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

by William Wield

  ‘You have to come to an Athena-friendly ‘family machine first of all,’ said Angus, ‘the nearest of those is where I am now, at the Towneley Foundation’s Newby Centre, in Tower Hamlets. If you are here by seven o’clock this evening, bringing with you Kim in good health and spirits, we can then get on with settling these matters, all right?’

  ‘We’ll be there by seven,’ said Komarov, ‘and I suggest that for the sake of your very pretty little PA, that you do not set any traps or try to go back on what we’ve just agreed.’

  ‘Rest assured, Mr Komarov,’ said Angus, ‘I shall be concentrating entirely on the safety and wellbeing of my PA and will not do anything to jeopardise that. Furthermore, Mr Komarov, should you try and act clever by turning up here without my PA, you will suffer consequences you cannot even imagine.’

  ‘There’s no need for you to threaten me further, Mr Macrae, I have come too close to getting what I want and have no wish to jeopardise my money. You have my word, therefore, that I will bring her with me, though her continued safety will be in your hands.’ said Komarov.

  ‘Understood,’ said Angus

  ‘See you at seven, then’, said Komarov.

  Having already made himself highly unpopular with the President by promising Athena before he had it in his hands, Komarov did not want to risk yet another false dawn; he now steeled himself to wait until the evening when he would finally be able to broadcast the good news. Kim was informed of events and, inwardly felt a frisson of excitement wondering what Angus would get up to at the Newby Centre. In her own mind, she was certain, of just two things; one, whatever he did, Angus would not risk her life and, two, there was no way in which he would let Komarov walk away with a copy of Athena,

  Angus felt confident that the secrets he held of the President’s would ensure that Komarov was denounced and that he would realise that his career was at an end. He guessed it might cause all hell to break loose when Komarov was faced with the reality of his position. He therefore set about looking at the battle-ground in which this would be played out. If Komarov brought with him secret backup, for example, he and Boreyev’s team would need to be ready for them.

  Chapter 34

  Monday,28 March afternoon

  The Dorchester Hotel

  The events of the morning had left Guiseppe Lupo in a state of shock. He stood, motionless except for almost imperceptible swaying to the rhythm of one of his favourite Italian songs wafting through his mind as he tried to blot out the horrors of the morning.

  But, as he stood at the suite’s panoramic window looking down towards the traffic speeding through Hyde Park below him, he hardly saw it, the music was not working; Goddamit, four of his men brutally slaughtered in what should have been a humdrum task of guarding a couple of hostages. The blow to his ego was crushing. As one of New York’s most notorious – indeed, celebrated – mafia kings, it was humbling to have suffered such ignominy. Just one deranged gun-happy assassin had gunned down his men. How had such a thing been possible? They should have disarmed her, there were five of them against just her with her hostage. The whole thing beggared belief.

  At least he still had Luigi and Rocco. The two of them, about as devoid of compassion as anyone can be, watched in silence as the Boss got himself mentally back into shape. Soon they would expect him to make some counter moves. Rocco, the brains of Lupo’s connections worldwide and his team in New York, was quietly confident – and, without consulting the Boss, had already put out calls to cousins and other connections here in London, back in New York and elsewhere. Right now, all he needed was a new, totally dependable London team, and his contacts might make suggestions as to how to achieve that – well, anyway, that was Rocco’s justification if later challenged.

  Over an hour after Rocco had rung her, Mina must have got his message at last, and rang him back,

  ‘Cousin Guiseppe, I didn’t know you were in London,’ she said, ‘you should have given me more notice.’

  ‘This isn’t Guiseppe, this is his right-hand man, Rocco.’

  ‘Ah, Rocco, Hi,’ said Mina, ‘your message seemed urgent– is everything all right?’

  Rocco quickly gave her a run-down of the day’s happenings and Lupo’s involvement in the hunt for Athena. He also had to relate the sorry state in which they now found themselves. He finished by saying, ‘Why don’t you speak now to your mother’s cousin, he’s right here?’

  By now, Lupo had heard that it was Mina, had turned away from the window and come across to the sofa. He took the phone from Rocco and forced a smile.

