The American Trap, page 13
Chapter 24
Clara’s visit
Here she is, on the other side of the bullet-proof glass. As beautiful as ever. With her long black hair and dark eyes. I have so far managed to dissuade my father from visiting me, but Clara wouldn’t hear of not coming. On 5 August 2013, late afternoon, she walked in through the prison doors.
That morning, like all inmates who have visits, I shaved to make myself as presentable as possible. She must see me at my best. I patted my cheeks to give them a little colour, but my complexion is still as pasty as ever. The lack of sleep, lack of daylight, and the perpetual stress have burrowed huge bags under my eyes, and the skin on my eyelids even has a dark-purple tinge. What if she is disgusted by my appearance? I rest assured: Clara has a strong character and is very resilient. I know she’s going to act as if everything is fine and smile a lot. I miss her smile more than anything.
At 7 p.m. I enter the visiting room and I finally see her. The thick glass wall separates us. I can look at her, but I cannot touch her, let alone hug her. I’d give anything to take her in my arms. However, Wyatt imposes very stringent rules on visitors and makes no exceptions. These rules contain no less than thirty-four clauses. For example, many garments are banned for women: no shorts; no dresses or skirts more than six inches above the knee; no low necklines; the wearing of a bra is compulsory, but it must not contain any wire; no coats; no hats; no gloves; no scarf; and no jewellery except for wedding rings. Men, for their part, are not allowed to wear hoods. It is also strictly forbidden to carry a pen or a sheet of paper. Note-taking is prohibited. All conversations are recorded.
Order and discipline supposedly prevail, but the visiting room is an absolute shambles. Imagine a vast room split in two by a glass partition. On the one side, you have the inmates (about twenty); on the other side, their families. Conversations are conducted via a telephone handset. Everyone speaks at the same time, many in Spanish. To be heard, you must press your face against the glass and shout.
Clara left Singapore to fly to France, where she just had time to drop the children off at my parents, before flying to Boston straight afterwards. She appears exhausted by this arduous journey. She stares at me, shyly, in my jailbird khaki outfit. Though she puts on a brave face, I can see that she is distraught and has tears in her eyes. In the commotion of the prison, surrounded by all these inmate families, the reality of prison catches up with her. She can no longer pretend it’s not real, no longer shield herself from it as she has been trying to do for the past four months. She sees the violence flaring up, she touches the greasy walls and breathes in the distinctive prison odour. From now on, she will never forget Wyatt. Once she is satisfied I am in good health and to disguise her uneasiness, she starts talking incessantly. About the children, her work in Singapore, her colleagues, my mother, my sister. I listen to her, without saying a word. It is tremendously refreshing to hear her talk about normal life.
Conversely, when people start to discuss my situation, I get despondent. In the first few weeks following my arrest, my colleagues and notably Wouter van Wersch, the representative of the International Network in Singapore, telephoned Clara on a regular basis. Then, upon orders from headquarters, contact was abruptly severed, and Clara found herself isolated. She nonetheless asked for an appointment with Patrick Kron at headquarters. The latter delegated Philippe Cochet to meet her, the head of Alstom Power, with whom I have always had an excellent relationship. Philippe was to receive Clara on 5 August at Alstom’s Paris headquarters.
We had great expectations of this meeting to prepare for the future and find out how Alstom, despite the constraints imposed by the DOJ, would help us. Unfortunately, Philippe cancelled the appointment the day before on account of my guilty plea made on 29 July. He informed Clara that henceforth he would no longer be able to communicate with her. That’s it, we have now become outcasts. Clara was extremely upset, and so was I.
In addition, increasing pressure was exerted on Alstom. On 30 July, the day after I pleaded guilty, there was an ‘unexpected twist’ in the investigation led by the Department of Justice. I have added quotation marks to these words, as sometimes I genuinely wonder whether the whole script was not pre-written by the prosecuting attorneys, who since the very start had been diligently weaving their web, seemingly knowing each pattern in the tapestry.
Alstom’s initial cooperation following my arrest did not entirely convince them. So, they decided to strike a heavy blow and indict another executive, someone more senior than me at the time of the events.
