by Gary Tulley
"Speaking Victor." Came back the reply. "Glad you made contact at last. I could use some serious motivation right now. What have you got lined up for me? Or maybe I shouldn't ask."
"On the contrary my friend. Although your patience is only secondary to what is now in place. And what I have to offer you as promised. In a few hours from now Alex, the world's financial system will have been unconditionally raped of it's power to function in terms of rigid legitimacy."
"Shit! what planet is this guy on?" The moment of truth had finally come home to roost. Dealing with the velocity of it was something else. "A 'heist' is a heist' is a heist', but this?" Brezznov's prophecy ranked incomprehensible in terms of arrogance, leaving Eastern to question the man's sanity. Divided to the extreme, he was found himself locked in to Brezznov's commitment.
"I am now in a position to level with you, Alex. At the same time, confident that I can count on your input and approval." Just for once, Eastern found himself floundering as the impact of the call took a stranglehold on his senses. He could now be found nodding in robot fashion to an audience of one, while his dry throat took a vacation.
"Alex! Are you still there? Queried Brezznov. Pulling himself together, he retained his cool and pursued their conversation in a business-like manner.
"Yeah. Just getting my head around it. I gotta tell you, that's one hell of a call, Victor. Saying that, I wouldn't want to be a long term investor when you pull it off." What then resembled a primeval laugh saddled to ongoing success, could be heard as his nemesis continued to self-tighten his power-mad grip to consecrate quote.....'A fraud to surpass all frauds.' Eastern was forced to listen as he took pains to mock selected aspects of authority encased by doctrine within the operation. Ten, or so, tension-fuelled minutes later, Eastern finally locked his mobile and slumped back into the refuge of his chair. His immediate reaction entailed pouring himself a large whisky with no conditions as to it's quantity.
First you see it, and then you don't, applied, as a copious measure sought his gut. It was then left to Joan to ease him back to reality. "So, where do you go from here, Mike? I presume that was the call you were dependent on?" She was keen to know. In spite of his Scotch content, he was still partially at odds with what had transpired, and took his time before replying.
"Shit! I still can't believe it; It's actually on at last the 'heist', I mean."
"Am I allowed to know when?" Joan asked sheepishly.
"Yeah! Every damned right but, would you believe, in three or four hours from now?"
"I presume that you will inform Rogon shortly, knowing what you now know?"
"I wouldn't hold your breath, Joan. Knowing Brezznov's past commitments, I've got more chance of getting any kosher SP from out of a Xmas cracker." What had evolved in the time it takes to make a phone call, had now reduced the force of 'karma' into feeling nothing short of a stroll around a cup of tea! Not that he was decrying the situation confronting him, or indeed the time gap left in which to savour the moment. Months of strategic planning had now culminated into such a short space of time, leaving Eastern facing a full reality check as he consulted his watch.
"According to Brezznov, I've got an hour to get myself organized before the 'meet' at his flat in Hove. The time now is just approaching eight-o'-clock, so I'd............"
"........what! As apposed to Ruby's cottage? The meeting, I mean?" Joan interjected.
"Good thinking. That's certainly a valid point, Joan, although Rogon and I agreed that once 'B' became aware that Brezznov was on the move, he would have to back off. The last thing we need at this juncture is to allow the agency to screw up. There's far too much at risk."
"God! So, basically, you're out there on your own darling?" she demanded. "That's typical bloody Spooks legislation. Next time Rogon has a birthday, remind me to send him a damned condolence card." At least her dry sarcasm broke the tension.
"Good try, darling. Unfortunately, it would be money wasted on his plastic humour. Now, I really must get myself organized. In the meantime, can you order me a cab, please, for, say, eight-forty-five destination Wilbury Road Hove. Dealing with Rogon would be his next prime move, via a 'code red' initiative, to refresh his contact details aligned to progress and his own personal safety. At no time would Rogon contact him as pre-arranged, in the event it could blow his cover.