  ‘Mina, bambina,’ he said loudly, perhaps a little unnecessarily loudly, for he had wished not to appear too traumatised by the disaster that had overtaken him, ‘I hear from your mother great things of your progress.’

  ‘Well that’s nice,’ replied Mina, ‘I think I’ve got London quite well sewn-up by now, so, yes, London’s good. Sorry to hear of your set-backs, anything I can help with?’

  ‘I was thinking of getting in touch with the Favero family, they used to be associates of our family in days gone by. I know old Guido died, but do you know any of them by any chance? I’d like an opinion from family such as you and I’ll ask Alessandro too.’

  ‘I understand,’ replied Mina, ‘and, I can think of no one better to contact than the Faveros… I could certainly have a word with my ex-boyfriend’s father – I’m sure that if the rewards are right he’d be happy to help you out.’

  ‘Is he the Capo?’

  ‘He is,’ said Mina, ‘and his name is also Guido. Shall I try and get hold of him for you and get him to ring you at the Dorchester.’

  ‘Good girl, Mina,’ said Lupo, ‘talk to you again as soon as we’ve sorted all of this out and I’d like to meet you and see if we can’t strengthen family bonds again.’

  Guido Favero rang Lupo back almost immediately and, although their conversation started edgily, like boxers weaving round a ring sizing each other up, they soon began to reminiscence about former family co-operation and ties. Soon Lupo got really enthusiastic as he explained the huge potential for using Athena for blackmail, ‘on a majestic scale’ he had added.

  Had he not suffered the shocks of the morning, had his mind been at its peak, he might have noticed that Guido Favero was strangely silent whilst he was eulogising about Athena and what they could achieve with it. Still, when Lupo got to the crunch and asked Favero if he wanted to join in this evenings ‘action’ to get Athena back from Komarov, the answer he got seemed positive enough. It was finally agreed that he would come to Lupo at the Dorchester as soon as possible with a couple of young supporters who ‘know how to handle themselves’ as he put it.

  ‘By the time it takes your lads to get kitted up and get over here to the Dorchester,’ said Lupo finally, ‘I hope to have tracked down Komarov and company - and we’ll be ready to go.’

  They rang off with Lupo’s spirits much recovered and his pulse racing at the prospect of being back in the hunt for such a valuable prize.

  By the time Guido and the two young Favero brothers arrived at the Dorchester half an hour later, it had been easy for Lupo to ascertain that Izolda and her prisoner were in the Russian Embassy. Lupo, Luigi and the Favero threesome set off right away, and finalised their plans in the back of the taxi on the way. After the short journey from the Dorchester to the top of Kensington Palace Gardens – sometimes referred to as Millionaire’s Row – the group decided to split up and only Lupo went into the Embassy. He said he was a client of Izolda’s and could see her on a matter of some urgency. She was apparently out with ‘another young lady’ but the receptionist kindly volunteered that the Embassy’s young IT man, Dubko, had been with them much of the morning and, as he had gone out with them to give them directions, he might well know where they had gone. Dubko was duly sent for and when he arrived, volunteered to show Lupo where he had told the young ladies to go. As soon as Dubko was out towards the gates out of the Gardens, Lupo, thrust a gun forcibly into his ribs, causing him to cr
y out in pain.

  ‘Just walk,’ said Lupo and pushed the terrified Dubko along beside him. This group of three walked a few yards before being joined by the massive Luigi and the three Favero. By Dubko had realised that whatever was on the external hard-drive he had been looking at this morning, what was going on now showed it was way beyond anything he, a mere IT geek in the Embassy, should be involved in. He was soon pushed left, down into the Palace Gardens mews and as soon as they were a bit away from the main thoroughfare of Bayswater, he was pushed up against a wall and surrounded by the others. He quickly made it clear he was no hero, and asked them what they wanted.

  As Dubko had told Komarov that they needed to plug the hard drive into a ‘family-friendly’ computer he had also heard Komarov and planning to do that at the Towneley Foundation’s Newby Centre in Tower Hamlets at seven. He now readily passed this information over to Lupo.

  Leaving Dubko in the mews, the group went back up to Bayswater and hailed a couple of taxis to take them through to the City and on to the Tower Hamlets area of London. The Towneley Foundation Centre was well-known to many near the north entrance to the Blackwall Tunnel but they asked the taxi-driver to drop them a couple of blocks away from it.

