The Financial Terrorist Read online

  Charles and Jacqui left for the US. Charles had thought for one horrible moment that the Honourable James wanted to go along, but, in the end, he persuaded him that it was better that he ran things in London. Charles suspected that he was most deterred by his comment that they would need to fly coach internally, as most flights inside America are almost entirely one class.

  They had discussed strategy with Giovanni. In the first week, their first stop would be Chicago and then they would go west, before flying back home via New York. The following week they would head to California before Washington, their final port of call. “We need to have a family meeting in California,” said Giovanni. “Your father-in-law will be there. We want to talk about where we take his organisation in the future.”

  Charles didn’t ask him for an explanation. He suspected this was the favour his father-in-law wanted for the gift of his banks to Juliet. He discussed the matter with Jacqui. “I can’t believe that he’s going to retire,” she said. “And don’t forget that you promised me that you will never run the illegal side. I don’t want the prostitution, protection rackets or drugs Empire. We don’t need them.”

  “Darling, I promised that I would never get involved with your father’s sordid Empire. It caused us enough trouble with the Russians and others. I want nothing to do with it. I especially want you and Juliet to be well clear of it.”

  They whisked through the airport Fast Track and were soon happily ensconced in First Class seats for Chicago. They would be there in time for a late afternoon meeting with the local regulators.

  They also arrived on time to be met by a Di Maglio limousine. Charles was given a gun. Jacqui got one too, a classical handbag size toy without too much shooting power. It was easier picking the weapons up in the US from a Di Maglio local agent rather than going through the rigmarole in London and carrying them through Heathrow. In any case, Charles no longer carried a gun as a matter of course in London, for he felt it was safe enough. But the US was different. Their guns were legal. The days of carrying illegal ones were gone. As indeed were the days when they forged their gun permits.

  It was a typical wet and windy Chicago afternoon, but the regulators couldn’t have been sunnier. They fell in love with Jacqui for a start. And then they fell for the rubbish that was fed to them. One of their first questions related to the future role of Di Maglio.

  “My father has decided to cut back his business interests. He will not become a minority shareholder in our company, as he will place all the shares in trust for our daughter. And he will not have a board seat, nor will he be having any management responsibilities in Europe or the United States,” said Jacqui

  They turned to Giovanni who had accompanied them, “And what will your role be, Mr Petroni?”

  “I have been asked to remain as US Chairman. That will ensure continuity. But my role will be strictly non-executive and we will be undertaking an executive search to identify a senior US banker to take on the role of Chief Executive of the operations over here.”

  Charles noted, “And I plan it so that Mr Petroni will be on the board of the main company as well. He understands the US business better than most.” Charles also thought to himself that they would ensure that they employed a CEO, who was totally out of touch with technology, completely at sea in the dealing room and with little understanding of corporate lending. He realised that they would be spoilt for choice among the pre-retirement dinosaurs that graced the ranks of several major banks.

  But he smiled and said, “We need a person of undoubted integrity and long experience. We value Mr Petroni’s experience a great deal, and he is always urging us to ensure we have enough grey hairs on the board. Experience is so important to a young company with young management.”

  The time challenged senior regulator smiled contentedly from his side of the table, “Oh, but IBE is a bank with a lengthy history and great traditions. I wouldn’t call you a young company.”

  Charles smiled back at him, “We try to uphold those traditions. But much of the management has changed since the take-over. We do have several people you may have met or heard of. There’s our chairman, the Honourable James. Lord Dunkillin is with us still. And, as always, we have Sir Brian on board.”

  They didn’t know them from Adam, but Charles could see visions of castles and moats flashing in front of their eyes. One can always look into an American meritocracy to find someone who would cherish the thought of meeting some ageing aristocrat.

  The regulators kept on finding more reasons to want IBE to proceed with alacrity. In short, the meeting was over and done with quite quickly. Their journey had started and they moved west for the next two days before turning east again to see the New York Fed. They had thought that would be the main hurdle, but they had evidently got full reports from their friends in the provinces. All went like wildfire. IBE represented a clean slate. And they liked them. All they asked was to be kept in touch with progress, they were the main regulator as PAF’s head office was in their state.

  Charles explained that they would be in California the following Monday and then would cross back to Washington before briefing them again in New York on their final stop. The regulators promised they would give their agreement promptly. Once again, they could not contain their relief at seeing the Mafia out of the direct running of the banks.

  In New York, they also saw some of the candidates to take on the top slot. They were a fine bunch of men. On average they had been bankers, man and boy. And, on average, they wanted a big office, a big expense account and as little work as possible. They did not realise how that suited IBE. They would be wonderful fall guys. They would sign papers that they knew nothing about and it was possible that they would end up in court, or worse, when the game came to an end.

  After several such meetings, Charles told Giovanni to choose one himself. “Get the Honourable James to vet them either in New York or in London. As long as they pass the idiot test and the mirror test, they’ll do.”

  “I can guess the idiot test,” he replied quizzically. “But what’s the mirror test? Do they have to be good looking?”