Some ten minutes later and hyping on apprehension, Eastern paid-off the cabbie off and entered the block of flats, sometime residence of career criminal one Victor Brezznov. The exclusive aura which the latter personified, was still in situ, Eastern noted from the moment he put his foot in the door. Thereby giving the impression that he'd never really been away. In a matter of seconds, he felt consumed by a dark, almost threatening, atmosphere which carried it's own health warning. Brezznov then pulled him back from the brink with an offer he couldn't refuse. "Whisky? If my memory serves me correctly, Alex. I have a bottle specially blended to mark the occasion. Personally, I don't touch the stuff myself." Their brief and unproductive greeting then ground to a halt as the internal intercom made itself heard. Moments later, Cyber mechanic, Aubrey Thorpe Millington, closely followed by gopher Tommy Brandon, made their way into the lounge. Millington, he observed, was in possession of a laptop.
"That's going to take a good hiding later on tonight," he mused, and decided to put himself about. Securing his glass while hiding behind a screen of double identity, he made his way towards them. For Eastern, the moment became totally surreal as they acknowledged his presence. Brandon making more impact than his companion by attempting to draw Eastern into conversation.
"Well, all 'firmed up' and nowhere to go," ventured Brandon. "What do you suppose is on the cards tonight then?" Shrugging his shoulders, Eastern discounted his offer for small talk in exchange for a session of what he would class as 'verbal diarrhoea'. And to make matters worse, issuing from the mouth of a 'bent' copper. Fortunately, Brezznov stepped in to bale him out as he clamoured for attention.
"Gentlemen, please. Listen up. You're obviously all wondering why I've summoned you here tonight? To put it mildly, we are going to rob a bank....so what's so special about that, you may ask? Well, now is the time to learn. The 'gaff' we are going to 'hit' is reputed to be the largest Banking Corporation outlet in the City. For want of further interest, Eastern's eyes focused on Millington as Brezznov delivered his coup de grace. Something instinctively told him that the man, in some form or another, had sampled previous connections to the bank in question. His thoughts were then rapidly lost in transit as Brezznov continued to hold centre stage.
"This operation has been a long time coming into existence, and for that reason alone I promise you will not fail. For my part, it's fucking personal. For you it will be a guaranteed payout that follows. But be warned gentlemen, do not compromise the planning and the time that I have invested in this 'heist'. Remember this. Reward is payable and transgression is only payable by death!" With the rules of play now firmly instigated, he went on to outline specific details, that up until now, had remained privy only to himself. Taking a step back, Eastern's sub-conscious suddenly kicked in. "I'd give anything to know what Rogon would make of all this, especially if he was a fly on the wall. At worst, our next conversation will give him something to dwell on, and.........," he stopped short in order to stifle a dormant chuckle before continuing, "who knows? It might even put a smile on his face." Any ongoing thoughts on that conception were allayed as Brezznov began to wind down.
"In twenty minutes time, gentlemen, we will be heading for London, so I suggest you top up your glasses now." Breaking off, he threw a set of car keys at Brandon, swiftly followed by a verbal nail in the coffin. "That is, except you, of course, Tommy. We wouldn't want any grief from the 'Old Bill', would we? Oh, one other thing I failed to mention....mobiles!"
Eastern gave a start, "Where the hell is he going with this one?" He was left pondering. And was swiftly left to find out, much to his utter frustration.
"As from now, all mobil
es will be deactivated and left here until we return. This is merely a temporary security blanket measure, to counteract the highly sensitive atmosphere we will be working under."
"Total bollocks!" Immediately came to mind as Brezznov continued to exploit a one-man attack. "I'm willing to bet he's already got that aspect covered. This is all about bleedin' trust with him., he questioned. And reminded himself that under the circumstances, Rogon would now have to settle for a belated early morning 'code red', long after the 'heist was accomplished. Shortly within the hour, Gatwick IA just became another earth-bound satellite in their wake, as they sped past on the M23.