  Being a Bank Holiday weekend, the centre was closed but the group soon found a café from which to watch the place. Despite this, figures could be seen inside but none of those they had seen were large enough to be Komarov. They decided wait until Komarov arrived.

  Chapter 35

  Monday,28 March 4.30pm

  The Newby Centre, Tower Hamlets

  From late afternoon, following Angus’s talk with General Yolkov, Angus at the Newby Centre and Perry in the Lab’ in Craithe Castle had checked through their systems. They had brought another large screen into the main computer classroom and linked it to the Castle’s mainframe. This would mean that, at the click of a mouse, either of them could bring up onto the screen a number of sources – for example, at some point Angus was going to want to show Komarov that his money had been transferred to his bank in Moscow. At another time, he would like to show whomever it was that was talking to them from the Kremlin in Moscow.

  On the occasions that Angus had had dealings with Komarov, he had seemed to be polite, even urbane – certainly not prone to rages or even outbursts of petulant behaviour. Today, however, he was going to be robbed of his connection with the President – at least in the public’s eye. So, if Komarov was ever going to lose his temper or react violently, it was likely to be today. As for the transfer of Kim to the safety beside Angus in the computer room, Angus was hoping this would go smoothly but, if it turned nasty, Boreyev and his men would be able to take care of it.

  In the time left before what Angus hoped would be the last act of a play already far too long, he had some other unfinished business he needed to attend to. As he wanted no distractions when concluding matters to do with Komarov, he needed to deal with the mess that still lingered around the Matthews Finch Hedge Fund.

  From earlier discussions with Wheeler, he had Paul Finch’s home number and just hoped that, as anticipated, Paul Finch would be back from the States. He rang the number, and after ringing for a dishearteningly long time, it was eventually answered,

  ‘Paul Finch’, said a tired voice – almost as though he had been woken from a deep sleep.

  ‘Mr Finch? It’s Angus Macrae here, is this a good time to call?’

  There was a long pause, absolute silence, long enough for Angus to say again,

  ‘Is it convenient to speak to you now Mr Finch?’

  ‘Mr Macrae…’ started Finch hesitating, ‘I’m so sorry but I have my PR consultant Mr Wheeler here with me and he has just finished telling me the quite unbelievable happenings of the weekend. So you may imagine that you would be the last person I would expect a call from. And, what’s worse of course is what has happened to you personally at the indirect instigation of my partner, Nat Matthews.’

  ‘Is Nat Matthews there with you also?’ asked Angus.

  ‘No Nat Matthews won’t be involved with me again except to tidy up matters between us. He says he’s had enough and wants to be bought out. Considering everything that’s happened I can’t say I’m that surprised,’ said Finch.

  ‘And you’ve heard, have you, that I’ve bought a large shareholding in your hedge fund?’ asked Angus,

  Again there was a long silence and Angus could hear Finch talking – presumably to Wheeler – but with his hand not very effectively covering the telephone. Eventually he returned,

  ‘I’m so sorry Mr Macrae,’ he said, ‘but I’ve had so much to take in that my head’s in a bit of a spin. But, to answer your question, yes. Mr Wheeler has told me that fantastic news and mentioned that you thought that Sir Jeremy would not mind if we added his prestigious bank’s name to a new company to be launched to replace the old Matthews Finch. May I put the telephone on speaker I think Mr Wheeler has something to say?’

  ‘By all means, good afternoon Mr Wheeler,’ said Angus.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr Macrae,’ said Wheeler, ‘since we last spoke I’ve had a chance to evaluate all you told me. I’ve not really had a chance to explain to Paul here what a fantastic opportunity this is for the company; but, putting on my PR hat I would have told him that by the time I’ve polished the press releases I have drafted, the new Towneley Finch Hedge Fund should take off like a rocket. Should I get those ideas over to you or Sir Jeremy for your approval?’

  ‘No Mr Wheeler,’ replied Angus, ‘why don’t you and Mr Finch just use your rechannelled talents to get those press releases out yourselves. We can discuss the exciting possibilities for a future together at some other time. I’d also look closely at what needs to be done regarding any police matters that might arise out of the weekend’s activities. For what it’s worth, my wife and I will not be pursuing any complaints about our short-lived kidnapping.’

