The Scottish Banker of Surabaya

by Ian Hamilton

  “Yeah.”

  “And those branches make loans to those companies?”

  “Yeah, and to some individuals.”

  “How do you know they’re connected?”

  “I don’t. There’s someone in place at every branch. In Toronto it was Rocca, who was a member of the gang or involved with it in a serious way. He gave instructions on how much money was to go to whom and for what. We just do what we’re told.”

  “And then you paper them all as loans?”

  “Aye, although in reality they aren’t loans, because none of them are ever repaid. Not even a penny of interest finds its way back.”

  “How do you explain that?”

  “Explain to who?”

  “Bank authorities.”

  “I told you, some of them are getting paid off, but just to be safe we run two sets of books. One set shows that the loans are performing and giving us a profit, which we declare and pay taxes on — modest taxes, but it makes us look legitimate. The other set of books is run for the Italians. All they show is money in, money out, and what we have on account.”

  “And the real estate holdings?”

  “They don’t care who actually owns what, just how much money was given to whom. The real estate records I maintain for bank records and for the other set of books.”

  “So the equity base we saw when we looked into the bank is real?”

  “On paper it is.”

  “How does the . . . ,” she said, checking the name again, “the ’Ndrangheta generate so much cash?”

  “Drugs, knock-offs . . . you name anything illegal and they’re probably into it.”

  “So all this real estate investment is — what, an attempt to go legitimate?”

  Cameron began to laugh. “Hardly. They just have too much cash to leave it lying around. After they put what they need back into their core businesses, they need to do something with the excess. That’s why we exist. We’re a dumping ground. Can you imagine how much money they have in total if we’re just handling what they don’t need?”

  Ava returned to her notebook. The thirty million dollars now seemed like small potatoes. “Then why did they have to screw around my clients?”

  “They don’t give a shit about your clients.”

  “They took thirty million dollars from them.”

  “No, Purslow took the thirty million.”

  “They got it back.”

  “You need to understand how they think,” Cameron said. “In their minds, Purslow stole thirty million dollars from the bank. How it got there didn’t concern them. It was there; therefore it was theirs. And even if it wasn’t, they’re the ones who retrieved it, and in their minds it’s always finders, keepers. They are the greediest people I’ve ever met.”

  “What about closing the branch office. Was that related to this?”

  “No, not at all. The decision was made months before. They felt there was only so much money they could put into any one market before they would start to attract attention to themselves, and they’re absolutely paranoid about attracting attention — to themselves or to the bank. We had reached a threshold in Toronto and they decided to pull out for at least a while.”

  “So that part was true.”

  “Aye, we were only weeks away from closing when Purslow did his thing. I’ve never seen them quite so angry. Like I said, they thought he was stealing their money. And just as bad, he was potentially the cause of some unwelcome publicity. So they found him and they killed him.”

  “What about Lam? Why didn’t they kill him if they were so concerned about publicity?”

  “They talked about it.”

  “And?”

  “Rocca convinced them not to. He was worried that Lam might have spoken to some people after their first meeting or had written stuff down, and that if something happened to him the problem would just get bigger, with more people involved, more questions being asked. He said Lam was a coward and that it would be more effective if they just scared him into keeping his mouth shut. And he was right. At least I think he was right . . . but then Lam talked to you, didn’t he.”

  Ava ignored the implication. “Why didn’t they just give him his money back and send him on his way?”

  “They didn’t have to, did they. Scaring him was more effective.”

  She thought of the terrified little man she’d met in Ho Chi Minh City what seemed like a very long time ago. “So where does this leave things with the thirty million?” she asked, knowing the answer.

  Cameron drew a deep breath. “You need to forget about it.”

  “There’s nothing you can do?”

  “I can give you my own money, what I have, and that’s about a million dollars in ready cash. But as for the bank, nothing. No chance. They control every dollar in and out. They’d kill me for trying. Then they’d find you and kill you too. Believe me, they’d find you.”

  Ava heard the words and believed he meant them. And she believed them too. “What time were you supposed to play golf this morning?”

  “Eight.”

  She looked at her watch. It was just past seven thirty. “Who were you supposed to play with?”

  “Friends, just friends.”

  She turned to Perkasa. “Call the golf club. Tell them you’re calling for Mr. Cameron. He’s feeling ill and he’s headed to the hospital for a quick check-up. He won’t make the game. Send his apologies and say he’ll call his friends later in the day.”

  Perkasa nodded and headed into the kitchen.

  “Is there anything else I need to know about today? Did you have any other appointments? Are there any other people who will be concerned about your absence?” Ava asked.

  Cameron shifted in the chair again, a grimace crossing his face. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk,” he said. “The pain is unbelievable.”

  “I asked you about other appointments.”

  “I meet the Italians every Sunday night for dinner at an Italian restaurant in CitraLand.”

  “What time?”

  “Seven.”

  “You shouldn’t have a problem making it,” she said.

  “You think?”

