Once a Killer (26 page)

Meanwhile, Liquorish had moved into financial asset management with London’s largest fund management business. He became a director in 1992 and, throughout the 1990s, he built relationships with high net worth families and corporations around the world. Liquorish became a trusted manager of wealth, with an unrivalled knowledge of global tax rules, transfer pricing, and offshore banking. He became the go-to adviser for secretive clients who wanted to shield their wealth from the taxman’s prying eyes.

But the world imploded for Liquorish in March 2001 when the US Internal Revenue Service investigated a number of his American clients and discovered that, for years, he’d been setting up illegal tax evasion schemes for hundreds of companies and individuals. His employer was fined a record amount at that time and, soon after, it collapsed into administration as honest clients fled. Liquorish served two years in London’s Belmarsh prison and was stripped of his authorization by the Financial Services Authority, meaning he’d never be able to operate in the UK’s financial services industry again.

By 2003, Sokol was planning his move to Prague and knew he’d be unable to manage the investment side of his London hedge fund while running his expanding activities in mainland Europe. Liquorish was the dream answer to his problem: a man with a massive intellect, unrivalled investment skills, market knowledge and, most important, someone who was comfortable breaking the law for personal enrichment. The day discredited Liquorish left Belmarsh, he joined Sokol’s empire. A month later, he moved his family to Guernsey, an offshore tax haven a few miles off the English coast, from where he could oversee the administration of Sokol’s operation without too many questions being asked by the authorities in London.

The fortified metal gates clanged as they closed behind Liquorish’s rental car. When he glanced into his rearview mirror, the two armed guards had already returned to their hut just inside the entrance wall. Once he’d entered the estate, he drove up the mile-long private road leading to the four-story baroque mansion and parked in his usual spot. Two CCTV cameras on the front of the building tracked his movements.

The wide oak door of the house opened as Liquorish stepped out of his vehicle.

“Anthony,” said the slightly built man, with jet black hair, walking toward him with his hand extended. “How was your flight?”

“Oto, good to see you again,” Liquorish said, shaking his friend’s hand. At a little over six feet, he towered over Sokol by a good six or seven inches.

“How’s the family?” Sokol asked as they took seats in the drawing room.

“They’re well. Diana sends her love.”

“And Thomas? How is he doing?”

“Very well. He’s with Dunbar, Hawkins, and Weinel now.”

“I always knew he would do well. Pity, though. I had hoped he might join us one day.”

Liquorish looked away and then quickly reached down to his briefcase and took out a file. “Would you mind if we made a start? We have much to discuss. It’s been a hectic six months.”

An hour into the meeting, Liquorish put the first file away and took out another thick one. “That’s the real estate and unquoteds covered. Now we turn to the listed portfolio.” He waved the heavy file in his hand.

“I have read the report you e-mailed,” Sokol said, a hint of impatience in his voice. “There’s no need to talk me through it all.” He rubbed the bottom of his graying goatee with the fingers of his left hand. “I’d rather focus on one or two specific areas.”

“That’s perfectly fine with me. Where shall we start?”

“I want to talk about our US holdings first. I have some concerns.”

“Okay.” Liquorish placed the file on the coffee table. “Most of them are performing well. The chaps on the west coast are ahead of the market, and Connecticut continues to shoot the lights out.”

“What about Grannis in New York? Has his performance improved any?”

Liquorish hesitated before answering. “I believe he’s back on track. His recent numbers are showing promise, and he assures me they will continue.”

“You mentioned moving some of the London assets to him when we last spoke.”

“Yes, I gave him all of the Mayfair Alpha monies to handle.”

“Was that wise?”

“We needed to find a home for them.”

“But with Grannis?”

Creases appeared across Liquorish’s forehead. “I’m confident he’s turned the corner.”

Sokol raised his left eyebrow. “Just make sure he looks after our money.”

“You seem skeptical. Should I take the monies back off him?”

Sokol looked like he had a sour taste in his mouth. “I don’t want a repeat of Walker’s dire performance. Promising one thing and then watching our money go down the pan.”

“I can assure you I’m on top of it, Oto. I’ve been crystal clear with Grannis. He’s aware of the consequences if he drops the ball on this one.”

