Martin Bodenham

by The Geneva Connection

  Merriman jumped up and kissed Donohue on the cheek. “You’re a genius.”

  “What is it, Mark?” asked Patti.

  “Kerry has discovered a valuable asset which was bought using the cartel’s money, but it hasn’t yet been seized. If we can locate the documentation for it, then we could offer this to the cartel as a ransom payment.”

  “Oh my God! We have less than twenty-four hours. There’s no time to lose,” replied Patti, smiling for the first time since their daughter was taken.

  Merriman wasn’t certain he’d done the right thing raising Patti’s hopes. He knew it was still a long shot. He was still not convinced the cartel hadn’t killed his daughter soon after taking her. He returned to the office with Donohue in his car so they could continue the conversation.

  “Who else knows about this, Kerry?”

  “You’re the only person I’ve shared it with.”

  “Let’s keep it that way. If the government hasn’t seized this asset yet, they can’t be asked to give it back.”

  “That’s exactly what I thought. What still confuses me is how such a massive investment could’ve been missed from CBC’s list of assets. It makes no sense.”

  “It’s certainly suspicious.”

  Kent had better not have sat on this asset deliberately. What’s he up to?

  As soon as they returned to the office, Merriman checked the details of Donohue’s research. She was absolutely right. There was a substantial missing asset. He read Donohue’s printout of the article by the London Evening Tribune. Apparently, HS1 had been a UK government-owned high-speed, electric rail line leading from London to the Channel Tunnel. It had been auctioned off in order to raise money to reduce the level of government borrowings. The article went on to say the rail line was a goldmine, enjoying highly predictable revenues for many years to come.

  Merriman found a quiet office and shut the door. He picked up the phone and punched in the number for Kent at CBC. Tara put him through.

  “How can I help you?” said Kent.

  “I want you to call me back from a public phone in five minutes.” He gave no further explanation.

  “I’m about to start a meeting. Can I call you later today?”

  “Cancel the meeting. This won’t wait. I need to talk to you now.” Merriman put down the phone.

  Kent put down his phone. Who does this man think he is? I’ve delivered my part of the bargain. We’re supposed to have nothing more to do with the DEA or Merriman. The deal was I’d have no further involvement once Merriman had his evidence. He considered not calling, but soon thought better of that idea. I still don’t trust him.

  He walked out of CBC’s building and across the Science Park to a bank of public payphones and made the call.

  “It’s Kent.”

  “I’ve no time to waste on this. Where are the HS1 documents?” asked Merriman.

  Shit! How does Merriman know about the missing asset? Does he think I deliberately held it back? Even worse, does he know I’ve taken it? What the hell do I say?

  “I gave them to you with all the others.” It was the best response Kent could come up with in a few seconds. There was no point denying the existence of the asset. Merriman clearly knew about it.

  “Don’t fuck about with me, Kent. I don’t know why, but you know full well you didn’t give us that file. We know you paid seventy-six billion pounds for the company, so where is it? You don’t just lose an asset of that size.”

  “Then there must be some clerical error. I thought I gave you all of the relevant files but, clearly, I didn’t. I can only apologize. I’ll look into it and call you back in a few days.”

  “Let me explain this in words you’ll understand. For reasons I can’t share with you, my child’s life is at risk. If I don’t have the HS1 documents within the hour, then you’ll be arrested and shipped to the US. You won’t live long enough to get out of prison, because my next call will be to the cartel. I’ll tell them you still have their asset because you decided to keep it for yourself. They won’t mess about. Baumgart’s already dead.”

  “Baumgart’s dead? How? When did…”

  “Call me in less than an hour.” Merriman slammed down the phone.

  Baumgart’s dead. The cartel must have wiped him out. Jesus, I’ll be next if I don’t give Merriman what he wants. In a single fleeting moment, Kent had gone from being one of the world’s ten richest individuals to having nothing. No business, no reputation, no prospects — nothing. He smashed his head hard against the phone box.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” What if the cartel is already wiping out everyone involved?

  When he recovered his composure, he called Sarah.

  “Just checking you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine, John, but I can’t talk. I’m about to see another patient.”

  “That’s okay. I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

  “Has something happened?”

  “No. Nothing.”

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Kent moped about the Science Park. His head was throbbing. There’s no alternative; I’ve got to give up HS1. Merriman has too much on me, and he wouldn’t hesitate to inform the cartel about me, if it suited him. The slimy git! He rubbed his temples. Don’t understand the bit about his daughter, though. Is she unwell? Was that Merriman’s way of excusing his aggressive behavior?

  Half an hour later, he called Merriman from the same phone.

  “Good news. I’ve located the missing file. It wasn’t where it should have been. It was our most recent deal completion, and the file hadn’t yet been placed in the usual filing cabinet for completed deals. It was an oversight, and I apologize,” said Kent in his most groveling voice. He didn’t want to go to jail, nor did he want the cartel to learn he’d kept their investment.