  No, Ava thought, I don’t think that at all, not yet, anyway. “Listen, I have to go and chat with my man. You’ll be here by yourself for a few minutes so I have to tape your mouth again.”

  “Could you move me into the shade?”

  “No, I like you where you are,” she said as she tore a strip of tape from the roll.

  She walked into the kitchen to see Perkasa closing his phone. “That was the golf club,” he said.

  “Any problem?” she asked.

  “No.”

  Ava went to one of the other kitchen chairs and sat down. “Well, what do you think?”

  “About his story?”

  “What else?”

  “It’s crazy, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Do you believe him?”

  “I think I do,” she said. “It isn’t exactly something anyone might come up with on the spur of the moment, especially with a picana as a distraction. So, yes, I believe him.”

  “Me too.”

  “Tell me,” Ava said, “is it really that easy to bribe your way into that kind of setup in Indonesia?”

  “That depends on how much money you have to throw around. In this country it isn’t a matter of whether someone can be bribed, it’s just a question of how much it will take. And these guys are moving their own money around, so it isn’t like they’re hurting anyone here. Paying taxes on a phony set of books is pretty smart.”

  “He’s supposed to meet with the Italians tonight,” she said.

  “If he doesn’t show . . .”

  “I know. We were lucky to grab him this morning.”

  Perkasa looked down at her and she saw a question in his eyes. It was the same as the one in her mind.

  “I need to talk to Uncle,” she said.

  ( 32 )

  She let the car run for five minutes wit
h the air conditioning on full blast as she gathered her thoughts. The problem she had now was that the secondary objective of recovering some money had gone sharply sideways. If everything he’d said was true, there was no way she was going to get her hands on the thirty million unless she was willing to take on the Italians.

  So what if she took the million he had offered and left with it? Even that wasn’t without its problems. Would he be able to get his hands on the money today? And if he couldn’t, did that mean he would meet with the Italians tonight? How much trust could she put in him? She would have to talk to Uncle about the Italians and about Cameron’s offer.

  For once he answered the Kowloon apartment phone himself. “Wei.”

  “Uncle, it’s Ava.”

  “How did it go?”

  She paused. She hadn’t told him the schedule. “Well enough,” she said, realizing that he and Perkasa had probably talked the night before.

  “No problems picking him up?”

  “No. It was easier than I would have thought possible.”

  “Good, good.”

  “No, Uncle, not quite so good. I’ve just finished questioning him and things aren’t what we supposed. In fact, things are a lot more complicated than I ever imagined.”

  She could hear Lourdes puttering around in the background, then Uncle saying thank-you to her for his tea. “What is the problem?” he finally asked.

  Ava began to explain. She spoke for almost twenty minutes, uninterrupted, only hesitating when she heard him cough and then later, when she said the word ’Ndrangheta and Uncle seemed to stop breathing.

  When she was finished, Uncle didn’t say anything right away, but she could imagine him sitting in his easy chair, a tray by his side holding the teapot and his morning newspapers, his eyes hooded, lips lightly compressed as he absorbed what she had related. “I know of them,” he finally said.

  “The Italians?”

  “Yes. A hundred families bound together by money and blood — and oaths that they value above their lives. When they first came here, to Asia, for drugs mainly, we did not know what to make of them. Some of my colleagues thought they were like the other Italians: open to side deals. They soon learned differently. There is a hardness, a dedication, a viciousness to them that makes them difficult partners. I am not surprised they have done so well. I am surprised that they are so clever. That Indonesian bank setup is brilliant.”

  “Assuming it’s real.”

  “You doubt the banker?”

  “No, but I still want to confirm what I’ve been told.”

  “And then?”

  “And then we’ll know for sure. And then we can decide what to do.”

  “How can you confirm?” he asked.

  “Well, I’m not going to talk to the Italians. In fact I wouldn’t even risk talking to anyone about them,” she said. “But Cameron told me that all the loans the bank has made have been to various companies registered to the Italians and their relatives and friends. One of his major jobs is to paper those deals, make them look legitimate. I want to have a look at them, see who we’re actually dealing with.”

  “Ava, you said the banker is supposed to meet the Italians for dinner tonight,” Uncle said slowly.

  “Yes.”

  “How quickly can you access that information?”

  “If I have Cameron’s passwords and he tells me where to look in the bank’s database, I don’t see why I couldn’t do it in the next few hours.”

  “Could you download it all?”

  “If I can access it, I can download it,” she said. “Why?”

  “I am thinking, that is all, and I need to think some more. The thing is, I do not want you to stay in Surabaya. I want to you to get out of there today.”

  “Let me confirm what I’ve been told.”

  “Not if it means you cannot leave today.”

  Ava did some rough calculations. “Uncle, if I can’t get the information by noon, then there is something wrong with either me or the information.”

  “You call me back by then.”

  “I will.”

  “And in the meantime I am going to hold a seat for you on a flight to Hong Kong.”

  There it is again, Ava thought, caution gone to excess. They had always been careful, but this was more than that. “How about Perkasa?”

  “You need to tell him what I said about the Italians. He is a good man. He knows how to keep his mouth shut. He also knows how to disappear.”