It was Laurence Hoskins, former Alstom International Network Senior Vice-President Asia, one of the three signatories of the final approval sheet authorizing the establishment of the consultant contracts. Lawrence was hierarchically only two levels down from Patrick Kron, who himself must have felt the threat of an indictment closing in on him. According to the indictment, which was posted on the DOJ website that same day, Hoskins was accused of having known about the bribes and of having concealed the use of consultants in the Tarahan contract. If it was true that, at the highest level of management – and Hoskins was at the very top of the ladder – everyone knew about the corruption mechanisms being implemented by the international network teams, then this should surely partly get me off the hook.
It also shows that the DOJ understood the roles and responsibilities of each party.
I think I now know Dave and Dan well enough to understand some of their tactics. At first, I am particularly surprised that the DOJ publicized Hoskins’ indictment, jeopardizing his arrest, whereas they went to great lengths to keep mine under seal. But since Hoskins is a British citizen and since the UK extradites its own citizens to face prosecution in foreign countries, I guess the DOJ did not take too much risk. The positive effect for the DOJ to make Hoskins’ indictment public is clearly that it now puts a lot of pressure on the CEO. They are moving up the ranks in Alstom’s hierarchy and have almost reached the summit. After Hoskins, next on the list should be Kron himself.
Back at the Paris headquarters, Keith Carr is probably manoeuvring hard to plan Alstom’s response or rather its surrender. Naturally they will make a deal with the DOJ. It’s not like they’ve got a choice. Alstom may well be a French major, but when faced with the FBI and DOJ, it is insignificant and will capitulate like all the others. It will be on the receiving end of a gigantic fine, but what sort of deal will my managers have to make to get themselves out of the quagmire I am already in. Who are they going to sacrifice? I dare not think about it, nor even discuss it with Clara.
The one-hour visit is over. But she will be back in two days. Until then, she will be staying with our faithful friend Linda. I don’t want her to leave. This first visit was so brief. To sense her anxiety is heart-breaking for me. Yet, walking down the corridors to my cell, I feel a sense of relief. She assured me about the children and my parents. Just seeing her again has eased my burden.
Among Wyatt’s prison staff there are three categories: a few nice guys, a majority who are not interested in what happens to us, and then the vermin. On the afternoon of 7 August 2013, the day of Clara’s second visit, I happened to encounter a particularly obnoxious pod correction officer (CO). Although my visit was supposed to begin at 1 p.m., this CO was gossiping on the phone for ages. I was worried that if she did not stop yapping, the visitor reception office would not be able to alert her that my wife had arrived. I tried to catch her attention once, twice, thrice . . . But she refused to pay attention to me. Finally, at 2 p.m., she told me that I may proceed to the visiting room. Other COs kept me hanging around in the halls again. I lost my temper, which I should have learned by now just makes things worse. As a result, I have all the henchmen on my back, screaming: ‘You’re in jail here, so if we want to keep you waiting three hours, that’s our privilege.’ It takes about twenty minutes to pass through all the doors and controls. Meanwhile, Clara has been patiently waiting for two and a half hours.
Fortunately, the next day we will have one final visit, which will exceptionally be extended to two hours. This time, despite the din of the inmates’ family members, the cries of the guards trying to maintain order, the chairs scraping the floor, the doors opening and slamming, the cries and insults of prisoners who lose it, we rekindle our intimacy.
We talk about the early years of our relationship, how we first met, the difficulties we have overcome; then all of a sudden and quite incredibly, in spite of the glass partition separating us (or maybe because of it), I feel the closest I have ever felt to my wife.
Clara has left now. She will try to decompress in the three weeks of vacation she has left. The major decisions have been taken: plead guilty, enrol the children in school in Singapore for the start of the new school year, remain in her job until June 2014, when the school year ends. By then, my sentence will have been pronounced, I will have been released, and I will be able to join her hopefully before Christmas.
I have no idea what will happen next with Alstom, but the management has just appointed Tim Curran, the American head of the power business, to hold the fort in my absence. I see this as a good omen. This implies they are ‘keeping my place for me’. They’re not going to fire me. I count the days during this long month of August until my release. Only two months to go.
