Arbitrage

by Colette Kebell

  CHAPTER 30

  ‘What the hell happened?’ insisted Amelia.

  ‘Two guys didn’t much like when I tried to take the car back,’ said Anders continuing to watch the road.

  ‘Anders, you will get killed if we continue at this rate.’

  ‘Well, we are already in trouble, nothing we can do about that.’

  Amelia was aware the situation was becoming too dangerous. She took a road map from the back seat and began to study it.

  ‘Which way are we going?’

  ‘Towards Glasgow and then down as far as London. Maybe we should keep going to the channel tunnel and go to France,’ said Anders.

  They took turns driving for several hours, stopping only occasionally to fill up with petrol and eat a sandwich, until they arrived north of Birmingham.

  ‘Can we go south towards Oxford?’

  Anders briefly took his eyes off the road. ‘You have friends there?’

  ‘No, Oxford is where I graduated and where we part. I’ll take a train to Brighton, I’m tired of running and hiding like a rabbit. And I don’t want you to accompany me, you have already risked too much.’

  ‘Do you want to get yourself killed?’

  ‘I don’t think so. If they know that I ran away, they wouldn’t expect me to come back to Brighton.’

  ‘Oh, now you’re a strategist, aren’t you?’ asked Anders. ‘Don’t be a fool. If they catch you, and sooner or later they will, what do you think will happen? They’ll kill you.’

  Amelia remained silent and then said, ‘Let’s go to Oxford.’ It was an order, not a request. Her voice was not as loud and determined as when she spoke to her clients, and all she wanted to do was cry, but showing any kind of weakness would have made her fail in her intent.

  ‘OK, OK. Is it going to be a goodbye then?’

  ‘Not necessarily, we can always find each other …’ And then he had an epiphany. ‘They must have another way of tracking us. Think about it. They were able to find us in that small village, and that was no coincidence. We took a random exit on the motorway, and they certainly didn’t spend the night visiting each and every hotel in a hundred-mile radius. Check your bag and clothes; they must have planted another bug somewhere.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ said Anders. And then, after a long pause, he slowed down the car and looked in the rear-view mirror.

  ‘It doesn’t look like they’re chasing us now, but actually it’s not a coincidence. When the hacker, that Konrad, told us to run, I was immediately on guard expecting the worst, and then, after the shooting, the adrenaline didn’t give me time to relax. But it’s not a coincidence. Konrad knew they were in hot pursuit. They must have some way to track us.’

  ‘He said to throw away my phone, which we did, so there must be other bugs.’

  They had arrived on the outskirts of Birmingham and Amelia began searching frantically in her bag. She opened her lipstick. Nothing. The diary didn’t seem to have anything unusual, and all the other items seemed fine. She searched the bag again, looking for a transmitter, even though she had not the faintest idea what one would look like. Nothing. She searched her clothes, and even those seemed fine. Anders couldn’t have any transmitter, thought Amelia; a pursuer couldn’t have predicted a casual encounter with a person met in a bar. And then Anders was too smart, they wouldn’t have planted a bug on him without him noticing.

  As a last resort, she checked her shoes. She once saw a movie where they had planted a transmitter in Will Smith’s shoes and, having no other options, she decided to check. The left shoe heel rubber did not seem to adhere correctly, and Amelia strove to lift the flap completely. She took out her office key and wedged it between the rubber and the heel, using it for leverage.

  It took her a couple of tries, but she finally managed to remove the heel. Right in front of her eyes, in a carved recess of the heel, there was a small electronic device and a coiled wire.

  ‘I don’t think I bought this with the shoes,’ she said showing the small object to her companion.

  Anders briefly perused the object. ‘Nice gadget. That is why they found us over and over again, it probably sends the GPS coordinates of where we are. It doesn’t have a battery, so maybe it works by pressure: when you walk you upload and send a signal. That’s why they couldn’t find us last night. But as soon as you put the shoes on and walked in them, to go downstairs for breakfast, it reactivated.’

  ‘Shall I throw it out the window?’ asked Amelia.

