by Tim Heath
“I think it’s the very men that my uncle mixes with who have orchestrated this whole situation.”
“Lev is involved in it himself?” The idea that the man’s uncle could have been part of this whole mess was far-fetched, though anything was possible he’d come to understand when money and power were involved.
“No, not directly, he was working in opposition to those who have carried this out. But I was specifically targeted, that much is clear. It took five Russian billionaires to get together to pull this off. Here are their names for what it’s still worth.” Dmitry dropped a sheet of paper onto the table, Thomas glancing at the list for a moment.
“What do you want me to do with this?”
“Find out what they are up to. Find out why they’ve targeted me.”
“Isn’t that obvious? Some of them, at least one, I presume, knew your dirty little secret. Knew that there was an unsecured back door into the very heart of a Union you’d told me was impenetrable.”
“It’s possible, but I think it’s more than that. It’s been personal from the very beginning. This was about getting to me, destroying me, and goddammit, they’ve nearly done that. They’ve turned me into another Sokoloff…” and he trailed off as he said it.
“What is it, Dmitry? What have you just realised?”
“That’s it; it’s got to be. First Sokoloff and Krupin get dumped from the event, now me.”
“Putin’s two key financiers and then his main challenger? You think it’s all connected?”
“I do now, yes. I was happy to see Sokoloff collapse––I mean, it was swift and catastrophic. I even smiled when he was ejected for good. It certainly levelled the playing field somewhat when it came to taking on Putin. With Sokoloff’s media angle gone, there was the chance for more neutral coverage going forward. We both saw that as positive. But then it didn’t stop. The attack on me––if it had only been that––might have been Putin seeing off a would-be challenger. He’s certainly done that before. But what is now happening takes money––something Putin doesn’t have so readily available given the fall of these two men––nor would their fall have been his doing, anyway.”
“So there’s another threat out there?”
“Yes,” and Dmitry slammed the piece of paper on the table, the one with the five names he’d just given Price, “and I’d bet everything that it’s either one of these men listed here, or someone directly connected to one of them.”
Thomas picked up the sheet of paper, now reading through the names. He’d only heard of two of them before.
“We need to find a way of getting to whoever it is before they become too powerful,” Dmitry added.
“Too powerful?”
“Look, at the moment these men are each individually worth a lot––it’s multiple times my net worth, maybe as much as nine times my value,” which was a lot coming from a man Forbes pegged as being worth $1.6 billion at the latest report. “But if they come in and pick off the members of my Banking Union and if they somehow carry on with this debt written off, their personal net worth could double, maybe even treble. Plus they would have access to substantial assets and connections for their businesses. It would make them the five wealthiest men in Russia. That makes a statement in itself.”
“Who might it be, then, that’s behind all this? Who do we stop?”
“My uncle told me that Matvey Filipov was leading the group––despite there being two men who had more net worth within that bunch of five. That must mean he had more than just assets to bring to the table. He had a plan. Everything that has happened over the last three months has been carefully orchestrated. It happened swiftly, and stealthily until it was upon us all and we couldn’t do anything about it. I think it’s him, therefore. Matvey Filipov.”
Thomas had never met Matvey––his was one of the three names that meant nothing to him when he’d read through the list. Now he could only see him as a threat to everything he––and other senior figures within the British government––had been working on for the last five years, ever since Putin got re-elected on the first of what might be two six-year terms in office.
“I’ll see what I can dig up on the man.”
“And regarding my Union?”
“Again, whatever I can do, I will, but I think you have to prepare for the worst, Dmitry.”
“Just keep it out of the goddam media, will you.”
“That’s easier said than done here, Dmitry, it’s not Russia, after all.”
“And don’t you forget it!”
“Don’t threaten me, Kaminski, you need all the friends you can get at the moment.”
There was a frosty silence before Kaminski broke out a smile.
“Of course, you’ve been a good supporter through the years Price, and I hope I can count on you now.”
“You can. Keep safe.”
The Russian got up, taking the hand the Englishman offered, his grip as tight as ever, and left the club soon after. Price remained, looking at the names––Matvey’s in particular––for five minutes, sipping a brandy he’d ordered as he pondered the possible motives of some of the planet’s most asset-laden people.
8
It was an average April day in London––rain showers with the occasional sunny spell. At Vauxhall House, an MI6 briefing was taking place for all staff members, attendance at such events something Thomas Price took very seriously.
So far, little of interest had been shared. There were general updates based on intel that was being received on various international terrorist cells––it made Alex realise how long it had been since he’d personally been involved on that side of things, going on three years already since the time he first heard from Andre Filipov. What got everyone’s attention, something Price happened to drop into the flow of his monotone delivery as if to watch for those who were close to dropping off to sleep, was Putin’s plan to visit London in October, something announced by Moscow instead of invited from London. It would be his first visit since a brief day at the Olympic Games––when he’d also met with the then Prime Minister––at the beginning of August 2012.
