Arbitrage

by Colette Kebell

  Sokolov raised a hand to stop him talking. He was the one driving the conversation, and he ensured there was no doubt whatsoever about it. Sokolov would ask, and Price would respond. In one way or another.

  ‘What makes you think this investment will be successful?’

  ‘It is safe, they have a system that allows you to buy and sell stocks without exposing yourself.’

  ‘And how much more of our money have you invested with them?’

  ‘Another ten million,’ said Price embarrassed. He had never experienced rigorous questioning. Usually, he was the one giving orders.

  ‘So we are exposed by twenty million,’ said Sokolov, more to confirm to himself the shortfall than looking for confirmation from Price. ‘I want to meet these people, and I want my twenty million. Set up a meeting for tomorrow, I smell a scam.’

  ‘For tomorrow. OK, I’ve got it,’ said Price.

  CHAPTER 42

  When Hank hung up the phone, he cursed, attracting the attention of those present in the room.

  ‘Price wants to see us tomorrow, no explanation about why he just says it’s urgent.’

  Silence fell upon the room, and they looked at each other, trying to make sense of the unusual request.

  ‘We told him it will take a few days for that investment, didn’t we?’ said Lenny.

  ‘Of course,’ said Domino, ‘Hank explained that for significant sums it takes more time, I was there at the time.’

  ‘So, what the hell does he want? I’d say that he has smelled a rat and wants to withdraw the money. We have nine million from Anders, plus ten which Price gave to us, I think we should close this business and bugger off. It’s a lot of money,’ said Lenny.

  ‘Until yesterday you said you wanted to con him, and today you change your mind?’ said Splinter. ‘Let us not panic. He invested the money and wants to make sure he receives a good return. We play this as agreed: we make him earn some money, but not enough to cover the hole that Romanov has created. At that point, he will be forced to reinvest. In my opinion, next time he will give us twenty million. Still, a few days of patience and we go our own way happy and enriched.’

  Nobody commented further. In previous scams, they had managed to earn a few hundred thousand pounds at a time. Seeing millions in the account was something they were not used to, and the temptation to flee was strong. The only ones who seemed to stay calm were Hank and Splinter.

  ‘So, what is the plan for tomorrow?’ said Lenny.

  ‘Marcus, tomorrow you stay away. Price must not see you around or he will suspect something. How is Logan?’ asked Hank.

  ‘After the rabid phase he went into depression mode,’ said Domino, ‘he is drunker than a spinster on Valentine’s day, but today we were able to put him in touch with Tim Whitley and the Americans, although most of the time I was the one talking. Apparently, in the past Logan liked his drink, so nobody asked questions.’

  ‘OK, let him sleep on the sofa tonight. Tomorrow after breakfast we put him back on track, we need him one last time. Make sure he doesn’t show up when Price arrives. If the two meet, we are out of business.’

  ‘It will be done. Did I ever mention to you that my middle name is nurse?’ said Domino.

  ‘Every day we discover something new about you. You could have told us before, I needed nursing attention after the incident in Eton,’ laughed Lenny. During a scam against a London gangster, Lenny had been recognised by a former crony who was passing by at that moment. Having sensed the fraud, the victim had viciously beaten Lenny up, and things would have turned for the worse if bystanders had not intervened. He ended up in a hospital with a couple of cracked ribs and spent a month in bed. From time to time, he complained about that, with the change of season.

  ‘Chaz, you’re going to be the accountant, as usual. Transferring funds from Price to the Americans. You will be in the office opposite mine, just in case I need to call you. Anders, you disappear, if he sees you’re still around, he might suspect something was amiss.’

  ****

  The next day, just after lunchtime, Robert Price entered the headquarters of the Resurgence Equities Enterprise, accompanied by Sokolov and two of his henchmen. One was the guy who had broken into Amelia’s office, the other looked even more menacing, and they carried a gym bag. The receptionist informed Domino of the guests waiting at the reception.

  When the woman arrived in the main lobby, her blood froze in her veins. Nobody had mentioned that there would be other people besides Price, and those other guys promised trouble.

