“Did you think that would work?”
“The way you look tonight it was worth a try,” he said. “Anyway, forget it. This is more important than…than…”
“Go on, Ben.”
“Well, I thought there might be one other thing you could look into. All those wealth funds I was talking about…at least the first ones…”
“Malaysia, India, Brunei…”
“Yes, those…they all used the same underwriter. Harrington-Weiss.”
“HW’s the top investment bank in the world. Why is that strange?”
“No, no,” said Benson. “I mean the funds used HWexclusively. It’s customary to spread that kind of business around. Multiple underwriters. Two at least. Usually more. I mean, we’re talking about raising billions of dollars.”
London put down her knife and fork. In other words, Benson Chow was suggesting the fact that all these funds had hired a single bank to handle the underwriting was highly irregular. “How many billions?”
“Four billion for Malaysia. Six for India. Two for Brunei. You’d think it would be easier to hire several banks, bigger client pool. Just saying.”
“Who’s the lead banker?” she asked.
“Deals this big are run by dozens of people. Besides, you know HW. All very hush-hush. Their ethos is that it’s all about the firm, not the individual. I was just checking the public records, what’s on the net, what the various exchanges might have. Tell you one thing, though. The teams running those deals are going to make a helluva bonus.” Benson’s eyes lit with greed. To an investment banker, the mere thought of a bonus was as enticing as sex with a Victoria’s Secret angel.
“You can still go back to the Street,” said London. “They’d snap you up in a New York minute.”
“Wouldn’t think of it,” said Benson, affronted. “There’s more to life than money.”
Easy to say when you’re sitting on twenty million U.S. in your private account,thought London. She raised her glass. She was quite drunk, she realized. But not so drunk as to not already be mapping out her next steps. She needed to get ahold of HW’s internal phone directory. She knew one or two people at the office who might have one. Sure, teams run deals, but individuals run teams.
“Cheers to that!”
Chapter 30
Ratchaburi Province
Night.
Simon lay in the mud, hands and feet bound, head throbbing. A canopy of trees blocked the sky. He was aware of the sound of rushing water. The world came into focus and he saw that he was on the banks of a fast-flowing river.
Shaka kneeled beside him, slapping his cheek. When he saw Simon’s eyes open, he showed him the flash drive in his open palm. “Just so you didn’t think I came all this way for nothing.”
Simon struggled to free his wrists and ankles.
“Not a chance,” said Shaka. “Handcuff knots. It’s how we tie up our enemies back home before we necklace them. Know what that is? Put a tire around their neck and shoulders, fill it with petrol, and light ’em up. You better believe they struggle.” A smile at the memory. A jab to the shoulder. “You’re lucky I didn’t find any spare tires around here.”
Simon took stock of his situation. His last recollection was of hearing his name called. He turned…and then he woke up here, in considerable discomfort, unable to move, and at the mercy of a trained assassin.
“How did you find me?”
“Trade secret.”
“You chipped me,” said Simon. “Where? I never felt it.”
“You’re too good for me, Riske.” Shaka stuffed the flash drive into a pocket. “Airport baggage claim. You could perform a cavity search in there and the person wouldn’t know it. A medical implantation device from Siemens. They call it a mosquito because that’s how little you feel it. A friend of mine from my old outfit gave it to me. GSG 9. Mean anything to you?”
“German counterterror.” Simon was more interested in why a former commando was involved with a crooked Saudi Arabian investment firm and what an Italian named Luca had to do with it all.
“Why did you kill them?” Simon asked.