  ‘I have a better idea.’ Just past Birmingham Anders parked the car next to a petrol station. He picked up the bug and went toward a van that was filling up. Nonchalantly, Anders dropped the transmitter inside. Then he returned to the car in a hurry.

  They didn’t notice Margot’s car, parked behind theirs at a distance of about a hundred feet. The woman watched them like a hawk who had their eyes on the prey.

  ‘That should slow them down for a while.’

  ‘Don’t stay on the motorway,’ said Amelia, ‘go through villages. If they suspect anything, the highway is a trap. They know we’re ahead of them and they just have to accelerate to pick us up. If we change direction, each country road opens many possibilities; going east, west, or south. Or retrace our steps back north.’

  ‘Good thinking.’

  ‘I’ve considered this for a long time, Anders. As soon as I’m back in Brighton, I’ll go to the police. I’m sick of it, I want to see this story over. But first I want to give you a gift, here.’ Amelia took the notes where they had marked the access to the secret accounts and passed them to Anders.

  ‘Are you kidding me?’

  ‘No, not at all. I’m not giving this money back to my brother-in-law, or to the mafia. If the police get hold of it, it will remain in evidence for centuries. Make good use of it. I will only show Romanov’s letters to them, and I will say that the hacker never contacted me.’

  ‘Amelia, I don’t think …’

  ‘Stratford-upon-Avon. Stop here and take me to the station, please. It doesn’t make any sense to go further.’

  Anders was reluctant but did as asked.

  ‘Come on, come with me and let’s see if I can find a train to Brighton. Perhaps, one day, our paths shall cross once again.’

  Anders realised that there was no need to make further objections. He put the papers Amelia had given him into his pocket and parked the car.

  CHAPTER 31

  It was a quiet afternoon at the Grand Hotel in Brighton. Or at least so it seemed watching the number of tourists come and go from the modern building, some with city maps in hand, others with shopping bags full of purchases, which they’d barely have room for in their luggage once their holiday was over.

  Price was sitting at the bar and sipping a single malt, satisfied to have gained valuable time with Sokolov. He was not out of the woods, not yet, but by doing some illegal movement on Russian mafia accounts, it had helped him stall the situation. Robbing from the rich and giving to the rich …? he thought. There was not a single mafia in Russia but many different organisations and thanks to the work done by old Mortcombe, most of them had at least one account in that bank. Some more, some less. Brighton was an ideal place, outside of the usual money-laundering path, a police force with little attention to specific issues and easily corruptible; remove money from a group of accounts and move it to another. He would have been in trouble if all the representatives of the various mafias rushed in to check at the same time, but that was a highly unlikely scenario. The important thing was to save his skin now that Sokolov was in town.

  He had just finished a meeting with Sokolov in one of the suites in the hotel, and what he needed was a glass of something substantial, to take off the edge. How to put the accounts in order was something he would have to deal with at a later stage.

  ‘Excuse me, is this your wallet?’

  Price turned and saw an elegant gentleman in his sixties, with a pinstriped tailored suit, probably made on Bond Street in London,
and an affable smile.

  Price checked his jacket pocket. ‘No, it’s not mine.’

  ‘It was on the ground right under your chair, and so I thought …’ Marcus Splinter placed the wallet on the bar, sat next to Price, and asked, ‘What’s your poison?’

  ‘Laphroaig, smooth.’

  ‘I am a bourbon person. Waiter, please a Laphroaig and a Jack Daniels on the rocks.’

  While waiting for the drinks to arrive, Splinter began to look inside the wallet.

  ‘Blimey, a nice amount,’ he said pulling out a wad full of fifty-pound notes, laying them on the counter, right under Price’s nose. ‘Ah! By golly! An ID. I was already looking forward to sharing the loot with you.’

  ‘We can always do that,’ said Price, whose eyes were glued to the stack of money. He was a greedy man, and for him, any amount fed his hunger for money, though clearly, from his reaction, the more, the better. It did not matter much to whom it belonged.

