by Henry Porter
Outside, a gardener moved in the shafts of light coming through a big-leafed eucalyptus, tidying and picking up stray twigs from a pink bougainvillea, the only splash of colour in the garden. Hisami got up and nodded to the group of men who had arrived in black SUVs and were now being served coffee and juice.
It was early, even for this crowd, and they didn’t engage much, apart from murmured greetings. Micky Gehrig and Martin Reid had flown up to San Carlos Airport from LA on separate jets. The other three – Hisami’s lawyer, Sam Castell, the tech investor Gil Leppo and the heir to the giant Waters–Hyde defence contractor, Larry Valentine II – owned homes in the Bay Area. Of the six gathered, five were some of the smartest investors on the West Coast and four of them were not happy to have been summoned to Castell’s office that morning.
The two items on the agenda Castell had in front of him came from Hisami. The first concerned the mysterious transfers of large sums of money in and out of the accounts of TangKi, the blockchain start-up they were all investors in, and the second was the disappearance of Adam Crane, TangKi’s CEO and the firm’s cheerleader, who’d brought many of them in on the deal. But Hisami was at a disadvantage – he was by far the smallest shareholder in the room and because he’d only joined in a later round of funding for TangKi his shares had fewer rights; and he was not on the board.
It was as Sam Castell splayed his hands on the glass table and opened the meeting that Hisami received the call from Anastasia in Italy. He rose, miming apology, and moved to the window to talk. The call was unsatisfactory for two reasons – first, he had expected her home that evening and really needed to talk out his problem with her, because, despite what she said about herself, she thought in straight lines and always had original advice to offer. But, second, and more importantly, he didn’t like the idea of her picking up migrants out in the Italian countryside. She assured him they were okay and he heard friendly voices in the background as she prepared to ring off, but Hisami’s loss of his beloved sister, Aysel, had instilled in him a mistrust of humanity, particularly of men who found themselves alone with a vulnerable woman in deserted countryside.
He rang off, returned to the table and explained that the caller had been Anastasia.
‘I hope you’ll give her all our best – she’s doing such great work,’ said Castell, reaching for his water. ‘But from now on, gentlemen, can I ask that you stay off your phones. We have a lot to get through here. Denis, the floor is yours.’
Hisami placed his phone deliberately in front of him and looked around the table. ‘We’ve all known each other a long time,’ he said. ‘We’ve been co-investors in some of the best deals of the last two decades, which I guess means we trust and respect each other’s judgement.’ The men nodded. ‘With TangKi, I’m in a far less influential position than you all, having invested only $7 million and at a later moment than you. But that said, I believe I have certain responsibilities, both as an investor and as a citizen, which is why I bring this matter to you personally.
‘Some of us have spoken on the phone over the last couple of days about the transactions going on over at TangKi, but I wanted to update you on my findings in circumstances where we can talk freely. Over the last seven months a sum in the region of $270 million has washed through the company. The money goes out and then some of it comes back, but there are no real clues as to the destination or source.’
‘Stop right there,’ said Martin Reid. ‘Are you suggesting fraud?’
‘No, I am simply bringing the issue out in the open so you can make up your own minds.’
‘That can be done on email,’ Reid said aggressively. Reid was true to form. Known as ‘the gravel-washer’ because he took up the gravel on his drive in Wyoming and had it cleaned after every winter, he was, despite his seventy years, a remorseless, hard-driving bastard, as well as an interventionist right-winger.
Hisami nodded and smiled. ‘Hear me out, will you, Martin? I would not have asked you up here without good reason.’ He paused. ‘So, this money is leaving the company and is destined, as far as I can tell without having access to the account, for Europe. Then it’s matched by funds coming from other sources. I have the details of the flow, which Sam will hand out to you now.’