Meanwhile, all the A pod has been transferred to the L2 pod, the one that houses the gangs. There, each individual cell of seven square yards has been converted into a double unit. This time I have been given a Greek cell mate, Yanis, with whom I fortunately get along well. But in the L2 quarter, we have no access to an open-air walk yard.
At the beginning of September, I was visited by my father who, despite my urgings, insisted on making the trip.
If I had been in his shoes, I would have done the same, so I can’t blame him, but when I see him in the visiting room, I get a shock.
He is bent double, has great difficulty in walking and is using a stick. My poor father, who is normally so energetic, suddenly seems to have aged ten years. He informs me that he has been suffering for several weeks from severe sciatica that prevents him from sitting down, and that he is bedridden. It’s a miracle that he has been able to cope with a seven-hour flight in economy class from Paris to Boston, rent a car and drive the three hours to Wyatt. Riddled by guilt, I start to imagine the pain and suffering I have caused my nearest and dearest. Both Clara and my father visit me three times at Wyatt, and each visit adds meaning to my pitiful existence here.
Chapter 25
I’ve been fired
An uppercut. Though, to be more accurate, it’s a low, cowardly and dishonest blow.
I received the letter this morning. It is dated 20 September 2013.
Subject: Notice to attend a preliminary dismissal meeting.
This letter is to inform you, with regret, that we have no alternative than to terminate your employment with us. We are aware that your detention in the United States shall prevent you from attending this preliminary meeting. Therefore, please find attached the reasons on which we have based this dismissal procedure. We invite you to submit your comments in advance in writing.
I had a feeling that my decision to plead guilty would have consequences. Markus Asshoff, employment lawyer and partner at Taylor Wessing law firm in Paris, whom my family selected to defend me against Alstom and who has given and continues to give me the most loyal support, promptly alerted Clara.
In theory, Alstom had two months from the date of my guilty plea to dismiss me. I waited until the end of this period with a degree of anxiety. Somewhat naively, I was convinced that they would find a solution and halt the process. How deluded can you get! Since my arrest, they have left me to languish in this hole without even enquiring after me or offering the slightest sign of encouragement. Worse still, when several members of the executive committee travelled to the United States on business, not one of them deemed me worthy of a visit. Despicable bastards. They prefer to leave me here to rot and then coldly and calculatedly fire me!
In the document he sent me, Bruno Guillemet, the group’s human resources director, starts by blaming my ‘absence from work’. ‘Your pre-trial detention has prevented you from executing your employment contract . . . Given your level of responsibility, your absence makes it difficult, indeed impossible, to maintain our contractual relationship.’
The human resources director then dwells on my guilty plea.
‘Your conviction’, he writes, ‘will shortly lead the American judicial authorities to sentence you to a term of imprisonment, and this situation undeniably damages the image of the Alstom group worldwide. The very nature of your actions, which run counter to the values and the ethics of the Alstom group, has generated an atmosphere of suspicion and mistrust by the regulatory authorities, particularly in the day-to-day management of our business activities worldwide.’
No matter how many times I read this shameful rebuke, I can hardly digest it. Fired because I didn’t turn up for work! They dare to use my incarceration as grounds! This is how they have bypassed the statute of limitations. I haven’t been fired because of the Tarahan case or my guilty plea, but because I didn’t turn up for work at my Singapore office. Like I had a choice. They also blatantly reproach me for pleading guilty when they know only too well that I had no alternative. This letter constitutes the height of hypocrisy. Does the human resources director really understand the force of his words? When Patrick Kron himself, bowing under pressure from the DOJ, is finally forced to admit the culpability of the company he has been running for over ten years and thus admit his own guilt, will he also be dismissed, as well as all members of the executive committee, starting with the human resources director? I doubt it. So how can they attribute acts to me that ‘run counter to the values and the ethics of the Alstom group’?
Need I remind them that during the twenty-one years I spent at the company, I applied to the letter the processes predefined by Alstom’s management?
