He looked down at the file in front of him. He liked paper files and despite the vast array of technology available, he liked his morning briefing to be in hard copy, rather than in his inbox. “As you are aware the Rojas Drug cartel is currently the biggest in Mexico. The new head of the cartel has emerged as Enrique, the son of the recently deceased Jesus Rojas. Jesus as you know was executed recently. What you may not know is that the hit was a CIA inspired affair. You realise all this is off the record.”
There were three other men present and no minutes were being taken. “What was the CIA doing there?” asked Henry Jacobs. He was head of the Mexico section and again a man in his late fifties.
“I can answer that. They were, as usual, involved in an advisory capacity to the ruling government on quote, “security matters, what ever that means.” At a guess they were trying to interfere in some Latin American country’s government and trying to get the Mexican’s do a bit of dirty work for them,” said Ethan Brighthouse. He was in his sixties and had the look of a banker. He was John’s deputy and had far more tact, which meant he usually dealt with the press on anyone that needed to be treated with a modicum of civility, including the President. “In any event it went pear shaped and one of their own was tortured and eventually killed by Jesus Rojas. We all know what a perverted sadist Rojas was and he went to town on the CIA agent taking his time to torture him to death. When he had his fun he finally dumped the body outside the US Embassy with a note which warned the CIA not to fuck with him.”
“The CIA were upset with this and let Rojas know that they had a bigger gang who could fuck with whom they liked,” said Hackensack. “They, wishing to not be directly linked to his assassination, employed a hit man known as Annubis. We have all heard of him and his habit of leaving a white feather as his trademark on the bodies of his victims. He did the job to perfection and disappeared back into the shadows.”
“I am not sure what this has to do with us?” said Brighthouse
Jacobs took up the narrative, “The President is eager to show progress on the war on drugs, something to boost ratings and show that the office is now re-energised. The war on terror is not yielding dividends in terms of progress, so we need to come up with the goods in the DEA.”
David Trist spoke for the first time. He was in his early forties and usually co-ordinated the actual field activities. He was hands on and liked catching the bad guys and despite his position he had a habit of getting down and dirty with the troops on the ground. He too, was an ex-military man and looked the part, toned, fit and handsome. “So how exactly are we to up productivity, so to speak? I can assure you all that we are out there every day working our bollocks off fighting these fuckers.”
“I know that, but the President needs to see it and crow to the electorate about it. We need spectacular busts, headline grabbing busts,” said Jacobs.
“I have a deal in mind,” said Hackensack
“You have got be fucking kidding me” said Brighthouse, “have you all forgotten the Sinoloa Cartel?”
They had been here before. A deal had been struck with the cartel whereby the Cartel were effectively immune from charges in return for which they provided information on rival cartels, which allowed the DEA to make countless seizures of drugs and successfully prosecute numerous cases. This cooperation was at its peak from 2006 to 2012 and the direct consequence of this policy was that the drug cartels had a free reign to consolidate their hold on Mexico. Now the consequences of the deals were coming home to roost. It had all come out at the US District Court in Chicago only a few years ago, when a DEA agent admitted meeting with and cutting a deal with Vincente Zambada- Niebla, the son of the Sinoloa cartel boss.
There was silence and all eyes turned to Hackensack. “I am aware of the implications.”
“Aware, you are fucking crazy even to think of doing a deal,” said Brighthouse
“I am not proposing a permanent arrangement just a one off trade.”
“I do not believe I am fucking hearing this. Doesn’t anybody learn anything around hear. Not a permanent arrangement, that’s alright then. That’s a bit like saying I am just going to kill somebody but that’s OK as I am not a serial killer,” he continued.
“Look we have to do something. The cartels are running rings around us and we look like cunts. The Country is overflowing with drugs and we look powerless. It is a one off. A straight trade, they give us enough information to boost the figures. The President gets the increased approval ratings he is looking for. We get a pat on the back and that fucker Enrique Rojas gets to torture and kill Annubis and avenge his beloved scumbag of a Pop.”
“Do we know who this hit man Annubis is? Or where he can be found?” said Jacobs
“We’re not that bad. I don’t keep a list of assassins’ phone numbers on my cell just in case I need a quick murder,” joked Hackensack
“So what is the plan? If we have one that is?” said Brighthouse.
“We do have a plan. We do not know where Annubis is but the CIA knows how to contact him. So we set him up to make a hit and tell Enrique when and where. We do not set up the trap until we have milked as much information as we can from the Rojas Cartel.”
“Will the CIA go along with it?”
“I have already sounded them out. It is a win, win. We get the credit for a massive increase in drug seizures, Rojas gets to avenge his Pop and the CIA get to dispose of the potential link to their murder of Mexican citizens,” said Hackensack
“Yeah, win fucking win. until we are all up in front of a Congressional Hearing,” said Jacobs.
“What are the options? Carry on failing?”
“I thought not. So David it falls to you to bring this home. You will be pleased to know you are going south of the border to spend some time with Rojas at his Hacienda, or as he calls it his Palace.”
“Very nice, I am sure,” said David Trist.