  “It’s to check they’re really alive. If the mirror clouds up, they’re breathing. Then if you really want them, you can offer them the job.”

  Giovanni shook his head despairingly. Then he muttered, “Fucking Brits”, grinned and slapped Charles on the back. He actually packed quite a hit for such a small man. “Well, see you in California. Have a good trip.”

  They called the office and checked out with Maria. All appeared to be going well. She made no mention of the killings. She did mention the funeral of the late Wendy, but they knew better than to talk about things like that on a telephone line.

  “When do we head home? I miss Juliet,” asked Jacqui looking at her watch.

  “Look. I’ve just had an idea. Why should we head back to London for two days? We could all be together for longer. We’re supposed to be in California for meetings on Tuesday with the regulators and then on Wednesday with your father. Why don’t we get the nanny to fly Juliet out there and meet us? They could get out there by lunch tomorrow if they caught the nine o’ clock flight. They can fly directly back from California and we’ll join them a couple of days later.”

  Jacqui jumped to the phone and it was all arranged. “Put us up in Shutters on the Beach in Santa Monica. Get us a suite and an adjoining room for Juliet and the nanny.” she called. “It’s got good facilities for kids as well.”

  Charles also arranged an early morning flight out of New York. “Shall we go to Lola’s?”

  “No,” she called back. “It’s boring. I want a real meal. Why don’t we go to the Trattoria del Arte and get decent pasta. I’m fed up of mock international, that’s all you get on these business trips. By the way, the nanny is going to call me back and confirm if they can do the bookings. They’ll get a flight, but I’ve told them to try to get first if possible. That way Juliet will sleep better and be in a good m
ood when she arrives.”

  “We could go to a club afterwards if you want.”

  She called back, “Why not? But we need to leave early if we want to get to LA before the others.”

  They then headed out for their pasta. Charles found it strange to have time on his hands in New York. His usual business trips were fairly standard; full agendas and fairly uneventful.

  The last days had been tedious rather than troublesome. Going from regulator to regulator was hardly fun. It also was hardly fun interviewing some of New York’s dimmest for the Chief Executive’s job.

  They changed into casual clothes. Jacqui wore a short skirt and a roll neck sweater under a calf length coat. Charles wore some black jeans and a white sweater as contrast to her all black. The sweater was loose enough to cover the gun that he had in his waistband.

  The Trattoria was one of the best Italian restaurants in New York. The pastas and all that went with them were fresh. The tomatoes were incredible. They had a mound of the stuff and washed it down with Chianti. It was nearing ten when they finished. They sat together hand in hand and talked of Juliet. “And we better soon think of some brothers and sisters for her,” said a quite broody Jacqui.

  Charles let the comment pass. He knew that she would try to avoid being pregnant in the summer. She preferred to aim for the winter months, maternity wear is much more elegant then. She had noticed that when Juliet was born.

  They carried on talking and drank their coffee. “Let’s head down to Greenwich Village and take a look,” suggested Charles.

  “No. Let’s head back. I have plans for you. I want to go home.”

  Charles wondered if he had misjudged her. Was she still broody? He decided not to ask. They walked out arm in arm and wandered over to the car under the umbrella of the attentive doorman. The driver was sitting in the front, he was the same Di Maglio driver who had accompanied them since they had arrived. That did not surprise them, though the poor man deserved some time off. They cuddled up to each other in the back of the stretched limo, there is a feeling of luxury in such cars. It was the sense of spaciousness. To top it off, Di Maglio’s had genuine leather upholstery and every piece of wood gleamed.

  The driver pulled up at traffic lights just by Carnegie Hall. Once, it had been a landmark building in this part of New York. Now it looked puny in comparison to some of the latter day giant and angular offerings that dominated the New York skyline. Their steel and glass shells allowed the architects to take flights of fancy and defy gravity through illogical shape. Charles was about to ask Jacqui what she thought of them, when he was jerked back from his musing by the rattle of gunfire. He hit the floor, grabbing Jacqui. That wasn’t necessary as she was already there, her gun clear of her bag. Charles pulled out his and waited.

  The sound of guns blasting and the pepper of bullets against the metal side of the car had ceased. There was a silence. He could hear no voices. There was no hooting of horns. Nothing moved for what seemed an age, but, in reality, it was only for a moment or two.

  Charles yelled to the driver, “Drive. Get out of here.” There was no sound. No movement. He raised his head. The driver was sitting and watching. He hadn’t even ducked. It was as if he were waiting. And then Charles realised that he was. The door of the car was unlocked. It should have been locked the moment they got in. It had been unlocked to allow the gunmen access. A man ducked down, gun in hand. But, before he could register what was happening, Charles blasted him in the chest. The force of the bullets pushed him backward out of the car.

  Jacqui slid forward and pulled the door shut. She rammed down the lock as Charles turned to the other side of the car and did the same. Once again there was silence. He smashed at the window between the driver and them. The glass must have been bullet proofed. It was definitely reinforced. Indeed, the whole car must have been made bullet proof, the shots had not penetrated the bodywork or shattered the windows.

