Betrayed: (A Financial and Conspiracies Thriller – Book 1 in the Legacy Thriller Series)

by William Wield

  ‘Will do,’ said Wheeler, and they ended the call. After a few moments reflection he felt he had got off lightly – both and Komarov or Matthews calls had turned out unexpectedly, and there was still hope that all would be well in the end. He would now just have to hope that Komarov’s new plans would also accomplish what he had promised Nat Matthews – a lot was going to hang on the meeting at the Connaught this evening.

  Chapter 27

  Thursday afternoon,

  The Dorchester Hotel, London

  Guiseppe Lupo stood at the hotel suite’s wide picture window. He had been admiring the view and watching the traffic seemingly floating along below them in Hyde Park, his short wiry frame, dwarfed by the size of both the size of the suite’s sitting room and the window framing him.

  ‘You chose well, Luigi,’ he said, ‘almost as good a view as my apartment in New York, but much lower of course since we’re in little old London.’

  ‘Glad you like it,’ replied Luigi, ‘though I have to confess, it was Alessandro who chose it for us – hell he lives here so he ought to know. Anyway, just as well, ‘cos we may be here a whiles as this thing plays out’. In contrast to his boss, Luigi’s huge two-hundred and thirty-eight-pound frame, stood well back from the window, planted on the floor like some crude rock sculpture.

  ‘Hope to God it’s for real this time and that that Alessandro’s right,’ said Lupo, ‘don’t want to be missing the spring in Central Park for nothing.’

  ‘Sure he’s right and all the other signs say it’s a ‘go’ this time, doesn’t it Rocco?’ replied Luigi.

  Rocco, diminutive like the Boss, but overweight, giving him an air of being like a large ball, stopped rolling around only by his short fat legs one end and small, round shiny head at the other. He was seated on one of the rooms many comfortable arm chairs, a laptop open before him on a low, oblong glass coffee table. He had been studying the machine intently for some time and his answer was distracted - late in coming.

  ‘Yeah, that’s correct, all the signs are indeed go’ he said as he tapped a couple of keys and went on peering at the laptop.

  His lack of full attention to the conversation, irritated Lupo who had half-turned to see the cause of his distraction.

  ‘What signs are you talking about, Rocco?’

  With Lupo addressing him directly, Rocco looked up smartly from the laptop, took off his pebble glasses, squinted at him silhouetted against the light and cleared his throat.

  ‘Let’s see now,’ he said, ‘and began counting off the said signs on his fingers, ‘apart from all the stuff Alessandro’s told us – which in itself is pretty conclusive, number one, Komarov’s partner Silayev’s man, Zaytsev, came out of hiding in the Russian Embassy the very same day as the Bank of England’s Conference. They must have had confirmation of something ‘cos, number two same day, they charter a helicopter from the London heliport and fly off to Northern Ireland – or so the charter company told us, and we have no reason to doubt their veracity. Then, there’s number three, we hear nothing of Zaytsev for a couple of days but lots of short telephone conversations with Wheeler, the PR guy. And now, number four, Komarov himself books flights to London today for himself and that SVR bitch Izolda Valik.’

  ‘Isn’t she the one who did for our plans in the Ukraine?’ said Lupo.

  ‘The very same,’ replied Rocco, ‘so we owe her a return round in the ring so to speak.’

  ‘But we need to be careful, Boss,’ said Luigi, ‘not only is she reputedly one of the SVR’s very best, she’s no qualms about killing people who get in the way of her missions – that’s why Komarov uses her for all his really important jobs – or at least for jobs that need complete lack of any human feelings or compassion.’

  ‘And that brings us to sign number five,’ said Rocco, ‘the fact that he’s brought the bitch Valik with him. Our guess, Boss, is that Zaytsev may have screwed up. I believe that ‘cos the helicopter’s charter was flexible but expected to be for just a couple of days and it’s still not back yet. What’s even more interesting is that Komarov’s people have chartered another much smaller helicopter just to take one person from London to Northern Ireland tomorrow morning, first light.’

  ‘Good work,’ said Lupo, ‘have we still no idea where they’re going to after they get to Northern Ireland? I mean, do we think that Athena is developed in Northern Ireland itself?’