  ‘Ah yes, if it were an anonymous find, I wouldn’t bother taking it to the police, especially here in Brighton, but with a document, we cannot do that.’

  ‘Maybe he has already left for another destination,’ suggested Price.

  ‘Maybe. Why don’t we finish our drinks and then go check with the concierge? It will be our good deed for the day.’

  Price was vexed. He took the glass and drank it in one gulp. He didn’t wait for Splinter to finish his drink and rose from his chair, forcing his partner to do the same.

  He looked around, and four of the receptionists were busy with guests. He went to the only free person, who seemed busy with their computer. ‘I wonder if a certain Anthony Edwards is a guest of this hotel,’ said Splinter.

  The young boy found the room number immediately, ‘Do you want me to call him?’

  ‘No, don’t worry,’ said Splinter laying a ten-pound note on the reception desk. ‘He shall be glad to see us.’

  The two made their way to the elevator. ‘My name is Marcus, by the way,’ he said holding out his hand to the other man.

  ‘Robert Price, nice to meet you. What are you doing here in Brighton?’

  ‘Investments. I’m mainly in real estate. I’m working on a renovation project in the outlying areas. Those 1950s buildings are awful, in fact, we’re buying them and replacing them with much more modern dwellings. Groups of villas for those who want to sell their house in London and move to the coast. Buying in central Brighton has become increasingly expensive, and it won’t be long before people start looking at the surrounding areas, and at that time we will be ready with a series of new housing. And what do you do, Robert?’

  ‘I deal with investments for a private bank.’

  ‘Ah, I see. Fast cash. I’ve always admired those who invest in the stock market, in shares, and all those modern things. Unfortunately, I’m a bit old school, I’m still stuck with bricks and mortar, I don’t understand much of the financial sector.’

  ‘It’s not that difficult … but behold, we’ve arrived, room 405,’ said Price. He knocked vigorously at the door, and a tall and handsome man came to open it.

  ‘How can I help you?’

  ‘Actually, we’re the ones that may be useful to you; we found your wallet down in the bar,’ said Price, taking over the discovery and the reins of the conversation. The man seemed surprised; he checked his pants to verify the fact of the disappearance, not finding anything.

  The man turned his head towards his jacket, leaning on a chair, but instead of going to check he turned to the two strangers at the door and said, ‘Please, come on in. I’m Hank.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ trilled Splinter.

  Hank had booked the suite the same day after they had followed Price to the hotel. There was a large living room with sofas, a vast round table in the centre that could host a dinner with friends, upon which instead were a myriad of dossiers and documents and further on, towards the window, a large desk and an open laptop. It was towards the desk that Hank directed the two guests.

  Price took back the initiative. ‘As I said we found your wallet.’ Making a nod in the direction of Splinter, who promptly pulled the object out from a jacket pocket, putting it on the desk.

  Hank surveyed the wallet for a moment, evaluating the contents, and then pulled out a handful of fifty-pound notes. ‘There aren’t many honest people these days. Hang on a second, to show my gratitude…’

  ‘Don’t even think about it,’ said Splinter, stopping Price who acted instinctively, already rising from his chair to grab the bills. ‘It was our duty, you would surely have done the same.’

  ‘Well, certainly,’ said Hank, ‘but are you sure? You’ve returned a tidy sum …’

  ‘Of course, don’t worry, it’s been a pleasure.’

  Seeing the displeased face of Price, Hank smiled inwardly and made an alternative suggestion, ‘If you do not accept a monetary reward, allow me at least the chance of investing this money, which would otherwise have been lost, and share the gains with you.’

  The two guests looked at each other, and before Splinter could utter and word, Price said, ‘Why not?’

  ‘Then we have a deal, I will invest these few thousand pounds on your behalf today. If you’re in town and you have the courtesy to come and see me tomorrow night, I’ll give you the rightful earnings.’

  Splinter choked back a half laugh. ‘Oh, these young men, always betting. Be careful because with gambling, sometimes people win, but they often lose.’

  ‘No, don’t worry, no gambling, of course. I care too much about money to risk losing it stupidly.’

