Skin in the Game, page 33
“Can you wash that down with some champagne or something?”
“You’re in a mood.”
He pulls up his trousers.
“I have a few things on my mind.”
She picks up the champagne flute and rinses the wine through her mouth.
“Don’t worry, darling. We’ll sort all of this out.”
“What do you mean, we?”
“I’ll stand beside you through anything, Cadan.”
He lights a cigarette and looks across the open rooms of his penthouse flat.
“You’re a fool. We is this. Nothing more. When I choose. And I won’t be around for a while.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Don’t cross me, Claire. You’ll do as you’re told, when you’re told.”
Blake enters the walk-in closet and assembles an outfit for the evening. Claire stares out at the sun as it sets over the Thames.
“What will I do? I’ve put my life into Density, into you.”
“Someone else can put into you for a while.”
She picks up the champagne flute and presses it between her hands. Her face reddens. Just as the glass is on the verge of cracking, she releases the pressure.
“You need me.”
Blake takes no notice of her as he knots his tie. Claire rises and rushes over to him, throwing her arms around his neck. With cold eyes he stares her down and slaps her face with the back of his right hand, knocking her down.
“I need no one. Now go.”
She raises her hand to her jaw, checking for damage. She picks herself up and gazes at him, through eyes black with mascara. Then she retreats to the bedroom and quietly closes the door.
*
Bertram Mercier and Alan Trompett sit in the conference room. On the trading floor, a dozen or so analysts and support staff are busy at their computer screens. Mercier rises and starts pacing the floor. He holds his hands uncomfortably behind his back.
“What do you think the old man will do?” says Trompett.
Mercier jerks around to face him.
“We need to think this through. There is a way we can turn this to our advantage. Whatever it is he has in mind, I want a piece of the action. And I think we can persuade him that it’s in his interest to bring us along.”
“Listen to you. You call yourself a salesman? You couldn’t convince a cat to drink milk. I wouldn’t underestimate Blake. He scares me.”
“If you’re going to work with Blake, you need to play his game. Otherwise he’ll walk all over you.”
Mercier stands and walks over to the window. He looks down on the people walking the streets below.
“He puts his life on the line. We need to do the same if we want the same return.”
Trompett glances at his watch.
“Where is Claire? She should have been here by now.”
As Mercier turns his back on Trompett, he spots a man dressed in black step onto the trading floor. The man walks across the floor directly toward the conference room. As he closes in on the room, he pulls a balaclava out from his jacket pocket. He pulls it over his head then draws a silenced Heckler and Koch 45 from a chest holster.
Mercier stands there, immobile and speechless. As Trompett turns to see who is at the door, the man fires two rounds into his chest and one into his forehead. He points at Mercier and does the same.
*
Harold Sallow sits reading the Guardian on a bench in the Little Cloister Garden next to Westminster Abbey. It is late afternoon and the rush-hour traffic intensifies behind him. Across the street, Big Ben rings. The west side of the tower basks in the evening sun.
Vincent Avery approaches and sits next to him.
“Things tidied up at Density. All except Kurst. He’s left the country.”
“Good riddance.”
“Rumors I’m hearing are he’s obtained new financing from the Russian mob. Still a player, it would seem.”
“I guess we’ll be seeing more of him. Hmmm. Best keep in contact. We should make every attempt to retain any value we gained working with him. Perhaps he’s worth more alive than dead.”
“What’s next?”
“Lie low for a while. Give Covington and Trace some time to regroup. I’m sure they’ll work out a new structure. Same race, new horse.”
“The prince is still in?”
“Of course. Fucking camel jockey. You know, our job would be so much easier if once in a while we could at least work with someone with just a little class.”
“Hear, hear.”
“This whistleblower thing. That’s the most alarming aspect of all of this. We must discourage this sort of behavior.”
He looks at the views of the cloisters, the Abbey and the Palace of Westminster in the distance. He turns to Avery.
“Shut it down.”
“I will. One way or another.”
“Good lad.”
CHAPTER XV
Hamish McLeod escorts Joe and Kate to the Serious Fraud Office, located next to Trafalgar Square. Outside, they brief him on the unfolding of events and the evidence they have on Blake and Density. Joe takes a deep breath as he gazes at the shiny black doors and brass knobs at the front of the building.
Kate grasps for his hand. They have worked this through a thousand times. If there is to be any hope for meaningful change, it must be supported by government-sanctioned action. If any good is to come out of all of this, public justice must be done. If Sofi and Sam are not to have died in vain …
McLeod has many questions. Unfinished business regarding the murders of Ahmad Ghazali and Omar Sadir, Kris Maarten and Richard Blumee, Carl Frazer and Sam, and Sofi. But the information they have on the structure of Density’s operations and the motives of the key players involved gives him the answers he needs.
