The CEO: White Collar Crime Finance Suspense Thriller

by Peter Ralph

The suite Kelly had booked was huge, and had separate living and office areas with all the mod cons. Aspine made one phone call to Crossley & Leyland, the tax lawyers and confirmed his 2.00pm appointment for the following day. He showered and changed into a tan-coloured casual shirt, light cream slacks and tasteful brown shoes. When Kelly responded to his knocking, she was wearing a silk tangerine blouse, brief black shorts and sandles that accentuated her toned legs. “You look great,” he said, mentally undressing her.

  “Let’s go,” she said, seemingly oblivious to his leering.

  It was hot and humid and Nathan Road was teeming with a mass of endlessly moving humanity. Kelly wasted no time, and within two hours she was loaded up with shopping bags containing dresses, tops, shoes, makeup, lingerie and gifts. Aspine had enjoyed watching her change into a variety of dresses, asking him, “How do I look in this? Is this too small? Do you like the colour?” But now he was hot, tired and bored, and needed a drink. He was also annoyed. He’d offered to pay for a number of items, but

  Kelly had politely declined. Worse, she had not given him the slightest hint that they’d be getting between the sheets. While peeved, he wasn’t deterred. After all, she wasn’t wearing those tiny black shorts for nothing, and she wasn’t naïve.

  “Let’s go back to the hotel and get something to eat.”

  “Oh no, Doug, I’ve just started shopping,” she giggled, “and if we get busy, I mightn’t get another opportunity.”

  “Yes you will. I have some private meetings tomorrow, so you’ll have the whole day to shop.”

  “Why am I here if I’m not going to be at your business meetings?”

  “Kelly, I won’t know if I’ll need you until after tomorrow’s meetings but, if I do, I want you to be available,” he lied. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes...yes, I think so.”

  When they arrived back at the Sheraton, Kelly claimed that she was tired and needed a few hours’ sleep. He wanted to say, ‘how about I join you?’ but, instead, bit his tongue, “I’m going to show you the sights of Wanchai tonight, so be ready by eight.”

  “Okay,” she said, giving him a feeble smile.

  When Shirley Bloom, alias ‘Mercury Rising’, phoned Craig, he agreed to pay her the ten thousand, on the condition that he also attended the meeting with Fiona. He explained that it was only for security reasons and Shirley had bought it. They agreed to meet at the rear of a noodle café in Mordialloc the following night at 9pm. Shirley explained that the café was poorly lit, there was only one door to the rear and, if she got even a whiff of a camera or a recording device, the meeting was off.

  There was a faint refreshing breeze wafting off Victoria Harbour on the short ferry ride from Kowloon to Hong Kong Island. Aspine hadn’t been in Wanchai for five years, but he knew that the red light district in Lockhart Road wouldn’t have changed. The names of some of the bars, discos and brothels might have changed, but the ingredients would be the same. Kelly seemed to be enjoying herself, looking inside the bars and discos. “Would you like a drink?”

  “No thanks, I’m enjoying the atmosphere and the walk.”

  “See those girls in the red bikinis?” Aspine asked, nodding to a gaudily lit bar.

  “Yes.”

  “They’re not girls.”

  “No! They’re so beautiful.”

  “Bloody disgraceful if you ask me. There’s nothing on this road you can’t buy. You can get anything, from bestiality to conventional sex, that’s if you can call anything in this place conventional.”

  “The thought of women and animals makes me sick.”

  “Not just women,” Aspine chortled, reveling in Kelly’s discomfort.

  “I knew about the sex, but ...”

  “That’s nothing. You want to see what some of these girls can do with a ping pong ball or a lighted cigarette.”

  “Stop it, Douglas, you’re making me ill.”

  Aspine had broken into a light sweat, and half-way down Lockhart Road he stopped out the front of a bar named The Goddess. “Let’s have a quick drink in here.”

  “I told you I didn’t want to go into any of these places.”

  “It’s a bar, Kelly. It’s tame; you’re not going to see any deviate acts in there.”

  “Alright, I am a little thirsty.”

