by Tim Heath
“I’ve gathered you all here today to assess your progress in this latest, and easily the greatest, challenge I have ever laid before you. I want to ascertain that you still feel you have a chance of even getting close––remember, gentlemen, with targets this large, if you go about it the wrong way, you risk your own downfall. Bankruptcy isn’t an impossibility.” Dmitry Sokoloff, albeit a man only in the T20, had faced just that, most of his $2.2 billion fortune lost as a direct result of his involvement in the Games. His body was now lying six feet under, assumed to be a suicide by all, apart from the one man present who knew otherwise.
“I will meet with both groups in turn––it is only fair to do things that way, looking in detail at each team’s progress without giving away anything to the other group. When I’ve met with you both, we will then all reconvene in an hour, and I will give my verdict on which, if any, of you I deem to be in the lead. Remember, the winner is the first team to complete the takeover. There are no prizes for second place.” She stood up. “Matvey, I’ll chat with your team second, so if you and your fellow team members could please step outside, I will call you in about thirty minutes when it’ll be your turn.” The five men stood, leaving without saying a word. The fact Svetlana had addressed Matvey, calling it his team, was missed by no one in the room, especially Mark Orlov, the wealthiest man present by some distance. It confirmed his suspicion that Matvey had more to do with it all than he was letting on. It was a slip by Svetlana not missed by Matvey, either, as he followed the other men out of the conference room. He hoped it wouldn’t cost him dearly at some later point.
Left around the table was Lev Kaminski––the uncle of Dmitry Kaminski, who was a member of the T20, and whose Banking Union was directly being targeted by the other group. Lev was next to Roman Ivanov, the second wealthiest man in the T10, as well as Viktor Gavrilyuk beyond him. On his other side were Dima Petrov and Timur Budny, who was known as the Iron Man and was the least wealthiest member of the T10, despite being worth $8.9 billion.
Over the next thirty minutes, Svetlana talked in detail about their progress, Lev and to some degree Roman speaking the most, though it was Lev who undoubtedly led the team, in keeping with his image as the Lion Man.
“So I could expect to see some movement over the next three months? That is fast progress if you can indeed pull it off.”
“We can certainly pull this off. We can see that victory against this banking empire would add great wealth and influence to our collective portfolios. So we are very much on board.”
“That’s an impressive position in which to be. I didn’t expect either group to get anywhere close,” she said, which was true. Before this latest event, the most significant business that had been put forward as a target was valued at around $500 million at the time of the attempted––and unsuccessful––takeover. That had been a single business. They were currently targeting a union of banks––there were nine in the one Lev had just updated her on, eleven in the one Matvey would soon give her details about––and the smallest of the two unions was still valued at well over $57 billion.
“And believe me, the other group haven’t got a chance. They’re up against an impossible target. It can’t be done.”
“You seem rather sure of yourself, Mr Kaminski.” Svetlana knew full well that the man’s nephew sat at the head of that Union of eleven banks Lev had just said couldn’t be beaten. She’d also known Matvey had specifically targeted them, regardless. She was looking forward to her next meeting, intrigued at what light they might be able to shed on the possibility of taking out such a large target.
“I just know how these things work,” Kaminski said. “They are too big, too protected; even against a group of men of such standing.” He didn’t say that he’d warned his nephew about the attempt that was soon to be heading his way, but there were no fools in that room. It was obvious Lev would let Dmitry know of the threat. It only boosted his own team’s chances of victory.
“Well, I think our time is up, so I’ll ask you to give me half an hour before I call you back in.” The five men got up, leaving the room immediately. Moments later, from a separate door so as not to have passed the other five Russians who had just left, Matvey Filipov led in his fellow oligarchs.
In the last half an hour, while they waited for Svetlana to finish her chat with Lev and his group, they’d already started to implement their plan of action. The five men had been spending the last few months focussing their efforts on five other businesses––one man targeting one business. Like trees in a dense forest, to get to the biggest oaks in the centre, other trees had to be felled first to make space. Other trees cut down to be able to get to the prize in the middle. The eleven banks in their target Union represented those oaks in the centre––the five businesses they’d been working on these last few months were merely the trees cleared to create a clear path. And that process had just been started.
Half an hour later, all ten oligarchs were back around the conference table, fresh coffee supplied for them all, though none of the men would touch it.
It was already getting late, and Svetlana wanted to spend what remained of the day with her husband Sergej, who had been hosting family and friends at a separate function.
“I’ve been able to assess the progress of both teams––and I must say, I’m mightily impressed with how far you’ve been able to get in such a short period. Normally we take up to three years to complete a game’s cycle, and yet, only months in, I see real progress already.” Lev couldn’t help but smile at her comments.
