Blood Money (32 page)

The two uniformed officers show remarkable restraint throughout the volley of abuse. “I'd think very carefully if I were you…release me now and I might not make an official complaint about your heavy handedness. You clearly don't understand the big mistake you're making, but you will…. VERY SOON!
Now get these fucking handcuffs off me!”

Outside, Eddie Slater is co-operating fully with his police escorts. And reckoning that his detention is purely in connection to Alexis, he believes he has little to fear, as there's nothing to connect him with any of the Greek's insider dealing practices.

He takes them over to the brand new Mercedes S-Guard in the airport car park, where a tow-truck is waiting to remove the £300k vehicle for forensic examination. Before he sees it winched onto the flatbed, he informs the policemen that if they bother to look in the glove-box they'll find his unlicensed hand-gun. Unsure of whether he's joking or not, one of the two officers dons some latex gloves and cautiously approaches the front passenger door. Moments later, he holds up the semi-automatic pistol by his index finger, and asks rhetorically “Is this yours sir?”

He's more than happy to take the rap for the possession of an unlicensed firearm and as he's being taken to North Woolwich police station to be duly arrested he thinks ‘Smart move. -That's all they've got on me,
but I bet Alexis won't be getting off as lightly!'

*

At this same moment in time, Alexis has just been bundled into the back of a City of London police car and he continues to berate the officers sitting up front. “Look, I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot, but I assure you this must be some kind of mistake. I insist on talking to the Police Commissioner straight away and then perhaps then we can get this whole mess cleared up.” The officers are still doing their level best to ignore him, but his indignant protestations continue unabated. “Hey! I told you to contact the Police Commissioner, this instant; I have to speak to him immediately.”

The officer sitting in the driver's seat turns round to look at the small fat man who's making all the big noise. Alexis is pleased to see he now has their attention, however the policeman looks him dead in the eye and tells him firmly. “You are in no position to be making demands Mr Vasilakos. I am arresting you on suspicion of insider dealing; you do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not answer in questioning something you later rely in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

“I can assure you, there has been some kind of a dreadful mistake!” he's infuriated to have been read-out his rights. “I run a totally legitimate business and have never broken the law in my life!” Taking a breath, he calms himself down and lowering his tone somewhat he continues “Look at me, can't you tell that I'm a respectable businessman?”

From their silence he knows he's not getting a hint of empathy let alone a whiff of compassion. “I insist you tell me right this very minute who has accused me of insider dealing! Whoever the slanderous bastard is,
he'll be FUCKING SORRY he ever crossed me!”

Despairingly, the officers face forward once more. They start the engine and begin driving away. Alexis realises he's not getting through to these cretinous buffoons. “Look, can't you see that this is utter madness? You've got to listen to me; I'm an extremely powerful man.”

Still the police officers are unmoved, and Alexis decides at last that he may be wasting his breath. He shuts his mouth and begins thinking through his options. After five minutes of silence, Alexis suddenly has a curious thought. “Hey, we appear to be going into the Square Mile. Exactly where is it that you're taking me?”

The policeman in the passenger seat responds positively: “I'm glad you've decided to calm down Mr Vasilakos. Things will work out much better if you cooperate with us. Perhaps if you stay relaxed for a little bit longer we may think about removing your handcuffs…And to answer your question we're going to your headquarters in Lombard Street. There's a search of the premises in progress as we speak, and the officer in charge has requested that we bring you over to assist.”

“You what?!”

“There is a signed search warrant authorising the complete search of your premises and just as your plane landed they radioed to say that apparently they're going to need your presence to gain access to the basement.”

Just when he thought his day couldn't possibly get any worse…“And what happens if I refuse to help?”

“You'll be charged with obstruction and perverting the course of justice and you may end up spending a few months in prison for your trouble. Which is all a bit silly because they'll still gain access eventually, but may cause considerable damage to your property in doing so.”