  Aspine ordered a Jack Daniels, and a mineral water for Kelly. The bar was quiet and there were a number of Filipino, Indonesian, Thai, and Korean girls lolling around looking totally bored. Because he was with Kelly, no-one approached him. Two young girls were dancing in front of floor-to-ceiling mirrors at the rear of the bar. They wore sarongs, but were naked above their waists. Aspine leered at their innocent faces, their firm breasts, and the rhythmic but repetitive movements of their nubile bodies. His concentration was broken by Kelly pulling on his shirtsleeve. “Who’s the old woman sitting in front of them?”

  “That’s their mama-san.”

  “Mama-san?”

  “Think of her as a conventional western madam. She looks after the girls, negotiates their rates and liaises with the Johns,” Aspine responded, feeling a stirring in his loins as his eyes refocused on the smaller of the two dancing girls.

  “Can we go? I think the jet-lag’s starting to catch up with me.”

  It was just after midnight when they arrived back at the Sheraton. “Do you feel like a night cap?” Aspine asked. “There’s a well-stocked bar in my suite.”

  “No thanks. I need sleep,” Kelly begged off.

  As Aspine entered his room, he had a clear vision of the smaller dancing girl, and wondered what Kelly’s breasts looked like. Perhaps he’d find out tomorrow, he mused.

  Crossley & Leyland had partners and managers fluent in more than a dozen Asian languages. They specialized in international banking, transfer pricing and income tax minimization. Aspine’s cab pulled up at the front of Imperial House at 1.45pm, and he alighted and walked briskly into the foyer. He entered an elevator, hit the button marked Crossley & Leyland, and it whisked him to the twentieth level. The doors opened onto a white marble floor, and a long black marble counter overlooking a small library, in which there was an array of deep black leather chairs and accompanying coffee tables. There were three young women behind the counter, and a petite Chinese girl with beautiful skin, dark eyes, and jet black shiny hair greeted him. “How may I help you, sir?”

  “Douglas Aspine. I have a two o’clock appointment with Charles Ong.”

  “We’ve been expecting you, Mr Aspine. Did you have a pleasant flight? Mr Ong will be with you shortly. Would you like coffee or tea?”

  “Yes. I arrived yesterday morning. I’ll have coffee, white with no sugar, please.”

  “I’ll have tea, Sally, and you can bring them down to my office,” said the tall, bespectacled Eurasian man, who entered from one of the three corridors adjoining the reception area. He extended his hand. “Charles Ong. Greetings, Mr Aspine, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Norman Pell speaks highly of your business skills. How are you coping with our oppressive heat?”

  “Thank you, Charles. Please call me Douglas or Doug,” Aspine said, as Charles took his arm and led him toward his office.

  “How can we help you, Douglas?”

  “Well, I’m not an expert in international banking or taxation, but I have read about our infamous Alan Bond, and I’ve taken some advice from Norman. I was going to set something up in the Caymans or Bahamas, but I understand the IRS can now access bank records in those countries. If the US government can do it, there’s a risk that the Australian government will eventually be able to do the same.”

  “Slow down, and tell me what you want to achieve, and I’ll let you know the best methods and countries to achieve your goals.”

  “Before I go on, is this conversation covered by client lawyer privilege?” Aspine asked, a look of concern clouding his face.

  “Everything we discuss is privileged, so you may speak freely.”

  “Well, I want to create a trust or company or bot
h, that will trade Australian shares on which large profits will be derived. In respect of these entities I will need to be totally hidden. I will of course also need a Hong Kong bank account.”

  There was a knock at the door and Sally entered, carrying a tray with the tea, coffee and biscuits, and Charles paused before responding. “If you’re so sure of making profits, I presume you’ll be using inside information?”

  Aspine frowned, and took a long sip of his coffee.

  “Douglas, it’s very important that you tell me everything.”

  “I don’t know whether it’s inside information or not, but past history would suggest there’s little risk, and a high probability of large profits.”

  “The good news is that there is no tax payable on profits derived outside Hong Kong. Do you want us to handle your orders?”