  ‘We don’t know the answer to that,’ replied Rocco, ‘but actually that don’t matter to us do it?’

  ‘Why not?’ Lupo asked, ‘wouldn’t it be nice to know where they’ve been hiding this new cyber weapon?’

  ‘Well, maybe nice, Boss, but doesn’t affect our plans one little bit,’ said Rocco, ‘I mean they, Valik or whoever else they use, doesn’t matter to us where she gets it from, all we have to do is to track her to when she gets back with it to the London helipad, right? And we’ve got our plans sketched out to relieve her of Athena as she leaves the heliport, simple as that.’

  ‘And you’re certain that’s the way they’ll bring it back, with Valik?’ asked Lupo.

  ‘Gotta be,’ replied Rocco, ‘most direct, safest – I mean least vulnerable to attack, and more than that, they need to return the charter helicopter.’

  ‘Okay, and they still don’t know that we’ve been following them since their practice attacks on banks in Manila?’ asked Lupo.,

  ‘No, don’t think they have a clue about that,’ said Rocco, ‘so there’s no reason for them to bring Athena back some other way – to avoid us, for example – they don’t even know we exist.’

  ‘What if, I’m just saying, what if they did bring Athena back another way?’ asked Lupo.

  ‘No sweat,’ replied Rocco, ‘Komarov’s in such a dicey state with the President, that he can hardly wait to get his hands on Athena. We think his desperate need may have turned him blind to the risks of being discovered trying to get his hands on it. He’s booked into the Connaught Hotel here in London, just along the road from here, so if by some chance he brings Athena in some other way, he’d still be bringing it practically to our doorstep. So just relax, Boss, enjoy London, keep an eye on your missus’s shopping sorties as you always do and leave us to worry about Athena.’

  Chapter 28

  Easter Sunday evening

  The Connaught Hotel, London

  Though it would have been no more than a twenty minutes’ walk from his flat in Cliveden Place to the Connaught Hotel and the fresh evening air would have done him good, Wheeler was weary and decided to take a taxi. He had to walk only as far as Sloane Square to hail one and he therefore arrived early at the Connaught. Using the Mount Street entrance to get to the bar, he was going into what Paul Finch still claimed was the best hotel in London.

  As he had been drinking brandy, and not being a frequenter of top cocktail bars, he took this opportunity to order a Brandy Alexander and, when it came, and he tasted it he knew why, in times gone by, nearly every block in New York had a cocktail bar and how it had been the fashion in London for so many years too. He sipped and savoured the concoction until this pleasure was interrupted by the arrival of a huge gentleman, well over six foot and built like a Russian Bear. He got up from his chair and arrived at the bar as the same time as the Bear, ‘Igor, I presume,’ he said.

  ‘Max, good to meet you at last,’ replied Komarov.

  They ordered a drink for Komarov and then returned to the corner table where Wheeler had been sitting. Mindful of the verbal spat that he had had with Komarov earlier, Wheeler decided that on this occasion he would play the part of a willing collaborator.

  To clear past history, Wheeler first told Komarov how the whole thing had started and how Matthews still needed to ‘get Craithe off his company’s back’ so that it could trade on Tuesday morning and that failure in this would drain Matthews’s company of clients faster than using an industrial extraction pump.

  ‘This is good, Max,’ said Komarov, ‘I’ve already given my instructions to a remarkable y
oung lady called Izolda Valik for what we are going to do next. Unable to reach you earlier, I have spoken to your friend Mr Rollo who is happy to go along with these new plans.’

  ‘That sounds all right, but do you mind if I know what these plans are?’ asked Wheeler, trying not to let his irritation show in his voice. It was galling enough for Komarov to muscle in on the Craithe project, but to now take complete control of it?

  ‘We are going to use the helicopter for a full-on attack on the castle. They will think that the attack is an end in itself. That is to say that if it is an unqualified success and they have no defences, fine - we get our software and your Mr Matthews’s company gets to be free to trade again. But if they put up defences, the attack will become a distraction and Izolda, who specialises in this kind of work, will find a way of getting into the castle to get the software on her own. Does that sound all right to you?’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Wheeler, ‘suppose she gets into the castle and gets the software which Zaytsev failed to do, how does she then get out and get away with it if they have defences and, the very worst scenario, have captured the pilot along with Rollo’s people?’