  The driver looked around. He was sneering. He was obviously part of the plot. They heard a click as the locks were released again. They realised that the driver had done that, and they hit the locks yet again, but this time they would not shut. The driver must have held down the switch in the front. Unless he released it, the locks could not be operated from their section.

  “Stand by,” Charles muttered. “They’ll come again. Let’s get out of the car. We’re sitting ducks inside. We have more chance outside.”

  She nodded and he indicated the door on his side, “I’ll go first and then give you cover. We try for the cars parked over there. I think the gunmen are all on your side.”

  There was another blast of gunfire. The car echoed with the sound of bullets thudding against it from quite close range. They seemed to come from the far side of the road. Charles felt fairly sure that his side was clear of gunmen. He pulled the door open and threw himself behind a parked car as bullets tore through the air in his direction. They hit cars parked at the side of the road. This time there was a crash of glass as window after window disintegrated with the impact of a hail of bullets.

  Charles saw the door of the car edge open again and yelled “now” as he fired shots in the direction of the gunmen. The few shots hardly deterred them but it drew their fire away from Jacqui as she in turn hurled herself from the stationary car and joined Charles behind a parked van. Her hair was wet from the rain that was falling now as icy sleet. Her coat was dirty from the road. They hardly looked the smart couple they had been moments before on their departure from the glamorous restaurant.

  “Your father’s driver double-crossed us. I don’t know who they are, but they had his help. He unlocked the doors. And he could have accelerated out of the trouble if he wanted.”

  “They don’t want to kill us. I think they are trying to kidnap us,” yelled Jacqui. “Otherwise, they would have just sprayed the inside of the car with bullets once they opened the door. They tried to get in. They were surprised by the fact that we were armed. And the gunmen avoided firing directly at us just now. We are worth more to them alive.”

  “Then let’s keep them at bay. Shoot as they move forward only. The police will be here soon. Do you have spare ammunition?”

  She shook her head. “I have one more clip. That’s all. But we want the driver. If he gets out of the limo, shoot him, but not to kill. Just immobilise him. We need to question him.”

  Charles nodded. Two men with drawn guns were approaching their position. They were careful to keep under cover. They couldn’t identify them. They were dressed in dark outfits and wore balaclavas. Charles saw a head poke out above a parked car and fired a warning shot. Whoever it was ducked. A burst of fire went over their heads and Jacqui fired back.

  The sound of sirens broke the eerie silence of the last minute. The silence that had been disturbed only by the occasional movements from the gunmen, the shots they had fired at each other and screams from terrified passers-by. There was further movement at the side of the road and a car started up. Charles realised the gunmen were making their getaway. He looked at their limo, the door opened on the driver’s side. A man jumped out and ran across the road towards the getaway car.

  As Charles’ shots rang out, the man screamed and fell face forward in the middle of the road. He was writhing in pain and clutching his leg. Then another burst of fire from the waiting car hit him and he was silent.

  The car roared away as flashing lights came into view. “Put away the gun,” Charles called to Jacqui. “Wait till the police arrive and they tell us to come out.”

  Two cars screamed past them in pursuit of the gunmen. Another screeched to a halt near them. Two policemen appeared from it, guns at the ready. They approached the body in the middle of the street. Charles got up and called out to them, “We were the ones attacked.”

  “Come out slowly and put your hands above your head.”

  “There are two us. There is me and my wife.”

  “Come over, one at a time. The man comes first.”
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br />   Charles stepped forward, slowly with his hands up. Two policemen covered him. “I have a gun in my trouser belt. It’s legal. My name is Charles Rossi. I am a banker here on business.”

  They took the gun and frisked him before signalling for him to relax. The same thing occurred with Jacqui. They hesitated about frisking her, and then decided against it. It may have been stupid but they seemed reluctant to frisk a woman. That could be useful sometime in the future, they both thought.

  Charles went over to the driver. It was annoying that the man’s accomplices had killed him. He needed to know who they were. He bent down. It was strange the driver wasn’t bleeding that much. Charles realised he was still breathing. He bent down and pulled him onto his back. The policeman came over and ordered, “Leave him alone. That’s evidence.”

  “The man’s alive,” Charles shouted. “We need an ambulance. He’s an employee of my father-in-law. We need the best treatment. It will be paid for.”

  Jacqui appeared, in the meantime, to be speaking into her phone. “Are you calling your father?” asked Charles.

  She nodded. “I know he’s alive. We’ll ensure he gets the best treatment. We also need to protect him until we know who tried to assassinate us. He could be a target.”

  That was obviously not the reason. They needed to know who he had worked for. The hit had obviously been planned. The bullet proof vest he was wearing had saved his life. And he had not told his accomplices about it. It was uncertain how the police would view the vest.

  By now, the place was crawling with police. Charles went up to the officer in charge, “Look, we’re freezing. It’s pouring. We are based in the Pierre although we plan to fly to California tomorrow. We have meetings there next week.”

  The officer nodded, “We can interview you at the Pierre. But you can’t take your car before the forensics people have been over it.”