  “Yes, and I want you to use at least six different Australian brokers, but not Blayloch & Fitch. Not ever!”

  “So you want to keep the orders small so as not to alert Blayloch & Fitch, because your information’s coming from them. Is that right?”

  Aspine felt himself going red. He hadn’t realized his scheme was so transparent.

  “You don’t think you’re the first businessman to come up with something like this, do you?” Charles laughed. “Thousands like you have come through these offices.”

  Aspine felt himself relaxing. “How many have been successfully prosecuted by their domestic tax authorities?”

  “As far as I know, none.”

  “Charles, I’m not a risk taker, so I want to add another layer of protection. I want you to instruct your office in Zurich to duplicate the structure you’re setting up here.”

  “You’re going to trade shares in Australia out of Zurich?”

  “No, but I want to transfer the profits earned in Hong Kong to a numbered bank account in Switzerland?”

  “Why?”

  “I want to make it extremely difficult for the Australian Taxation Office, and the Securities & Investment Commission, should they choose to investigate me. It’s my understanding that they’d have to set aside client lawyer privilege, fight you, obtain a court order from the Hong Kong courts to access the records to the Hong Kong bank account, and do the same with the Swiss courts, to access the records to the Zurich bank account. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, but the Swiss structure is an over-kill, and might I say a waste of your money. I’d be humouring you if I was to suggest that you set something up in Zurich.”

  “Humour me then because I want the added insurance of Switzerland.”

  Charles laughed. “Douglas, the client is always right. Consider it done. How much are you going to initially deposit into the Hong Kong bank account?”

  “One million Australian dollars.”

  “Will a shelf company name do, or do you have a name that you’d like?”

  “If you can get it, I’d like Mapago. It just came to me.”

  “Mapago?”

  “Make a profit and get out,” Aspine laughed.

  “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll have documents drawn up, authorizing us to act, by the end of the day, and I’ll shoot them over to you for signing. You’re in the Sheraton Towers aren’t you?”

  “Yes. Thank you, Charles. It’s been a pleasure.”

  It was a dark, moonless night when Craig and Fiona arrived at the noodle bar, appropriately named Café Blah Blah, just before nine o’clock. They strode quickly to the back of the café, and through the rear door into a poorly lit room, set up to cope with the overflow of patrons. Only one table was occupied, in a dark corner, by a plump, middle- aged woman.

  “Shirley, Shirley Bloom?” Craig enquired.

  “Do you have my money?”

  “You’ll get it after we find out what you have.”

  “Then you’ll get nothing, young man,” Shirley said, starting to stand.

  “Give her the damn money, Craig,” Fiona snapped.

  Craig pulled an envelope out of his jacket, and pushed it across the table, while pulling out a chair. “Don’t sit down. I only agreed to you coming so that you could look after the money. You’ve done that, now please leave.”

  “What the...That wasn’t our deal.”

  “Buy yourself a coffee, Craig. I won’t be long,” Fiona said.

  Craig mumbled something, and then stomped out of the room. “I need to know that you’re not wired, Ms Jeczik.”

  “My name’s Fiona, and you’ll have to trust me when I say that I’m not, because you’re not going to strip-search me,” she laughed. “Besides, why are you so worried about being taped?”

  “I still might sue for wrongful dismissal and, if it came out in proceedings that I’d leaked those board minutes to you, it would look very bad for me.”

  “I see. Why did you leak those minutes?”

  “Because Douglas Aspine’s an egomaniac, who’s going to destroy a fine old company.”

  “Were you fired because he found out what you’d done?”

  “I think so, but I was told that my position had been made redundant and I was being retrenched.”

  “But he employed a new PA?”

  “Yes, that’s why I’m considering suing.”

  “What else can you tell me?”

  “He charged air fares, accommodation and gifts for his girlfriend to the company.”

  “How did he do that?”

  “He told me to organize bookings and send flowers.”

  “In writing?”

  “No, always verbally.”