Putin was planning on spending a day, at most two, in the UK capital, his complete agenda and exact travel plans as yet unclear. It was just an initial notification so that the British could start to do their part. The visit was still some months away.
Price, apparently starting to bring the meeting to a close, then landed on a more immediate situation, and focused on the JP Morgan Chase decision to call in the loan they’d given to Meridian Capital. It was hardly an issue for MI6, nor that of their cousins in MI5, but made perfect sense to Alex and Anissa, who were sitting listening as they were supposed to do. Kaminski’s involvement in the bank––and Price’s role within the meeting, and that of his position within MI6––only made it obvious why the topic was even getting an airing in such a context.
What was surprising was hearing Matvey Filipov’s name mentioned amongst four other Russian oligarchs––all men who the two agents knew were involved in the T10 group within the Games. Price was asking a team to look into these men. Evidently, Alex and Anissa were not being involved at this stage––despite the fact they’d been all over these men for the last two years, as their own Deputy Director General knew only too well. He clearly wanted to keep them at arm’s length, once more. The meeting was dismissed.
Anissa wasted no time and went straight up to Price.
“I’d like to know why you haven’t requested Alex and myself to head up the research into those five Russians you highlighted. You know we’ve been investigating various activities.”
“I hardly have to explain myself to a medium ranking officer like yourself, now, do I?” and with that, he brushed past her, forcefully enough to push her to one side. Alex saw him leave and came over to her at that moment.
“What was that about?”
“I don’t know.”
Alex spotted another agent across the room, someone who’d been out in the co
ld for some time but had recently come back into the fold, accompanied as always by his female colleague.
“Charlie,” Alex called, and the four agents stood together just to the side of the door as a few other colleagues were now filing past them to leave.
“Anissa, this is Charlie, I’m not sure if you’ve met before?”
“Oh, we have, Alex. I know all about the infamous Charlie Boon.” Charlie took her embrace. “It’s good to see you back around here. It’s sure been a little quiet without you around the place,” she added.
“Infamous, you say?” Charlie smiled. “Have either of you met Zoe before?” Zoe shook their hands, the pair having not met her personally before. They knew of her and had seen her in passing occasionally but not for long enough for them to have previously spoken.
“Do you want to grab a coffee?” Alex said, the suggestion met with enthusiasm as he led the others out of the meeting room, and towards the canteen.
Now sitting down around one of the many empty tables––it was far from a break time for most staff––it was Charlie who spoke next. “You guys still sniffing around the Russian connection?” Alex had once mentioned something briefly to Charlie in passing, he recalled, though clearly it had registered and stuck with his fellow agent. An agent that had a much longer history with that particular part of the world than they did, though in fairness they were catching up fast.
“Yes, we are,” Anissa said, though Charlie had addressed the question to Alex.
“Seems strange that the DDG didn’t involve you with the task he just set, then.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about the man one office away from running the whole of MI6, Charlie.” Alex launched into a rundown of the highlights, careful not to say too much in a building full of spies, but confident that no one was in earshot of anything he might mention.
“That’s a lot of sensitive information you’ve just shared there,” Zoe said, her first comments in an otherwise male-dominated conversation.
“And it goes no further than this table,” Anissa said, looking her female colleague directly in the face.
“Of course.”
“What’s with Putin’s visit to London?” Alex said, again turning to Charlie, whose history and knowledge of Russia––helped mainly by once being based there, as well as his two-year relationship with an FSB agent––was far more significant than his own.
“Putin’s political party––United Russia––have their annual congress at the end of September each year. In 2011 the then sitting President Medvedev formally proposed that Putin stand for re-election at the following year’s Presidential ballot. Putin accepted the invitation immediately––it was a foregone conclusion, of course, this was just the public show. My guess, therefore, is that the same will happen this year. Putin will personally announce, this time, his decision to stand for a second term, using the September congress to make that public. An October visit would, therefore, be after it became public that he was running again. It would be a timely visit to show Russia he doesn’t fear anyone––especially The West.”
“Will we know the other candidates by then? As we’ve just shared, we suspect that at least one of those five names mentioned––and specifically Matvey Filipov––intend to stand in opposition to Putin. Dmitry Kaminski also intends to challenge the President. Will this be public knowledge by then?”
“No, I doubt it. If memory serves me right, independent candidates have until December 15th to announce their intention to run in the election. The other political parties will obviously also put forward a candidate––which is normal, though usually just a formality––and this happens only in January.”
“But we have to assume campaigning has already started.”
