Finn ended the voice message and sat for a moment staring at the phone screen as though this time there’d be an instant response.
Nothing.
He hadn’t had anything from Mariana since the night before last when she’d messaged to say she’d got back to her hotel room after dinner with Victor and ‘a few others’. Whoever they were. He’d been in London ten days on this current stretch, and it felt like each one had come with less communication from her.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder? Maybe not from her point of view. Although with the time difference it was still the middle of the night over there. She’d respond when she woke in the morning, most likely. He hoped.
He sighed and looked out of the window of the penthouse suite. An amazing view of London from up here, Hyde Park in the near distance. And the hotel… Simply top class. Traveling Travers International style certainly had some perks, despite the gnawing in his mind that Victor had an ulterior motive for sending Finn thousands of miles away from home.
Was Mexico really home? Being with Mariana was home and right now he wasn’t with her, and the only reason he wasn’t with her was because of Victor Travers.
‘Focus,’ he told himself, and then flinched when his phone vibrated with an incoming call.
Not Mariana. A withheld number, but he thought he knew who it’d be.
‘Yeah?’ he said as he answered.
‘It’s done,’ said the now-familiar voice.
‘Where?’
‘I’ve uploaded everything you need. Same place as before.’
‘I appreciate it. Payment will be with you by the end of the day.’
‘I know,’ the man said, chuckling, before the call ended.
Finn spent a few minutes navigating into the secure online Dropbox. A few minutes more looking over the newly uploaded files. He nodded as a smile crept across his face. He checked his watch.
Just in time. He was meeting the bank boss in less than an hour.
* * *
London in mid-winter felt horribly cold and bleak compared to the climates of the Middle East and Cancun that Finn had become used to, and the city was strangely unfamiliar to him, even though this was the country of his birth.
The walk was less than a mile to the classically styled stone building in upmarket – stuffy – Mayfair. Not the usual place to find a bank’s headquarters, but this was no usual bank.
Despite the short distance, and even wearing a thick overcoat, hat and gloves, he shivered as he stepped into the atrium of Souce Bank, the skin of his face stinging from the biting wind. He introduced himself to the security guards at the front desk before sitting and waiting for his host while he thawed.
Ten minutes. Twenty. Nearly half an hour before the familiar face of Gert Henning’s assistant came striding through the electronic security gates.
‘I’m so sorry, Mr Delaney—’
‘It’s fine, don’t worry.’ He waved away any attempt at apology and soon they were traveling up to the top floor.
They exited the elevator and Finn sucked in a lungful of the distinctive odor. Whoever designed this office must have had a close relative who worked in the varnish trade, because nearly every available surface featured wood paneling. Plenty of gold trim around the place too. Souce Bank certainly knew how to spend their clients’ money. He always felt it odd that banks highlighted their wealth through fancy buildings and the like. It was so… in your face. Charging customers often astronomical fees and interest rates for their loans and other products in order to turn huge profits and fund their corporate extravagances.
Apparently it didn’t put people off doing business with them though, given how universal the approach was.
Finn was shown through to the opulent meeting room where Henning sat alone at a dark-wood desk suitable for twenty. Henning was in his mid-fifties and everything about his appearance screamed pompous and formal.
‘Just us today?’ Finn asked, as he moved around to shake his host’s hand.
‘Who else were you expecting?’
‘No one,’ Finn said. ‘Actually, I think this is better.’
Henning raised an eyebrow at that comment but said nothing. They’d met face-to-face several times now and even though relations remained amicable, Finn sensed a growing coldness in their interactions. He believed Henning was looking for an excuse to back out of the deal that had – in principle – been agreed several weeks ago.
But Finn wouldn’t let that happen now.
After a couple of minutes of chit-chat, while refreshments were poured, Finn decided to get straight to it.
‘Are you in a position to sign?’ he asked.
Henning held his eye a moment, no tell on his face. ‘No.’
‘That’s… disappointing. I thought we’d provided you with all the—’
‘Mr Delaney, please, let me stop you. You haven’t provided all the information we need. Not to satisfy my due diligence team, and I’m not sure how—’
‘You’re aware the other banks have all—’
‘We’re not other banks.’
‘What are your concerns?’
‘Principally? How this money will be used. Or, I should say, who will use it. Because I’m not sure such a vast amount is required for the group’s operations.’
