by Roman Klee
Nathan nodded, unable to see where this was leading.
“During the war, Churchill was an obvious assassination target. But to do his job he had to move around at lot and meet important people. So the Brits, aiming to confuse the Germans, used a body double. They told the media that Churchill was visiting say Scotland, and then sent along a look-a-like, a Doppelgänger, if you will. But in reality, he had a much more important meeting somewhere else, say with Roosevelt off Newfoundland aboard a carrier. That was where the real Churchill turned up.”
Nathan understood what Cunningham was getting at. The guy he saw taking the rays on Lake Zürich was not really Budd Wright, it was his Doppelgänger, designed to confuse anyone searching for the famous investor. Nathan wasn’t sure why Cunningham seemed to have invented this story. It came across as more than far fetched.
Then he went on, “We don’t need to go back very much to see this trick being used. In Iraq, a couple of poor guys who looked like Saddam Hussein, were ordered to impersonate the dictator. He moved from one location to another every night, sleeping in a different bed, hoping to avoid an assassin’s bullet.”
Nathan had his own doubts about what had gone on in Switzerland, but he quickly realized this was no time to voice them. The best thing was to go along with whatever his boss was saying.
“Here’s the line to take,” said Cunningham, fixing Nathan with an intent stare. “We continue to say that search parties are looking for Budd Wright and the crew of the plane. We tell Jade and the rest of her family that the beacon signal from Küsnacht was a false positive. We confirm her view that her husband did not check into the clinic. Then we double our efforts to find out who the family are negotiating with and how much money they are willing to pay.”
Well, that was one way of shuffling the facts, thought Nathan. If nothing else, it helped clarify things for the Trust and family.
“I think you have to get closer to the Wrights. We need to understand their motivations, what really drives them. In my experience, happy families don’t exist outside of Disney films. At some point one of the members gives the others away.”
Although an uncomfortable conclusion, Nathan accepted that his boss was probably correct.
“See, the job’s not complete yet. You understand, we have to keep the meter running, let it tick over quietly in the corner of the room, with no one looking at it.”
But Nathan had to work out the kind of information Antonio Orofino would actually value. His previous experience showed him the folly of hiding anything from the guy.
He was only too aware of how much he owed Orofino. And he was beginning to suspect that the final price would be higher than he first imagined.
“So you’re saying we need to look for Wright all over again? We must search the whole of Switzerland?”
The junior partner was taken aback when his boss started shaking his head, as if Nathan had just made a beginner’s mistake.
“No, no, that would be way too expensive. No, forget about our friend Budd. The person we need to focus on is Liz.”
The word Cunningham had omitted to use was counterintuitive. Nathan knew a lot about that word, it featured richly in many of the reports the smart risk analysts had produced during his time at Solomon.
When markets unexpectedly moved down, instead of hiding under the desk, it was an opportunity to assume more risk and add positions to the trading book; smart investors were counterintuitive, they were the ones who made the really big bucks.
“The answer is always found by doing the unexpected. I think I just shortened your list of scenarios.”
Then he told Nathan how the present situation with the Wrights reminded him of another wealthy family he’d dealt with at the start of his career.
Nathan was all ears.
Δ = T –26,722,800
Nathan asked the cab driver for West 44th Street. As he traveled across town, he thought some more about what Cunningham had just told him. His boss was sticking with the idea that one of the world’s richest men had been kidnapped.
Many years ago, shortly after making partner at the Trust, Cunningham found himself involved in a case where the family deliberately put him, the police and the FBI off the scent. They hired their own team of negotiators, but no progress was made until a large piece of the kidnap victim’s ear arrived one morning in the mail, with the compliments of the gang of hoodlums.
The family wasted no more time talking and paid the ransom in secret. On this occasion the family had no interest in following the official line and they never divulged how their kidnapped member eventually got released. Though the FBI didn’t have any trouble working it out.
Sometimes it happened the other way around. A family member was deliberately reverse kidnapped and a ransom demanded as part of a plan to get money from the patriarch of the family, who may have written someone out of his will, or refused to increase their living allowance.
Fortunately, they were not dealing with this kind of example, since it was Budd Wright who held all the cards when it came to deciding who got most of his multi-billion dollar fortune.
Nathan was coming around to the kidnapping idea too. No one had found any bodies, the rescue parties had all drawn blanks. It appeared that the plane Wright boarded at Zürich had not even crashed. Maybe his family knew this already. They could be conducting secret negotiations, deliberately keeping the Trust in the dark.
Cunningham reminded Nathan it was not the first time Concoran & Block had concealed information from him. The kidnap theory also helped explain Jade Wright’s determined manner. She would use any means at her disposal to track down her husband. And she also knew he would have expected her to carry on and lead the family in his absence.
Walter Baruch shook Nathan’s outstretched hand and led the way up to the Model Room. Nathan was overwhelmed when he saw the scale of the space. A massive limestone fireplace dominated a double height, galleried room. And directly overhead was an intricately crafted stained glass ceiling.
