Blood Money (20 page)

*

Feeling disappointed to have unearthed so little information, John seems no closer to having a plan for exacting his revenge.

The previous week had certainly been quite eventful, so it was a relief for Alexis to spend such a very pleasant bank-holiday weekend in Monaco.

It had come as a much needed tonic after being shot-at with machine guns and then a few days later seeing people tortured and killed at close quarters. Though totally necessary and justifiable it was still such a dirty affair to witness first-hand.

Detritus unfortunate or unwise enough to get in his way simply has to be dealt with, though he normally prefers to remain a little more remote from such distasteful activities.

For quite some time now Alexis has been considering getting himself a luxury motor yacht. His neighbour, a well known British retailing magnate, had been braying-on and on at him for over a year about the benefits it brings to one's lifestyle. So inevitably, Alexis has resolved to treat himself and is close to deciding on the yacht that will make the right statement about himself whilst also up-staging his bragging billionaire neighbour.

A few weeks earlier he'd made arrangements with the ‘Directeur des Ventes' at the Fontvieille Yacht Brokerage to give him a special trial charter weekend with a view to buying. For a very reasonable €100,000 he had chartered ‘Zeus' for the entire weekend, a fifty metre sleek and sexy super-yacht. Now…he wasn't particularly superstitious, but the name itself seemed to be destined for a Greek businessman of his stature. The little Frenchman, keen to earn a handsome sales commission had eagerly prepared her with a full crew of eight (including a Michelin-rated chef) to demonstrate to Alexis the full, unparalleled luxury that this Italian designed floating palace could offer. Accompanied by a trio of sensual and scantily clad young ladies that Alexis had hand-picked for the occasion, they had been taken on a 150 mile round-trip to St Tropez and back.

Yes, it had been an eye-opening cruise and it seemed his neighbour had not been exaggerating as to the lifestyle benefits. Staying onboard such a deluxe motor yacht was akin to owning a seven-star luxury hotel and having the ability to change the scenery at a whim. It also enabled a level of privacy and security that would be impossible to maintain on land.

And there'd be no better place for such a yacht than the Mediterranean, with so much to explore; the Amalfi Coast of Italy, the Iberian Peninsula, the Adriatic coastline, not to mention the islands! Of course, like all these things, some Arab Sheik or Russian Oligarch would always be there to spoil the moment by appearing in the same place with something obscenely larger. But hey, even Zeus was far bigger than he really needed; it was just that anything less would completely undermine his image. It was still a big purchase, and it needed to be thought about carefully. The £12 million asking price plus the million each year to maintain, run and dock it did necessitate at least as much consideration as he'd devoted before buying his equally expensive Citation private jet.

A week to sleep on it should be sufficient.

Having lost Monday's trading to a bank holiday, Alexis is determined that the rest of the working week should be extra profitable to make up for it.

The big story over the long weekend has been the death of Osama Bin Laden. So the early part of Tuesday morning is being taken-up on the first and second floors with intense speculation as to how this might affect the markets. The general consensus is that they should rally, and although Alexis would love for this to be true, he nevertheless disagrees with such an optimistic viewpoint and feels it necessary to give everyone a special address at 10am to advise them on not overestimating the influence of this piece of news. Personally, he doesn't see it as a game-changer. Whatever positive impact it might have (improved stability in the Middle East) will be balanced by equal amounts of negative impact (such as speculation over retaliatory ‘revenge' attacks). Additionally, there'd been so much in the news recently including a nuclear crisis in Japan and the ‘Arab Spring' protests that the impact on the markets of the death of the Leader of the Al Qaeda would be diluted.

Having thus laid-down his unequivocal judgment on the matter, the rest of Alexis's day will be spent schmoozing the latest wealthy client who is signing into the Kronos Fund, helping to boost the fees and commissions already flowing into the company's burgeoning coffers.

Standing-up slowly and authoritatively, Alexis leans over the impressive walnut boardroom table and reaches across to vigorously shake the hand of the smartly suited man sat opposite.

Nicolas Reinhart has just signed the necessary paperwork placed in front of him. He's the head of Eurocrédit Internationales (a bank highly implicated in money laundering services based in Luxembourg) and is an ugly caricature of man with a scalp as bald as his nose is big.

For a large bank, his opening investment of £30m is an amount so trifling that Alexis could easily take offence. Instead, he prefers to see it as a sign of the man's nervous disposition, of his insecurity and weakness.

In March 2010 it emerged that Kim Jong-il, the then Supreme Leader of Communist North Korea, had a £2.6 billion ‘emergency fund' hidden in secret accounts in European banks (many of which were thought to be Swiss). When the Swiss authorities began to tighten their regulations on money laundering Mr Kim's operatives withdrew the money (in cash, in order to leave no paper trail) and transferred the horde into banks in Luxembourg. This act is thought to be one of the most extensive money-laundering operations in the history of organised crime.

All this occurred after several years of failed harvests in North Korea, that resulted in over a million people starving to death and where even today, malnutrition is commonplace. The bankers who still conceal and manage these secret funds reportedly earn large sums of money for their efforts each year.