Vasilakos remains silent for the rest of the journey. For the first time in over 15 years he feels like a mere mortal. Things are out of control, people aren't listening to him, his property is being defiled and his enemies have outflanked him. Hot blooded and bewildered, he's so out of his mind with rage he's struggling to think.

Who is behind this charade? Who has betrayed him? Who would dare start this war against him? Closing his eyes, he can see his father's face, full of scorn and disapproval. Could his own flesh and blood have done this? It's possible,
but is it likely?

The Kavanagh girl? –Had she have gone over Vaughan's head and handed damning evidence directly to Hillary Demming? No…though she had a big-mouth she'd got nothing but statistics, proved by the fact that she'd needed to ask John Gibson for help.

It's got to be someone on the inside. Some snivelling, arrogant, ungrateful little upstart. One of the boys perhaps? He's maintained a careful watch on them at all times and there's been no sign of treachery. And even though he pays them well, that in itself is no guarantee of their unconditional loyalty. Maybe he'd trained them to be too greedy and this is the inevitable result?

Was it Pritchard? –Strong and smart. A natural successor, yes. But simply not ruthless enough.

Mark Harvey? –An intellectual snob but ultimately a coward. The spineless upstart would shit his pants.

Ben Willington? –A highly disciplined machine, uninterested in politics, fully focussed on his job. No…it couldn't possibly be him.

Ollie Robertson? –Mmm, an impudent coke addict, a snake in the grass who'd love to see his boss's fall from grace. Perhaps the little shit was being blackmailed by someone…?

What about Eddie Slater? –At first glance, reliable and loyal. However, can you ever trust a dangerous psychopath, someone consumed with bloodlust? A bully, a manipulator and a cold, emotionless killer. Slater's recent lapses in professionalism had created this mess? For far too long Alexis had taken Eddie at his word that no evidence was being left behind after each ‘assignment'. Perhaps he'd lied? Perhaps he'd been covering up his many errors? Recently he'd been decidedly sloppy in his work. Perhaps the time had come to terminate their long-standing business relationship? Permanently. A bullet to the back of his skull should work; the problem would be in finding someone brave enough to do it…

*

When the patrol car reaches Lombard Street, it has to pull-up short of the bank because of all the white vans blocking the road ahead. Having helped Alexis out of the car, his police escorts make good on their promise and remove the handcuffs from Alexis's swollen wrists.

Feeling battered and bruised, Vasilakos makes the officers wait as he rubs his sore wrists whilst scowling his resentment at them. When he's finally ready, he allows himself to be escorted past the blockade of vehicles and walking across onto the pavement only now does he see the stream of men and women carrying crates of seized documents and computers out of his bank's front entrance.

Shocked to see his financial empire being so brazenly plundered, he waits for a gap in the foot-traffic before stumbling inside. Dozens of people are jostling past one another in an effort to remove the huge volumes of confiscated evidence. Standing in the centre of his grand entrance hall, the Greek begins calling out pitifully “All of you, listen to me! You simply cannot do this!
I command you to put everything back this instant!”

At this point the SOCA officer in charge abruptly stops supervising the clear-out and recognising the fund manager for who he is, walks over to attend to the formalities of introducing himself and showing him the search warrant. “I'm Detective Inspector Vincent Burrows from the Serious Organised Crime Agency and I'm in charge of this operation.”

He continues, barely pausing for breath, “Mr Vasilakos, it really is in your best interest to help us, because the sooner we finish, the sooner we'll be off your premises.” The dumbfounded Greek remains silent, unsure quite how to respond. “Now…I do need to ask for your assistance. There are two highly reinforced security doors on this floor. Both of them are locked, and we need them opening.” Pointing firstly over to Eddie's office “That one,” and then pointing behind the long reception desk he adds, “And this one over here.”

“Now…” the officer in charge shoots a glance at Vasilakos, “which one shall we take a look at first?”

