CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Maria gave him a strange look as she left. She knew what was going through his mind. They had been through this before, but somehow this was worse. One of the victims had been Maddy Brown. He had employed her. And now he had killed her.

Jacqui put her arm round him and they walked to the children’s room. He kissed Juliet and she smiled in her sleep. He walked over to the baby. Claire was asleep and he kissed her on the hand. He thought of the other Claire and then of Maddy. There would be no little Maddy. They would have no memento of her. She would join the others in oblivion. The people he had killed, or had had killed, in Europe or America. She was one of those people who had no future in their plans. They were people who had got in their way. One had to be ruthless to succeed and the world they inhabited had little sympathy for losers. He thought of Wendy, Jefferson, Rastinov, Stephens, Di Maglio, the detectives and now Maddy. The list was getting too long, but at least this stage was coming to an end.

They walked into the bedroom and slipped into the bed. Jacqui stroked his face. He burned with desire for her. He wanted her body to clear the painful pictures from his mind. But it wasn’t to be. He fell asleep in the end but it was not a restful sleep. He kept on seeing Maddy‘s face. She would have shot him but he had got her first. He saw the flash of hatred and fear, then the moment of her anguish before the eternity of nothingness.

He got up the next morning well before Jacqui awoke. He washed and dressed, still feeling the weight of the events of the previous night. He drove through the early Saturday morning traffic, looking at the people he passed. He drove into the City and was at his desk before seven. He took a coffee from the machine and glanced at the papers that were on the desk. He found it hard to concentrate. Then Maria walked in.

She gave him the same strange look she had given the night before. She produced a key from her bag and locked the door from the inside. She walked over to him. He pushed his chair back and watched her approach. Maria was dressed in a dark short skirt and white, open necked blouse. Her face was flushed, her lips were moist. Her eyes were bright, her breath was hurried

They kissed passionately. He slowly undid the buttons of her blouse one by one. She loosened his tie and then took it off. The buttons of his shirt were undone much more quickly as if there was a race. He took off her blouse and then they quickly tore off the rest of their clothes. Maria’s eyes sparkled even brighter. Her breath became more laboured and her face became more flushed. He was panting excitably too as he pressed his mouth against hers.

His hands moved to her thighs. The desire for closeness was more acute than ever. This was the way that they expurgated the horror of the killing. And this time they needed that purification more than ever. Maria looked at him.

She came closer to him. They came together. She was close to him. She came yet closer to him. They were as close as they could ever be. Physically they were close. Mentally they were united in a common purpose. They reached a new sense of arousal as the horrors of the night were expelled by the joys of the morning.

Then it was over. Then it was quiet. Then it was peaceful. Now it was over. Now it had never been. It had maybe happened. But it had not mattered. They sat there for a moment. Then Maria kissed him one last time and moved away. He felt the cool air against his nakedness. Then he pulled his clothes back on. Maria did likewise.

“I thought of you last night” she said. “I knew you would be in turmoil and would need me today. I knew you’d be in early.”

She smiled and then looked serious again. “She would have killed you if you hadn’t shot first. As it was she almost did. Your bullet must have hit her just as she pulled the trigger. She missed you by inches. You had no choice. Is there anything in the papers or did Delaney do a cover up?”

Charles walked to his desk and picked up a tabloid. “Delaney did a spin on the story. It says that there was a gangland attack on a female crime boss. It names Maddy and calls her the head of a drug gang. No mention of the guards. They must have been spirited away.”

She looked at him sadly. “It’s all coming to an end. Soon we’ll all say goodbye. I’ll miss you. Will you miss me?”

“I’ll miss you. I miss Claire. There are bits of my life that are yours and yours alone. I’ll always miss you. But we need to end this and you need to have a life away from it all.”

Maria walked over to the door and opened it quietly, “I’ll see you later. It’s work time now.”

Charles sat back at his desk. He felt refreshed and alert. He saw the pad on which he had written “reschedule Tuesday” when Jacqui and he would have to go to New York for her father’s funeral. He had died just the previous week and now his Empire was fully in play. Charles worked through the rest of the papers and looked at the notes for his secretary. He thought to check out the position with his father. His hand moved to the phone, he realised someone was at the door.

Three people were there. The Honourable James, flanked by Sir Brian and Lord Dunkillin. They all looked as if they had had a terrible night. Pale and tense, they looked at him with some trepidation.

