Arbitrage

by Colette Kebell

  She began writing.

  When can we see each other?

  Even today, I don’t have much to do.

  Amelia felt remorse at having to miss a whole day’s work. With all those papers from the bank, Logan would have progressed a little. She was annoyed to have to leave him alone, but she knew within herself that meeting Anders again was a priority. She’d woke late anyway, better take advantage of the situation.

  There’s a classical concert, a quartet, playing close to downtown in the afternoon. Would you like to go?

  I love classical music.

  She opened her purse in search of the leaflets that she’d taken a few days before and wrote the address and time in next message.

  She still had a few hours to prepare and decided to take a bath before choosing her outfit. As usual in her life, the problems came all at once. The bank, Quentin, and now Anders. Everything needed to be done in a hurry, decisions, choices on unlikely futures, dreams that collided with reality.

  Sometimes she desired dropping everything and running away to some distant country and living a simple life. But those things don’t ever happen in real life. If she left for the Caribbean to make a living as a waitress, the problems would doubtless follow her. People imagined that by going somewhere else problems would vanish, but the truth was different: there were mortgages, the issue of having to live on minimum wage. Even if she’d decided to become a little shepherdess on the top of a mountain, there’d be veterinary bills to pay, a building to repair, and walls in need of repainting.

  People were always enchanted by the romantic side of things, ignoring the facts. She understood only too well, being a lawyer, the ugliness that people had to deal with daily. No, it would be much better to continue with what she was doing. Better to cry in a luxurious apartment, if you had to than in a cold mountain hut.

  She decided for casual attire, jeans, a white blouse, and a light jacket to wear under her coat; the only concession would be her Burberry handbag, which she was rarely separate from.

  When she arrived at the rendezvous, Anders was already waiting. He was a sublime beauty. This time he was carrying a shoulder bag, those used for laptops. His dress, though unusual, was of excellent quality.

  They sat and watched the day’s program in silence. They didn’t notice the woman seated two rows further back observing them.

  Margot carefully scrutinised the blond guy who had accompanied Amelia, and she didn’t like him at all. She had encountered similar people throughout her career; they usually were tough cookies, ex-military; full of resources. Margot didn’t let his stylish clothes confuse her, he was anything other than what he appeared to be at first glance. She would have to revise her plans.

  CHAPTER 17

  ‘There’s been an unforeseen circumstance,’ said Margot into the phone.

  ‘Of what kind?’ Robert Price was getting impatient. Unscrupulous friends had recommended the woman, and she still hadn’t accomplished anything.

  ‘She was accompanied. I don’t know who the guy is, but I think he’s trouble.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘He moves confidently, he looks around to absorb every detail, the way he enters in front of her. I’ve met a lot of guys like that, after a while they don’t even realise how they act as that posture becomes second nature for them. The exact moves of a bodyguard. You didn’t mention this when I took the contract.’

  Price scratched his beard of two days. As far as he knew, Amelia had left her boyfriend a month before, and he wasn’t aware she was seeing someone else. A bodyguard then. Good to know. He had done well following the advice to hire a professional to do this job.

  In the past, he had acted on impulse, thinking he could handle a similar situation and had almost ended up in jail. Shit! Even Mortcombe almost ended up in jail, he though. That issue almost ended his career; what saved him was the fact he was married to Mortcombe’s daughter. It took years to regain the smallest amount of confidence from the old man. No, this time he would be cautious, he would have someone else handling the dirty work. It was his chance to prove to his father-in-law what he was really worth.

  He had found the shortages reported by Amelia and had managed to hide them by playing the three-card game, withdrawing from other private accounts and letting the owners believe that he was investing the money, but they would soon learn the truth.

  From an initial investigation, it looked like Bruno Mortcombe was the one who had extracted those millions, but that seemed far-fetched to Price. Mortcombe knew better than he who they were working for. The computer geeks had found a virus, or a Trojan horse as they called it, that was potentially used to steal Mortcombe’s log-ins. Everything had yet to be proven.

  He either fixed the issue rapidly, or he would have a lot to answer for. And his customers were not people to involve the lawyers. They would extract the truth from him using beating and torture.

  Margot’s services would cost a fortune, but he realised that in certain matters, he was only an amateur. Better let the professionals do their job.

  ‘How are you going to proceed?’ he asked after a long pause.

  ‘I want to see how things develop,’ said the woman, ‘if that guy is hanging around her, there might be a valid reason. There is definitely something going on here, and if we don’t understand what it is, we risk doing more harm than good.’

  ‘I have faith in your skills, do what you think is necessary.’ That was the phrase that Price always used when he couldn’t take a decision. Leave the initiative to those who knew, or believed to know, more. It was a useful trick in his work, allowing him to take risks and drop the responsibility onto others. This, however, was a different game. In the event of failure, his clients wouldn’t accept excuses; he would find himself in trouble up to his neck.

  ‘I’ll keep you updated.’