  “Scan the key documents and e-mail them to me. I’ll have someone collect the original file from you within the hour. Don’t lose it,” replied Merriman.

  Don’t really know if he buys the story about the misplaced file. Fortunately, there’s no proof to support any other explanation.

  Minutes later, Kent had scanned all the documents and e-mailed them. Merriman sent one of his agents from USAF Alconbury to collect the originals.

  Jivaro called Merriman exactly forty-eight hours after issuing his initial ransom demand.

  “You think you can call my bluff and play games with your daughter’s life,” he said.

  “I’m not playing any games. I’ve tried my hardest to persuade the US authorities to release your assets, but it’s just not possible,” replied Merriman, in his office surrounded by police officers.

  “Then you know the consequences of your failure to meet my demands. We’ve nothing more to discuss.”

  “Wait, wait,” he said, anxious to avoid the call coming to an abrupt end. “I do have something to offer you.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Merriman hadn’t discussed the HS1 asset with anyone else in his department, besides Donohue, nor had he sought the government’s consent to handing it over to the cartel. He knew what the answer would be if he’d tried. He’d take his chances and live with the consequences.

  “We’ve located a major asset which hasn’t yet been seized. It’s the investment in HS1. It’s worth in excess of one hundred billion dollars. If you release my daughter, I’ll release that asset to you.” Merriman collected all the stares from the confused faces around his office, but he didn’t care.

  “I know what it’s worth. Release it immediately. I’ll have my lawyers check the paperwork. When they’re completely satisfied, we’ll talk.” Jivaro ended the call.

  Merriman didn’t want to let go of the asset without his daughter’s prior release, if she was still alive, but he was left with no choice. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain by handing over the asset.

  He left his room in order to avoid the awkward questions from the police. He locked himself away in one of the empty offices. His first call wa
s to Kent to tell him what additional paperwork would need to be signed to transfer the investment directly to the cartel. He explained it would be different to the method they’d been following in connection with all the other seized assets. Kent raised a few difficult questions, but was generally compliant.

  Then Merriman called Patti to update her. He wanted to give her something to hold on to, but he took great care to avoid raising too much false hope. He had to be realistic about their chances.

  An hour later, he called Kent again to check the paperwork was complete. Kent told him a courier had already been to CBC to collect the signed transfer documentation.

  “Why was the transfer document made out to a Caruana corporate vehicle?” asked Kent.

  “It’s got nothing to do with you,” spat back Merriman.

  “I would have expected it to be transferred to the US government as we’ve been doing with all of the other assets. Is this one going back to the cartel?”

  “You ask too many questions. I haven’t got time for this.” He ended the call.

  Minutes later, Merriman was called in to see Bob Butler. Word about Merriman’s planned trade had already reached him.

  “This is gonna create a shit-storm, Mark.”

  “Only if it’s found out,” said Merriman.

  “Look. I’m on your side here, but if this gets out, you know you’ll lose your job over it.”

  “I understand that, but what was I supposed to do? If I asked for government consent to using the asset as a ransom, you know what the answer would’ve been, Bob.”

  “I hope it works, for your family’s sake. But if the shit hits the fan, I didn’t know about it, okay?”

  “I hear you.”

  Merriman waited in his office all afternoon. He was expecting a call from the cartel confirming receipt of the asset. He heard nothing. At eight p.m., he set off for home, leaving clear instructions he was to be contacted the moment the call came in.

  The Merrimans had a third sleepless night.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Four long days had passed since the last call had come in from Safuentes. Patti was frantic and had to be put on tranquilizers. Merriman took no comfort in having always known in his heart their daughter had been killed soon after she was taken. He didn’t care that his last minute attempt to trade HS1 for his daughter’s life would probably cost him his career. He’d do the same thing again for the slim chance of saving Emma. He was right to have tried.

  In the long, sleepless early hours, Merriman had grown increasingly suspicious of Kent. He’d never really bought his pathetic story about a clerical error, and Kent had asked too many awkward questions about the unusual asset transfer process. He was too smart by half. Had Kent frustrated the transfer of HS1 to the cartel in some way?

  Merriman called his team together to go over the events of the last few days. Maybe one of them could spot a flaw in the transfer documents. He explained to his team how Kent, as the CEO of CBC, had supplied the information and original documents to enable the DEA to seize the cartel’s assets. Up to now, he’d kept Kent’s identity as the source to himself and the DEA leadership team as he’d been trying to protect him. He owed him nothing any longer, not since he’d tried to hide the HS1 documents. He no longer trusted him.

  They spent two hours poring over copies of the HS1 transfer paperwork supplied by Kent. Everything appeared to be in order. The meeting finished just before two p.m. as Merriman had to attend a regular DEA leadership meeting.

  Soon after Merriman’s own team meeting finished, Halloran put on his suit jacket. As he left the office, he explained to his colleagues he had arranged to meet an old college friend for lunch and was now very late as a result of the last-minute meeting. He sprinted to his car and put his foot down when he was on the Capital Beltway heading east. Once across the Potomac River, he headed south on Route 210. He took the exit for Franklin Square Park.

