled at the incompetence of the others. They believed in fairy tales. They believed in miracles. They were unaware that if you make wonder profits in financial markets, it almost invariably spells speculation or fraud. In this case, it spelt both.

  Giovanni came round to dinner as planned. They arranged for Maria to be present. She was still weak from her wounds, but Giovanni made no comment. That just meant that he knew. The four of them sat down to a meal. They were alone. The food had been placed on hot plates at their request. The room had been scanned for bugs and checked for eavesdroppers. It was clean.

  Charles waited till Giovanni had started on his soup, a creamy Vichyssoise decked with fresh herbs and a dab of cream.

  “Why did you set us up to kill Rastinov? It served no purpose.”

  He smiled, “It was at Di Maglio’s request. He was dangerous alive. The Russians were getting too strong. We needed them to be divided. Even in his dying and powerless state, he affected the balance of power. Now he’s gone, the Russians will crumble.”

  “Why did you use us? You could have taken him out. Security was lousy.”

  “You needed to be given the chance. It would have been known. You would have been fingered. The Russians would have made you their public enemy number one. You would have been forced into the family again for protection, if nothing else. The pretence that you were at risk would have become a reality.”

  “And why isn’t it a reality?”

  “That’s because of those idiots from the French police. We tipped them off but they let another group through. The Arabs or whoever they were. The idea was that you would do it and the police would stop you being followed. Once we had told the police it was you and Maria, they would have passed that on to the Russians. They pay them well for protection. We thought of implicating you anyway. But when the Arabs blasted away the police, it was too dangerous. We couldn’t take the risk.”

  They noticed he was clearly stating his allegiance to Di Maglio. He had associated himself with the decisions. That made him more dangerous than they had thought. They all realised that they needed to be careful about their friend Giovanni.

  Charles calmly tackled his soup. Maria chewed absent-mindedly a bread roll. She was waiting to see what would happen. Jacqui picked up her spoon and was about to dip it into the soup when Charles turned to Giovanni. The look on his face was not friendly.

  “If you double cross me again, I’ll kill you,” Charles said to him in a quiet voice. “And Di Maglio won’t be able to save you. I don’t mind you working for him. But don’t double cross me, or even make me think you have.”

  Giovanni paled. Sweat glistened on his high forehead. He swallowed nervously, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. The veins on his neck seemed to turn purple. His breath became irregular. His hand went to his chest. Giovanni never saw himself as a threatened species, he was the archetypal backroom boy. This was a new experience. Charles continued, this time in a quiet and unthreatening tone. But there was a chill in the air and it was reflected in his voice. He was unsmiling.

  “I’ll make a deal with Di Maglio. But he has to accept my terms.”

  He took another spoonful of soup and waited for someone to speak. Maria was sitting there with her mouth open. She knew nothing of the detail of their plans. Jacqui was looking pale and stared fixedly at him as if she was waiting for what he would say. Yet she knew. This was a great act on her part.

  Giovanni, still with the air of a frightened and trapped animal, opened and shut his mouth as if he were drowning. In reality he was most likely trying to ask a question. It was just that the words did not come out. So Charles continued, having wiped his lips with the napkin and put down his spoon.

  “I’ll take on the Empire but get someone to manage it for me. I have someone. They’re good. They’re loyal to me. Di Maglio doesn’t know them.”

  Giovanni asked who they were. Charles didn’t want him to know about Maddy Brown yet. He didn’t want him to know that his manager was a woman. The surprise would do them good.

  “That’s irrelevant until we agree. The deal is simple. A couple of billion front end. But then he gets thirty percent of the gross each year for life, capped at half a billion. No more. No less. I’ll keep the Empire going until our kids are of age. I don’t want it. Jacqui doesn’t want it. We’ll try to make sure our kids don’t, either. If they don’t, we’ll get rid of it. That’s the deal. It’s not negotiable. What do you think?”

  And with that question to the shocked Giovanni, Charles rang the bell for someone to remove their abandoned soup plates. Douglas himself acted the butler. There was silence in the room while he was there. Then Giovanni spoke, “That’s a stupid bid. It won’t fly. “

  “Then it will have to be war,” said Jacqui quietly.

  Maria actually gasped. Giovanni looked at Jacqui in horror. Sh
e repeated her words,

  “It will have to be war. And I mean outright war. There’s no alternative. It’s our army against his.”