“What on earth’s wrong?” Charles asked innocently. “What are you doing here?”

Charles was genuinely surprised. They were too. “Didn’t Jacqui call you?” asked the Honourable James. “She said you were here when I said I needed to speak to you.”

“I’ve been working here,” he said. “My phone must have been on the answerphone. But what is it that’s so important? Why don’t you come in?”

Just at that moment Maria returned. She had noticed them too late. She covered herself quickly. “What’s happening? I wasn’t expecting anyone here? I’ve just come over to pick up my spare house keys. I’ve a friend coming and she’ll need them. I left them in my desk.”

“We have a meeting. Maria, you can go. We won’t need you. Unless you think otherwise, gentlemen,” Charles said with a courteous smile.

The Honourable James shook his head.

“Well, gentlemen, I wasn’t expecting you. Now you’re here, why don’t you sit down? Maria, have a good weekend. See you on Monday,” said Charles.

Maria left and they were all alone. He looked at the three pale, nervous faces and waited with interest.

“Well, gentlemen,” he repeated. “What is it that you want me to hear?”

The Honourable James stood up. He placed his hands behind his back. He took a deep breath and then spoke in an emotional voice.

“The bank has lost a substantial, ahem, a very substantial, sum of money on the derivatives market.”

Charles looked at him. His voice was cold, “How much have we lost? When? And how?”

“Most of the trades,” he said miserably “were done by Stephens. The valuation model was a fake. We were losing money all the time we thought we were making it. We’ve lost in London and in the US.”

“How much have we lost?” Charles repeated menacingly.

“We’ve dropped about two point seven billion.” Dunkillin looked at the carpet. Sir Brian went redder and redder.

“Pounds?” Charles exclaimed.

“No, dollars,” he responded, as if hopeful that Charles would find some comfort from that explanation.

“That’ll put us in a loss,” added Dunkillin weakly.

“I’d worked that out for myself.” Charles snarled at him. “Is that the sum total of the bad news?”

“Of course,” said the Honourable James quickly. “We’ve been through the books with a fine tooth-comb. Nothing else has gone wrong. We can guarantee that.”

Charles looked at him angrily. “We need to tell the Bank of England. And we need to tell the Stock Exchange. We’ll have to do that before the market opens. There could be a run on the shares. And we could have trouble in the markets. Have you got the figures? Let’s work through them?”

Charles turned into a man of action, “Get the company lawyers here. They need to draft a statement. We’ll release it late Sunday. Get the number for the Bank of England. They must run a duty desk. We’ll reconvene in an hour and I expect the lawyers to be here by then.”

Charles dismissed them contemptuously and picked up the phone. He called Jacqui and recounted what had happened. She played along. The call would be recorded and would show how surprised and shocked they were. This was part of their carefully crafted cover up.

The hour passed and the lawyers arrived. Charles briefed them and told them to prepare the announcements. He then got the Bank of England number from the Honourable James. He dismissed everybody and called it. He knew he would get a junior official at the Bank. He answered crisply.

“This is Charles Rossi, Chief Executive of IBE. I need to talk to someone in authority. Now. We will be putting out a statement on Sunday. It could cause problems.”

“Have you told the FSA, Sir?” asked the minion. He was referring to the bank regulators.

“No, I felt it more appropriate to talk to you first.”

“Can I have a number?”

Charles gave it and he rang off. He thought for a moment. He got up and walked into the Honourable James’ office. Dunkillin was there, slumped in a chair. Sir Brian was standing by the window.

He addressed the Honourable James. “We need a report on the dealings, both here and in New York. As Lord Dunkillin and Sir Brian had joint responsibility for the treasury area because of their alleged expertise, they could write the report. It may, though, be better if they co-operate with the auditors and we get them to do the work. Do you have an emergency number?”

The Honourable James shook his head, “But I know their senior partner. I have his home number.”

“Then call him.” The Honourable James did not react to the evident contempt in the tone. He did not complain about the instructions he was given. He just called. He spoke for a moment and then handed the phone to Charles.

“I need a team of people around. I need experts in treasury and especially derivatives. We have a problem. In fact, we have a dreadful problem. I need an initial report by Sunday night and a full report as soon as possible thereafter.”