  “And Uncle — the banker?”

  “That will depend on what you find out, I think.”

  “I was thinking the same.”

  “We have some time,” he said. “You go discover what you can. Me, I want to consider this thing in more detail. With these Italians you cannot afford to make mistakes; you cannot afford to leave loose ends.”

  Perkasa was where she had left him in the kitchen. “I think you should phone Waru and Prayogo and ask them to come back. I may need a drive to my hotel and we can’t leave Cameron alone.”

  “What did Uncle say?”

  “The Italians are trouble. We need to be careful.”

  “I’ll call the boys,” he said, his face impassive.

  Ava grabbed her notebook and walked through the kitchen and out onto the back porch. Cameron was slumped forward in the chair, the sun beating down on his naked legs, his head, the back of his neck. Even after being washed down, he still reeked of excrement. She stood a few metres away and shouted, “Cameron, wake up. I need to talk to you.”

  He raised his head. “I’m thirsty again,” he moaned.

  “In a minute. First we talk.”

  “About?”

  “I want to access the bank’s computer system.”

  He shook his head. “I told you, they control the money. They’re the only ones who can transfer it. And even if they weren’t and you found a way to do it, don’t think they wouldn’t find out who did it and where it went.”

  “I have no immediate interest in moving money from the bank. I spoke to my partner about our conversation this morning and he doesn’t quite believe you. He wants me to confirm your story about the loans and real estate transactions. Those are recorded somewhere in your system, I’m assuming.”

  “Yes, of course they are.”

  “And you have access to them?”

  “They are my records.”

  “Then this should be easy, shouldn’t it.”

  “Why would —”

  “My partner wants me to confirm your story. That’s all you need to know,” Ava said.

  “I’m thirsty,” he said again.

  She was tempted not to concede him even that, but time was passing. “I’ll get you something,” she said.

  When she walked into the kitchen, Perkasa was already seated in one of the chairs, waiting for her. “He needs another glass of water,” she told him.

  “The boys are on their way here,” he said.

  She opened her notebook and reviewed the details. When she went back outside, Perkasa was giving water to Cameron. When he was done, she asked, “How do I get to the bank records?”

  “Go to www.regcalindo.com.”

  “Not the bank’s site?”

  “We have several.”

  “Okay,” she said, spelling the web address back to him.

  He nodded. “I have three passwords. The first one is ‘andycolin’ — all lowercase. That’ll get you into the main directory and let you access all kinds of general information, including some financials — mainly the bullshit ones. Within the directory you’ll see a tab for assets. Enter ‘chriskaren’ — again lowercase, and ‘chris’ with ch, not k. Under ‘Assets’ there are, I think, eight headers. The one you want is at the bottom and it’s called ‘Projected Income.’ The password to get you in is ‘karenchriscolin.’”

  “One word, all lowercase?”

  “Aye.”

  “And this will show me the loans?”

  “All of them.”

  “
Are they referenced?”

  “And fucking cross-referenced,” he said, as if she’d doubted his professionalism.

  The things people cling to when they’re in trouble . . . Ava thought. “That should satisfy my partner,” she said.

  “Then what?”

  “Then we talk about your million dollars, and if we can work something out you should be free to join your Italian friends for dinner tonight.”

  He groaned. “You don’t need this tape or handcuffs anymore.”

  “No, we need to conclude our business first.”

  Waru came out with Prayogo. The brothers looked at Cameron and then glanced quickly at each other.

  “Apologize to Waru for the mess,” Ava said to Perkasa. “And tell him that we’re doubling his fee to make up for it.”

  The men spoke among themselves. When they were finished, Perkasa said to Ava, “No problem with Waru. He just wants to know if you want to leave the banker out here like this. Or can they wash him off properly and move him back indoors?”

  “Leave him here,” Ava said. “But get one of the boys to fish Cameron’s wallet out of his pocket. I may need it later.”

  ( 33 )

  Perkasa drove her back to the Majapahit. Traffic was still light and they made great time. He had the radio turned low, and he glanced at her several times during the ride as if he wanted to start a conversation. Ava looked out the window at the passing city. She knew what he wanted to discuss. She just wasn’t ready to discuss it.

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be,” she said, when the Nissan pulled up in front of the hotel.

  “I’ll wait right here. No rush.”

  She was greeted by the same doorman who had walked her to the Sheraton that morning. He gave her a big smile. “How was your meeting?”

  “Just fine,” Ava said.

  She walked up the stairs to her room and went directly to the computer. It took a few minutes to connect to the Internet and then seconds to get into regcalindo.com. She followed the directions Cameron had given her and found herself looking at a list of loan transactions.

  They were grouped by branch and listed by date. Under the date was the amount of the loan followed by the company it was loaned to, with an address and contact names, titles, and phone numbers. There were at least two names, and sometimes more, attached to every company. Virtually every one of the names was Italian. None of them were familiar to Ava, but then there was no reason for them to be. Some names appeared several times, and some names were attached to more than one company.