  There was another long silence before Wheeler spoke again. ‘I can’t tell you how relieved and grateful I am,’ he said in a hoarse voice. ‘I shall do whatever I can to make it up to both yourself and Mrs Macrae.’

  ‘I am afraid that I still have some urgent dealings with Mr Komarov and I imagine that your dealings with him are now at an end,’ said Angus.

  ‘They certainly are,’ said Wheeler, ‘and even at the time I felt really uncomfortable doing business with him at all.’

  ‘Goodbye to both of you for now, then,’ said Angus, and he heard muttered answers to this as he put the telephone down.

  Angus noted down for later some other outstanding matters, not least of which was the purchase of a new boat for McKinnon and the ordering of a new engine for the dingy which had let them down – albeit with Georgie’s connivance.

  With a heavy sigh but a smile, he finally ended the last call. His mind now clear of all the clutter of the tumultuous weekend and he felt he could now give his undivided attention to the demise of Igor Komarov.

  Chapter 36

  Monday,28 March 4.30pm

  The Newby Centre, Tower Hamlets

  Rather before seven pm GMT, Komarov, Izolda and Kim arrived at the Centre. As directed by Boreyev, Izolda took Kim at gunpoint into the small glass sided classrooms the opposite side of the corridor from the computer classroom. As these two had glass walls above about four feet, the whole arena in which the great denouement was to be played out was almost completely open and visible, with just the occasional structural pillar to obstruct the clear views. Komarov felt happier with this arrangement than having them too near himself, and having heard the detail of Izolda’s exploits with Lupo’s thugs, he was confident that his bargaining position was in good hands.

  Komarov came into the computer room and gave a slight bow but did not offer to shake hands. As all spoke Russian – and Angus knew that the Kremlin was coming online around seven, he too spoke in Russian.

  ‘Shall we get over the easy bit first,’ said Komarov, ‘moving my money from the Isle of Man to Moscow?’

  �
�Certainly,’ replied Angus, ‘I just need your bank details in Moscow.’

  Komarov handed him a piece of paper with the details on it and Angus turned to the big screen and read them out to Perry. As soon as he had them, those in the Centre could see Perry on one of the large screens; he went over to one of the larger desktop computers and after a fair amount of keying, turned back to face the camera.

  ‘If I now switch screens you can see the whole transaction,’ said Perry, and his own image was replaced by a screen-shot of the completed transaction.

  ‘In addition to seeing the transaction like that, you’re welcome to use one of the laptops here to check your bank account in Moscow,’ said Angus.

  ‘Thank you,’ replied Komarov, ‘I will if I may.’ He crossed the room to a laptop, went onto the internet and using a small piece of paper with notes scribbled on it, and logged into his Moscow Bank account. Up came a screen of the account he had called for and it showed the new very substantial balance.

  ‘Excellent, that’s that out of the way’ he said as he logged off his bank.

  ‘Now if you wouldn’t mind having Kim, my PA brought in here,’ said Angus.

  ‘Ah, just a minute, change of plan,’ said Komarov, ‘because you see I’m not sure that you will honour our agreement and let me have Athena on a proper usable memory stick of external hard drive.’

  ‘So, not being sure whether or not I’ll keep my side of what we agreed earlier,’ said Angus, ‘you’re now, unilaterally, going to break your word on your side of it, is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘Afraid so,’ said Komarov, smiling.

  ‘In that case’ said Angus, nodding pointedly to Boreyev, ‘it would seem that it was just as well that we did not trust you with Athena.’

  As Angus was speaking, Boreyev had picked up telephone and had dialled a number. On the big screen there was a sound of the number ringing out and seconds later the figure of the seated General Andrei Yolkov appeared on the screen. He was seated in a huge guilt and heavy brocade arm chair – almost large enough to qualify as a throne. Behind him the backdrop was of one of the Kremlin’s magnificent smaller reception rooms with great swathes of gilded baroque plasterwork on both walls and what could be seen of the ceiling and heavy red curtains on what must have been fifteen to twenty foot windows.