The auditor knew better than to ask more questions. His people would soon take over. He would be there too. He agreed that the Honourable James would instruct him. Charles suspected he himself would have to be with the Bank of England. Then another thought struck him. He decided to step up the pressure. He knew they hadn’t told him everything. Some of the bad debts had already come home. But they had said nothing about them.

“Oh, and by the way, I want a special extra audit of the whole treasury and credit area to be undertaken from next Monday. The remit will be simple. I want a full report on all exposures of the bank. And I want it fast. And I want it to be for me, personally. “

The auditor agreed. Charles left and returned to his office. The phone rang. A meeting between the bank and one of the regulators was scheduled for midday. Charles would present himself at the front door. They would be waiting for him.

At noon, he stood outside the heavy metal door of the Bank of England. The door opened and he was ushered into a small gap between the outer door and an inner one. The outer door closed with a clang. Immediately after the inner one opened and he was standing in the spacious lobby of the elegant old building. Ahead of him was the green strip of garden.

A young man in a crumpled suit approached him. “Mr Rossi, please would you come this way. One of our assistant directors will see you now.”

They walked upstairs and the young man ushered Charles unctuously into the office. It was a cross between a railway waiting room and an academic’s study. Books were untidily piled into a cabinet at one end. The table was old and highly polished. The heavy wood desk was covered in stained leather, contrasting with the plastic PC that stood there, unblinking and unloved.

Once again, Charles was received with extreme courtesy. But the look was apprehensive. A bank chief executive only calls on the central bank on a Saturday if he is the bearer of some pretty dire news. Charles didn’t wait for the question.

“Let me put you in the picture. Before the Far East opens at nine p.m. tomorrow, IBE has to make an announcement. We have incurred material losses as a result of illicit trading. I was only advised this morning. I would also note, for your ears only, that I suspect my Chairman and two of the executive directors have been withholding vital information from me.”

Charles stopped and let the devastating words take their effect. The Bank official looked at him, still apprehensive, and then asked, “Can you quantify the loss?”

“I am told that it’s two point seven billion dollars. I called the auditors in this morning. They will also audit the credit and other key risk areas. I have to say our Chairman assures me that the loss is no greater than this. Lord Dunkillin and Sir Brian have joint line responsibility for the treasury area. They assure me nothing else has gone wrong.”

“But,” said the central banker thoughtfully, “You have no confidence in their judgement?”

Charles looked at him and raised his eyebrows, “Would you in my place?”

He didn’t answer. He was not one of the old school-tie brigade. Charles suspected he was worried of the effect of the announcement.

“We can withstand the likely loss of liquidity through to Wednesday. Then we could have a credit crunch. We have a lot of short dated loans up for renewal. If we find people won’t renew, we’ll be in a liquidity crisis. On Monday and Tuesday we’re all right. We have lots of cash coming back to us,” explained Charles.

“What about the US?”

“I thought it better to talk to you. I can get our US chief executive to talk to the Fed. Or would you prefer to?”

“He’ll have to talk to them. But let us get in touch first. I’ll need to talk to the Governor.”

Charles was surprised. So, in cases like this, even the Governor had to work weekends. And he would not realise that, by next weekend, things were bound to get worse. Once the auditors found all the bad debts, the real fireworks would start.

“I’ve called in the lawyers. They’ll draft a statement. We need to advise the Stock Exchange, too.”

The central banker nodded, “Can we see the statement before it’s released?”

“Certainly, I’ll make sure you do.”

“Are you in charge?”

“I will be calling a board meeting later today. I’ll speak to the US based directors around one. They should be at home.”

This time, the central banker grinned for the first time, “Yes, they’re a bit long in the tooth to play away from home.”

Charles grinned back. It was useful to have soul mates at this time. “I guess so. They’re hardly spring chickens.”

“All right,” the central banker said. “I’ll put my people in the picture. Then we should talk again. We need to use a landline. Where can I catch you?”

“I’ll be in the office for the moment. The direct line’s on the card.” Charles wrote another number. “That’s the one at home. We’ll be in.”

“What will you do?” he queried.

“We would be solvent on a hit of two point seven billion. We are heading for a two billion-dollar profit this year. I only hope that I have all the bad news. In that case, other than with help in the short term, this will be a two or three week wonder. Not on the stock market, but definitely on the money markets.”