  ‘But then how would you invest, if I may inquire?’ insisted Splinter.

  Hank grinned broadly and said, ‘Don’t worry, if I don’t get a significant return, I can always invite you for a drink,’ then he turned his eyes towards the bar, right behind the two speakers, where there were several bottles of liquor, mostly expensive.

  ‘If you have a good bourbon, it’s a done deal,’ said Splinter.

  ‘But certainly,’ said Price, though he was not very excited about the opportunity.

  The two left the suite and immediately Price hastened to share his thoughts.

  ‘I think we missed an opportunity. Cash now, in exchange for a promise. It is certainly not a good deal.’

  ‘You see, my dear friend, I feel differently. First of all, we got a glass of the good stuff just for doing an act of kindness. But what interests me most, if you want, is to understand people. That young man, Hank, seems to know his stuff. With an ounce of arrogance maybe, but he never gave me the impression of someone who exaggerated his achievements. I’d bet that within two days he will keep his promise.’

  ‘If you say so,’ said Price.

  ‘I’m convinced. So, see you back here in a couple of days?’

  ‘Why not? If the investment turned out to be rubbish, you would have to buy me a bottle of whisky.’

  ‘Done deal,’ said Splinter smiling, ‘done deal.’

  CHAPTER 32

  Stratford-upon-Avon station was a small red brick building, no bigger than a house. An anonymous station as many others in England. However, unlike many other stations, this was crowded with tourists. Amelia walked at a fast pace toward the ticket booth and looked at the trains map to evaluate how to get to Brighton. She bought a ticket from the vending machine and then turned to Anders, who was patiently waiting.

  ‘You are doing something foolish, you know?’ he said, ‘when you arrive in Brighton, you will be helpless. Those are professionals, what are you going to do, hide?’

  ‘As I said, I’m tired of running. Don’t worry, I’m not going to get myself killed. As soon as I’m off the train, I’m heading straight to the police station.’

  ‘Yeah, sure. And you believe they will do something about it?’

  ‘I’m a respectable person, they should listen, and if they don’t, I will turn my attention directly to a judge. I made some friends these past few years,’ said Amelia.

  ‘May I
come with you? At least until we reach the police station,’ insisted Anders.

  ‘You’ve done enough. Keep that money away from me. The farther you are, the less motivation those thugs will have to hurt me.’

  Anders did not seem convinced, but he finally nodded. He couldn’t convince her, but one way or another he would follow her to Brighton, and he would try to protect her.

  Five minutes were left until the train departed and it was time to say goodbye. They approached the first carriage, and Amelia turned toward Anders, stopping him in his tracks. She kissed him hungrily on the mouth, and the man kissed her back, holding her tight. That kiss seemed to last forever, and for a moment Amelia almost decided to change her plans. Leave everything and flee to some remote village, away from everyone and everything. The money would have been enough to build a new life, with new identities for both, but she didn’t feel quite ready. Too many loose ends. They looked into each other’s eyes, and Amelia leaned her face against Anders’ muscular chest.

  ‘Go, before I change my mind,’ said Amelia.

  Anders nodded. He had waited in vain for the woman to make the first step, hoping she would suggest they run away together, but now the moment had passed. Anders didn’t want to be the one asking, Amelia had a life in Brighton, albeit in danger, a law firm, and maybe even an entire bank to manage. How could he ask her to renounce everything, for what? A life in hiding?

  Without saying more Amelia boarded the train and soon found a place by the window so she could see Anders one last time, from behind, walking away.

  Have I done the right thing? She asked herself without being able to give an answer. She sat down and picked up a magazine someone had forgotten on the table between the seats. It was at that moment that Margot, unseen by Anders, made her move and climbed onto the last carriage of the train, undisturbed.

  The trip would last several hours, and there would be enough time to prepare a plan. Margot lightly stroked the Glock she held close to her side, relishing the image it conjured in her mind. Yes, she would have accomplished her mission even if she had to shoot Amelia on that train in front of witnesses. Margot had never failed a target.