Equally monstrous are their allegations that I ‘violated my duties of probity, honesty and loyalty’.
Was I the one who opted to use consultants? Was I the one who chose to funnel the worldwide contracts of our consultants through our Swiss subsidiary, to conceal them? Was I the one who decided to pay bribes? And was I the one who set up the international network, the compliance structure, the cosmetic procedures for selecting consultants, and so forth? No, I strictly observed all instructions, like any manager with functions similar to mine. Besides, for the past ten years, the group, or its subsidiaries, has been prosecuted, convicted or suspected of corruption in about ten countries: Mexico, Brazil, India, Tunisia. Also, Italy, Great Britain, Switzerland, Poland, Lithuania, Hungary, even Latvia. I could go on . . . Two Alstom entities were also caught red-handed by the World Bank, which blacklisted them in 2012 as part of a corruption case involving a hydroelectric dam in Zambia. And Alstom dares to claim that I have undermined the company’s reputation, even though I was not involved in any of these contracts for which the group was prosecuted or convicted. This is absolutely outrageous.
The head of compliance at the time of the Tarahan events, Bruno Kaelin, also legal representative of ‘Alstom Prom’, the Swiss company that handled most of consultant contracts, was even arrested by the Swiss police in 2008 and spent some forty days in jail. Alstom agreed to pay a fine of tens of millions of euros to the Swiss authorities in 2011 to halt the proceedings.
The truth is stark. Alstom implemented and maintained a global bribery scheme that prosecutors described as ‘astounding in its breadth, its brazenness and its worldwide consequences’.
This is something that top management knows better than anyone.
I therefore consider it rich of them to wait till I plead guilty, lecture me on integrity, and then say I have tarnished the company’s reputation. They have been caught in the act, ambushed by the Americans, who possess much more powerful means of reprisal than the World Bank or the prosecution authorities in Latvia or Switzerland.
Then, at Paris, they finally cave in. After refusing to cooperate with the FBI for three years, Alstom’s management strives to provide evidence of their ‘good faith’ to the DOJ. They are determined to show the Americans that they are now prepared to make sacrifices.
And I am the one they decide to sacrifice.
When Clara received a copy of my dismissal letter, she decided to call Patrick Kron directly. After promising her a meeting, the CEO cancelled at the last minute. Clara wrote him a letter and sent me a copy.
She evoked the conditions of my detention, which have worsened in recent weeks:
Frédéric’s physical and mental health is deteriorating every day. He witnesses things he never imagined he would live to see, including the rape of an elderly prisoner in a nearby cell, an attempted murder by concealed glass in food, the suicide of a prisoner in an adjacent cell, and the death of a prisoner due to lack of medical care, as well as recurrent fights between fellow inmates using knives.
Clara rightly complains about Alstom’s lack of support.
Frédéric is currently being detained 9,000 miles from our family home. Our children are in a state of permanent emotional distress that cannot be pacified. Our youngest twins, Gabriella and Raphaella, aged seven, cry every day for their father.
My wife explains that the dismissal letter I received ‘adds insult to injury’ in view of the pain she is experiencing. She reminds Patrick Kron of my long-standing allegiance to the company, that I never dissimulated or kept anything secret from Alstom, that I always respected the hierarchical validation process and that I was repeatedly commended on my work performance, as demonstrated by ‘the payment of a 100 per cent bonus’ just one week before my arrest. She ends the letter by appealing to him to suspend the dismissal procedure.
Patrick Kron did reply. He expressed his ‘sympathy for the difficulties encountered by my family’, referring to me informally as Fred, going so far as to maintain that ‘this situation greatly affects him personally’ – but then he actually uses the same arguments put forward by his human resources director. According to him, I have ‘admitted violating Alstom’s internal rules of procedure and its ethical values’. This, of course, is not true: I have never violated these rules; quite the contrary, all I did was apply them. As the company’s CEO, he continues, it is ‘his responsibility to protect the interests of Alstom, its shareholders, and all its employees’. He then ends by asking Clara not to write to him directly, as his lawyers have advised him to avoid any contact with my family.