  “Your army?” queried Giovanni.

  “I said our army. Do you think we’re stupid? We have one and it’s well trained. They’re ex SAS and similar organisations. We have people from Special Forces. It’s a real army. These are loyal mercenaries. Not the thugs you use.”

  “So,” said Giovanni with the look of a worried man, “that’s your final offer.”

  “Yes. And Giovanni, don’t forget what I said about being double-crossed. I rather like you on the board.”

  With that Charles got up and offered the main course. It was veal done Swiss style with rosti and salad. He served the portions and noticed how Giovanni found it difficult to eat. Maria and Jacqui had no such problem. And Charles was actually hungry. Nobody spoke during the meal. The silence was oppressive to start with, but then they seemed to get used to it. They let it remain.

  Maria looked at Charles and then Jacqui and then Giovanni. Jacqui and Charles looked fixedly at Giovanni. He stared down at his plate. Then suddenly Giovanni broke the silence.

  “I’ll try to sell it to Di Maglio. But it’s a poor deal for him. I mean thirty per cent? That’s three hundred million a year. You’ll have to offer more.”

  “There’s nothing more on offer,” said Charles, noting that the profits seemed less than they had estimated, “Except war. And that starts on Monday. It’s a new week and a new month.”

  “We need to agree everything. It’s complicated. We can’t do that by Monday.”

  Jacqui and Charles exchanged glances. The offer was now being considered. It was time to carry on playing hardball. Charles ignored the comment,“Di Maglio agrees the sale terms by the weekend. The hand-over will be midnight on December 31st. My manager goes in situ on Monday week. You have the sale agreement drawn up this weekend and you can tell all your people the following week. And don’t forget it’s not negotiable.”

  Charles rang again. Once again, Douglas appeared. He took away their empty plates and the full one from Giovanni. He never had a great appetite, but today he had none. Douglas placed cheese and fruit on the table. He replenished their wine glasses. He left without a sign that he found the silence, that cold silence, in any way strange.

  “If he wants to talk the details, not the substance, then we can meet in Paris on Saturday. Jacqui has some shopping to do. We’ll be at the Crillon. I’ll have my lawyers there on Sunday to go through the papers. We’re free from four to seven on Saturday for discussion. Otherwise it will have to wait till Sunday. We have tickets for the opera on Saturday night.”

  Giovanni nodded. He sipped his wine. He looked so worried that Charles started to laugh.

  “Giovanni, this is business. Don’t look so miserable. It’s just that you’re a willing seller and I’m not a willing buyer. That’s fucked up the price. It’s tough but that’s life. And we don’t want to kill you. We’ll only do it if you cheat us. I’ve no concern about you working for Di Maglio. But you tried to con me in America when the phoney attacks were taking place. That was your one chance. So be good.”

  Jacqui nodded at him, a grim look on her face. Maria said nothing. She just watched the drama unfold in front of her eyes. They ate the cheese in silence. They sipped at their wine. Charles offered coffee. Giovanni declined it. He wanted to leave, and leave quickly. Charles knew he had to get back to Di Maglio.

  That night they had doubled the guard on the house and had told the guards to be visible to Giovanni, not when he arrived but when he left. They wanted to avoid a pre-emptive strike.

  As soon as he could, Giovanni left. Charles saw him to the door. One of the bodyguards appeared and then two more. Their coats were open and, as they had agreed, the guns they carried were plainly visible. Giovanni was startled. In the distance he could make out more shadows, more men. The army was there. Then Douglas came in the car and drove him slowly away. Giovanni didn’t look back. He hardly looked at Charles as he left.

  But they knew that the next two or three hours would be decisive. If they were not under attack tonight, the chances were that they would have a deal. They would try to negotiate better terms, but no more. And Charles could play hardball on the terms. They had no other buyer but him.

  “Do we wait for the attack? Or do we go to bed?” asked Maria.

  “You think he’ll attack?” asked Jacqui.

  “Sixty-forty” said Maria, “The chances are that he will be seriously upset. And that usually means retribution.”

  “You’re wrong” Charles replied. It’s sixty-forty he’ll accept. Especially when Giovanni tells him there’s little chance of us improving the offer. And Giovanni will recommend it.”

  “How do you feel so sure?” asked Maria.

  “Because, just now he’s reading a paper that Douglas gave him. It contains information he’d rather we didn’t have.”