It's impossible even for Nicolas to know how much of the money deposited at his bank has been generated through illegal activities, though he can't deny knowing many of his clients as being drug traffickers, fraudsters and tax evaders. And when he receives money transfers from other international banks he is fully aware that it's likely to be ‘layering' activity, a process whereby the identity of the original investors becomes almost unknowable. It is (after all) a common enough technique whereby people-smugglers, arms traffickers, terrorists and counterfeiters conceal the ownership, source, control and destination of their illegally gained money, making it at appear that the proceeds of their crimes have come from legitimate origins.

Banking, being the largest sector of the Luxembourg economy is jealously protected. The countries banking secrecy laws and its reputation as being a tax haven has led to it being put onto the “grey list” of nations with questionable banking arrangements. Their specialism is in cross-border fund administration, a function which they skilfully perform with naturally multilingual staff and many decades of expertise in international finance.

Alexis as a Hedge Fund Manager is not obliged to enquire as to the identity of any of Eurocrédit Internationale's investors, and if questioned (which he won't be) he can justifiably claim that he is dealing with the Luxembourg bank alone.

Nicolas is clearly delighted to have joined the growing number of clients in the Kronos Fund and is eager to reap the rewards of Alexis's astute financial wizardry. The men congratulate each other with beaming faces, “Merveilleux, splendide, excellent mon bon ami!” Nicolas exhorts.

Alexis responds in kind, “Glad to have you on board Nicolas!”

Walking over to a humidor at the side of the room, he opens the glass door and reaches inside for a polished wooden box. “Nicolas, would you care to celebrate with a cigar? As you can see I have a fine range to choose from, please…” Alexis opens the box “I am sure you will enjoy my current favourite, the Cohiba Behike.” (Pronounced Co-ee-bah Beh-hee-kay). “It's undoubtedly the best cigar in all of Cuba.”

Reinhart's eyes light-up with eagerness, and he reaches across to get his greedy hands on the world's finest tobacco product. Drawing it to and fro under his ample nose he murmurs in a dreamy tone “Ahhh…I see you have very fine taste Mr Vasilakos…and you know what accompanies a fine cigar?”

Before Reinhart can impress his host by answering his own question Alexis responds as a person in-tune with the thoughts of his new found-friend “A fine scotch whisky…”

On delivering his answer, Alexis opens the doors to the mahogany cupboard next to the humidor to display a selection of single malts and blended whiskies to die for. “I do consider myself to be something of an aficionado, after all, what is the point of being so rich if it is not to buy and enjoy the very best life has to offer?” Raising up his own cigar, Alexis removes it's covered head with an antique guillotine cutter, then handing it over to the Luxembourger, the ritual is repeated on the other side of the table. “And I do intend to demonstrate that point very well indeed this evening.” Alexis winks overtly, and then continues, “Now, perhaps you'll allow me to make a recommendation on the choice of whisky?”

“Of course, of course, mon ami! What would you suggest?”

“Well…personally, I find the Behike's sweet and sour coffee undertones balance best with a really good Speyside, my preference being this 30 Year Old Balvenie.”

Pulling from the cabinet some crystal whisky glasses and the bottle of liquid gold, Alexis begins to pour out two very generous glasses of the eye-wateringly expensive single malt, no water, no ice. As the host, he is taking particular delight in playing the role of the aristocratic bon-viveur, and during moments like these he does everything he can to assert his superiority.

Alexis's experience of the finer things in life is not quite as he tries to project it. Yes, as a spoilt child he was surrounded by wealth and he did (undeniably) have a very privileged upbringing. However, since ostracising himself as a young man from his family following a period of intensive feuding he lost the mentoring in life that a father figure could have provided. At the London School of Economics he hated being ridiculed and teased by more worldly-wise undergraduates, and it continued when he started his career in the City. He was picked on mercilessly for any show of ignorance or for expressing ‘the wrong opinions'. However his main problem as a young man was in making repeated gaffes in English social etiquette.

As an office junior, he fully expected to perform demeaning errands like fetching the coffees from Starbucks or doing the sandwich runs for the department. But on top of this, because of repeated conversational and social blunders, he was forced to endure more than the normal amount of ritualised humiliations from more senior colleagues.

He needed to re-invent himself, as a person to be admired, respected and feared. Using money from his enormous trust fund he employed specialist advisors and lifestyle consultants to quickly learn his Chenin Blanc's from his Chardonnay's and his Bugatti's from his Bentleys. Already the owner of a couple of tailored suits; he upped his game and employed a personal buyer to fit him out in impeccable English clothing. Overnight, much of the snobbish criticism from his peers in the City stopped. His etiquette coach succeeded in training Alexis in matters like dress code and table manners, but many of the highly ‘English' aspects of his tutorage fell on stony ground because they were just too contrary to his own nature. He despised acts of chivalry; to him they were acts of weakness. Stiff upper lip, stoicism and sang-froid where alien to his Mediterranean culture. He also failed to see the point of understatement; it seemed so ridiculous. After all, how can people know you're a winner unless you're allowed to be ostentatious and boastful?