They all looked at the figures. Micky Gehrig flipped his braided ponytail over his shoulder and pulled out a pair of round black glasses from his breast pocket. Micky dressed young and sported a number of charity bands on his wrist. Like Hisami, he had made his first big fortune from an online payment service, then went on to invest in gaming and crypto-currencies sites. He had put $50 million of his fortune in to send himself and his Russian wife to the International Space Station on board a Russian Soyuz rocket spacecraft and was now a leading space investor. After scanning the figures, he opened his hands incredulously. ‘I know about this money – it’s all to do with research and development in Europe. Adam told us all about that!’
‘Did he?’ said Hisami. ‘I don’t recall that. It’s not in any of the company’s formal accounts, nor in the investors’ letters he sent out regularly.’
‘I know it is. I forget precisely where, but the money is there in black and white. Anyway, what’s the problem? TangKi’s just been audited and it’s making good profits. Hell, we’re all set for an IPO in the next few years. We are all going to make a lot of money, Denis. What they do with their research funds is Adam’s business.’
‘And ours.’
‘What are you saying?’ asked Larry Valentine. ‘I’d trust Adam with my family’s life. He’s a fine man and comes from an impeccable background. Why haven’t you invited him to this meeting, or brought it up with the board? I’m sure it would take just a few moments for Adam to allay any fears you have.’ Larry was always reasonable and squared away every issue with the folksy wisdom of the barbershop. In reality, he was just as tough as anyone in the room. To retain the family influence in Waters–Hyde, to deal with Washington and the competitors in the defence industries, you had to be. Larry glanced along the table with a look that asked what the hell they were all doing. ‘Denis, help us out here,’ he said. ‘What do you think is going on?’
‘If I were to make a guess, it looks pretty much like a money-laundering operation.’ He looked down at his phone and saw there was another call from his wife.
‘That’s a mighty big claim to make,’ growled Martin Reid. ‘Have you brought that idea to Adam?’
‘I tried that, but I got no response. He’s not answering his phone or responding to emails. He’s gone off grid. Maybe there’s something going on here.’
Valentine ran a finger inside his striped golfing shirt. Hisami had never seen him in anything else – the golf shirt, blazer, flappy beige pants and sneakers. ‘Then it seems simplest to wait until he returns and you can ask him yourself. This is not a financial emergency – I’m sure he’s got a good answer.’
Hisami nodded. ‘Of course, you may be right, but let me say that there is absolutely no trace of Adam Crane. It’s possible that he has been gone longer than I think, and for a good part of the period someone down at Santa Clara has being trying to pretend he’s on site by moving his car in the lot every morning. It took a few days for them to admit he wasn’t there.’
Gehrig pushed back his chair. ‘Is that all you got – his fucking car is being moved every day? Jesus, what the heck are we doing here, folks?’
But Hisami wasn’t listening – his phone vibrated and he saw Anastasia’s name on the screen again. His hand twitched as if to pick it up but then withdrew. She was almost certainly ringing to apologise, though he realised now that he had been at fault and had been less than warm when he heard she wasn’t already on her way home to him. He’d make it up to her.
He looked up and caught Gil Leppo’s eye as Gil slid a conciliatory hand towards Gehrig. ‘We’re here now, Micky. I think we should do as Denis asks and hear what he has to say.’ Gil was a lone-wolf investor with an unfailing touch. His investments in biotech had made him hundreds
of millions, but the source of his money – the original stake that had allowed him to make those bets – was a mystery. People mentioned armaments – maybe gun-running. A few years before, Gil had appeared from nowhere, adapted the look of a tennis-club Romeo to something approximating an artist or rock musician, and quickly made it his business to get to know everyone, including some big Hollywood names. Animated at all times, ferociously bright and a big reader, Gil had evolved into quite the society figure and was always found at oligarch conferences like Sun Valley, as well as the parties around Oscar time. He came over to Hisami’s place every couple of months to play tennis or backgammon. Afterwards they dined and talked books and business. He was the nearest thing in the room Hisami had to a friend and, given Hisami’s own secret background of fighting for the Kurdish Peshmerga, he wasn’t too concerned about Gil’s history. It took a lot to be in this room and, unlike the other three, Gil and he had made their fortunes from scratch.