  Margot turned off the phone and went back into the room where the concert was about to end. It was a spacious nineteenth-century building off North Street. The interiors were exquisite and, with the oak inlaid floor, they were in an elegant room. Margot wondered what it would have been like living in one of those houses during the previous century. It was not unusual for ancient buildings to be used for concerts and in recent years it had become more popular. Tourists or business people passing through frequented most of them. In the streets, there was always somebody distributing flyers about the concerts. Most were students, including musicians, who earned some pocket money that way.

  When Anders and Amelia left, Margot pretended to talk to the man sitting next to her; that gave her the opportunity to watch the couple again. The young man leaned his left hand on her back as he looked around, peering into the faces of the people who had attended the concert. A typical gesture made by bodyguards used to analysing a situation quickly and making decisions. She refrained from locking eyes with him and waited a few moments before she followed them. Better not risk it.

  ‘How’s it going with your bank then?’ asked Anders as they walked through the narrow streets of The Lanes without a set destination.

  ‘It’s not mine yet. You’ll have to wait for that job.’ Amelia laughed, but without conviction.

  ‘Don’t worry, I knew I had little chance of getting one. Hey, I started that kitesurfing course you suggested.’

  Amelia stopped walking. ‘Really? How is it going?’

  ‘According to the instructor, I’m a natural.’ Laughed Anders. ‘Give me another couple of days and the right motivation, and I could jump that pier of yours as well.’

  ‘Ha, ha, ha, I’d like to see you trying.’

  ‘Ok, maybe that would be a little premature, but I’m sure I’ll be ready for a bit of kitesurfing this weekend, if you’re up for it?’

  ‘I wouldn’t miss that for the world. Take some cash with you, just in case you haven’t learned yet how to go upwind. You know, for the taxi home.’

  ‘Ha! That’s funny. Do you want a coffee? We could go to the same café w
here we met.’

  ‘Why not? But first I should go to the office, to see if everything is in order. It’s not far from here.’

  They set off down a side street, and Margot decided not to follow them. If her suspicions were founded, the guy would have surely spotted her. She would have to recruit the entire squad for complete surveillance. Alternating people, changing appearances and places, different cars. Damn, this would cost, but she saw no alternative. They were still too close to the centre to try something. She could kill them in the street, that was sure, but the orders were to make it look like an accident. With Bruno Mortcombe in a coma and the death of Romanov, killing her in the street would have unleashed a hornet’s nest. She decided it was better to wait.

  They arrived at the office building and, when Anders suddenly stopped, she said, ‘You can come in, it’s only a matter of minutes.’

  It was an old building, with wide stairs leading to the upper floors. The office was on the second floor which had always attracted Logan’s grievances, but she liked it as it was. Remote but not too far from the centre. Professionals mostly occupied the building. A dentist, a general practitioner, and a firm that Amelia had never understood what kind of business they were dealing in.

  She opened the door and walked toward her own office.

  Logan, hearing noises, came out from behind a corner, said, ‘Oh, Amelia, there you are. I have news …’ But he stopped, seeing the man behind her. The two briefly glanced at each other and Logan nodded with his head. People who had been in jail always recognised each other, in one way or another. Even those who had been in different prisons. He started to say something, but he was interrupted by Amelia.

  ‘I’m just passing through. So, were you able to make any progress on the bank’s matters?’

  The embarrassment at being recognised was apparent on Logan’s face, who did not wish to discuss the firm’s affairs in front of strangers.

  He pondered for a moment what to say and then alluded to nothing. ‘Well, yes and no, there are still many things to review,’ he said changing tone, to equivocate. ‘By the way, there’s a package for you; I put it on your desk.’

  Amelia nodded and headed for her office. She returned with a large brown envelope in her hand. ‘I’m taking a few days off, Ryan. You should too, sometimes. It would be a novelty.’

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ he said not averting his eyes from Anders, as if to measure an opponent before a duel, ‘will you be in the office tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes, don’t worry, tomorrow’s business as usual.’

  Logan wanted to say more, but something caused him to hold back. He would have time later, he thought.

  ‘See you tomorrow then,’ said Amelia exiting the door, followed by her silent friend. She seemed happy, almost different, but the instinct of the old lawyer wasn’t slipping.

  Once out of the building they headed towards the main square, not noticing that Margot was following them.

  ‘Look at that gadget of yours,’ said Amelia looking at Anders, who was checking emails on the latest generation mobile phone, more to break the silence between them than anything else.

  ‘What can I say, I’m a bit of a geek. Computers, connected watches, tech toys. I don’t do cosplays though.’

  ‘Ha ha ha. OK. What other secrets do you have to confess?’

  ‘I like rich heiresses. I don’t even look at a woman unless she has at least a bank,’ he said earnestly, looking her straight in the eye to elicit a reaction.

  ‘You are in trouble, then. I’m a very mean heiress and I don’t own a bank yet.’ She knew that the bank, in one way or another, would change her life dramatically and she still couldn’t bring herself to allow that to happen, she had far too many demons to contend with where her father was concerned to make this decision lightly.