“What if you discover more problems?” the central banker asked, as his training clicked in and he thought of the worst possible scenarios.

Charles could hardly tell him that he knew there would be many more problems. So he adopted the high ground. “If there is an issue of needing more capital, I can manage it. We can inject money. Short term, I would need help. If there is more bad news and nobody wants to lend to us, there’s nothing I can do. We’d hit the rocks. But I am assured this is not the case and we’ll have a first cut from the auditors over the next week.”

The official looked at him with relief. Charles was obviously on the side of the angels as far as he was concerned. Charles couldn’t tell him that he knew the Di Maglio guarantee would bail out the bank and stop it becoming insolvent, although its value would be severely weakened as a result of the frauds.

And why should they worry in any event? They had made their billions when they had sold the bank at an inflated price and when they had initiated their different frauds. As for the bit of the bank they still held, they were not going to lose money on that, irrespective of what happened, thanks to his father’s expert trading and Jacqui’s fraudulent manipulation of their share register.

Charles and the central banker talked a bit more but about nothing of consequence. He gave Charles his card and said that he would act as his contact point for the weekend. “I’ll be here all the time,” he said ruefully. “I can hardly leave in the circumstances.”

Charles left the same way he arrived. He walked to the bank and headed up to the top floor. The Honourable James rushed out to him. “How did it go?” he asked nervously.

Charles looked at him coldly. “I hardly sung your praises. I told them of the problem. I’m in charge. I’ll talk to them from now on.”

“Do you want my resignation?” he asked, as if that was what a gentleman would do.

“Fuck you. No. I need you, Dunkillin and Sir Brian here. Not today. You can bugger off now as far as I’m concerned. But you’ll be here till we sort this out. And don’t try to be too clever.”

“I don’t like your tone,” he said pompously. “I could resign.”

Charles looked at him with contempt. “Get this in your thick skull. And make sure that your pals understand it too. You do as I say. We get IBE out of this shit. And if we don’t you could be in it up to your precious aristocratic necks.

I don’t care if you end up in prison. Eton, the Guards and some high security jail may worry you as a CV but it doesn’t me. This is my company. This is my money. And you’ve screwed me. You’ve done it either through incompetence or through something worse. You’re all out, but when I say so.

And I wouldn’t try anything. Your names are shit now. Your reputations are worthless. The only thing between you and prison is my money. If I bail out the bank, you lot should be OK. If not, say goodbye to the grouse moors and all the other crap that turns you on.”

With that Charles turned away from him and went into his office. This would put them all on edge and that was what he wanted. They were already close to panic and could even top themselves. That would compound their guilt. Charles, though, didn’t need that. Either way they were in deep trouble. And he was happy to allow them to decide how they wanted the future to be.

The rest of the day was spent monitoring the auditors’ work and sorting out issues with the lawyers. He also called his father and put him in the picture. In reality, he was alerting him so that he could start to buy back the shares once markets opened on Monday.

At 1pm, he called New York. McGarth, of course, knew all about the losses. He had the bulk of them on his own balance sheet. Charles recounted the meeting at the Bank of England. He told him to stand by to call the Fed.

His last call was to Giovanni. He was not surprised as he had been party to the whole plan, but he was concerned over the timing. He wondered if they would be in New York for the funeral. Charles confirmed they would. He planned to fly out on Tuesday morning and then back again overnight for Wednesday. Giovanni said that he would stand by for the inevitable board meeting that night or on Sunday.

Charles returned to his desk and waited for more news. The Bank of England called. They agreed to meet on Sunday morning at 10am. By then Charles would have a draft of the lawyers’ paper. The auditors would be unlikely to give any information by then. McGarth would have seen the Fed.

Charles was alone in the office. He called Jacqui and said he would be coming home. There was no point in staying any longer. The die was cast. The final act had begun.

Once back home, they took stock. They did it in the war room where they had watched the set up at the airfield. It was Jacqui who recapped the position, while Charles sought to put it into a sort of schedule.

“The bank is now in play,” she said. “The auditors will uncover some of the phoney loans next week. It’ll take them a bit of time to sort out the exact position. But the bank will go downhill now.”