When no one reacted to his appeal, Gil Leppo leaned forward and patted the table with his hands. ‘Come on, people! Denis is wise – if he says something’s going on, I want to hear about it. What else you got, my friend?’
‘Thanks, Gil – I appreciate that. These flows of money are kept utterly separate from TangKi’s books. There’s an account that’s run by Adam Crane and no one else has access to it.’
‘Then how do you know about it?’ asked Leppo, the smile dying in his face. ‘How’d you know what goes in and out of it?’
‘You have to take my word for it, Gil. I do know.’
Leppo shook his head. ‘That may be okay for now – and I do trust you, Denis, I really do – but if we take this further, which is what you want us to do, we have to have evidence.’
‘You have a source in the company,’ said Gehrig accusingly. ‘How do you know that person is reliable?’
‘Let’s just say I am sure of the information. I am also certain that, since I started looking into this, I’ve had some trouble – my car has been followed and there are people watching my property. This is not important, but when, out of the blue, I am approached by a law firm in DC that wants to buy my stock for three times its current value on behalf of a client who wants – and I quote – “to get in the blockchain business”, I become suspicious.’
‘You’re saying these things are connected?’ said Martin Reid.
Hisami nodded. ‘They sent a couple of lawyers out here and they gave me a presentation on the disruptive powers of political investigation – how it could paralyse my activities and stop people doing business with me. They wanted me to know that I could be targeted in any number of legitimate ways – the IRS was mentioned, the Justice Department and the Senate Homeland Security Committee.’
‘Jesus! The Homeland Security Committee!’ exclaimed Leppo. ‘What could they possibly want with you?’
Hisami shrugged. ‘What’s important is that the moment I started looking for Adam Crane and trying to track these money flows, someone comes along with a big carrot then a very big stick.’ He paused and looked candidly around the table. ‘We’ve all known each other a long time. My first reaction was that I should tell you what’s going on and ask if any of you have experienced similar pressure. Maybe you have some idea what this is about.’
The room was silent. Gehrig exchanged looks with Valentine and Reid. ‘Maybe I’m speaking for others when I say that nothing you’ve said persuades me there’s a problem,’ he said.
Valentine started nodding. ‘Micky is right. And by the way, you should raise this formally with the board, then we’ll see it’s discussed at some point. What we cannot do is form a cabal outside the board and act on unproven allegations. With all due respect, Denis, we have to do this properly.’
‘That’s what I expected you to say, which is why Sam has already sent a letter to the board on my behalf.’
‘Then why the fuck did you get us out of bed today?’ demanded Gehrig.
‘To tell you personally of some grave concerns I have. It was the only responsible thing to do. I am not seeking to circumvent the board.’ This was all true, but he also wanted to look each of them in the eye and assess who else might be involved. Was the whole board in on this, or was it just a delinquent management working in collusion with sinister forces in Washington DC? There was a lot he didn’t tell them – the nature of the inside source, or his use of Zillah Dee, the head of America’s most youthful inquiry outfit, which she’d founded four years before on an old naval vessel moored in the Potomac River after she, along with two others, were ejected from the National Security Agency.
Zillah had employed Hendricks Harp, the private intelligence firm in London that Hisami had used to try to rescue his sister from inside ISIS territory. They believed they might just have located Adam Crane living in London under another identity.
The men around the table talked on. Hisami watched, occasionally demurring with a shake of the head or seeking to distract by cleaning his glasses, but always with that obsessive, slightly terrifying focus Anastasia had named his ‘white-hot silence’, a phrase instantly appropriated by Hisami’s staff and abbreviated to WHS.
Reid was saying something, but now Hisami wasn’t paying attention. He’d glanced at his phone, seen that second missed call from Anastasia again and decided he needed to respond to her. He raised his hand to Castell. ‘Forgive me, Sam, but I’ve got to make a call outside the room. It’ll take just a few moments. It could be important. My apologies to you all.’ The eyes in the room followed him to the door. As it closed behind him, he pressed the green call button under Anastasia’s name and raised the phone.
