by Allan Topol
Elizabeth wasn’t sure she believed her.
“Actually, I’ve followed your career,” Diane continued. “As another expat American. How about a coffee?”
“Sure.”
Diane fixed two cups and cleared a chair in front of her desk so they could both sit down.
“You’ve become a media celebrity,” Diane said. “At least you are in Paris, and I get there often.”
“Speaking of Paris, I had lunch there a few days ago with an old friend of yours, Robert Hanson. I took the job he had as foreign news editor at the paper.”
For a moment, Diane looked puzzled as if she were trying to recall who Robert Hanson was. She fiddled with her hair and finally said, “Oh yeah, we had a couple of dates in college. That was a long time ago—I haven’t seen him in ages. How is he?”
She was another good liar, Elizabeth thought. Really good. It ran in the family. She decided not to remind Diane that she’d been engaged to Hanson.
“Oh, he’s happily married to a French woman and is now retired and living in Provence.”
“That’s wonderful. A lot of people like Provence. I find it a bit too quiet. Anyway, I assume you interviewed Roberto at the farm.” Diane said, smoothly changing the subject.
“Yes. He showed me around the farm and winery.”
“I love that place. Roberto’s father, Mario, lived there until his death. Then we moved in. Being there, I think of Roberto’s father often. He accepted me from the time Roberto brought me home. He treated me like a daughter. I loved him. He was also a great man. I’m sure Roberto told you what happened to him with the Nazis.”
Elizabeth nodded.
Diane continued, “Mario spent his life working for the Italian people. He loved his country. Now Roberto’s decided to follow in his father’s footsteps. It’s all so unfair.”
“What do you mean?”
“All Roberto wants to do is help Italy and the people but he’s being ripped apart in the media.” She stared straight at Elizabeth. “Roberto may or may not be the savior of Italy. But he’s no sinner.”
Turning the title of her article on Elizabeth stung. “I didn’t mean—”
“I wasn’t singling you out. You were mild, in comparison with others. It’s their personal attacks that tear me apart—the false rumors that Roberto had affairs.”
Did she really believe what she had just said, Elizabeth wondered.
“Politics can be rough. Here in Italy. Everywhere. You grew up in the United States. You know how the Kennedys were portrayed.”
“Yes, but these unfair accusations still hurt.”
“On the other hand, Roberto seems to have plenty of supporters.”
“That’s right. The polls are now showing him in front.”
“He also seems to have increased his advertising. Has he gotten new money?”
Diane looked away. “I don’t know about those things. I’m not involved in the campaign.”
“Chinese money?”
“What are you insinuating?”
“I’m not. Just asking.”
“That’s absurd.”
Elizabeth showed Diane the man’s image on her phone. “Have you ever seen this man?”
Diane looked at it and shook her head. After a long pause, she said, “You’ll be writing more about Roberto’s campaign won’t you?”
“Sure. That’s why I interviewed him.”
“You seem like a good person. Will you be fair?”
“I’ll try to be.”
Diane seemed on the verge of tears. “Don’t destroy my husband, please.”
Following her interview with Diane, Elizabeth tried Luciano’s cell again to see if he’d meet with her. She got a recording, “This line has been disconnected.”
Singapore
At nine in the morning Craig arrived in Singapore, traveling on a US passport in the name of George Moore. He checked into Raffles Hotel, a luxurious revitalized carryover from British colonial days in the heart of the business and shopping district. The bellman led Craig through the hotel’s vaulted lobby to a third floor room with a patio overlooking a beautifully landscaped garden.
Though Craig thought it extremely unlikely that Zhou knew he was George Moore, he still took the precaution once the bellman was gone of checking the room and its phones for bugs. Nothing.
He showered and changed clothes. Then walked to the American Embassy. Jennifer Nelson, the ambassador, was waiting for him.
When they were seated in her office, Jennifer said, “Welcome to Singapore, Mr. Moore. President Worth called and told me you were a very important special envoy. He didn’t tell me anything about your mission. Only that I was to accompany you to your meetings. But I was impressed with the personal call from the boss himself. And I’m intrigued about what you are doing here in my little back water.”
Craig leaned back in his chair and sized up the ambassador. She was in her sixties, an attractive, tall and thin woman with short gray hair. Betty had given him a bio before he left Washington.
Jennifer was from San Diego and was the daughter of the founder of a real-estate empire with projects in twenty-eight states and half a dozen foreign countries, including Singapore. She had been the CEO for fifteen years before being named ambassador. Her husband was an artist whose paintings had been exhibited at some of the top galleries in New York. In return for her early support, Treadwell, Worth’s predecessor, had made her ambassador. When Worth became president, he left her in place.
Betty also gave Craig a Washington Post article about Jennifer written when she was appointed. The words “hard-nosed, tough negotiator” from the article stuck with him.
On the long flight, he had pondered the question of how much to tell Jennifer. He decided as little as possible. She was operating in Asia, Zhou’s home turf. The more she knew, the more she would be at risk.
“I’m here to interview Lin Yu,” Craig said, “the CEO of Pacific Sun Bank, which I gather is one of the largest in the country.”
“It is the largest. What’d Lin Yu do?”