“Does it ever stop? Everything these men do between now and the actual election, all either works in their favour or not. This whole situation with Kaminski’s bank is a case in point. Would it even have been raised at the meeting had it not been for the connection between Price and the Russian? He’s obviously come running again to our DDG, demanding something be done. He knows that if word gets out, it’ll affect his public image. While the average Russian voter won’t know or care what has or hasn’t happened to the Banking Union in the UK, it will matter to a whole influential segment of Russians who do have a voice. If they portray Kaminski as someone washed up, someone who’s failed massively, then he’d be finished.”
“Thanks, Charlie, you’ve been really helpful.”
“No worries.”
“Oh, one more thing,” and Anissa paused, checking around the room for a second, before leaning in closer to him, his aftershave almost overpowering her, “Sasha says hello.”
“Do say hi from us both the next time you speak. And be careful. Especially for his sake.”
“We will. Take care yourself. It’s good to see you back. It’s been too long old chap.”
“Hey, less of the old now, okay?”
They shook hands and parted company, Alex and Anissa going up to their office on the third floor, Charlie and Zoe heading down one level to where their team was based. The floors had nothing to do with rank––aside from those on the top floor––where only the DDG and Director General himself had an office.
It was the day after the MI6 meeting where Price had outlined a search to be made on the five Russian oligarchs, a procedure that was to take place without Alex or Anissa’s involvement, much to their own bewilderment. They were waiting in a nearby coffee shop, Vauxhall House itself clearly thought to be off limits, which only made what they were about to be told all the more intriguing.
Gordon Peacock walked in through the door as the two agents were just finishing their first coffee, having arrived themselves ten minutes earlier. Gordon was the head technician––it had been him who’d first notified them both about the Filipov transmission that never got passed on to them. A communication they should have received, which had been sat on by the DDG, who yet again keeping them out in the cold when it came to something concerning Russia. They wondered if now they had enough reason to take this directly to the Director General. You only made this move once: either you were right, and the culprit was removed from their position, or they closed ranks and claimed you were way off the mark, and the agent was out of the service instead.
As the head technician, Gordon had been called to oversee the technical side of things for the new team that had been put together, who were digging up everything they could on the five Russians Price had listed, as well as anything relating to the JP Morgan Chase situation, which was still ongoing. It was regarding the latter that Gordon had insisted he meet somewhere private with his two colleagues, people he’d come to rely on, trusting them both very much. The feeling was indeed mutual.
“Thanks for both coming,” Gordon said, sheepishly taking a seat. In the scheme of things, he was just an insignificant part of a much bigger system, the agents now sitting across from him much more significant players in that process. But they always valued him and gave him equal time to voice his own opinion, something he’d always appreciated about them both, and something that he was rarely afforded by others in the same position.
“You need to see something that just came up. We were looking into that American financial services company, and the name Maggie Thompson emerged. She was the person who ran that particular account they had with Meridian Credit, the one that loaned the union the $100 billion.” He placed a newspaper article on the table. “When we cross-checked her name, we found this. Two weeks ago she got engaged. Does her fiancé’s name ring any bells?” They both looked down at the paper, at the section highlighted with yellow ink––the news that a Mr Phelan McDermott was engaged to a Miss Margaret Thompson. Anissa recognised the name straightaway from what they had on the record about Phelan.
“Jesus, it’s him. What’s he doing with this girl? Didn’t he have a wife and kids and everything?” Anissa said.
“Yes, he does. That would be pretty fast going i
f in just a few months he’s dumped them all and is already getting married again.”
“I’ve got you an address. Maggie lives in West London,” and Gordon passed Alex a sheet of paper with the details printed on it.
“I think we’ll have to give the happy couple a little visit, don’t you, Anissa?” He picked up the address and put it into his jacket pocket.
“There’s one more thing. I got the chaps to look into the eighteen recent takeovers and bankruptcies that rocked the markets these last few months. These were what left the Union vulnerable, as we now understand. I’ve no doubt that they were shut down on purpose to pull off what the Russians have just gone and done through Maggie Thompson.”
“Is she personally involved with the oligarchs?” Anissa said.
“Possibly, though I think Phelan’s presence might better explain the connection. But that wasn’t what I was going to say. We’ve not done an exhaustive search––I’ve got the team doing that today––but so far we’ve been able to track eight former senior personnel––people who’d been in roles of real influence within the failed businesses––all now reemployed.”
“Which isn’t totally surprising, is it, given the fact they’d be highly skilled people, now available to be head-hunted?”
“True, even given the fact they’d been working in a key role within a firm that had just gone bankrupt. But all eight are now in posts in companies all connected in some way to the same Russian oligarch.”
“Don’t tell us––it’s Matvey Filipov, correct?”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t believe it,” Alex said. All three sat there in silence, quietly pondering what they were up against.