Within the confine of the Jaguar, a disgruntled Brezznov was still calling the tune. "For Christ's sake, do something with that poxy radio will you!? Fucking music. Find me something with a bit of class, Tommy. I need to relax." An hour later, with the distinctive sounds of Bizet and Wagner still lodged in his brain, the 'heist; became a reality. Eastern, alongside the other three members of the 'firm', entered the premises, completely unchallenged. Belonging to the European headquarters of Hong Kong's Hirito Mitzitomo Banking Corporation, situated in central London. The time was now logged at approximately ten forty five. All existing internal CCTV cameras had earlier been doctored, and rendered useless by the same person responsible for the 'firms' illicit entry. That same person had also installed specialist key-logging software onto a whole range of Mitzitomo's PC's, some three weeks previous. The planted discs, in turn, would now prove compatible by enabling them to record strategic passwords. And, use account details of the banks customers, thus enabling them to complete the 'sting' (fraud).
Brezznov now dominated as Millington was given the nod to set the 'heist' in motion. Demoted to a spectator, Eastern could only look on and watch in awe as Millington went to work. Firstly, by entering the website of SWIFT, a highlighted reference to the (Society for Worldwide Interbank Financial Telecommunications) used in excess by some 6-8,000 organizations to transfer cash around the globe. By utilizing the relevant stolen passwords, Millington was now in a position to access the accounts, of four Chinese management company's. Plus various other major banking facilities.
These accounts, in turn, would be systematically raped of their money, and then allocated to banks of Brezznov's choice. Furthermore, bogus accounts and companies were installed purporting to trade in any commodity from steel to textiles. Heavily engrossed as he was by Millington's performance, Eastern had failed to notice Brezznov sidling up beside him. The cocky air that he exalted, complimented a well- rehearsed appraisal in terms of performance. "Education, isn't it, Alex? Unlike the old days when you needed a 'shooter' (pistol) to do the talking for you. As for the amounts of money involved here, we are not talking 'grand's' here, my friend, but millions of pounds. And that's without having to break into a sweat. Tomorrow morning, the financial world, as we know it, will be on it's knees. In the meantime, watch and learn."
Reluctantly, Eastern now found himself having to accede to Brezznov's take on Cyber crime, as Millington continued to exploit the fraud, simply by putting into place further transactions in France, India, Singapore and Israel. As a starting point, £13 million could be found earmarked for an account in Mumbai, followed by the sum of £25 million allocated for banks in Italy. £63 million is then made transferable to designated accounts in America, while a further £12 million to a pharmaceutical company in Sweden. In all, a total sum of some £231 million is put into place in a company in Sweden. In all, a total sum of some £231 million pounds, is put into place pending transfer. Finally, Millington checked the relevant transaction forms and gave Brezznov the overriding satisfaction of pressing the appropriate 'send' tab.
Seconds later, he glanced up from the monitor screen. The expression on his face morphed into one of pure evil, laced with overwhelming triumph, as he spoke. "Gentlemen, as I predicted earlier, that by working as a 'firm' we have successfully committed the biggest 'heist' in British banking history." Five minutes later, their night's work completed, the four men, Eastern included, exited the banking facility as quietly as they had entered, having amassed a monetory fortune on paper, without having extracted a single coin of the realm per se.
CHAPTER 13...Win some, lose some.
The unforgettable trip to London and the anti climax of the return journey now seemed light years away. But the explicit memory of the 'heist', now barely 24 hours old, freely monopolized Eastern's thoughts to saturation point. As expected, it was finally left to Rogon to take the brunt of his verbal indulgence as they conspired together, bent on seeking out any positives from a situation, which was looking about as rare as an Icelandic four leaf clover! "Do you realize, Mike, you haven't stopped talking for nearly an hour, and yet you're telling me that the 'heist' itself only took barely thirty minutes?"
Eastern remained unrepentant while on a verbal role, and wasn't about to stall. "Without repeating myself, I just can't believe it was that easy for Brezznov to carry it out, especially when you consider the amount of money that was involved. Frankly, he made climbing Everest look like a walk in the bleedin' park!" Screwing up his eyes in obvious anger, Rogon made a feeble attempt to hide behind them before replying.
"Without question, Mike, the buck stops with me, I'll be the first to hold my hands up on this one. Wrongly or rightly, the agency gravely underestimated the man's capabilities and, as such, I take full responsibility for the outcome." Eastern readily dismissed Rogon's voluntary sentiments with a wave of his hand, and focused on another line of thought.