  “What information is that?”

  “Like his own bank account. It’s a bit bigger than we expected. It’s numbered. But it’s his. And Giovanni has been a bit of a naughty boy. He’s been creaming some money off his boss.”

  “And what will you do with your paper?”

  “Show it to Di Maglio the day war breaks out. That should be fun, especially as Di Maglio could trace all the outflows. And that would be the end of poor Giovanni. He wasn’t very good at laundering his own cash. But it’s nice to know he has a couple of hundred million, even if it appears to be mainly money that ought to belong to his boss.”

  “So we go to sleep?” asked Maria.

  “We go to sleep,” said Jacqui.

  And so the day ended. The night was peaceful. The next morning, the phone call came at the office, it was Giovanni.

  “We meet you Saturday at four at the Georges Cinq.”

  They agreed and rang off quickly. There was no point in any discussion. If they were having a meeting, then they would be negotiating. Charles was happy to play at being indifferent.

  That evening they headed off to Paris in the private jet. Douglas came with them and would chauffeur them in a hired car. There were two other cars parked nearby, carrying guards. One would drive in front. One would be behind. This was not a weekend where they would take chances. So they sped into Paris with their convoy.

  But they didn’t go to the Crillon. They headed towards the Arc de Triomphe and stopped off at the flat they owned. The security was better. The guards and Douglas would share shifts while they waited for a response from Di Maglio. Charles wondered if he knew where they were. They had employed the normal evasive tactics, but these were always harder when you are in convoy. So he suspected he would have been followed. But one never knew.

  On Saturday, they headed to the Faubourg Saint Honore where Jacqui shopped for her new clothes. The shops were all instructed to drop the clothes off at their room in the Crillon, which had been booked for them in any event. The guards would see that they were sent on to the flat. There was no point in making it too easy for anyone to learn their precise address. They lunched in a little restaurant near the Opera and then headed to the hotel for their meeting with Di Maglio.

  Di Maglio was sitting in the lobby. There were some fairly nasty looking thugs at the next table. But nobody would say a word to them. The hotel knew who their guest was and realised that there was little they could do about his unsavoury entourage. And the thugs would keep the rest of the public out of earshot of the table where Di Maglio was seated.

  He didn’t greet them but came straight to the point, “That’s a stupid offer.”

  “We agree,” said Jacqui with a smile. “But it’s not going to get better. In fact, at five it goes down by a per cent and then at six by another. And so on. I think you get my meaning.”

  He glared at her. He then looked at Charles. He was standing, as was Jacqui. He motioned for them to sit down. Charles shook his head.

  “
Look, I’d rather have tea without you. Have we a deal? Or should we go back to our place and leave you with your boys?”

  He motioned them to sit down. Giovanni, seated next to him, pleaded with his eyes for them to do so. They ignored them both.

  “Well, I’m waiting for an answer. This isn’t a place for negotiating. So either you accept or you reject. What is it?”

  He looked at them. For the first time he looked old to them, really old. The hair was still black but the face was grey. The hands were old man’s hands. He was ill at ease. He looked at Charles and his eyes seemed to say different things from his face and his body. His eyes said he was beaten and knew it. He saw they were about to leave and knew they would not return. They would start the war because there would be no alternative. One can’t make threats and then not keep them.

  “I accept, but there are two conditions.”

  Charles said nothing but watched and waited.

  “Tell me your manager. And one of my men becomes number two.”

  “I can agree to your first condition but not the second. These businesses need one boss. A number two from your side would be your man. It’s a showstopper. We keep our nominee in charge of the business while they perform. But we don’t keep them a moment longer if they fail. And we have full control. It’s our business and not yours.”

  “You could destroy it.”

  “True,” Jacqui said. “We considered that. But it wouldn’t work. It would need to be destroyed by someone like the Russians and they’re all as bad as you.”

  “What about the police? They could destroy the business.”

  “They’re more corrupt than the criminals.”

  He smiled, or at least bared his teeth, at that comment, “So I have to trust you.”

  “You have no choice.”

  “Well who are you going to put in charge? What’s his name?”

  “It’s a girl, not a man. She’s worked for me for several years. She heads up the fraud side of the UK secret service. She was in organised crime before that. She worked as a gangbuster. It’s a good spread. But she’s quit them. It got too hot. Not her fault. But an agent like that only has a limited life. She’s tough and she’s good.