  Price didn’t introduce his companions to the woman, after all, she was just a secretary. It was only when they were in the presence of Hank Edwards that Price spoke.

  ‘This is Igor Sokolov, one of the most important clients of Mortcombe Bank.’

  Hank started looking for a way out, he knew that those facing him were nothing more than representatives of the Russian mafia. They were dressed smartly, but that man introduced as Igor was definitely the most fearsome. Hank had dealt with the Russian mafia before in Manchester. They once targeted the wrong person, and he had almost lost his life in the process. He still got chills thinking about the months he spent looking over his shoulder with the fear of being kidnapped and tortured every time he stepped away from home.

  ‘Nice to meet you, to what do I owe the pleasure?’

  ‘Mr Sokolov …’ Price attempted to say, but he was interrupted by an abrupt gesture from the Russian, forcing him to keep quiet.

  ‘Price manages our accounts, but in this case, he acted without our authorisation,’ said the Russian.

  ‘Please, sit down,’ said Hank, pointing toward the chairs in front of his desk. Price and Sokolov sat down while the two bodyguards stood by the door. ‘Can I offer you something to drink, a coffee perhaps?’

  ‘No thanks,’ said the Russian. Silence had fallen on the room, and the guests made no sign of wanting to add anything else.

  After a moment of embarrassment, Hank said, ‘I understand, there are no problems. Every evening we invest the money, and at the end of the day, we put it back into the personal accounts of our clients. Your money is still on our accounts after last night’s investments.’ Hank looked at his watch, ‘For another thirty minutes. We can make a transfer immediately to your bank account. Do you want to know what the balance is?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  Hank turned to his computer, he typed at the keyboard for a few moments and then said, ‘It’s around fifteen million, to which account do you want us to transfer it?’

  Sokolov took a pen from his breast pocket and began to write in a notebook; then he passed the message to Hank.

  A few seconds after, Sokolov received a message on his phone. The money had arrived into his personal account, then he turned to Price and said, ‘You can go now.’

  Price remained dumbfounded for a moment as if he had not understood and it was at that point that Sokolov was forced to repeat the order, ‘Go home, Robert, if we need you, we know where you are.’

  The banker muttered a thank you, rose from his chair, and walked toward the door, turning a few times in the vain hope of being recalled. Which was something that did not happen. He passed by the two thugs and was escorted out of the building by Domino.

  ****

  ‘For Christ’s Sake! That was Robert Price!’ swore Corrigan, in his car stationed opposite the Resurgence Equities Enterprise. Inspector Blake had joined them and was sitting in the back seat of the vehicle.

  ‘Amelia Mortcombe’s brother-in-law,’ said Blake more to confirm it to himself than anything else. They had met when he had given him the news about Amelia Mortcombe’s death; there was little doubt.

  ‘What the hell is going on here? We were trying to frame Hank Edwards and associates, we thought the goal was Amelia, and now the brother-in-law pops up.’

  ‘Those three guys who went in with him,’ said Blake, ‘they are Russian mafia.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’


  ‘The tattoos on their necks and hands. I’ve seen enough of them when I worked in London, and then from how they move, they appear ready for a robbery. What are we going to do?’

  ‘We wait, we have nothing else to do.’ Then, thinking aloud, Corrigan added, ‘Edwards, Mortcombe, the Russian mafia. How the hell are they connected? I can’t figure it out.’

  A few minutes later they saw Robert Price leave the building and take a taxi.

  ‘Come on, let’s follow him,’ said Corrigan. ‘We take your car, Blake. Chief Superintendent Ross, we may need help. Can you get reinforcements to guard this damn building? This time we’ll catch them all red-handed.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got it,’ said Ross, who already had his hand on his radio.

  The two followed the taxi to Price’s home, despite that they had bet that it would go to the bank. They saw him exiting the vehicle and enter the luxurious condo they had previously visited when they brought the news of Amelia Mortcombe’s death.

  ‘What do we do?’ said inspector Blake.