"Do you know what really gets to me from my angle?"
"Go on."
"The irony of it all."
"In what regard?"
"The fact that I was there, witnessing the whole fucking charade, yet powerless to do anything about it."
"Don't beat yourself up over it, Mike, you were only acting out your brief, remember."
"That's as maybe, but you're missing the point. What sticks in my craw is the fact that he's manipulated the bloody system by milking it of millions of pounds. And the actual money he'd purloined hadn't even been registered as stolen. To make matters worse, he was in a position to exit the bank without taking a damned penny of the with him! I mean, how bloody galling is that?"
"I can only say, Mike, that by Brezznov removing your mobile from out of the equation at the eleventh hour, it made the 'heist' possible."
"Maybe who knows? One thing is certain, even if you decide to pull Brezznov in at this stage on 'suss' (suspicion), the best you could press for would be illegal entry and stalking a fucking computer!"
"Believe me, Mike, when I say I'm living your frustration, but we're still only talking early days as yet. And, as you once reminded me, 'It's not how you start but how you finish that counts'." At worst, it would have been one positive to extract from their meeting, and an added plus of further action to come over the next forty eight hours when, 'the shit begins to hit the fan at the Mitzitomo bank'. As an alternative reminder quoted by Eastern. The fact that he had been present at the 'heist' itself, had given him the full rights to prophesy what was about to happen.
Any attempt at proving Eastern wrong, would have been classed as a disaster, especially when seeking a title for the total mayhem that bank officials now found themselves knee-deep in, on the Monday morning post 'heist'. Blank monitor screens could be seen to be prominent everywhere. And network cables either severed or misplaced. Without question, Millington, as 'key master,' had undoubtedly earned his night's money by doing the business to full effect. On his reckoning alone, he had estimated that the utter chaos he had incurred, would take approximately between two-to-three hours to reorganize the system back to it's full potential. In which time the two hundred and thirty one million pounds he had procured would now be sitting in pre-allotted banks, ready to be milked off into smaller sums and subsequently placed into secondary accounts.
The monies would then be ripe for being 'laundered' at Brezznov's convenience. Shortly after one-o'-clock that sam
e day, the IT staff had managed to regain a form of control of the system. From then on, their screens were literally blitzed with incoming messages. One in particular came via SWIFT referring to the £231 million. 'We have reason to believe that a coding error has occurred, please clarify" and went on to state, 'Could HIRITO MITZITOMO confirm that earlier transactions carried out were officially authorized?'
Elsewhere, in a rented and secluded private residence somewhere in Surrey officially authorized?"
Elsewhere, in a rented and secluded bolthole somewhere in Surrey, Brezznov could be found 'lording it up' in his elected guise as self-styled 'public enemy number one'. Although, even money, it seems, can't buy perfection. What he hadn't reckoned on to gate-crash his party, would be the intimidation stemming from human error emerging from his own ranks. Unbeknownst to Brezznov at the time, whilst the 'heist' was in progress. Millington, in his egotistical quest for glory, had inadvertently made a trivial, but hugely significant faux pas, in terms of success, when dealing with a particular and crucial IT programme, his drastic actions, in turn, would now have far- reaching consequences attached to Brezznov's game plan. The overall effect being, the monies which they so desperately sought after, still remained intact in the accounts of the MITZITOMO'S investors.
In no time at all, the bank made a clear-cut decision to contact SOCA (Britain's serious organized crime squad) who, in turn, and by arrangement, confided in Rogon at Spooks HQ the following morning. Subsequently, they then detailed agent 'B', accompanied by various other operatives, along with Eastern, to convene at MITZITOMO'S for a thorough investigation. This, in turn, was fronted by the latter who lost no time in getting back to basics.
"Firstly, I suggest that we examine the CCTV footage available to us, Benny, especially the coverage that takes in the whole weekend, It might produce something of interest."
"That won't be a five-minute job, Mike. You're looking at upwards of fifty hours or more to sift through. Presuming it's available of course, and that's only internally."