Arbitrage

by Colette Kebell

  ‘At the moment those are all open questions. Who killed Amelia? What was she doing in Leamington? All issues that need to be addressed. The local police said they will keep the investigation going and keep us posted, but I think we have a duty to do our homework and investigate ourselves,’ said Ross. Then, after a moment’s pause, he added, ‘Perhaps your theory about those scammers was incorrect.’

  Ross never had liked Corrigan. He had entered his life like a bull in a china shop and, shoving that Interpol badge in everyone’s face, he had started controlling everybody and demanding results. Ross didn’t like when his daily routine was disrupted, and Corrigan was undoubtedly a troublemaker. Maybe he’d be gone soon.

  ‘Could you let me have a copy of the investigation documents from the local authorities?’ he finally asked. ‘If Marcus Splinter and company are here, there must be a reason. I’m sure they’re up to something.’

  ‘Maybe they aren’t aware of her death. When they learn that fact, they will go away,’ said Ross. And with them, you too, he thought.

  ‘We will need to inform her family.’

  Ross sighed. Maybe it wasn’t over yet. ‘One of my officers is trying to track them down right now. She has a sister, from what I learned. We will find her.’

  ‘Do you mind if I accompany your officers when they go to break the news? There could be important elements that we haven’t discovered yet.’

  ‘Go ahead,’ ruled Ross. He was confident that Corrigan’s permanence in his department wouldn’t last long. A little more patience and everything would be back to normal.

  Ross had never been wrong. Not until that moment.

  CHAPTER 37

  ‘We have the funds,’ said Anders without looking away from the computer. ‘That jerk Price dropped a hundred and fifty thousand pounds. What a deadbeat!’

  ‘This means that our friend Marcus will have the better hand, what do you think?’ asked Hank.

  ‘That wouldn’t be a bad idea. Price seems a competitive type if we pretend that I’ve invested three hundred thousand pounds it will piss him off. He’s young and ambitious and seeing that an old man like me got the best return will send him on a rampage. Obviously, he won’t show it openly, but rest assured he won’t be happy,’ said Splinter.

  ‘What return are we going to give him back?’ asked Anders.

  ‘I would say at least three hundred thousand pounds. That might tempt him to make a much higher investment later.’

  ‘From what I read in Romanov’s letters,’ said Anders, ‘he is exposed by ten million. If he wants to cover his loss, he could well invest five million.’

  ‘That means there would be thirteen million in our pocket, without the risk of exposing our own money,’ said Hank. ‘What makes me smile is that this whole thing is legal, or almost. Obviously, we are not a real financial institution, but these types that Logan found really are a piece of work. I thought I’d seen many scams, but these guys are head and shoulders above us and some.’

  ‘You’ve decided to invest regardless?’ asked Anders stupefied. The last time they had talked about it, the gang had decided to use Amelia’s money to subsidise the scam. Logan had been useful to find the mechanism to hook Robert Price. That High-Frequency Traders company was registered in the United States, was mentioned on websites, there were employee profiles on LinkedIn, would have been useful if Anders had not managed to get his hands on Amelia’s money. When they received the news of his success, Splinter and Hank decided to continue the old way and use the funds already available. Hank had thought investing Price’s money for real would have been a gamble they could afford.

  ‘We blackmailed Logan, we went to London to meet this Whitley, why not try? We have the money. We’re going to be cautious and only invest Price’s funds to see what happens. By the way, where is Logan?’

  ‘He’s just arrived,’ said Domino, ‘he now comes here every day, for lunch, eyes me up while he stuffs his face and then returns to where he came from. A pathetic old man.’

  The woman went to call Logan, who joined the others in the main room. When Hank explained what he had in mind, the old lawyer nodded, he asked them to transfer the money to the account as previously agreed and called Whitley on the phone. The two were old friends, and they spent most of the time reliving memories and sharing bad jokes, increasing the irritability of everyone present. They were not used to working with strangers and Logan, although he looked old and tired, remained a wild card to them.