Huge galleon style windows, flooded the room with sunlight. Half-hull model yachts and ships decorated the walls, while complete scaled-down replicas of the Club’s many famous winning vessels, were displayed in glass cases. Globes, images of lightening bolts, stars, dolphins, leviathans and sea snakes slithering around observation balconies, all added extra drama to the room.
Baruch motioned for Nathan to sit down on a blue leather buttoned couch and offered his guest a Martini. He began with the line, “The first rule of the Yacht Club, we don’t talk business.”
Nathan was taken aback by Baruch’s directness. He wanted to ask, what was the point of this meeting?, but fortunately stopped himself in time.
“Cunningham told me you’re looking for information about Buddie Wright?”
Nathan nodded, clearly relieved that Baruch’s idea of business was different from his own. He then started with his most believable excuse for the meeting. He explained how the Trust was anxious to locate Wright’s daughter Liz, in order for probate to be settled as quickly as possible.
“I imagine it’s a difficult time for the family.”
Nathan nodded gravely, trying not to appear distracted by his surroundings.
“I always liked Liz. She was a spunky young lady. One of the best crew I ever had the pleasure of sailing with.”
“Did Budd get involved?”
“You know, I tried very hard to get Buddie to buy a yacht. I think he would have liked it. And he has an entire island all to himself. He could have saved a fortune on yacht club fees.”
“The costs of running these things must be something else.”
“But you know what they say? If you have to ask the price, you can’t afford it!”
Unlike his clients, it was a question Nathan was becoming more and more familiar with.
“The new generation always thinks bigger is bette
r. Even powerboat owners are allowed to join the Club these days. My father would never have tolerated it. But times change.”
“Why was Budd not interested in boats?”
“Technology on land was always his thing. I think I’m right in saying he bought into the whole New Economy idea way ahead of everyone else and then sold at the top.”
That was certainly one bet that had paid off big time, thought Nathan. What he wouldn’t give to have perfect market timing.
“Once I got Buddie to take a sight seeing trip to the Arctic on Malou, a four-hundred-foot Lürssen and a useful piece of kit with two helipads would you believe. Anyhow, some guys from the Street tried to contact him during one of their market panics. I don’t remember when it was, but Buddie told me two Wall Street hot shots left a bunch of messages on his voicemail. He never got around to hearing them because a network upgrade erased the lot. Of course by the time he found out, the crisis had passed.”
Nathan knew the feeling, getting in contact with one of the Wrights was a problem that seemed to run in the family.
“By the way, I think their firm went under.”
Baruch stood up, and Nathan realized it was time for a room change. They walked passed stern featured portraits of former club commodores and down to the Grill Room. Nathan was amazed by its oak paneled walls and low beamed ceiling designed to resemble a ship’s interior. It was like dining inside the hold, minus the swaying motion and smell of sea salt.
A waiter led them to one of the far end alcoves and recommended the steak tartar and sole. Without hesitating, Baruch ordered the waiter’s suggestion.
Nathan quickly scanned the menu. He wanted to see if they still served horse steak. He knew it was a popular choice with the country club set who enjoyed its gamier taste, but was disappointed to discover it was not there. He felt like asking, why no horse meat? And then remembered, he was confusing the Yacht Club with his old college club, where someone told him they still ate it. He ordered what Baruch was having.
Without any prompting, Baruch said, “I don’t recall Buddie having a favorite child. I mean perhaps he did, but I got the impression he treated everyone equally.”
Nathan thought the description sounded like the guy he was trying to track down.
“Liz was different. You know I think the others didn’t always react to her in the right way. Looking back, Budd was more protective of Liz than any of the others. I think he indulged her more.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, you probably don’t know the story of Anastasia?”
Nathan admitted that he didn’t. He was about to find out.
“Anastasia is a very fine yacht, I would have been proud to own her myself. She was built in Germany in 1929, a few months before the Wall Street crash. It seems odd now, but back then we built a lot in Germany. Their economy was in ruins, labor was cheap and the work provided a much needed boost. I think we got four old marks to the dollar. You cannot believe the rate just a few years earlier. You want to have a guess?”
Nathan shook his head, he really had no idea. Then their first course of steak tartar arrived and he was starting to regret his choice. But he couldn’t really send it back without appearing rude.
“Nearly six billion marks to the dollar was the low point … or high point depending on how you look at it.”
Baruch chuckled and swallowed a large portion of raw meat.
“Anastasia was built in Kiel at the Krupp Germaniawerft yard, to a Cox and Stevens design; tradition never dies. Safe to say the Germans used their best craftsmanship and they created the perfect classic clipper look.”
Nathan wanted to ask some specific questions about Liz, but it was becoming clearer by the minute that he was going to get a blow-by-blow account of the history of a yacht he didn’t much care about.
“Yes, Anastasia was delivered to a gentleman in California, who was big in the yeast business. And then she passed through many different hands over the following seventy or more years. I don’t recall all of them of course, but Anastasia spent a good deal of time cruising the French Riviera. The owner used her as a babe magnet to literally trawl for suitable companions—British and Scandinavian girls were always the most enthusiastic. You know, the U.S. Navy acquired her for a while during the war.”