“Very well.” Sokol looked at his watch. “I hope you’re staying for lunch,” he said, rising to his feet.

“I was hoping to.”

“Excellent. I still have some of that Domaine Leroy 1994 you liked so much last time.”

“Wonderful.”

When Liquorish returned to his St. Peter Port offices late that evening, the first thing he did was call the Grannis Hedge Fund in New York.

“Mr. Grannis is in a meeting right now,” said the abrupt receptionist taking the call. “He said he is not to be disturbed under any circumstances.”

“Tell him it is Anthony Liquorish. He will take my call.”

There was an audible sigh. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Moments later, Rondell came to the phone.

“Anthony, how are you? What can I do for you?”

“Two things.”

“I’m listening.”

“The first is simple. I want you to fire whoever just answered my call.”

“Done, and the second?”

“When will you have more news on your next investment?”

“Couple of weeks, maybe three. Why?”

“Is it as good as the Collar deal?”

“Better. Why do you ask?”

“Just so long as you’re sure it will produce the goods.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be pleased with the returns on this one.”

“Let’s just say our friends in Prague are watching. Your performance is on their radar, so to speak. They reminded me of what happened to Walker in London.”

“I see. That won’t happen to us.”

“That’s what I told them.”

“While you’re on the phone, there is something you could do to help us. I was going to call you about it anyway.”

“Always happy to assist if I can.”

“The target on this next one is listed in London. That will be a first for us, and I don’t want to get anything wrong.”

“You want to use our brokers?”

“That would help. I could use our people, but—”

“Consider it done. I’ll e-mail you their contact details.”

“There is something else I ought to mention.”

“Go on.”

Rondell paused while he chose his words carefully. “We’ve had some interest from the FBI, but don’t worry. It’s nothing we can’t handle.”

“I hope to God you’re right. I told Prague your performance was back on track and that everything’s fine over there. Remember, when I moved the Mayfair monies to you, I put my own neck on the line.”

“Anthony, you have my word; I’m on top of this. The Feds aren’t just focused on us. We’re a small part of a broader net they’re throwing out there.”

“Don’t give them any reason to dig any deeper.”

“That’s why I want to use your brokers on the London deal. Besides, if they start sniffing around anymore, I’ve got arrangements in hand to deal with the people concerned.”

“You need to have. I can’t stress how important this is.”

“Relax. There really is nothing to worry about.”

Rondell stared at the telephone when he replaced the receiver, rolling his tongue along the outside of his top front teeth. Something had shaken Liquorish’s cage. He’d never heard him so worried.

Time to deal with the Feds
.

He rose to his feet and returned to the meeting room. It was full of sharp suits and hair gel. “All of you out. This meeting’s over.” He held the door open. “Not you,” he said, pointing to Glass Eye, who had been sitting in the corner of the room, watching proceedings.

Glass Eye joined Rondell at the table. “What’s up? I can tell something’s wrong.”

“That was the Brit on the phone just now.”

“Giving us another hard time about our returns?”

Rondell shook his head no. “Not this time, but when I mentioned the Feds were sniffing around, he started shitting himself.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I said we had it all under control and there was nothing to worry about.” He glared at Glass Eye. “That is right, isn’t it?”

“Uh-huh. We’ve got insurance in place.”

“Have they been back?”

“Nope. We haven’t seen them. I’m sure it was nothing more than a fishing trip.”

“Maybe.” Rondell inspected his fingernails while he pondered what to do.

“Want me to do some more digging with my contacts over there?”

“No. I think it’s time we put our insurance to work. I can’t afford to take any chances. The Brit is bound to bleat about this to Prague. We need to be ahead of the game on this.”

“I’ll handle it.”

Chapter 35

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was next door to Enterprise Rent-a-Car on West 84th and Amsterdam. In the window of the ground floor unit was a red and white FOR RENT sign. At one o’clock in the morning, the traffic was still busy on Amsterdam, but there was nothing moving on the cross street. Standing at the bottom of the steps leading to the apartment building, Glass Eye sucked on his cigarette and looked around to make sure no one was watching. The laundry directly opposite was dark, but there were lights still on at the Italian restaurant next door to it.

“Looks like the restaurant’s empty,” he said to Bull Neck waiting for instructions at the top of the steps. “Go ahead.”