“He just made a major investment in a Milan bank under suspicious circumstances.”
“And what exactly does that euphemistic term mean?”
He liked her no-nonsense manner. He decided to respond in the same blunt way. “Lin Yu went to Milan where he met with Federico Castiglione, the CEO and largest shareholder of the bank. Federico refused to sell. He was adamant. His board supported him. Lin Yu threatened Federico. A few days later, Federico was murdered in what looked like a jewelry robbery except murder was the motive. The board reversed course and sold out to Lin Yu.”
She tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair. “That qualifies as suspicious circumstances. But why are we concerned about the transaction? Isn’t it a matter for the Italian authorities?”
“It’s likely that Lin Yu was following someone else’s orders in this.”
“I won’t ask you who that someone is because I can guess and you won’t tell me in any event. I’ve learned that being an ambassador is often like being a glorified messenger. Sometimes they tell you what’s in the package you’re delivering; sometimes not.”
“I never thought of it that way.”
“I don’t mind. I like the parties.”
He laughed.
She continued. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let me tell you something about Lin Yu.”
“I would appreciate it.”
“Parents moved here from China when he was seven. Brilliant student. Educated at Oxford and London School of Economics. Returned to Singapore after school in England. Worked with various financial firms, including JP Morgan and Barclays. Then was appointed CEO of Pacific Sun. He’s been bold and innovative. He has increased their assets several fold.”
“Relations with China?”
“Close. He’s lent money for numerous large projects there, and also elsewhere throughout Southeast Asia. He has plenty of money to invest. I’ve met him several times at s
ocial functions, and I’m impressed. He has a quick mind. Incredible memory. He’s extremely well connected throughout Asia. Can’t be underestimated. When do you want to meet him?”
“Today if possible.”
“I’ll see if I can make that happen.” She reached for the phone.
* * *
At two o’clock that afternoon, Craig and Jennifer filed into the most ornate and luxurious office Craig had ever seen. It was furnished with English antiques. Ming vases rested on either side of a marble fireplace. On the walls hung a Renoir, Monet, Chagall, and Picasso. A grandfather clock stood in one corner, a Rodin in another. The banking business was clearly good in Singapore.
Craig thought about Alberto Goldoni’s modest office in Turin. The contrast was striking and was confirmation that wealth and power had moved eastward.
Yu, in his sixties, was a tall man. He had coal-black hair parted in the center and was dressed in a perfectly tailored and pressed gray pinstriped suit.
When Jennifer made the introductions, Yu smiled broadly. His expression told Craig, “I’ve got the world by the balls.” If Yu was worried about anything, he certainly didn’t show it. Craig took a seat in front of Yu’s red leather topped desk that didn’t have a single paper. Behind him were three large-screened computers.
“Always a pleasure to see you Ambassador Nelson,” Yu said in a very British English. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”
“George Moore is a special envoy of President Worth. He has a matter to discuss with you.”
“I’d be happy to help in any way I can.”
We’ll see about that, Craig thought.
“Mr. Yu, I’d like to talk to you about your recent acquisition of shares of stock in the National Bank of Milan.”
Lin didn’t seem concerned. “Certainly. I have nothing to hide. We’re a publicly-traded company. All details of that transaction have been disclosed to the regulatory agencies in both countries. Also, as I’m sure you’re aware, shortly before we finalized the agreement, an unfortunate event occurred: Federico Castiglione, the CEO of the bank, was killed in a jewelry robbery.”
“I am aware of that. What was your relationship with Federico before the agreement was reached?”
“Very cordial at all times.”
“Was he in favor of Pacific Sun acquiring this interest in the bank?”
“Absolutely. He stood to make a huge amount of money from the transaction.”
Craig decided he had to play rough with Yu if he had any chance of obtaining the information he needed.
Acting irate, Craig pounded his fist on the desk and shot to his feet. “Okay, now that you’ve had fun lying to me, why don’t you tell me the truth.”
Yu looked aghast. Jennifer appeared horrified.
Craig continued. “We have witnesses who told us of your angry acrimonious discussions with Federico. These were both in person and on the phone prior to the transaction, which he vehemently opposed. You told Federico that you had powerful friends and if he didn’t agree to sell, he would pay for it with his life.”
“That’s quite impossible. I have no idea why those people told you that.”
“I want to know who are those powerful friends you referred to.”
“The whole story is absurd.”
Craig stood up and paced around the office for a few moments like a trial lawyer conducting an interrogation. Then he bore in on Yu. “Whose idea was it for you to do this deal with Federico’s bank?”
“Mine, of course. I’ve wanted to expand into Europe for some time. This seemed like a good opportunity.”
“Who financed the transaction?”
“Pacific Sun with its own funds. Unlike your American and European banks, we have been managed efficiently and have large cash reserves.”
“Could you provide records to establish that Pacific Sun financed the acquisition itself?”
“Yes, but I have no intention of doing so. You have no legal standing in Singapore.”
Without pausing, Craig asked, “Do you know Zhou Yun?”
“Of course.” Yu didn’t blanch. “He’s the Chinese Finance Minister. I have negotiated large loans in China. I have met him several times.”
