‘They’re bribing the Iraqis and Malcolm Torrent knows all about it,’ Maserov told Betga when he returned to Carla’s house.
‘Shit! He told you that?’
‘He did, not in so many words but there was no ambiguity in what he was and was not saying.’
‘Well, if he knows all about it then we can’t use this information to keep you safe but it sounds like you’re already —’
‘I thought nobody’s safe anymore?’ Maserov interrupted.
‘Well, it sounds like certain members of the Iraqi government are safe, which is, you know, kind of ironic in its way, don’t you think?’
‘If buying time is the new safe,’ continued Maserov unperturbed, ‘I probably am a bit safer than I was before the meeting but when will that bought time run out? What’s it really worth?’
‘It would have helped if we could have found some irregularity in Mike Mercer’s banking records,’ Betga mused.
‘Yes, but that would have required us finding his banking records, which don’t appear to be in our possession.’
‘Of course they are,’ said Carla. ‘I told you, I got everything.’
‘Well, show me a file labelled “banking”,’ Betga implored her.
‘He didn’t have a file labelled “banking”. He labelled his banking file something else.’
‘What?’ shouted Betga and Maserov in unison.
‘Do you know what he labelled it?’ Betga asked.
‘Yes, I think so. I’d recognise it. I used to do his banking sometimes.’
‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ Betga asked.
‘I didn’t know you were looking for his banking details. You didn’t tell me that nor did you ask for my help in finding it.’
‘We thought he’d file his banking file under “banking”.’
‘Yeah, when we couldn’t find it we just assumed you hadn’t got it.’
‘No, I’m pretty sure I got it. I do remember he had some really annoying, masturbatory, juvenile, self-referential name for his banking file. Most self-respecting people would have been ashamed to let another person know the name but . . . Let me have a look.’ Carla came over to Betga’s laptop and started scrolling through the names of Mike Mercer’s files, files she had copied before she left the employ of Torrent Industries. ‘Yeah, there it is, “MercyMikeMike’s swag”. Such an arsehole!’
Betga took Carla’s cheeks in his hands, kissed her, and began combing through the folder labelled ‘MercyMikeMike’s swag’ to see Mike Mercer’s banking history.
‘You’re right! This is the bastard’s banking file, seems to be all his statements, everything.’ He went all the way to the beginning and began reading just as Maserov called for his and Carla’s attention.
‘Hey, listen to this. There’s a chain of emails between Mike Mercer and Frank Cardigan that sounds suspicious as all hell.’
Maserov read the email chain aloud. ‘This is Cardigan: “You’re right, $500 million worth of steel doesn’t just disappear. It becomes worth a little bit more so it’s not $500 mill of steel anymore.” Then he’s got a smiley face. Then Mike Mercer writes, “Where is it?” Cardigan replies, “It’s been sold.” Mercer asks, “For how much? To whom?” Cardigan writes, “Nothing outrageous. To the Iraqis. Don’t worry. It’s not missing, it’s sold. You’ll get your taste.” Mercer replies, “Well don’t fuck with me. I want the same percentage I get from your TOI deals.”’
‘What’s TOI?’ Betga asked.
‘That’s probably Torrent Offshore Industries,’ said Carla.
‘What’s Torrent Offshore Industries?’ Betga asked again.
‘Don’t know yet but I’ll keep looking,’ said Maserov, continuing to read.
‘Torrent Offshore Industries,’ said Carla, matter-of-factly, ‘is a marketing company. It’s the company Mercer and Cardigan use to market to places like Iraq.’
‘But neither of those guys are either authorised or required to do any marketing,’ Betga quizzed her.
‘No,’ said Maserov slowly, slower than any penny could ever drop. ‘But they might well be authorised to engage in bribery!’
‘This, I think,’ said Betga, ‘is a eureka moment. You really think Torrent Offshore Industries might be the vehicle they used to bribe the Iraqis? That’s very clever, Maserov . . . if you’re right.’
‘Why are we even doing this?’ Maserov asked in exhaustion. ‘If Malcolm Torrent knows and even authorised and funded the bribery to win the tender, what do we gain by showing him that I know they’ve been bribing people? On the contrary, he seems to pay people for not telling him things. He’s willing to pay top dollar for plausible deniability.’
‘Maserov, you’re tired and overwrought. We’re looking for information that Malcolm Torrent would want to know. Find this and you buy yourself even more time. Do it long enough and it’s called a career. You need to go and see him again and give him some information that he didn’t have but wants to have. Be brave. And yea, though you walk through the valley of the shadows of Collins Street, you’ll fear no evil.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’ll be right with you, perhaps a little behind.’
‘He’ll be right there on your coat-tails, Stephen,’ Carla explained.
‘Hang on a second,’ said Maserov, ignoring Betga. ‘Carla, isn’t Frank Cardigan senior to Mike Mercer?’
‘Yes, Frank Cardigan is his boss, his manager, at least technically,’ said Carla. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Because Mercer is pretty casual, almost rude to Cardigan. Even in totally banal emails he’s pretty dismissive of him, the tone leaps out at you off the emails.’
‘Yeah, that would be right. He thinks Cardigan’s an idiot.’
‘Yes, maybe but . . .’ said Betga, thinking. ‘This is hardly uncommon. Most people think their manager is an idiot. The contempt in which you hold them is what allows you to continue working for them day after day. Do it long enough and you might just get to be someone else’s manager and have them bottle up their contempt for you. It’s all part of the life cycle of an employee. But most people don’t make their contempt as obvious as Mercer does. You’re right, Maserov, it does drip off his emails.’
‘What can I say?’ said Carla. ‘His arrogance knows no bounds. It’s like a wave that washes over all he sees, including Frank Cardigan.’
‘Yet they seem to do an awful lot of work together,’ said Maserov, thinking aloud.
‘Well, you know what they say,’ said Betga. ‘“Proximity to your manager breeds contempt.” You heard that? It doesn’t have the same fluency as, say, “absence makes the heart grow fonder” but it’s actually more statistically reliable. Kasimir says a lot of his associates report that absence is directly responsible for the end of romance, even when it’s an absence enforced by the state and so beyond the control of the absent loved one.’
Maserov looked up at his fellow lawyer with bewilderment. ‘This is futile,’ he lamented.
‘No, well, possibly, but it’s much too early for you to know that with confidence. I’ve had a thought, a new one, one that you haven’t yet had. We’re not getting the full story. We need to go back to his bank statements.’