“Yes. But at some time I’ll call Sir Piers at Associated and make them bid for the company. It will be child’s play to get them to bid for the bank. We still have the whip hand there and they’re hardly going to want us to leak the dirt we have on them to the public. After all, the market in bank stocks is going to be nervous; any tainted bank would be at risk. And boy would they be tainted if we leaked all the dirt we have and the stuff we have fabricated about them!”

Jacqui laughed mockingly, “But most of what we have on them is phoney.”

“I know. But some is true. And they will be scared witless about the bits that are true. They’ll believe the rest and think they were ill-informed or unaware.”

Jacqui nodded, “Stupid of them to do those insider trades. That would put them in prison. But the falsification of the letters and all that rubbish about murder and blackmail is hard to believe.” Then she looked pensive, “The Brits here are so crazy. They make lousy criminals. And they are so easy to manipulate. At least the old guard is. The new lot are more professional. They’ll be tougher.”

“Perhaps,” laughed Charles. “But so will we be. That’s if we head back this way.”

“The gang warfare is going to start soon. The funeral could be a problem,” said Jacqui reflectively. “I guess that the prostitution and extortion boys will try to make a deal. They’ll realise that the drug’s side is in for a tough time. We could sell to them but the price will be bad.”

Charles shrugged his shoulders. “Who cares? We just need to get out. In any event we will be using any money we get from the drug side to bail out the bank. So it won’t really be ours.”

Don’t assume your father has left the money to your mother without strings attached. He thought that you would be annoyed and hurt by her getting the money, but I bet it’s in trust or something and that the kids are also beneficiaries. Still, there won’t be anything left after the bank is bailed out through his guarantee.”

Jacqui was not overly concerned, “Once the guarantee comes to light, and that’ll be soon enough, we’ll get ourselves named as executors to help the bank. What’ll your father do?” she asked.

“He’ll buy back the shares he sold and he’ll manage to keep out of sight of the surveillance guys in the markets. There’ll be so much activity that his will be lost in the sheer volume. All the hedge funds will seek to make a play. Don’t forget that you will need to adjust the register. But the details won’t be available before Friday or the following week. So we need to make sure that nobody tries to take a print out of the register. Go into the programmes as we planned and stop that happening.”

She nodded, “Do we have anything else to do?”

“Not that I can think of. We need to keep alert. The next weeks are going to be tough. We need to see that nothing goes wrong.”

“And then we head out for the island. Douglas will have sorted that all out. It isn’t long now? Nothing can go wrong, can it?” she asked nervously.

“Everything could go wrong. That’s why we have to be careful. We’ve set your father’s mob up against two of the vilest Mafia bosses in the world. Delaney will have it in for us. The establishment will look to protect their own. The Fed and the Bank of England will write their own agenda. They’re in it up to their necks, too, and they are going to have to come out smelling of roses. And then we have our fall guys. They’ll try to find someone to blame.”

“We stay together. We’ll get through. But just let’s be careful.”

The next day went to plan. The auditors were working and couldn’t really tell them anything new. They knew they were up to their necks in it. They would have to alert their insurers that there could be a huge claim on them. They were gloomy, even by their normal standards.

The lawyers prepared the announcement. They talked to the Fed in New York and the Bank of England. The board meeting was strained. Giovanni grabbed the high moral ground and made sure that the establishment figures on the board knew what he apparently thought of them. And his language was more fitting of a mafia man than a banker. The targets of his apparent wrath just sat in shock as they saw their worlds crumble before them. Jacqui wore a pained look and didn’t even greet them on their arrival. This was not a happy team. But Charles got what he wanted. They even found that there was no humble pie to eat. They were lost in a vacuum that marked the end of their lives, as they knew them.

They released the announcement in time for the evening news bulletins. They stressed the soundness of the company. They stressed this appeared to be a one off. Charles liked the announcement. It left the door open to the next one they would undoubtedly make, the one that would announce a further five billion of losses. They had agreed with the Stock Exchange that their shares would continue to trade the next Monday. There was no point in suspending them. In any event, they wanted to be able to buy back the ones they had sold.

On the Monday the share price crumbled. Everybody was a seller. It fell from twenty seven to eighteen dollars. From eighteen dollars it fell to ten and then to six. The volumes were incredible. Jack Ryder passed the message that he’d bought back half his position at a twelve-dollar a share profit. He would alert them as he bought more.