  “It doesn’t really help. If he’s found out, he’ll just say that the expenses were charged to the wrong account. Do you remember the name of his girlfriend?”

  “Yes, Charlene Deering, and I also have her address,” Shirley said, pushing a piece of paper with two names on it over to Fiona.

  “There’s a second name, Anthony Keen. What does he have to do with Charlene?”

  “Nothing. He used to be the company’s supply manager until he was demoted. It was rumoured that he was the anonymous source who leaked the circumstances of poor old Bert Stuart’s tragic death to you. You’ll find out a lot more about Aspine and Mercury if you talk to him.”

  “What else do you have?”

  Shirley coughed nervously. “I thought that you’d be able to expose Aspine for spending company funds on his girlfriend.”

  “Don’t you have anything else?” Fiona asked, incredulously. “I pulled strings to get you the ten thousand, and you’ve given me nothing. Surely you have something else?”

  “What about those board minutes?”

  Fiona was angry, but also sorry for Shirley. She’d had her life ruined by Aspine at an age, and in a not dissimilar way, to what had occurred to her own father. “I want you to contact me if you find out anything else that might be useful, but we’re not paying for it. By my calculations you owe us about eight thousand dollars in information.” Fiona said, staring into Shirley’s eyes.

  Shirley looked down at the table. “I’m sorry. I needed the money, and you made such a big thing about the other information that I gave you.”

  “You didn’t give us anything. We were just the means by which you could hurt Douglas Aspine. Keep your ear to the ground and, if you hear anything, phone me.”

  Aspine’s business in Hong Kong was complete, and he could not have been more pleased with Charles Ong and Crossley & Leyland. Now he could concentrate on seducing Kelly and spending the next four days between the sheets. It was just after 5.30pm and the heat was stifling when the cab dropped him back at the Sheraton. He immediately buzzed Kelly’s room. “Did you do much shopping today?”

  “It was too hot; I’ve been in my room reading most of the afternoon.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Not really.”

  “You have to eat. How do you feel about a light snack in the Sky Lounge? Then we could go for a swim in the rooftop pool and cool off a bit.”

  “Why can’t we get a snack around the p
ool?”

  “Yeah, that’s fine. Give me five minutes to organize sandwiches and a bottle of chardonnay, and I’ll be with you.”

  Kelly answered her door dressed in a silk hotel dressing gown, towel over her arm. “I’m dying to hit the pool,” she said.

  Dusk was settling on Hong Kong but, surprisingly, there was no-one using the pool. Kelly removed her dressing gown to reveal a yellow string bikini, and a taut gym-hardened body which took Aspine’s breath away. Her breasts were small, but looked firm under the two tiny yellow triangles covering them. She quickly kicked her sandles off and plunged into the pool, seeking relief from the intense heat and the blatant staring of her boss. “It’s glorious,” she said. “Aren’t you coming in?”

  Aspine needed little encouragement and dived into the inviting cool water, and free-styled two laps before swimming over to Kelly.

  “You’re right, it’s great.”

  As if on cue, a waiter appeared with the sandwiches, wine and two glasses. “Put it on the table and bring the chit over here,” Aspine said.

  As the waiter knelt down by the edge of the pool, Aspine whispered, “If you bring another bottle in half an hour you’ll find me very generous.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Kelly, why don’t you pour the wine and bring the sandwiches over to the steps?”

  “Why didn’t you ask the waiter to do it?”

  “Sorry, I didn’t think,” Aspine lied, longing to see her dripping wet.

  He wasn’t disappointed, and as she bent over the table and poured the wine, her bikini tightened around her bottom and he felt an intense stirring.

  “Here’s to us,” he said, clinking glasses.

  Kelly sipped her wine but did not respond.

  Aspine was determined to be patient and not make a move until they were well into the second bottle. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked, topping up her wine glass.

  “Yes,” she replied, but she seemed withdrawn.

  Darkness settled over Hong Kong and the lights lit up Victoria Harbour creating a stunning rooftop view. “Let’s jump in the Jacuzzi,” Aspine said, as the waiter appeared with the second bottle of chardonnay.