Chapter 6
Maurice Lee was on his way to the Post Office in Reykjavik. The morning air was crisp and the sky a clear shade of azure blue, the brightly coloured wood clad buildings around the harbour had an almost fairy tale appearance. The parcel was weighed and he paid for the correct postage.
Maurice had been in Iceland for a matter of seven months and was working as the Chief Financial officer at the Baltic Bank. The state of banking in the Country was dire since the 2008 crash when the government was forced to impose capital controls. These controls effectively meant that investor’s money was locked in the banking system and could not be taken out of Iceland. Some nine hundred billion Kroner of foreign investor’s money was tied up in this way The measures were supposed to have been temporary and the Government recently said it was getting close to lifting the restrictions, but wanted to deduct thirty five percent from any amount withdrawn, forcing Icelandic banks to pay billions of Kroner to the government.
The Baltic Bank was a private bank and was a subsidiary of a private bank based offshore. Some ninety five percent of the money locked in Iceland’s banks was owed to foreigners. The Baltic Bank was offering these individuals a means of extracting funds immediately, but at a cost. In a deal with the Banking Regulator, any investor could transfer their funds to the Baltic Bank, where they would be still subject to the capital restrictions. The Baltic Bank would then loan the investor eighty percent of his funds from it parent Bank in Vanuatu. The scheme had been a success as, it effectively meant that you could get your money back, less twenty percent. The Baltic now had over six billion dollars worth of Kroner in its coffers.
Maurice had been puzzled as to why the Baltic would risk losing the further fifteen per cent of it assets, if the Government did impose the withdrawal tax of thirty five percent. The Banks stated view was that, it did not expect the tax to be imposed and would therefore make a massive profit, as they were only paying back eighty cents for every dollar they received. This had seemed a high risk strategy but, given the level of his salary, Maurice had been pragmatic in his approach and taken t
he job.
The Icelandic banks as a group, were pushing the scheme as hard as they could. It was a way of dumping their toxic debt onto the Baltic Bank. Within weeks it became clear to Maurice that all of this was going on, more or less, under the radar of the Regulators and Government. The scheme had been orchestrated from the start by the Vanuatu Holding Company, aided and abetted by the Icelandic bankers, allowing the Baltic Bank to get a deposit taking licence with limited scrutiny.
Money was flying into the Bank and it became clear that the Bank seemed more than happy to be facing a loss on every Kroner it took. Any risk analysis would have concluded that its behaviour was irrational, Maurice soon realised that the Bank was not at all concerned as to the potential losses it was accruing and was actively in talks with the Government, encouraging it to lift the capital controls, even if it wanted to impose the levy of thirty five percent.
Curiosity had gotten the better of him and he had resorted to his early training as an auditor and did some digging. He soon found his had his answers and he knew that he was in shit up to his neck. He could think of one solution and that was to pass the evidence to someone and let them get to the bottom of it. The parcel had been addressed to Jackie Routledge in Muswell Hill, England.
He walked up the high street and entered the small coffee shop, come chess club, come book shop and ordered some breakfast. Today was an easy day. The Bank had organised a trip onto the glacier for its newly recruited staff. He had known Jackie for years, they had trained together at Weinstock, Bradley Bird Accountants. He had a thing for her, but she was married. They had remained friends over the years, but their careers had taken different paths, he into the finance industry and she had stayed in auditing. Three months ago the Baltic was looking around for a change of auditors and he had mentioned the firm where Jackie worked. It surprised everyone, including him, when the Bank went with the idea. Her firm realistically was far too small for the job and did not really have the correct paperwork to carry out this type of role. Again, the way had been smoothed and her firm got the audit.
He looked down at the wedding invite and was pleased that he would be on the plane tomorrow and would soon see her again. He knew the terrible time she had been put through with her first husband and hoped that she had made a better choice on this occasion. His own marriage had broken down and in his heart he wished that he and Jackie could have been more than friends, but it was not to be. He looked at his watch and realised he needed to get a move on. He paid the bill and was again shocked at the cost of everything in Iceland.
He made his way to the Radisson Hotel, where just after half ten the minibus turned up. He boarded and recognised Herrick Magnus, the press officer for the Bank and two other male colleagues he did not recognise. The driver greeted him warmly and he settled back in his seat as they drove off. He had to admit the landscape was spectacular. Like Hawaii, it was one the most recent bits of land to be created on the Planet. The lava fields were still fresh and only lightly eroded by weathering. The hot springs forced steam and water to the surface. The Icelanders had harnessed the thermal activity to provide free heating and power. He was enjoying the tour.
“There are no trees in Iceland,” their driver was saying, as they passed the old timber church in the middle of nowhere. Maurice had not been paying full attention to the commentary and was looking out across the black and rough terrain they were just about to head out across. There was a large plain of black and grey volcanic rocks, which they bounced across. The temperature dropped as they ascended further. The white of ice and snow began to pepper the surface.
“We are on the glacier,” the driver announced. He stopped the Toyota and stepped out of the cab, “Won’t be a minute.”