The next morning they flew to America and prepared for the funeral. Jacqui’s fears were ill founded. The funeral was a quiet affair. Mind you, few would have wanted to have dinner with many of the guests. Police photographers updated their records outside the church. Thuggish looking old men vied with each other to show grief. The church was dignified. The priests talked of heaven. But the congregation thought of the hellish battles to come. They were as close to mourning as night is to day. The service was an excuse for forging alliances as they all prepared themselves for the gang warfare to come.

After the service, Charles and Jacqui met at the lawyers. They had a will. Di Maglio had re-written it just two months back. He had re-made it after they had taken the Empire from him. He left all his wealth to his nephews and not Jacqui’s mother. Charles found that amusing and somewhat ironic. There was even an element of poetic justice in it all. There were seven nephews. They included his brother, Aldo’s, son. But they also included some nephews from two brothers-in-law, in whose deaths Di Maglio had allegedly played a part. The poor guys would think themselves rich. Charles only hoped they didn’t start spending the money before it was taken away.

That evening, it was back to England. Charles and Jacqui stretched out side by side in their beds, as the plane winged its way back to Heathrow and its sombre early morning welcome. Wednesday and Thursday went more quietly. The share price recovered to ten dollars. Then the auditors came to see Charles. They looked grim, but then auditors often do. He waited for them to tell him their tale of woe and wondered how much they would have uncovered.

He looked at the senior man. He would be the one who led the way. He was incredibly grey. His hair was grey. His suit was charcoal grey. His tie was blue grey. And his pallid face was tinged with grey.

“We believe,” said the senior man, “that the losses from derivatives in your treasury area are as you have been advised. It was simple. The prices made were wrong and the valuations used were wrong. It was a computer error. It was as simple as that.”

“Rubbish,” Charles exclaimed sharply, for he didn’t want the great and the good to get off. “There was gross negligence on the part of my senior colleagues. They should have checked out why we always won the business against the competition. Everyone knows that’s a danger sign.”

The auditors said nothing. “I want your professional opinion on that issue and formally in writing as part of your report,” Charles added. The auditors were caught. They could hardly exonerate Dunkillin and Sir Brian. And that was Charles’ aim. And it also begged the question of their failure to spot the strange pattern of trading during their audits. Their report would make interesting reading, for it could boomerang back on them.

“But we have more bad news, I’m afraid,” said the grey auditor. “There appears to have been a series of bad loans made. They are very bad ones. There’s a hint of fraud too. We need to examine more. But it looks bad.”

“Will we need to make more provisions?” asked Charles. He wondered what they would reveal.

“No doubt,” replied the grey one wringing his hands in concern.

“What level of bad debt do you expect?”

“It will be at least three billion, possibly five or more. We need another week or so to be certain.”

Charles played astonished, “Is it all a write off?”

“We know three billion is a bad debt. One loan especially worries us. It was for a billion and it looks like a fraud involving the Honourable James’ son.”

“A billion,” Charles exclaimed in mock horror.

The grey auditor nodded miserably, “Here’s the schedule of known bad loans. Here’s another schedule of suspicious loans that we need to investigate further. They make another two billion.”

Charles buried his face in his hands as if in despair. He then looked up, “I need to call a board meeting and I need to talk to the lawyers. I need you there to explain your findings. The rest had better get back to work. I leave it to you to bring in more people if that will accelerate things.”

Charles called Maria to his office and told her to get the US on line and ready for a board meeting. He knew that the great and the good were unaware of these latest events. It would be interesting announcing it to them. He then called the Bank of England and told them the news. He also informed the Fed. The regulators were in a state of near panic now. They could foresee a run on banks. This was their worse nightmares coming true.

“Can you guarantee that you can keep the bank afloat?” asked the Fed.

“Not till I know the extent of the losses. But we should be helped by the guarantee that Di Maglio gave in the sale document. I have to assume that his estate will not be pillaged in the meantime. I’ll ask our lawyers if we can do anything to protect us against such an event.”

“What do you mean?” asked the regulator. He had had no involvement in the sale arrangements and, therefore, knew nothing about the dreaded page thirty-three.

“Di Maglio gave a guarantee. His estate will ensure that no US depositor loses out.”

Charles could almost hear the whoop of delight from the Fed regulator. He could almost visualise him scurrying from his office to unearth the wonder document. Of course, they did not know yet that they would hit further problems on the fund side. But that was a problem still to come.