Nathan smiled. He did not know that and for what it was worth, the information was not helping him one bit.
“Anyway, now the important part—Anastasia lay abandoned in a French shipyard for years because the owner was unwilling to pay for a massive upgrade to bring her into line with all the new charter rules—so she was ready for the scrap heap.”
Nathan tried to sneak a peak at his watch, without appearing rude.
“And by a complete stroke of luck, Buddie Wright and his daughter were in Marseille visiting one of Buddie’s old friends who retired to France—he was tired of the money game.”
Nathan could sympathize.
“I’m sure Buddie will always regret his friend’s choice of restaurant. The place had a terrace overlooking the harbor and the shipyard, where Anastasia lay. I think they ate bouillabaisse.”
A waiter wheeled a serving cart to their table and expertly boned both the soles. With the fish, Baruch ordered a ‘95 Chablis Grand Cru Vaudésir, which Nathan was not familiar with.
“And the rest is history. Liz was already interested in restoration projects. She set up her own foundation to put money into buildings that she thought were important architecturally and needed preserving for future generations. And they would carry her name when the work was finished. Then out of the blue, she fell in love with Anastasia and decided the old yacht needed restoring too.”
Nathan was looking for consistency here, but realized he was not likely to find any.
“Of course, Budd did his best to talk her out of it, but she would not be put off. The next day she turned up at the shipyard, and demanded to be put in touch with the owner. The guy lived in Japan and was he mighty surprised, when they told him they had a motivated buyer from America.” Nathan figured Liz had laid the groundwork for falling out with her father from that point on.
“They agreed a price and Liz bought it without even having a survey—talk about reckless. When they returned to the U.S., Liz was the proud owner of a two-hundred-foot, eleven hundred-tonne yacht—more than eighty years old, and more rusty than the rustiest rusty nail.”
On the table opposite, a portly looking member energetically stubbed out a cigar butt, following a complaint from a nearby diner. Nathan was surprised the club even allowed smoking.
“They did a total engine overhaul, they were lucky because there was an expert firm of engineers in Marseille. But in the end, they sent her to a specialist yard in Italy. They completely replaced her hull with new welded steel plates—none of the old rivet plates anymore.”
Nathan wondered what the cost of all this work could have been, but suspected Baruch was too discrete to tell him.
“Luckily, the Germans make over-engineering a national obsession. They gave her a half-inch steel hull and very strong frame, so she survived the refit and lives for another day. But the costs soon got out of control. Buddie insisted Liz get someone who could oversee the entire project and keep a close eye on the dollars and cents. They chose a well regarded Swiss specialist as marine project manager. And from then nearly everything ran like Swiss clockwork. Just so long as someone signed the checks.”
Thankfully, the lunch was not turning out to be the total waste of time Nathan feared it was at one point. First, he established Liz liked big boats. And then he learned about Budd’s friend in Marseille. Nathan was surprised to discover he was the guy to blame for Liz’s interest in expensive restoration projects.
Before the dessert arrived, Nathan wondered how he was going to write up his report and put himself in a good light.
Then a club member sat dow
n at the next table and placed a cream leather sports bag beside her chair. Nathan noticed it contained a towel with the words Clinique La P, with the rest of the word hidden by a fold.
It was odd—the thought had not struck him before. Obviously, there was more than one kind of clinic in Switzerland. And there were even more across the rest of Europe. A health spa tucked away in a remote mountain side village made an ideal place for someone to hide.
Depending on how strict the regime was, it would be a luxurious and healthy way to remain out of public view. (The thought of a stern faced Mädchen hosing him down with cold water early in the morning and giggling at his less than perfect physique, was not Nathan’s idea of fun.)
And then he had another idea.
What if Budd Wright was seen at a number of different locations, not just in Switzerland, but around the world? How would the price of L.A.Y.D.E.E.s change then?
Volatility junkies would have a field day. And the guys at Solomon would be marking the prices of their tranches up and down faster than … faster than one of their hoes could spread her legs.
Δ = T –26,636,400
Nathan had not seen Thom for some time. The guy was called a Legend, the Ledge, the Ledge with the Edge. Because back in the day, he was the undisputed King of Solomon’s junk bond dealing desk.
He’d even done a short stint in Vietnam, right at the end of the war, which burnished his macho credentials on the trading floor. Many of the new guys came straight out of business school with no hands-on experience let alone a war record, they were just a bunch of gold-plated pussies. They had no stomach for a real fight.
Thom headed up the junk bond desk at a time when David Bowie’s music regularly filled the airwaves. It was not long before he was known as Major Thom, as in Major Thom loves junkies.
Thom found the ribbing amusing because in the past he really had a drug problem. In fact, he didn’t know many of his fellow GIs serving in ‘Nam who hadn’t. But that was then and he kicked his habit a long time ago. When he gave up drugs the liquor went too. So he was clean and dry as well.