  ‘They will do us special favour: today they will invest all the money, and they’ll work for us all day. They will send us the transaction log by email. Not that it’s necessary, but if it serves to demonstrate to Price that the transactions are legitimate, so be it. I’m going to have to stay up all night to make a copy for Marcus. It doesn’t have to be precise, but not a duplicate of the original either,’ said Logan without particular enthusiasm.

  ‘Do you think it’s necessary? Why not just the front page and the rest blank?’ asked Splinter surprised by the unexpected offer.

  ‘That depends. If Price is curious, he would want to give a sneak peek at your sheets, maybe just hoping to steal some secret.’

  ‘When you say they will work for us, what do you mean?’ Domino interjects.

  ‘They will start investing the hundred and fifty thousand, and then they will continue all day to buy and sell. If at eleven in the morning they reach, say, three hundred thousand pounds, they will continue to sell and buy with all the money and profits, to maximise earnings,’ explained Logan, without entering in further details. The others did not ask anything further.

  ‘We just have to wait. When do you think we will hear from them?’

  ‘When the market closes. They could, in theory, continue on the banks’ dark pools throughout the night but at 5 p.m. New York time they will send the money to us, less their percentage, of course.’

  ‘That will be about eleven o’clock at night GMT,’ said Domino doing a quick mental calculation.

  ‘We will wait.’

  ****

  Corrigan and Inspector Blake arrived at Robert Price’s luxury apartment rather late in the evening.

  Price made them sit as soon as he saw the badges, fearing for the worst. He had ordered the killing of Romanov, he was dealing with the mafia, and had ordered the murder of his sister-in-law. He relaxed only when they demanded the presence of his wife. If they wanted to arrest him, they wouldn’t have made so many compliments.

  Carla arrived a few minutes later after she’d sent their children to bed.

  ‘The police?’ her husband asked in hushed tones.

  ‘Let’s hear what they have to say. Can I get you something to drink?’

  ‘No thanks, we’re on duty,’ said Blake, with a tinge of embarrassment. A glass of something strong would certainly help him deliver the bad news, he was young and still was not used to such situations. ‘It is about your sister,’ said the inspector, ‘she’s been killed.’

  Robert Price and Carla looked at each other, one not at all understanding precisely what the detectives were saying, the other, on the other hand, knowing all too well what had transpired.

  ‘Don’t … It’s not possible. How did it happen? I spoke to her not long ago … certainly, we weren’t very close but …’ She covered her face with her hands. Corrigan failed to see if the woman was crying or not.

  Even Price gasped, but for other reasons. With the death of Amelia, Carla would automatically take possession of the bank while Mortcombe was still in a coma in the hospital. Not understanding anything about finance, she would turn to him to lead the bank.

  ‘She was found murdered, along with another woman, at the train station in Leamington. She had been shot in the face a staggering number of times, we barely recognise what little of her face remains intact, and only IDd her from the contents of her handbag,’ stated the officer.

  And bang goes making it look like an accident, thought Price, but the fact that Amelia was killed in
another county would have minimised the suspicion on him. Of course, he had a motive, but his wife seemed to be sufficiently stricken to divert the investigator’s attention from him. Margot had done an excellent job and had earned her pay.

  ‘Are there any suspects?’ asked Price, ‘I don’t understand what she was doing in Leamington, the bank has no business in that region, and I don’t think her law firm has clients in that area.’

  ‘The investigation is ongoing, but it will be conducted by the local police,’ said Blake, ‘of course we will keep you informed of developments. We have a warrant to search her office; we would like, if possible, if you could come along. There could be clues that might get us on the right track.’