  ‘You don’t need to worry about that, my friend,’ replied Komarov smiling broadly.

  So there it was, a fait accompli – take it or leave it. Wheeler was deeply suspicious but had no alternative but accept it. He knew that many Russian’s played chess and suddenly he had the feeling that his inability to play the game was going to be a disadvantage here – or was that just another sign of his growing paranoia?

  * * * * *

  They finished their drinks, Wheeler satisfied that early tomorrow morning, there would be a raid on Craithe Castle and that his worries about failed missions would be a thing of the past. He would need to break this good news to Nat Matthews.

  They parted company and Komarov went back into the main body of the hotel, from the bar through into the main entrance lobby, turned right into a small sitting-out area, and settled himself into a comfortable chair from where he could keep an eye on the hotel’s main entrance. It could have been only minutes later that a smartly dressed young man entered the hotel, turned directly into the same area and came over to Komarov. He gave what looked like a small bow of recognition and Komarov waved an arm for him to sit next to him. They were soon in deep conversation - in Russian of course.

  ‘Good to meet you, Dmitri,’ said Komarov, ‘how do you find living here in London?’

  Dmitri launched himself into an eager summary on the wonders of the city, the numbers of Russians here in London, and Komarov soon had to stop him.

  ‘Good, I’m glad you’re enjoying it all,’ said Komarov, ‘what have you found out for me?’

  ‘I’ll try to be brief Mr Komarov, but there’s so much and it all seems somehow interlinked,’ said Dmitri. He got a piece of paper out of his pocket and showed it to Komarov. It detailed the complexities of the connections between the Towneley Bank, Angus Macrae, The Towneley Vassilov Merchant Bank and The Island of Craithe; it also listed some of the many rich and famous City figures who had made donations to the Towneley Foundation. It appeared that Sir Jeremy Towneley encouraged donations to his foundation from the super-rich young traders by telling them how much good their money would do in the Foundation – infinitely preferable to buying just another picture in the Art World’s rigged markets or their acquiring, say, yet another Ferrari.

  Komarov looked at the piece of paper with concentrated interest. He then asked Dmitri if he could keep it.

  ‘Just what I wanted,’ he said. ‘Now, another thing, did Zaytsev ring the Embassy here in London when he was allowed to make one telephone call immediately after he was captured up in Craithe Castle?’

  ‘He did,’ replied Dmitri, and delving into an inside pocket again, he produced another piece of paper. He unfolded it and smoothed it out on the table in front of them. It consisted of instructions of how to get from the main Craithe Castle entrance up to the Lab’. Komarov studied it for a few moments and asked if he could keep that too.

  ‘You have a copy of this on your smartphone?’

  ‘I do,’ replied Dmitri

  ‘Good,’ said Komarov who then produced a business card from an inside pocket and handed it to Dmitri. ‘Please send a copy of that page to this email address will you, please,’

  Dmitri got out his smartphone, looked up the copy of the same piece of paper and sent it to the address Komarov had given him.

  ‘That’s excellent, Dmitri, thank you for your time. I assure you you’ve probably just done more for Mother Russia than you have in all of your career to date, well done. And please be sure to give my regards to Vasily Narinsky when you get back to the Embassy, will you?’ he said. This message for the Ambassador himself was just a bit of showing-off by Komarov, but – as intended – it impressed Dmitri.

  Dmitri rose, shook hands and left. Komarov, smiled to himself. ‘Good, that’s Izolda all set up.’ he said to himself.

  * * * * *

  Wheeler rang Matthews from the Connaught Hotel and though Matthews urged Wheeler to tell him of the latest developments over the telephone, Wheeler said they were better to meet face to face and that it was but a short walk from the Connaught Hotel to Wilton Crescent. Reluctantly Matthews relented and as Wheeler made his way along Mount Street towards Hyde Park and then down to Wilton Crescent he was oblivious to all the evening’s traffic as he rehearsed his meeting with Matthews. This was going to be his last chance to reassure his client and friend that all was about to come right after the disasters of the weekend so far.