  ‘We question him, that’s what we are going to do.’ They parked the car about fifty yards ahead, and they headed for the building. Corrigan showed his badge to the doorman while Blake, in uniform, was awaiting a step behind the inspector. The man at the front desk made a phone call and then pointed to the elevator down the hall. Price was on the fourth floor.

  The two introduced themselves and entered the apartment. ‘What’s this all about?’ asked Price, ‘is there any more news about Amelia’s death?’

  ‘No, we’re here for another matter. Do you know these people?’ said Corrigan showing Hank Edwards and his gang’s picture.

  ‘Of course, they work for the Resurgence Equities Enterprise down in the centre of town. I’ve just returned from their offices.’ And focussing his attention on another picture he said, ‘And this man is Marcus Splinter, a businessman I met recently. Would you like to explain what this is all about?’

  ‘Please sit down,’ said Corrigan.

  The man remained standing, and Corrigan explained his role with Interpol, on how he had been chasing Splinter and his companions for years and how he had tracked him down to Brighton.

  Price slumped in the chair behind him. If he had indeed introduced Sokolov to a gang of con men, his life was over. There wouldn’t be a bank left to manage, and he would have to persuade his wife to leave everything and flee. He knew he was in deep trouble; just trying to explain to his wife what was going on would lead to endless discussions and questioning. And he didn’t have time for that.

  ‘Are they the ones who killed Amelia?’ he asked finally.

  ‘Oh no, far from it. Amelia was a target for sure. A rich heiress who would receive a fortune, but those people aren’t murderers. No, the reasons for Amelia’s murder must be sought elsewhere,’ said Corrigan. ‘What interests me is your involvement with the Russian mafia.’

  Price stiffened in the chair. How much did they know about Sokolov and the bank accounts? If the police approached Sokolov, even to just question him, Price would be a dead man. ‘How do you know …’

  ‘Don’t take us for idiots, Price. What we want from you are facts. Help us to get our hands on Splinter and his companions, help us to incriminate the Russian mafia, and maybe there will be a way out for you and your family.’

  ‘And if I refuse?’

  ‘If you refuse, someone will make an anonymous phone call to leak the story to the newspapers concerning who we are investigating. We’re going to break into the Resurgence building, and we will book Splinter, his gang, and the Russians. And even if we can’t catch them this time, the law is patient, there will be an opportunity tomorrow, next week, or next year. Think about your interests, I find it needless to remind you that you are in a serious amount of trouble. One way or another.’

  Price sighed. He knew it was over and perhaps the only thing to do was to negotiate his own salvation with the police before they investigated his sister-in-law’s death further. Resigned, he made a sign of assent with his head and stood up. ‘I would like to call my lawyer.’

  ‘Sure, why not? You can do it from the police station,’ said Corrigan.

  Inspector Blake handcuffed him, and together they headed for the car.

  CHAPTER 43

  It was three o’clock in the afternoon and Hank had explained to Sokolov the basics about Resurgence and how they worked the arbitrage. It was at that point that the Russian drew his Tokarev TT-33 and set it on the table in front of Hank. Despite its age, that gun had accompanied him for years and had never betrayed him. Being a remnant of the Second World War it was also the gun with which he had started to shoot as a boy. It was a simple gun, it wouldn’t jam for any reason in the world, but it was also an extremely dangerous weapon, not being equipped with a safety pin.

  ‘I will explain what will happen,’ said Sokolov looking Hank straight in the eye. The sour face of the Russian gave no margin for negotiation. ‘You will send home all employees except those needed to make an investment tonight. I will transfer funds into your account, and we’ll stay here all night until the market closes. At that point, you will transfer the gains to the same account that I provided you the details of earlier.’

  Hank tried to think quickly about a solution, something that could take them off the hook but, uncharacteristically to him, he failed to think of a way out. The most important thing was to save all those aspiring actors who they had employed for the scam. He called Domino.

  ‘Send everyone home, including Lenny and Chaz and then get Anders and Ryan in my office.’