  ‘I could always make an exception,’ he said, and when Amelia stopped trying to find a proper answer, Anders took her in his arms and kissed her. He stood over her by at least three inches, although she wore heels, and she felt enveloped by the warmth of the muscles holding her. Anders was strong, he clutched her, and she wouldn’t be able to avoid it even if she wanted to. The kiss lasted forever and when they separated her head started spinning, like when she did too much exercise, or had drunk more than she should.

  ‘I don’t live far away,’ said Anders.

  Amelia looked around as if she were afraid of being spotted in the company of a stranger. As if the few bystanders could read from her face what she was thinking or they knew she’d only met Anders, by accident, a few days before.

  ‘No, we go to my place.’

  He took her arm in his, as he had done that first time, and they departed in the direction of The Lanes.

  ****

  Logan, alone in the office, looked at the phone for the umpteenth time and then he dialled a number he had memorised long before. ‘I have a doubt, and hopefully you will be able to put me at ease,’ he said to the man on the other end of the line.

  CHAPTER 18

  ‘We must find a weakness if we want to hustle Robert Price,’ said Hank looking out the window of the hotel, not focussing on anything in particular.

  ‘Greed is not enough?’ asked Domino.

  ‘No, it’s not,’ Marcus Splinter said, ‘he is rich, he married one of the daughters of the banker, and even if he has put his hands on his wife’s wealth, it’s certainly not the money that’s missing.’

  To engage someone in a long con it was necessary to study the habits of the target. Understand what made him act, his innermost passions.

  ‘We could sell them Shergar’s descendants, an entire stable of horses. From what I’ve read, he likes to gamble,’ said Domino.

  People laughed out loud in the room; the kidnapping of Shergar had made the headlines in Ireland and throughout the world, in the late 1970s. A famous racehorse that had been stolen by individuals armed with guns, the IRA was suspected, and the horse never recovered.

  ‘Hmm … It wouldn’t work. Even if we sell him a couple of horses, the most we could reach would be a few million. We need something bigger,’ said Splinter. ‘Maybe we could revisit the shares con. A new company to be quoted on the stock exchange.’

  Hank was undecided. He strolled back and forth in the hotel room as if he were in a cage. ‘These are bankers, they’ll see right through it, and if we make a mistake, and that might well happen, goodbye investment. And those people are better than us at stealing money. Too risky.’

  ‘I wanted to be the one who invented the LIBOR manipulation. That was a stroke of genius,’ laughed Splinter.

  ‘They are ahead of us regarding theft.’

  ‘No, we need something different,’ said Lenny standing up from the couch and heading toward the bar. They had rented a suite in the best hotel in Brighton, no expense spared when it came to hooking a victim; appearance was everything in their craft. ‘We must focus on the feelings, passions, and dreams of the victim.’

  ‘Maybe he’s an art lover. We could sell the first abstract painting by Caravaggio. Or we make him believe that one of us is the only one of Hitler’s living relatives who has access to the Nazi gold buried in the vaults of a Swiss bank and waiting to be found. I zizn’t mind imitating ze German aczent before.’

  The group laughed loudly. Throwing ideas around was not only fun but also a way to invent new scams. In time, they happened to stumble across an idea so absurd that someone, sooner or later, would have taken it as real.

  ‘No, this time we can’t leave anything to chance. We need to study the habits and weaknesses of the victim. We don’t have much time.’

  The group had been working together for ten years. They came from different backgrounds, but each of them had a reason for pushing to be outside of the law. Hank was raised in a Welsh mining village; after seeing his parents consumed by their efforts, his mother as a maid and his father as a miner, he had decided he would never do an ordinary job. He had seen them growing old and bent under the hards
hips of a life of misery; his father had died when he was young because of an accident at the mine and the company he worked for didn’t even bother to send a note of condolence. Hank was tired of reading of all those celebrities in the papers who were acting up for trivial things. Of billionaires who got rich to the detriment of poor people; of those spending millions for yachts and villas that they would use only occasionally. That society gave him the creeps, and somehow, he had always tried to make them pay, those greedy, monster exploiters.

  ****

  Chaz didn’t usually intrude in those discussions. Splinter had selected him personally. Others insisted it was a waste of time, he would never learn, but Splinter claimed there was potential in the boy. Apart from working hard and driving the car as if he were a formula one driver.

  ‘Somebody got in touch with Ryan Logan?’ asked Hank looking around.

  ‘He should be here any minute,’ said Domino. ‘Steve went to pick him up, and they should be here by now.’

  ‘Chaz, it’s time for a new lesson,’ said Marcus. The gang turned their eyes to the newcomer.

  ‘Right now?’

  ‘Of course, any time is a good time to learn. How are your legs? No pains?’ asked the elder.

  ‘I played rugby until yesterday, of course, I have no aches or pains,’ said Chaz. ‘I’m fit as a fiddle.’ He was aware he would suffer another trick, but no matter how hard Chaz tried, he had never managed to get the better of Splinter.

  ‘Then you’re in good shape. Very good. Shall we bet that I find a way, without tying you or forcing you in any way, to make you raise your leg? I won’t touch you either. If I can, I’ll pay for your dinner for a week. Otherwise, you buy me a beer.’

  The boy thought it over for a moment, then said, ‘OK, let’s see how you do it.’