  On arriving at Wilton Crescent he was shown up to Matthews in his Drawing Room and started off by apologising once more for the fiasco of the kidnapping.

  ‘Do you know something? I don’t think I could invent a story of greater incompetence’ said Matthews as soon as Wheeler had finished. ‘Surely it’s not possible to get both of our missions so spectacularly wrong.’

  ‘I sympathise with your views on all of this,’ replied Wheeler, ‘but it’s not all as bad as it might seem.’

  ‘Not as bad as it might seem?’ repeated Matthews, throwing his arms up in the air. But, then, calming himself, added, ‘I’m not sure I see how it could get worse. Come Tuesday morning when the Stock Exchange re-opens, what then, eh? We’re now left with just one bloody day to fix this thing.’

  ‘And here’s where my meeting this evening with the Russian comes in’ said Wheeler, ‘he’s desperate to put matters right and will continue to help us to end Macrae’s team’s activities up there,’ he said embellishing the truth. ‘This Russian, says we can use the helicopter for whatever we want it for and can keep it for as long as we need it. What’s more he’s brought a top ex-KGB operative over with him to lend a hand.’ In the worst traditions of misogyny, he purposely did not mention that it was a woman – but if Matthews, thanks to this missing detail of the KGB person’s sex, got a vision of a live Russian James Bond, and was reassured by that vision, then so be it.

  Perhaps Matthews did get the vision of Bond-like figure to the rescue for he sat up a bit and pushed himself back into his chair.

  ‘Right, so you’re telling me that the Russians are desperate to get their hands on this Athena software,’ said Matthews, ‘and will do anything to achieve that?’

  ‘That’s it’, said Wheeler.

  ‘Well, I’ve been thinking about all of this,’ said Matthews, ‘suppose we get over this bloody mess this time, and the company is running Okay on Tuesday morning, with the mad explosion in the numbers and sophistication of cyber hackers, who’s to say this won’t happen again with some other group – maybe after the company’s money next time? Quite honestly I’m beginning to think it’s time for a change for me. I’ve made a few millions with the Hedge Fund and once we’ve got over this current problem, maybe I’ll sell up and move on to something else. Mind you, that means you still have to get over the present crisis, if things aren’t back to normal by Tuesday morning, my shar
es in the company will be worth peanuts and I’ll be trapped into staying on. So, my next questions are just how competent is this Russian who’s going to help your Irish friends have another go at Macrae’s lot?’

  ‘He must be good,’ said Wheeler, ‘he wouldn’t have survived as the President of the Russian Federation’s right hand man if he wasn’t extremely good at what he does. It doesn’t mean I particularly relish the thought of allowing him in on the operation, but he does have the huge resources of the Russian State behind him.’

  Matthews seemed satisfied with this. Wheeler just hoped, that for all their sakes that it was actually also true and that allowing Komarov to get involved was not going to turn out to be a mistake.

  Chapter 29

  Easter Monday morning

  Norbally House, Portrush, Northern Ireland

  Izolda Valik was taken by small helicopter from London, direct to Norbally House. Such was the curiosity over an FSB operative, that all of Rollo’s team, several of them ex-coverts, went out to the lawn to welcome her. Unlike their expectations of her, she was not built like a tank, but, at five foot five and slim, she could have passed for a young housewife – although perhaps more athletic-looking, and visibly super-fit. When one of Rollo’s men went up to her and welcomed her, she replied in fluent, if slightly accented English but with a directness of gaze that quite daunted him.

  Mick Rollo came out of the house and she was more formally introduced to the team. These niceties out of the way, she and Rollo retired, just the two of them, to his office. First he briefed her about what had happened to date and the reasons for the failures of the two earlier missions or at least as much as he, himself, had been able to ascertain. As might be expected, Rollo played up the size of the waves in the Corryvreckan and the treachery of the Laird’s lifeboat in ‘ramming’ and sinking the Calistra without ‘any regard for life’.