  The woman glimpsed at the gun laid on the table and nodded in assent. When she exited the office, she was followed by one of the Russian’s killers, to ensure she would be unable to call the police. They returned a few minutes later, along with Logan and Anders.

  The young Swede watched the two Russians by the door carefully, trying to assess their skills and then settled his gaze on Hank, who shook his head. They wouldn’t be able to overpower them, at least not without the risk of getting shot.

  Sokolov made a sign, and one of the two thugs took out a laptop from the bag. The Russian typed some command and said, ‘We are ready!’

  ‘Now you have three hundred million belonging to the Russian mafia in your accounts,’ announced Sokolov, ‘do whatever you have to do, and nobody will get hurt.’

  ‘Three hundred million?’ interjected Logan. ‘It is far too much, we cannot invest such a huge amount, we risk disaster!’ The old lawyer perspired profusely from the tension that had arisen.

  ‘Didn’t you say you do arbitrage?’ said Sokolov in a sarcastic tone. ‘In that case, there is no risk. Aside from what you are running now, I mean.’

  ‘It is not so simple,’ said Logan, ‘we risk sending the stock exchange into a panic. No one will understand what’s going on; we are in danger of bankrupting banks, sending some investment funds belly up. There will be investigations.’

  ‘We’re used to being investigated. So, we’re in business or not? The stock exchange opens in fifteen minutes,’ said Sokolov holding the gun. The man was laid back, a calm that was putting their worst of fears into everybody else in the room.

  ‘I need to make a phone call,’ said Logan.

  The old man called Whitley on the phone and explained the situation.

  ‘It is not possible,’ said Whitley. ‘The SEC will open an investigation, we will be in every bloody newspaper around the world. It’s suicide, Ryan!’

  ‘Wait, I remember you said you had Russian programmers there? Are you in New York?’

  ‘Yes, we have a couple of Russian guys, why?’

  ‘Bring one to the phone! Fast.’

  After a few minutes of silence, a voice with a strong accent showed up on the phone, ‘I’m Yuri Belikov.’

  Logan put his hand on the receiver and then turned to Sokolov, and said, ‘Talk to him.’

  The Russian took the phone and began to speak in his own language. It seemed
like a friendly conversation, there was almost a melody in his words if anyone in the room didn’t know perfectly well that instead, they were threats. The Russian mafia was everywhere, even in New York and New Jersey and Sokolov was telling his fellow countryman what would happen to him and his family, all his friends and relatives, all co-workers, neighbours, and their dogs if they did not obey.

  Sokolov returned the phone to Logan.

  ‘For Christ’s sake!’ said Whitley, ‘what kind of shit did you drag us into? Is it true what Yuri just told me?’

  ‘You can bet your skin. Indeed, you did it already. Why don’t we do a video call, so everyone can hear and see what’s going on?’ Questioned Logan.

  ‘Good idea,’ Whitley asked for Hank’s email address and sent a link. In a matter of minutes, they were connected via computer. Hank posted the image of the video conference onto the giant screen hanging on the wall.

  Whitley was visibly panicking. ‘You know how things work, we have to wait until someone decides to make big investments today. If today is a quiet day, there is nothing we can do.’

  ‘And then make them change their mind,’ said Logan. ‘You received the money, put a few million shares on the market and then cancel the order before it’s executed. And then do it again until someone starts asking questions.’

  Yuri was explaining something to Whitley, but the people in Brighton couldn’t understand what he was saying. Then Whitley began to speak aloud. ‘There could be a way. In a specific stock market, some settings are available only to high-frequency traders. If we do our things right, maybe there is a way. Give us half an hour, Yuri must write a program for this purpose.’

  Silence fell on the room. Now it was just a waiting game. Sokolov got up to stretch his legs, and meanwhile, he put the Tokarev back in his holster. He approached one of his assistants and took his inlaid axe from the bag. Then he sat down on a couch and slowly began to sharpen it with a whetstone. It was a slow operation that Sokolov did whenever he was forced into waiting. The grinding of the slow-moving blade on the whetstone made people’s skin crawl. All eyes of those present were fixated on that axe as if they were victims of a spell.