“Well, even I can't help you with the first one. The only person with the code for that door is my security advisor. –And I'd be amazed if he lets you in there, he only allows me inside about two or three times a year.”

“Ok, then that leaves this one. Come along…I'm sure you know how to operate this retina scanner.”

Hiding his irritation that they cannot recognise a far superior iris scanner when they see one; he nevertheless appreciates the fact that these Neanderthals are holding all the cards right now. As soon as he sees an opportunity to extricate himself from this mess, he will, but right now it's probably best to retain his cool. For the time being he accepts the situation. “Oh all right, let's get this farce over with.”

Having unlocked the single point of access down into the basement, the SOCA chief beckons over a small team of senior personnel to accompany him. “Jackie, Pete and Bill…stop what you're doing and come with me.” The selected group gathers around the officer in charge and they follow him down the steps into Kronos's inner sanctum. Alexis's heart drops as soon as he recognises one of the group to be the copper who partners Detective Sergeant John Gibson.

*

At the bottom of the flight of stone stairs, Bill Warren remembers back to the last time he stood on this exact same spot, some 20 long years ago. But it's no coincidence.

When your boss habitually assigns the same officers to the same sections of the city it's no surprise that he should find himself here yet again. The head of CID at Bishopsgate had phoned him late last night to ask him to lead a team of fifteen City of London policemen assigned to join a SOCA/FSA dawn raid on the Kronos Headquarters. With seniority and prior knowledge of both the building and Alexis Vasilakos he had been the natural choice to lead his station's contingent. And if it wasn't for the fact that his partner was still on bereavement leave then John Gibson might also be standing alongside him to witness this.

Bill is aware of the silence. Everyone else in the basement (apart from the fund manager and himself) having been awestruck by the size of the massive round door to the bank vault. Vincent Burrows is the first to break the silence, “Jackie, check what's in there please.” The FSA woman looks across to where the commander has indicated.

The plain door is unlocked and opens outwards. It feels several degree colder in the little room and as she momentarily steps forward she can smell something nasty as if there's a long dead rat hidden somewhere inside. “Nothing in here guv. Just a couple of trolleys and a ramp for getting stuff in and out of the vault.” Jackie retreats and closes the door behind her to prevent the ‘funky' smell from following her.

Nodding his acknowledgment, he now begins to galvanise the team into action, “Okay guys, listen-up! This computer over here looks important. Let's get it disconnected and taken away.”

Alexis cannot stand by and allow this outrage to continue,
“IT LOOKS IMPORTANT!!?!”

Speaking loudly and firmly, he commands those around him to listen. “Don't even think about removing it. That machine processes over two-thirds of my fund's financial transactions. That machine is my company. Remove it and you're costing this business tens of millions of pounds worth of turnover each and every day. Remove it and I will personally demand that you compensate me for every single penny of that lost income.”

The Detective Inspector is in no mood for nonsense. He holds the search warrant aloft for all to see and then sets the record straight. “This gives me the authority to search these entire premises for evidence in relation to allegations of insider trading. Remove it.”

They obey Vincent's command and move in. Once the supercomputer has been safely shut down Jackie squeezes behind the Cray's black cabinet to disconnect the peripheral equipment and unplug it from the wall. The Detective Inspector makes the situation clearer to the fund manager: “Mr Vasilakos, we have very good reason to believe you've been using this computer for more than just automated trading, and for that reason, it and every other computer and electronic device in this building is being removed. Whether evidence is found or not, any costs or damage caused by this investigation cannot and will not be borne by the taxpayer.”

As the team shifts the Cray's processor cabinet onto a stair-climbing truck, the FSA woman has space to stand back and look at the cables she's just disconnected. Alongside the power supply and Ethernet cables, there's a large grey ‘industrial' looking feeder cable which appears to come down from the ceiling in a length of plastic conduit. Jackie is mystified. “Detective Inspector, you'd better take a look at this…”