Maurice watched as he deflated the tyres to give the truck a wider footprint and grip on the frozen snow clad surface. He climbed back in and headed straight out further onto the ice.
Soon there was only white to be seen in every direction as far as the eye could see. “It is very easy to get lost on the glacier,” the driver announced. “If the wind blows the snow it becomes a white out. You can drive in circles and not know it. The only way off is to follow the sat nav, but of course you can still drive into a very big hole without seeing it,” he joked.
After a further twenty minutes the truck stopped. “We should have a look,” they started to disembark. Herrick went first followed by the other two and as Maurice stepped down the driver said, “Don’t play with the yellow snow. It is where I had a piss the last time I was here.”
Maurice took a step off to the side of the compacted snow under the wheel tracks of the van and disappeared up to his waist. He floundered trying to regain firm ground. He reached out his hand to one of his colleagues for a pull up. The blow to his face split his lip and had him seeing stars. The driver turned his back and busied himself around the other side of the Toyota.
Stunned, he was pulled up by the pair he had not met before. Herrick stared long and hard at him before speaking, “We thought we made it clear when you were employed that we demanded discretion from our employees. Did we not pay you a very generous salary? Did we not provide you with a beautiful apartment?”
The slap across his face stung and his head jolted back. “That was not good enough for you. We merely wanted you to carry out your duties at the Bank. What I do not understand is that, while you were paid to carry out your job at the Baltic Bank, you decided that you would expand your role into other areas, such as checking our ultimate shareholders, our subsidiaries and sister companies, why?”
Maurice opened his mouth to answer, “I have done nothing.”
“Oh! but you have, haven’t you? In fact you have done quite a lot. You hacked into the Chief Executives personal files then into the holding company’s files. Then you printed off all the information you gathered.”
Maurice opened his mouth to speak and received a slap for his troubles.
“Please do not waste time with denials. I just require one bit of information. Where is the stuff you printed off? There are certain key documents with signatories that we really cannot have floating around.”
“I did nothing”
The punch to his stomach was hard and precise. The wind left his lungs and he began to vomit and gasp for air at the same time. “Where are they?”
It took very little time to break him. A kick and a punch and his will was gone. His accountancy training was no preparation for torture at the hands of experienced thugs.
“I posted it this morning.”
“For fucks sake, you really are a serious arsehole. Who to?”
Maurice realised that he was now going to put Jackie into a World of problems. He said nothing. His resolve was short lived as they continued their persuasion. “Jackie Routledge,” he said
“You sent it to the Auditors?”
“To her home”
“Wanker,” was Herrick’s parting shot as they drove off.
On their return, they reported that Maurice had become separated and lost as the white out had come upon them. They would not find his body for another five hundred years frozen in the glacier, as it advanced inch by inch per annum.
Chapter 7
Tim had moved in with Jackie quiet soon after they got together. Now, after what only seemed like a few short weeks, they were together organising the final touches to their Wedding. The Reception was to be held in Highgate House in Hampstead. The backdrop to their wedding photos would be the orangery and the beautiful gardens. As luck would have it, there was to be an open air concert that night, so the guests would be treated to a version of the 1812 Overture, complete with a cannonade.
They had earlier gone together to pick up Daniel. Tim and Daniel had persuaded Jackie to let them go to the McDonalds on the way back. They were now back and they were all sat round the dining table putting sugar coated almonds in little boxes and tying them with decorative ribbons. They would be placed in front of each guest as they sat down for their meals at the Rec
eption.
“Tie the bows neatly,” said Jackie to Daniel.
“They are neat,” he responded grumpily. It was past his bedtime and the excitement was taking its toll and good humour was giving way to irritability.
The door bell chimed and then the door to the house opened. “Only us,” called Mr Routledge. John and his wife Anne, Jackie’s parents, walked into the living room through the glass lobby.
“Is it that late already?” said Jackie.
“I’ll give you a hand to finish these off,” Anne sat down and with all hands to the pump the tying and boxing was completed in rapid time.
The plan was that Jackie and Daniel would spend the night at her parent’s house. In the morning the Bride and her Father would be driven in a Rolls Royce to the Registry Office and Anne and Daniel and the Matron of Honour would follow in a separate car. Jeff Stiles acting as best man was due round to spend the night and he and Tim would make their way in a separate car in the morning.
The house phone rang and Jackie walked to the lobby and picked up the call. The conversation was brief and Jackie walked back to the dining table, as white as a sheet. “What ever is the matter?” asked Anne
She sat down and tears began to form. “What’s wrong Mummy?” Daniel was becoming frightened. If Jackie cried it affected him badly, bringing back memories of his Mother bruised at the hands of his Father.
She took a deep breath. “That was Maurice Lee’s sister. Something terrible has happened.” Tim knew that Maurice had been Jackie’s close friend for many years and that she had been really looking forward to seeing him at the Wedding. He knew that Maurice had played a part in Jackie getting to be a partner in the Accountants she worked for, as he had pushed the Baltic Bank audit her way.
Bank (A Tim Burr Thriller Book 2) Page 3