The board meeting was brief. Charles advised the Honourable James, Lord Dunkillin and Sir Brian that he expected their undated resignations on his desk within ten minutes. They would be suspended, pending clarification of their role in the different fiascos. In the US, he did the same with McGarth and the Honourable James’ son. Giovanni took over the reins in the US. Charles became acting chairman in the UK and he brought the senior partners of their legal advisers and auditors onto the board as a temporary emergency measure.

The lawyers talked to the Stock Exchange. They would issue a statement and Charles agreed that he would be willing to loan up to five billion to the bank, although he knew that would, in reality, never need to happen. That promise would allow them to carry on trading, but it hardly solved their problems. The shares could only fall.

They made the announcement at the close of business in New York. The following day, their shares hit six dollars again in panic trading. Jack Ryder called and told him he had closed out all the sales. His average price had been ten dollars. That meant twelve to thirteen dollars a share profit after expenses. On this sideline, alone, they had made a cool billion and a half profit.

And Charles knew his father would have been taking advantage of his insider knowledge to trade in other shares. And, better still, the stock markets were crumbling on the news of the losses and frauds. Charles would have been surprised if they hadn’t made another few hundred million through that route.

The weekend was a time to draw breath. But, on Sunday, the news of the poor investments of the US funds broke. The bank had lent money to companies without substance. The investment managers had bought shares in those companies. The companies had defaulted as the money they had borrowed was spirited out of them. The shares were worthless. They said lightning never struck twice. But they had had three major strikes. They had been hit with scandals around derivatives, the loans and now the US funds. Their share price was at half the issue price. The newspapers were all questioning whether they would survive. A run on the bank was inevitable.

Once again Charles found himself in the hallowed portals of the Bank of England. This time they had an open line with the Fed in New York. They had established that Di Maglio’s accounts held just five billion dollars in all. That was a bit less than they had expected. But, at least, it was almost all readily available in cash, deposits or federal funds. Paradoxically, his investments had been as conservative as his business was unorthodox.

The Fed would seize the funds on their behalf the next day and use them to bail out the US bank. The terms of the guarantee Charles had written were so all-embracing that they could use it for anything. They agreed the money would buy back some of the funds. The prices would be depressed, as the defaulting companies held were valued at zero. That way the investors would get at least some money back. Their confidence was important as most investors were also depositors. And if the depositors withdrew their money, all hell would break loose.

It was agreed that they would pay two billion to investors as compensation for some of their losses. That would buy them some gratitude from their richest clients in any case. But the bulk of the money had to go to shore up the bank. They would explain the guarantee to the world at large. That would help confidence but not re-establish it.

And the Di Maglio estate would never see the proceeds of the scam. Indeed the beneficiaries would never know of it. The shares in IBE had all been placed in trust; most had since been sold to the public and the rest would be worth whatever they got from Associated. All in all, a tidy sum. Juliet and baby Claire were already billionaires.

As for Di Maglio’s share in the proceeds of the frauds, the estate also got precisely nothing. As the money had not been distributed at the time of his death, under the agreement, Charles and the other conspirators shared his take. And that meant the bulk went to Jacqui, Charles and his family, with a small balance to Giovanni and Maria. Those two would be seriously rich and neither, not even Giovanni, would want to do anything to alter that.

The UK side could still bring them down. So they came to an agreement after a long night of haggling. Charles stretched out the negotiations on purpose. He was not concerned, he planned to snare his white knight the next day. And that white knight, a company that would really bail out IBE, would be Associated.

So he agreed to deposit five billion dollars next day in the Bank of England to support the UK end of the bank. They all felt this would calm the market. Charles also told them that he would discuss a merger with different people in the City. He left them at 4am. They saw him as a man of integrity. Little did they know how far from the truth that actually was.

The next day the press coverage was universally kind to him. Little was said of the suspended directors for fear of legal action. But the innuendoes were in all the reporting. The rumours spread like wildfire over the City. Their reputations were in tatters. Their guilt was proven before their crimes were known. Charles and Jacqui were the honest victims. They had ploughed their proceeds from the share sale back into the bank to protect the depositors. The press, the politicians and all the pseudo-experts who were wheeled out at times like this, were totally fooled. They all pronounced if more people behaved like them, the City would be a far better place.