“He also owns a large bank in China. Doesn’t he?”
“That’s right.”
“And it was Zhou’s idea for you to do the transaction in Milan. Wasn’t it?”
“Certainly not. As I told you, it was my idea.”
Craig sat back down. “I’ll be very frank with you, Mr. Yu. President Worth asked me to obtain answers to these questions. He told me if you weren’t cooperative, your bank would be blacklisted just as the United States blacklisted Iranian banks. That means no American firm would be able to do business with your bank.”
Craig paused to let his words sink in. Staring at Yu, he continued, “Do you want that to happen?”
Yu stared right back. “Let me tell you something, Mr. Moore. The manner in which you marched in here with your bluster and threats shows how little you understand about Asia and the current world.”
“What does that mean?” Jennifer interjected.
“Forty years ago, I would have been terrified by your threats. The United States controlled the world then. Twenty years ago, I would have been worried. Today, I shrug my shoulders and say ‘so what.’ You Americans have a colloquial expression someone once taught me. ‘There’s a new sheriff in town.’ That’s the way it is in Asia. It’s a whole new world here with the ascendency of China. Now we play by Beijing’s rules. Not Washington’s.”
“Meaning you’ll do whatever Zhou Yun asks you to do.”
Yu gave a sardonic smile. “No. Meaning that in a conflict between the United States and China, I would be more concerned about alienating the powers in Beijing than in Washington.”
“So you did follow Zhou’s orders in this transaction with the bank in Milan?”
Again the sardonic smile. “No point twisting my words. Of course I didn’t say that.”
“An innocent man was murdered.”
“I didn’t kill him. I’m not a jewel thief—as you look around this office, you couldn’t possibly think that I wanted to steal jewels.”
“But you know who did.”
Yu turned to Jennifer. “Our meeting is over. I’m a patient man, but at this point, I’m tired of listening to Mr. Moore’s false accusations.”
As they stood to leave, Craig said, “My investigation of your involvement will not end here today. I will continue until I establish what really happened.”
Yu didn’t respond. He pointed to the door.
When they were in the back of the ambassador’s car. Jennifer told the driver to take them to Craig’s hotel. She turned to Craig and said, “That certainly went well.”
“Was I wrong?”
“It’s not how I would have conducted the interview,” she said tactfully.
Craig wasn’t surprised to hear that. “You think he was telling the truth?”
“Of course not.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear it. What do you base that on?”
“Observing his voice and facial expressions. I’ve become expert on that over here. In my opinion, it didn’t matter how you handled the questioning. He had no intention of telling you what you wanted to know.”
“Anybody we can go to in the Singapore government to bring him around?”
“I was just thinking that.”
“And?” Craig held his breath.
“I’ve developed a good relationship with the justice minister. He might be willing to help. I’ll set a meeting for the two of us tomorrow morning.”
“Perhaps you should take the lead this time. You know the minister. And you’ll no doubt be more tactful.”
She laughed. “That’s not saying much. But I’ll be happy to do that. Meantime, how about having dinner with my husband, Warren, and me this evening?”
“I’d like that.”
“Good. We’ll pick you up at yo
ur hotel at eight.”
She reached into her bag and took out a card. “It has all of my contact information, including my cell phone. Call if you need me.”
* * *
Dinner with Jennifer and Warren, a handsome man with thick gray hair and the appearance of a successful businessman in his well-cut dark suit, was comfortable and relaxed for Craig.
The food at The Blue Ginger, according to Warren, was one of the great culinary traditions of Singapore. Known as Peranakan cooking, it was an infusion of Chinese and Malaysian styles relying heavily on exotic spices. It was superb, and they drank scotch followed by Chateau Trotanoy, one of Craig’s favorites from Bordeaux. Much of the time, Craig asked Warren about how he became a painter and about what he was pursuing in his art.
“I tell Jennifer,” Warren said, “that thanks to her getting this ambassadorship, and my tagging along, I’m going through my Gauguin phase.”
“But not with the native girls,” she responded.
“The truth is, Craig, she’d be too busy to notice if I were. And, by the way, did you know that Gauguin was a banker, married to a minister’s daughter, and had four children before he began painting?”
“So why’d he do it?”
“The banking crash of 1883. I read about him and decided to follow in his footsteps. I was a banker until the crash of 2008. I had always dabbled at painting, but at that point, I dove in with both feet. I was tired of selling phony mortgage bonds. And happily, I didn’t need the income—ah, the advantages of marrying a wealthy woman. It’s the best move a man can ever make.” Jennifer picked up her fork and playfully rapped him on his knuckles.
As they were leaving the restaurant, she told Craig, “Our meeting tomorrow morning with the justice minister is at ten. Why don’t you come to the embassy at nine. We’ll go from there.”
They dropped Craig at his hotel at a few minutes before eleven. When he entered his room, he saw on the floor a white letter-sized envelope with the name George Moore typed on the front.
Craig ripped it open. Inside was a note neatly typed on white paper.
“Sorry I could not talk freely with you this afternoon. My office is not good for that. Could you meet me this evening at midnight at Au Jardin Les Amis Restaurant. I will give you the information you wanted.”