As if he really cared how they used the money. Surely as long as they received their interest payments all was well and good. But Finn decided not to push that line. He had a quicker, and hopefully more final solution here.
Finn shut his eyes for a moment and shook his head. No reason to hold back now.
‘How’s your son?’ he asked, when he reopened his eyes. Henning’s impassive face finally fell.
‘My son?’
‘Dietmar?’
‘Why are you asking about my son?’
‘He’s studying in America, isn’t he? One of those Ivy League places. Princeton?’
Henning shuffled in his seat.
‘Don’t worry,’ Finn said, holding his hand up. ‘I’m not about to threaten his safety.’
‘But you are about to threaten me. I can tell.’
‘You can? Or perhaps that’s your guilty conscious talking.’
‘You should get out,’ Henning said, standing up, ‘before you say something you’ll regret. Tell Mr Travers our deal is off.’
‘Sit down, Gert.’ He didn’t. ‘Just think about this carefully, and sit down.’
Now he did so, slowly, angrily.
‘Your son was accused of sexual assault.’
‘My son is—’
‘A disgusting, self-entitled sexual predator from what I’ve seen and heard. Did he get that from you?’
Henning was getting angrier by the second; Finn could see the throbbing vein at the side of his head and his flushing cheeks.
‘The girl who complained about him to the police, the one you had threatened. First with her university place, then with her life. I’m led to believe—’
‘You’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘Unfortunately, I really do.’
‘My son was cleared.’
‘Charges were dropped because of your interventions. And, in all likelihood, I don’t think a prosecutor will touch that case now.’
A sliver of Henning’s confidence returned at that comment.
‘So it’s a shame, for you, that your idiot son really can’t keep it in his pants.’
Finn reached into his bag and took out his tablet and pressed play on the video. He slid the device across the shiny surface of the table towards Henning. He stared at it. A couple of minutes passed.
‘That’s your son, isn’t it?’
No answer.
‘You know that place? South Beach, Miami. A trashy bar, by all accounts. Your son seems to be enjoying it. As you can tell by the way he’s forcing himself on that poor woman. Hand up her skirt. Fingers around her neck. Have you got to that part yet?’
Finn thought Henning had, judging by the horrified look on his face. Except the way Finn saw it, Henning was partly responsible for not having had his son brought to justice earlier.
‘Lucky for her she got away. Her friend got suspicious that she was taking too long in the restroom and went looking for her.’
‘You set him up,’ Henning said, shaking his head.
‘Did I?’
He pushed the tablet back toward Finn.
‘This would never stick. There’s nothing here. Who was even filming? It’s a honeytrap. You try to use this against him, me, and I’ll fight it with everything I’ve got. Like I did last time. I’ll make it go away, and I’ll do the same with any other sluts you find to badmouth my son. And when I’m done with them, I’ll take you on, you piece of filth.’
Finn smiled and took the tablet.
‘You’ll pay off the right people, you mean? Have the women threatened? Would you follow through and actually hurt them?’
‘I’ll do anything to protect my family.’
‘Protect yourself, really, though. Right?’
Finn put the tablet away and got to his feet.
‘Oh, and thanks for clarifying your position for me,’ he said, taking out his phone and waving it in the air before he hit play on the recording of Henning’s reaction to the video. ‘A little extra, just in case.’
Henning shot up from the table, his face contorted with rage.
‘What?’ Finn challenged.
‘You have no idea,’ Henning said. ‘You picked the wrong person to blackmail.’
The confidence with which he said that made Finn pause; had he underestimated the banker?
For a few moments they stared across the table at each other. Finn half expected the door behind to burst open and for a bunch of henchmen to rush in.
No. Not today.
‘So you’re ready to sign the agreement now?’ Finn asked.
‘Does Victor know about this?’
‘The question is irrelevant now.’
‘Not to me it isn’t.’
‘No. He doesn’t.’
‘But I’m guessing he wouldn’t be surprised by your tactics either.’
‘You’d have to ask him. Are you ready to sign or not?’
A moment’s silence before Henning let out a long sigh. ‘I’ll sign. But you can be sure that after this, my dealings with Travers International are over. For good.’
‘I’m glad we got over the line.’
‘Are you? Because there’s another reason I’m agreeing to this, Mr Delaney.’
‘Yeah?’
‘I’m sure you know the saying about enemies. Closeness.’
‘Sounds familiar.’
‘So please, keep that in mind. Until we meet again.’