“Having thought hard about what I’ve just been told over this last hour by both groups––and gentlemen, I thank you for your frankness and openness in that regard––I have a clearer idea about which team is in pole position.” Lev now glanced across to Matvey, watching for his reaction to what he thought Svetlana was about to say. “And the team in the lead is Matvey and his group.” Matvey didn’t move––didn’t move a muscle––and Lev couldn’t help but look away. Each of the five men now sitting across from him seemed smug, arrogant even. Svetlana had said how advanced his own team had been, that she was surprised what Lev had told her, pleased that progress was so great––and yet she’d then placed the other group in the lead? A team which didn’t stand a chance of going up against his nephew’s Union, a Union that operated a different way to most. Did Matvey know therefore how it ran? Still, as soon as the first takeover attempt would be made, the others would close ranks. He’d warned his nephew about the imminent attempt, so he knew they would be waiting.
Yet, with all this being the case, thirty minutes in front of Svetlana Volkov, and Matvey had managed to convince her that his team, and not Lev’s, were in front. How?
Svetlana stood up at that point, momentarily breaking Lev’s flow of thought. “If you’ll excuse me, I will leave you all now. As always, my home is open to you, but as you’ve all indicated that you would be making your own arrangements for accommodation tonight, these facilities have already been made available to other guests.” They all knew this meant the other men of the Games. She left the room without anything further said, Lev himself standing and heading for the door, as Matvey and his team slowly started to rise.
Downstairs, the members of the T20 had long since departed the Games Room. Only the three victorious Hosts were staying the night, an ongoing tradition for the winner, or perceived victor, of any given Hunt. Lev Kaminski had gone in search of his nephew Dmitry, frustrated to find that he had already left.
Matvey came down the main stairs at that moment, passing the standing Lev as they crossed on the second floor, no words spoken between the two, though their eye contact communicated a whole batch of expletives. Matvey had made this personal, and Lev could now feel that. But a lion didn’t have sharp teeth for no reason. He was up for the fight. He’d warn his nephew and do whatever it took to stop Matvey Filipov pulling off whatever it was he thought he was able to do. There was no way he was prepared to lose this particular battle
––for the sake of his own nephew, and therefore hundreds of his employees who’d otherwise be out of work. He wasn’t prepared to lose his honour either, something of immeasurable value, something he wouldn’t allow anyone to steal from him, especially a man like Matvey Filipov, who had only joined their elite group the year before.
3
When I was younger, I used to find the fact my birthday fell three weeks after Christmas really sad,” Maggie said, a glass of wine in her hand, despite it being breakfast time. She’d slept very little the night before. “My folks were always broke after Christmas; it seemed out of all my siblings I got the least presents.”
“I’m sure that wasn’t true,” Phelan said, himself with just a cup of coffee.
“Maybe not, but I still never liked it so close to such a big holiday. This year, however,” and Maggie put the glass down on the coffee table, and sat astride Phelan as he relaxed on the sofa, “it’s probably my best birthday ever!” She kissed him on the lips, which Phelan met, briefly, but she’d been drinking, not been to bed all night, and her breath was far from fresh. Just at the point his legs were starting to lose feeling, she got off him.
“Happy birthday, anyway, for what it’s worth.”
“Thank you,” she said, this time just a kiss on the cheek, as Phelan rose to get breakfast ready.
The last couple of months had been a whirlwind for Phelan. Happier than ever with his wife and family following the news that their lives were no longer under threat, they’d been touring around Southern California and enjoying everything the Golden State had to offer them at that time of year, especially its weather. How he now missed his wife and boys.
That had all been interrupted––not permanently, he hoped, though the longer it continued, the more that fear surfaced––when Matvey had called him again, unexpectedly. The Russian, to whom he owed so much gratitude––though thinking that debt had been paid already––was demanding Phelan do one final thing. He’d been on a flight back to London before he’d really had time to process.
Here he was––wishing a happy birthday to a woman he’d once had an affair with, a genuine one that time––yet now pretending to be in love with her, sharing her bed each night, all for a man he was beginning to loathe. A man who a year and a half ago had offered the world to him, the millions in his bank account a testament to that––yet, he was no less a prisoner now in riches than he had been in the vestiges of a former life.
Maggie, for her part, was oblivious of the situation, which only made it worse. She was very much in love––contented, he could tell for sure––and probably planning to settle down with him for the rest of her life. It would make his betrayal, whenever it would inevitably come––he didn’t know when Matvey would instruct him to do whatever it was he needed––all the more bitter. All the more devastating for a woman, he knew, who’d taken years to piece together her life the last time it all fell apart.
He didn’t love her. Couldn’t love her. And what of his wife and kids? What of their devastation if they were ever to find out what he’d been up to over the last weeks? What if his boys found out why he’d not been with them as another New Year came around? What then?
He’d been standing still in the kitchen, unaware that Maggie had been standing in the doorway just watching him, his thoughts racing away in his mind when she broke the silence.
“Phelan McDermott, you look like a man with a lot of surprises in store for me today, the way you were just standing there in silence. I can’t wait!”