One person who despised the deification of Charles and Jacqui was Sir Piers Rupert Jones. He was the head of Associated. He did not know that Jack Ryder was Charles’ father, but he knew him as one of his associates. And there was a history of animosity between them. They had forced him to pay over the odds when he acquired United Bank of Europe some years back, and there had been several other reasons for his antipathy towards Charles. But at 8am Charles was back in the office and on the phone to Sir Piers. He was his usual curt self but agreed to see him. They would meet later that day.

It was 11am when Charles appeared at the door of Associated. Its gleaming tower was just a three-minute walk from their office. Maria accompanied him in her role as his personal assistant. He had brought her along to make Sir Piers feel awkward. Women in business suits always made him uneasy.

The morning had been better than he expected. The run at the bank had been manageable. They had lost around a quarter of a billion of deposits. The share price had been volatile and was now stuck at a miserable eight dollars. The auditors had also advised that they would complete their work by the end of the week. Charles would have a definitive report on all loans by the weekend.

Sir Piers walked in. He didn’t offer to shake hands. He nodded at Charles without moving a facial muscle. He ignored Maria. She promptly sat back and crossed her legs. This served to make him more anxious.

Charles looked at him with amusement. He saw a patrician figure. He saw the arrogance of power, the absence of intellect, the overwhelming and misplaced self-confidence.

“Sir Piers, I would like you to bid for IBE. At eight dollars a share, it’s a snip.”

He looked at Charles as if he were barking mad, “I wouldn’t touch that Mafia riddled money shop with a barge pole. I can’t even think of it as a bank.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Charles said. “We’ll just have to adopt plan B then.”

Maria opened her mouth in delight. She seemed overjoyed, “I told you he’d say that. Plan B it is then.”

“And what is Plan B?” asked Sir Piers haughtily.

Charles looked at him, “Plan B is summarised on this piece of paper.”

He passed the paper to him. It was a schedule. It read like a death sentence to Sir Piers. The papers to be issued were damning to the extreme. They were copies of statements relating to insider trading by him and associates. They were documents alleging his involvement in a murder a year or so back. And there were others showing his bank had been used for major money laundering exercises. The first was a genuine set of documents. The second set was all-fake. But it was impossible to prove that. And the third was genuine, although nobody would ever know the provenance of the money laundering. How could Sir Piers realise that he was sitting opposite one of the world’s experts at such corrupt games?

“This will destroy us,” he gasped. He knew about some of the documents. Others were unknown to him. “The market’s nervous already after your problems. This will be a killer blow.”

“Your choice,” Charles responded brutally. Maria grinned.

“Is it to be an agreed bid?”

“It’ll be an agreed one. The Di Maglio guarantees remain but my undertakings to the Bank of England and my support is released.”

“Your board?” he queried.

“No problem. What about yours?”

“I can persuade them. Eight dollars a share as long as the bad debt position is clarified by the auditors.”

“That’ll be done at the end of the week.”

“But I don’t bid for your shares. They are just cancelled.”

Charles laughed, “Good try, but not accepted. You pay us too.”

“How much will it cost us and what capital injection is needed?”

“At eight dollars a share, the company is valued at ten billion dollars. The US will be recapitalised through the Di Maglio guarantee but the UK side will need a capital injection of around two billion. But, once you are in the driving seat, the companies should be able to generate over a billion a year. So it would be money well spent.”

“I’ll decide that,” he retorted. “We get in touch at the weekend. Bring your auditors and other advisers.”

“I agree.”

“And the originals of the papers,” he added hastily.

“No. They will go to a mutually acceptable trusted third party and be given to you when the deal completes. I don’t trust your type. Not after all I have had to take from your trio of pals at IBE.”

He shrugged his shoulders, “I’ll get someone to tell you where to meet.”

“Will you tell the regulators?” Charles asked.

“Not till it’s agreed.”

“We’ll keep quiet as well.”

With that they left. “Is it in the bag?” asked Maria.

“Definitely. He’ll buy. First, it’s not a bad deal. Not a snip, but it appears reasonable. And second, he knows we’ll release the papers. And that scares him witless.”

The week continued. The depositors were calm. Some withdrew funds but there was no need for any panic. It was unreal. Everything was so quiet. It was almost business as usual. That was just as well, as it was now the turn of the evil Empire to grab their attention.