  ‘Of course, no problem,’ said Price, ‘I will take care of that myself by getting in touch with Mr Logan, who is … was Amelia’s business partner.’ Then he cursed himself silently, some incriminating papers were still in Amelia’s office, and he should make them disappear before the police went there. If he had entrusted that job to Margot, she would have botched it. Not knowing what to look for, she would have turned the entire office upside downshifting the focus of the investigators to Brighton. No, he should recover the documents himself: Amelia’s death gave him that right. Doing it before the inspectors arrived and outfox Ryan Logan was another matter.

  He would deal with the matter that very night.

  CHAPTER 38

  ‘How much did you say?’ Hank asked, not believing his ears.

  ‘Two hundred and twenty thousand,’ confirmed Anders unable to take his eyes away from the computer screen.

  ‘Doesn’t seem much to me,’ said Domino, ‘I mean, would it be enough to convince Price? I expected, like, a million at least.’

  Logan laughed out loud, causing them to all turn in his direction. ‘Dear girl, with that return, one hundred and fifty thousand pounds becomes two million in just one month. Twenty-five million a year. Doesn’t seem to me like a gain to be underestimated, for an investment done honestly. Of course, if you want a million, you can always try the lottery, but if you manage to convince Price to put tens of millions, you might keep your share of the profits without committing any crime.’

  It was Splinter’s turn. ‘Guys, let’s not be greedy. We know that greed is the spring that pushes all our buttons. You can’t cheat an honest man. We have nine million, we invest them for a few months, and we see them doubled or tripled with this history of high-frequency trading. For once, we have the opportunity to make money without risk. I say we should wrap this up and withdraw. Many thanks, Mr Price, we give him what he is due, and we dismantle the operation. What do you say?’

  The gang members didn’t seem very willing to listen to him at that point, everybody was doing the maths in their own head. Invest, receive the fifty per cent gain, reinvest. It would take quite some time to reach a significant amount. Conversely, if they had hooked Price for good, those millions would multiply very quickly. It was the difference between a beautiful house and a villa, between a regular luxury car and a Rolls Royce, between a decent life and one made of glitz.

  Lenny was the first to speak, ‘I say we continue to rip off Price. We invest the nine million plus whatever the banker is forking, and when we reach three hundred million, we disappear.’

  Splinter was getting nervous. ‘We know that the first priority for Price is to recover that ten million. Once he reaches that figure, he will be much more cautious in investing. Currently, he has the motivation, the Russian mafia is breathing down his neck, but if he can recover that money, the biggest problem is past. He will make inquiries, he will ask around, he will look at our credentials in more depth. We can’t keep it going for too long.’

  ‘Then we hurry him up,’ said Hank, ‘with the next investments we keep him below the ten million threshold. Eventually, he will relent and invest a large amount.’

  Also, Domino, who was usually calm and rational when it was a matter of money, was dreaming about the big hit, the one that would have made history. ‘I am with Hank, we keep Price on a leash until we hit him big and then we can leave.’

  Seeing the situation slipping out of control, Splinter contacted the last two constituents, hoping still to receive a majority. ‘Chaz, Anders, what do you think?’

  ‘Both situations are good for me,’ said Chaz, who was the youngest and least experienced. ‘I’m with the majority.’

  ‘And you, Anders?’

  ‘Hell, I vote to scrub Price and make him pay. I nearly got myself killed by following the money and Amelia. I’m almost convinced that he was the one who sent those killers after us. If we don’t cheat him as a team, I shall do it on my own, he deserves it!’

  Seeing that the decision had been made, Splinter did not resist further. ‘OK, it seemed right to put all options on the table. We continue with the scam, as agreed.’

  Everybody relaxed, all except Logan, who remained on the fence, worried.

  CHAPTER 39

  Price couldn’t sleep that night. Despite having given the order to kill Amelia, he hadn’t considered the boxes of banking documents would be in her office. What if they impounded every single scrap of paper as part of the murder investigation? An amateur mistake, one which he would have to remedy. The problem was how to do it. If he forced the door, the investigators would notice, Logan would do a check and tell the police what was missing. And the suspicion might fall back upon, the bank.