McLeod has told them he will take the lead on all outstanding police matters. He’s dealt with the SFO in the past. He’s made contact for Joe and Kate and prepped the SFO on the nature of their case. They’ve brought the documentary evidence and their notes on the case to the meeting. Once inside, the three of them sit in a conference room, waiting for the agent to arrive.
Joe brushes his index finger over his beard and purses his lips.
“Remind me again why we think we can trust these guys more than anyone else in the government?”
“MI6 and the FCO have been compromised by everything that’s happened,” says Kate. “But the SFO has been set up as an independent organization, reporting directly to the Attorney General. The SFO is mandated and has the responsibility to prosecute corruption wherever it arises. That independence is our best bet for stamping out Density and all of its fraudulent activities, including those involving other government officials.”
“Blake is trying to pin all of this on Khaldoun and Kurst.”
Joe lowers his head and studies McLeod. McLeod stares back, expressionless.
“His story is the shooting that took place at Density was the act of crazed terrorists who disagreed with investments Density made in Islamic states. He’s gone so far as to implicate Samarrai. Says he was working with Khaldoun and Kurst. The prince is corroborating his story, saying he long had suspicions that Samarrai had become radicalized.”
“That’s where the evidence comes into play,” says Kate. “The evidence is how our story will win out the day.”
“Density is finished,” says McLeod.
“We need to stop Blake. We need to nail him publicly and permanently, and to make it impossible for him to resurface. The evidence we have should be enough to launch an investigation into Baexter and Mandrake. That’s how we stop this from happening again.”
At that moment, the door opens and the SFO agent enters the room. She is followed by Vincent Avery and Mick Gold.
Kate jumps to her feet.
“What’s the meaning of this? We were told this would be a meeting attended by SFO personnel only.”
She looks over to Hamish. Hamish bows his head down and turns to the window.
The SFO agent is stern but calm.
“Ms. Farrow, Mr. Hawkins, I have reviewed a summary of the allegations you have prepared and sent through. Separately, I have been approached by MI6 on the same matters. In coming to a decision on whether to investigate this further, it is my responsibility to hear the views of all parties involved, including other government departments having intimate knowledge of the relevant events.”
“Your responsibility is to investigate fraud and not be compromised by the policy objectives of any other department of government.”
“That is correct. And that is what I intend to do. If you will permit me to bring you up to speed with where I am on this case, I’m sure you will see that I am carrying out my responsibilities and exercising my discretion in accordance with the mandate of the SFO.”
She stands and paces the room.
“Vincent Avery has been investigating Density’s activities abroad as an ongoing security matter. He has put together compelling evidence that Laith Khaldoun and Zakhar Kurst have led an effort involving the sale of weapons to, and money laundering for, known terrorist groups. For a number of months now, he has been working closely with Cadan Blake in aid of gathering intelligence on such groups. The terrorist groups involved are a serious threat to our national security. It is essential that I take all of this into account when reviewing the content of your allegations.”
“We have proof Density, Baexter and Mandrake have manipulated foreign government officials and terrorist groups to serve their own ends,” says Kate.
“I am aware you have some documents in your possession that on face value could be interpreted as having a fraudulent purpose. What I am trying to help you to understand is that much of what has transpired has been in the cause of our national security. Cadan Blake, Lincoln Covington and Barrendt Trace all work directly with many groups within our government, including MI5, MI6 and this office, to help us do our job. All of them have provided the government with numerous leads which have resulted in the capture and detention of terrorists caught engaging in activities that could directly harm citizens of this country.”
Kate looks to Joe.
“What about their activities in Uzbekistan? How does that square with your benevolent description of Blake, Covington and Trace?”
“Density, Baexter and Mandrake were attempting to make the world a safer place. The contracts and objectives involved were in aid of creating an ally with the same interest in peace and order as we have in this country.”
“What about covert interventions and bribes to local politicians?” says Joe.
“There is no evidence Blake or anyone other than Khaldoun and Kurst were involved in any illicit activities, whether on behalf of Serbon Surveillance or otherwise. I am looking into the structure of the payments you allege. What I can say is there is no straightforward fraudulent activity. There is no trail of cash. Also, there have been no violations of the laws of Uzbekistan. But I will continue to review the documentation. And that is all I can say at this point.”
Joe feels a sudden chill at his core. He looks over to Kate.
“Blake is behind all of this. The structure put in place was intended to circumvent an investigation by the SFO. That’s why the whole thing is off-balance-sheet. That’s why none of it is in cash. What you’re saying amounts to condoning activities designed to cover up real corruption.”
The SFO agent looks down at her notes.
“I can assure you we are investigating this matter from all angles and perspectives.”