  On the edge of the park was a rest area. He pulled in behind a pickup truck. He jumped out of his car and ran over to the truck.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” shouted the driver of the truck. “I’ve been waiting here for over an hour. I was about to leave.”

  “I’m really sorry. I know we said one o’clock, but I was called into a meeting at short notice by my boss. It was impossible for me to let you know,” replied Halloran.

  “If we tell you to be somewhere at a certain time, then you’re there at that time. Is that understood? Do you think Rios will understand when I tell him you were late?”

  “I’m sorry. Please explain the circumstances to Miguel. I won’t let it happen again.”

  “I’ve got another package for you,” said the driver as he reached behind his seat and picked up a small courier box. He handed it to Halloran, who placed it into his briefcase. “I have to go.”

  “Before you go, I need you to pass on some important information to Miguel.”

  “What is it?”

  “Tell him that the source of the evidence to enable the DEA to seize the Tritona assets was a John Kent of CBC in the UK. That will mean something to him.”

  The driver wrote down Halloran’s exact words as they clearly meant nothing to him. “I’ll make sure he receives the message. Who knows? He might forgive you for being late if the information is of any value.”

  “He’ll forgive me. This is something Jivaro himself will want to know as soon as possible.”

  Halloran got out of the truck and jumped back into his car. He waited for the truck to pull away before taking the package out of his briefcase. He stared at it for a couple of minutes before placing it back into his case. He waited in the rest area for half an hour before making his way back to the office.

  Merriman was returning to his office after the three-hour leadership meeting when he was stopped in the corridor by Halloran.

  “A delivery came for you while you were in the meeting. I signed for it and left it on your desk,” said Halloran.

  “Thanks, Frank,” replied Merriman, who didn’t stop.

  When he reached his desk, he picked up the small package. His heart started thumping in his chest. Something about it reminded him of the package which had arrived on his birthday. He opened it carefully, his fingers trembling. The dried blood was the first thing he noticed. He stopped breathing.

  “Oh God, no,” he said, falling back into his chair. He sat staring at the small, severed left hand of his daughter, the box still cupped in his hands. How can I tell Patti? This will kill her.

  Merriman noticed a note tucked inside the package. He unfolded it. It said: “I would have traded your daughter for the asset. You tried to be too clever. Jivaro.”

  Why did the transfer not work? We could have saved Emma.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  A week later, Merriman was still off work, looking after Patti. She wouldn’t accept the death of their daughter in the absence of a body. Something inside her needed to keep alive the small hope that Emma would be back any day soon.

  Donohue called by the house to speak to Merriman.

  “Not now, Kerry,” said Merriman when he opened the door to her. “This is a difficult time for us. It can wait.”

  “The last thing I want to do is intrude at this sensitive time. I wasn’t sure I should come over, but I thought you’d want to know,” she said.

  He opened the door wide. “You’d better come in.”

  “It won’t take long.”

  He led Donohue to his study and closed the door. They sat. “What is it?”

  “When we met at the office last week, you asked us to review the transfer documents for HS1, and none of us spotted anything wrong with them. They appeared to be okay.”

  “Yes. I’ve thought a lot about this over the last few days. It seems something frustrated the transfer or, more likely, the cartel took the asset back. I think they killed Emma soon after they took her.” He shook his head.

  “What about the note from Safuentes?”

  �
��He’s an evil bastard. Probably sent it to increase the pressure on me.”

  “I don’t think the cartel received the asset.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “The transfer document wasn’t validly completed.”

  “But we all checked the documents carefully.”

  “They appeared to be in order, but they weren’t.”

  “How?”

  “I took the copies home last night and read them over and over. They were properly completed, all right, but the signature on the share transfer is not John Kent’s.”

  “Not his signature?”

  “It’s his handwriting, for sure, but not his usual signature.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “It actually reads ‘John Fortnam’ on the signature line.”

  “Who the hell is John Fortnam?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Have you tried to find out?”

  “I’ve searched for his name, but I don’t think he’s real.”

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked, gripping his fingers together tightly.

  “I think this was Kent’s deliberate way of undermining the transfer.”

  “So do I.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I can’t believe it.”

  “My guess is the cartel’s lawyers picked up Kent’s little ploy. That would explain why we didn’t hear from them again.”

  “I want Kent apprehended and brought to the US. I don’t care what it takes. Better still, I’ll throw him to the savages at the cartel and let them deal with him. I told him my daughter was at risk. His greed may have cost Emma her life.”

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  CBC was like a funeral home in the days that followed the DEA’s seizure of assets. Kent’s partners spent their time resigning from the boards of the portfolio companies and helping the US authorities with the transfer of the management of the many investments. It was depressing work, and all for no reward. Various US government agencies took over responsibility for the investments and once they understood the background to each deal, there was no longer a role for CBC. Gradually, the portfolio was disappearing, and there was less and less to do.