  But then how do you force a door? I’m not a burglar, he thought.

  He could send a courier to collect the documents, but Logan might have objected, and if the police were there, it would have aroused suspicion.

  There was no way out.

  He looked at his phone screen again, and then he dialled the number, despite the late hour.

  ‘Sokolov,’ said a voice on the other end of the phone on the second ring.

  ‘This is Price, I have a problem.’

  ‘You’re not alone. We worked with that assistant you assigned to us, and it appears that Bruno Mortcombe stole ten million from our accounts.’

  Price breathed heavily. There was no point in denying what Sokolov already knew. ‘It’s not like that.’

  ‘Then explain how it is,’ said Sokolov. His voice was calm, but that meant nothing.

  Price told him about Albert Romanov, how Price hired a hit man to kill his sister-in-law, of the failed attempts and how Margot eventually managed to kill her. It was at that moment he realised Margot had not contacted him yet. What happened to that money? Maybe the killer had decided to keep it and disappear? He cursed silently.

  ‘Can you go to the bank tonight and pick up a couple of boxes of paperwork with no value?’

  ‘I think so, the bank is closed, but the guard won’t say anything if I show up. What are you planning to do?’

  ‘I plan to save your ass, this time. I’ll send you one of my guys. Follow his instructions to the letter, and when he arrives, do not keep him waiting.’

  Then there was silence.

  Price dressed quickly, trying not to wake his wife and silently walked out of the apartment. The fresh night air enveloped him, and he wanted to smoke a cigarette, seeing the condensation leave his mouth. He had stopped years earlier because he realised the health issues caused by smoking. He smiled, thinking about the damage he risked by working for the Russian mob; the possibility of going to jail for the rest of his life. The harm of cigarettes appeared insignificant.

  A black Audi stopped right in front of him about ten minutes later; he entered the car without waiting to be asked, and the man drove to the bank. He had already seen him driving Sokolov on other occasions, the mobster had a hard face and tattoos on his neck that made Price cringe. He could see a skull and a dagger, symbols indicating that the man was a murderer. They stopped in front of the building, and the man got out of the car along with Price. ‘Now we enter,’ he said bluntly, ‘you get the paperwork, put them in a container and then we go. Do not provide explanations to anyone about what yo
u’re doing.’

  The nightshift guard came to open the shortly after. He recognised Price and sized up his escort, but he wasn’t paid enough to ask questions. Price was also known for his short temper, so the guard avoided asking him to sign the entry register.

  The two made their way to the elevator and went to the upper floors until they reached the archives. After about an hour of work, Price had filled two boxes with documents. Old statements, reports of low importance, but that would assist the investigators from wasting precious time. The gangster took charge of bringing the two boxes out of the building before placing them in the car trunk, then he after for the new address.

  The Russian did not waste time talking more than he should, but Price understood, despite the strong accent, and gave directions on how to reach Amelia’s office.

  Once they’d arrived, the man opened the locks, and in the blink of an eye, they were inside the office. ‘Search for the paperwork,’ said the Russian, after lighting a cigarette and sitting in an armchair. Price didn’t criticise that gesture; he would have liked to smoke a cigarette himself.

  The bank documents were in Logan’s office, and Price took charge personally of replacing them with those he had just removed from the bank. Maybe they would get away with it. The investigators would take them away, deem them uninteresting, and send them back. Job done.

  When Price collected all that he needed, he headed toward the criminal who once again took charge of bringing the documents back to the car.

  He left Price on his doorstep, with the two containers placed on the ground and he vanished into the night.

  CHAPTER 40

  The next day Price escorted the investigators to Amelia’s law firm. Five officers followed him, including Inspector Blake and Corrigan.

  Logan opened the door and let them in.

  ‘Apparently, we meet every time one of your employers is killed,’ said Corrigan in no uncertain terms.