Phelan said nothing, giving her a half smile as his mind came back into focus, walking over to the fridge he was now too familiar with, in a home into which he wished he’d never ventured. He grabbed the bacon, four croissants in a paper bag on the side––still fresh he hoped––that he’d picked up the night before, and started to heat up a pan.
Some of her friends were coming around for a party later. He assumed it was still a surprise though he’d never been good at planning those sort of things, it was something his wife always did. And yet here he was, doing this without her––and for another woman.
“Maybe turn that bacon down a bit, handsome,” Maggie said, appearing at the door again in her bathrobe, her leg sticking deliberately out through the central parting in the middle of the gown. “I don’t officially turn forty until this afternoon, so if you want to enjoy me while I’m still in my thirties, why not join me in the shower,” and she vanished, the shower on seconds later. Phelan’s head sank, he felt sick with guilt, and as much as he tried just to enjoy it––Matvey had called it bonus sex––he couldn’t. He loathed himself more with every passing day.
He reduced the heat on the hob to the lowest setting possible, the sizzle stopping almost immediately on the half cooked bacon, and left the kitchen. His t-shirt was off before he’d got up to the bathroom, an already naked Maggie with her hair under the water, opening the sliding door to the shower, as Phelan dropped his boxers onto the floor and climbed in next to her.
As January was coming to an end, the first few businesses that were being targeted by individuals within the T10––all men working with Matvey in his team, on his instructions––were starting to show signs of trouble. What had been an internal fight was now having to become a public one.
The first business declared itself bankrupt on the last Friday of the month. The fallout over the weekend news was quite extensive, a focus of the coverage being of the eight hundred employees who now didn’t have a job to go back to the following week. Three of the other four firms that they’d been working on were also just days, if that, away from announcing a similar fate.
All five of this first wave of firms that Matvey Filipov had instructed his men to take down––they’d not even started focusing on the Banking Union yet––had each been vital recipients of financial aid to the tune of hundreds of millions. This funding had come from the four biggest banks in the Meridian Capital Union, the Union they were ultimately targeting, the very same one run by Dmitry Kaminski, member of the T20 and would-be President of Russia, come the March 2018 elections. He was yet to officially put himself forward––independent candidates still had until the middle of December that year to announce their nomination, with political parties given another month from that to put forward their man. By that time the following year––the end of January 2018––all names would be entered into the official race to become the next President of Russia. The elections would then be less than two months away. It was a long-held view that Putin would be re-elected for his second six-year term. Two men in the Games had other ideas about that.
In the Kaminski Union, the seven smaller banks had one vote each, but the four biggest ones had two votes each, so they effectively controlled the entire Union. These four banks had lent heavily to three or at most four, other businesses, bailout money for companies that had hit hard times during the financial crisis, money that had kept them buoyant. The four banks had been able to do this because they had themselves also taken out a huge loan. They were able to make the hefty repayments on it thanks to the interest they were charging the businesses which they had bailed out.
It was these same businesses that Matvey and his team were now taking on. The ones targeted in the first wave––there would be three more waves––were focused on the firms with the most significant repayments owing. By the time the last wave of takeovers would be completed, businesses owing as much as ninety per cent of the banks’ income would have been sucked dry, bankrupted themselves and therefore the debt declared null and void. They didn’t need to go after every business that owed them money––there just wasn’t the time for that––but with the three or four firms per bank that they were taking out, there would be no recovery. Once they were all destroyed––the loan repayments stopped––Matvey would instruct Maggie, via Phelan, to get JP Morgan Chase to call in its mega loan that it had made to the Union, which they then wouldn’t be able to repay. The four banks would have no choice but to be declared bankr
upt––paving the way for Matvey and his men to move in and take them all over––winning their contest but gaining so much more besides.
For Matvey Filipov, winning the Hunt was of secondary importance. He had Dmitry Kaminski firmly in his sights, even if the Russian in question as yet had no idea. Dmitry’s uncle, Lev, who was himself heading up the other group of five oligarchs in the T10, only had his suspicions. Matvey trusted that by the time Dmitry and Lev realised what was going on, it would be too late.
“I see in the financial news that you’ve already succeeded in bringing down your target firm, Matvey,” Valery said after the Russian had answered his mobile. Valery was the fifth member of Matvey’s unlikely team, these men put together for the first time in a T10 event, and for the most part, thoroughly enjoying themselves. Success had a way of doing that to people like them.
“It’s like I said. These outside firms will fall like trees in a forest, carving us a path right into the centre.”
“Into the Banking Union.”
“Yes, the very one.”
“I’m having a little resistance with my target, Matvey. I was calling to see if you might be able to help me seeing as your firm has already declared itself bankrupt. From what I hear from the others, theirs aren’t far behind yours in their announcement, either. It’ll have the industry in a meltdown, fearing another crisis is imminent.”
“Well, for some, it is.” Matvey couldn’t help smile to himself at that thought. “And yes, I will help you. This first wave has to be almost simultaneous so that we can then move onto the next. They won’t know what’s hit them.”
“Thanks. Will they see it coming?”