What he heard in her first message appalled him, but he did not react, merely beckoned to his right-hand man, Jim Tulliver, who had been waiting at the far end of the hall until the meeting came to an end. ‘Listen to this,’ he said, putting the phone on speaker. Tulliver didn’t say anything until they reached the end of the voicemail. ‘They knew her name?’ he said.
‘Yes. She’s left another voicemail.’
They heard a rustling and then Anastasia began to talk. This time, she held the phone closer to her mouth and they could hear every intake of breath. She spoke in clear, rapid bursts, describing the landscape around her and giving more details of what had happened. She was still free – that, at least, offered some hope.
He paused the voicemail. ‘Text Zillah and get her over here.’ As Tulliver typed the message, Hisami looked around the plush offices of Gilly & Co. but saw nothing. The same dread that filled him on hearing the news that Aysel was missing on the front line with ISIS in northern Iraq flooded his whole being. Not again! This time, he couldn’t lose.
Neither of them had seen Castell exit the meeting and approach them. ‘This is kind of awkward, Denis. They are all pissed that you called them in and that you’ve left to make a phone call.’
‘I need a room – somewhere private. Now! Can you arrange that for me?’
Castell began to protest.
‘Now, Sam!’ said Hisami quietly.
‘Of course,’ said Castell, pushing at the door of a room that was essentially a miniature version of the conference room. He returned to the meeting and Hisami placed the phone on the table and played the message.
Now Anastasia was talking about the trees and the slash of orange in the rock. She stopped. ‘Shit, I don’t know what they’re doing – all four of them are beside the road. There are two white men – they look Italian and they have the two Africans with them. The Italians came in a black Mercedes. They are in their late thirties. They have guns. One is short and stocky. The taller one is younger, maybe early thirties. The two men I picked up are Louis and Akachi from West Africa. Louis was in the camp in Lampedusa. He is from Senegal. I saw him in Sicily, too. Akachi, I have never seen before. They said they were going to the village, they must have known I was going there. This was planned. They knew where I was going and the Italians knew my name! Hold on, they’re shouting again. I’m going to take a look. I
don’t think they know where I am – they’re facing the wrong direction. Wait! They’re threatening to kill the two migrants.’ She stopped for a few beats. ‘It has to be a bluff. The migrants who stopped me are in on the act. They have to be.’
A shot rang out – it was unmistakable. A gasp of horror came from Anastasia. Then silence. Shock in her breath: ‘My God, they killed him. They just shot him dead. Jesus, what is this? What do they want?’
‘They’ve got Louis – they are going to kill him unless I go up there … oh God!’ They heard rustling and they knew she must have moved her position. ‘They’ve pushed the body over the edge. The man has rolled down to me. He’s dead.’ She muttered something in Greek, and there was more rustling. ‘If I run, they’ll kill him. God, I wish you would tell me what to do.’
‘Run, Anastasia. Run!’ said Hisami under his breath. ‘They’re going to kill the other one anyway, doesn’t she know that?’ Tulliver saw the stricken look on his boss’s face and shook his head in dismay.
They heard the noise of a bird singing quite near and someone shouting in the distance. After a few seconds, she said into the phone, ‘I’m going to do it. I’m sorry, but I have to go up there. They’ve already killed one man.’ Then she called out at the top of her voice, ‘I’ll come if you let him go. I want to see him walking away from you … Let him go, or I’ll run and you’ll never find me.’
Hisami gripped the table. ‘She’s going to let them take her.’
‘I love you, Denis. Know that … I’m walking towards them now … I am filming … I’ll find a place to hide the phone as I go up … getting as much as I can … you have to come here and find the phone.’ They heard her breathing rate increase as she struggled up the slope. When she reached the top, she whispered, ‘It’s a Naples plate – NA M01082.’