Meanwhile his growing fearlessness on the trading screens and his willingness to react to rumour quicker than anyone around him helped build him a reputation as a serious money maker. Then one January, after accepting yet another titanic bonus Alexis quit being a portfolio manager and set up his own ‘fledgling' hedge fund. The rest (as they say) is history.

Ushering Reinhart out onto the rooftop terrace, Alexis puts the whiskies down on a glass table and glances over at two chairs, asking “Would you mind dear boy?”

Doing as instructed, Nicolas removes the covers from the chairs whilst Alexis lights up a cedar strip and proceeds to preheat his cigar along its length by slowly turning it by one end above the flame until the edges of the wrapper begin to blacken. Now raising the cigar to his lips Alexis lights it by moving the flame to the far end whilst gently drawing air into his mouth, rhythmically puffing with his lips and cheeks. The 50 year old Reinhart is not so familiar with the art of cigar smoking and feels highly self conscious as he follows suit and tries to match his host's élan. Whilst Nicolas tries to copy the ritualistic performance in lighting the cigar Alexis ‘phones his personal secretary and gives her abrupt instructions to make reservations for six at Pétrus.

Unfortunately Reinhart doesn't quite pull off the cigar lighting ritual with enough authority, having failed to check the Behike is lit properly he uses a cigarette lighter from his jacket pocket to re-ignite it. Alexis hides a smug smile, internally scoffing at the man's error.

The pair sit back in their comfortable chairs, relaxing and enjoying their scotch and cigars as they look out over the City's skyline. They take an occasional puff and Alexis begins talking freely about a subject very close to his heart.

“I am some considerable way through a very interesting project at the moment Nicolas….” Initially the banker is uninterested, but as Alexis continues his conversation this soon changes. “It is widely believed that women from the east of Europe are unparalleled in their beauty”.

Now paying full attention, Reinhart replies enthusiastically “Ah yes, -those Slavic cheek bones and slim elegant curves…yes I have to agree with you. Eastern European women are very fine indeed!” Enjoying the direction in which Alexis has steered the conversation, he secretly hopes there is an ulterior motive for Alexis to have fallen onto such a delectable subject.

Alexis now knows Reinhart to be as much of a lecherous chauvinist as he is, so he'll proceed with this evening's plans without fear of offending his new client.

“But the question is, -which country's women are the best? Now, opinion without analysis has no weight with me…and analysis using only small study groups is totally pointless.” Reinhart nods his head excitedly and allows Alexis to continue uninterrupted. “So, over the years I have been making concerted efforts in forwarding man's understanding of the question. Polish and Belarusian girls were eliminated first, then it took some time before Czech and Ukrainian girls could also be removed from the study without prejudice. Recently Lithuanian ladies have been set aside too. And now, I am pleased to say that after a lot of hard work my research has narrowed the study group down to the beautiful ladies from just three nations, Russia, Estonia and Latvia.”

No stranger himself to lap-dancing clubs, VIP rooms, Parisian brothels and the occasional business-trip call-girl himself, Reinhart goads-on his host. “I'm impressed at both your thoroughness and impartiality. Please continue! Please…-tell me more!”

Alexis knows there's plenty of time to allow the anticipation to build. It will take at least an hour to enjoy a cigar this big even taking into account that the last third will be discarded.

He draws a thick puff of dense smoke into his mouth, holding it there momentarily before shaping his lips and making several good smoke rings by pushing his tongue forward and back like a piston. “The problem now appears to be one of accurately defining the ultimate objective. Get that wrong and the whole study might be wasted, and I certainly wouldn't want that.” The Greek pauses to take a sip of golden nectar from his heavy glass.

In a flash Nicolas chirps-up “Yes, you'd then have to start all over again!” But only Reinhart himself laughs (weakly) at his pathetic attempt at a joke.

“Facial beauty is important.” Alexis continues, stating the obvious. “The eyes, the smile, the hair, etc. Then there is the body. Legs (of course), the breasts and other factors such as the general proportions of the hips, bottom and waist. In these aspects my preference is for a long haired girl with a very pretty face and a big smile. I like long legs and an athletically proportioned body. And you?”

“Much the same as yourself, but I would like you to know that my preference is for blondes.” He adds this remark in the hope that it will be remembered if Alexis is indeed going to select him an escort for tonight, then he adds (ever hopefully) “And taller is better for me also.”

“Good, I will phone Hugo to make the arrangements.” Alexis again busies himself on the ‘phone for a few minutes.

Hugo is a fixer, and his services are very popular in the City. He provides girls, he provides drugs. Need some VIP corporate entertainments? Hugo can always get you seats, in fact he can usually get you the best seats. Business for Hugo is always good. He prides himself in being expert in supplying whatever you desire and his widespread connections ensure he can always deliver, -whatever whim you throw at him.