“What about Sofi Watt? Where is the justice for—”
“We are looking into the circumstances of Ms. Watt’s disappearance. We will endeavor to—”
“Disappearance!”
The agent turns to Avery and Gold.
“One conclusion I have made at this point is that the national security risks involved are extremely sensitive. While there may be some activities that have taken place warranting an investigation into fraud, the risk to national security makes it of the utmost importance that none of this be made public for the time being. Once I have had time to review things further, and if I can be convinced there is a way in which we can prosecute without risking our national security, then I will see to it that the full force of the law comes to bear on this matter.”
“How will we know?”
“You may not ever know. You should be content at this juncture knowing you have done your country a great service.”
Kate presses her hands into her sides.
“This is ludicrous. What’s to stop us taking all of this to the press? Surely the citizens of this country should be allowed to decide for themselves what is corrupt and what is not.”
“Ms. Farrow, when you joined MI6, you signed documentation agreeing to keep all matters confidential,” says Vincent Avery. “Should you go to the newspapers with any of this information, you would be in breach of your contractual obligations.”
Mick Gold rises and hands a document to Joe and another to Kate.
“I am hereby serving you with a court order prohibiting you from discussing any matters relating to Density, Baexter or Mandrake or any other aspect of the Uzbekistan transaction. You are also required to hand over all documentation, and any copies you have made, of anything relating to this case immediately. If you breach any aspect of this injunction, you will be in contempt of court and could face long-term imprisonment. Do you understand?”
Joe grips the table and faces Avery. Avery looks up at him calmly from his seat.
“I would suggest you not do anything unwise, Mr. Hawkins. You don’t want any more trouble than you already have.”
*
Joe and Kate stagger down the hall. He turns to her.
“We will need to find another way.”
As they enter the lobby, Joe notices at the far end Cadan Blake talking with Harold Sallow. He stops in his tracks. He rushes toward Blake, sensing Kate behind him. Blake looks him over, coolly.
“What are you going to do, Hawkins? Strike me down? Do you think it will do any good? Go ahead then. Let’s see what you’re made of.”
Joe stands still before him, his fists clenched.
“I could take that shot.”
“What do you think you’re dealing with here?”
Blake glances down at the manicured fingernails on his right hand.
“I suggest you go home and cool off. And when you’re calm enough, book yourself a flight home and get some rest. You can’t change the world.”
He turns to Sallow. Sallow peers over his glasses at Joe, then Kate, and frowns.
Joe calms his breathing. He pictures Sofi lying on her couch in Notting Hill. She is wearing an orange summer dress. She’s fallen asleep with a book resting on her chest. She will not have died in vain.
“We’re not finished, Blake. This is a temporary set-back. Your day is coming.”
“Temporary set-back? You have nothing. You are nothing. Just get out of my way.”
Blake turns to Sallow, and they grin at each other. They turn their backs on Joe and Kate and continue their discussion.
Joe gazes at Kate. She is close to tears.
Just then, Claire Nelson bursts through the front doors of the building and charges toward them, her face smeared with running mascara. She walks up to Blake, who has his back to her. From the handbag slung over her left shoulder, she pulls out a Ruger 38 Special compact revolver.
“Cadan.”
He turns to face her.
“What do you—”
He sees the gun in her hand.
“Did you think I was going to let you leave like that, Cadan?”
She is trembling.
“You’re a fool. Do you know why? Because you have become so obsessed with your own power, you have become blind to the will of others.”
Blake walks toward her, a contrite smile on his face. He widens his eyes.
“Claire, I’m sure we can work this out. Why don’t we—”
She aims the gun at his chest.
“Stop, Cadan. It’s over now. I threw everything away for you. I have come clean about all of this with my family.”
A tear wells in her eye.
“I’ve lost my family, Cadan. I’ve lost everything. For what? For you … for nothing. I was convinced it was worth it. I’m a fool. I can no longer live with myself. But I’ll be damned if—”
She points the gun and fires three shots into his chest. Blake stares back, astonished, then crumples to the ground, bleeding. She turns to Joe. She looks him in the eyes. Joe says nothing, just stares back.
“I could have taken the path Sofi took. I was like her once. I wanted to do something honorable with my life. Remember her, and stare at yourself in the mirror and like what you see. That’s over for me now.”
She presses the gun into her right temple and squeezes the trigger.
Kate falls to the ground as Joe rushes to her. He holds her in his arms. Joe looks over at Claire Nelson’s lifeless body. It’s not over yet.
CHAPTER XVI
In the confusion that ensues, Kate and Joe emerge from the doors of the SFO onto a rainy Cockspur Street. Joe turns to Kate, droplets of rain beginning to roll down her face. She is shaking. He looks down at his forearm. Droplets of blood are scattered across his sleeve. He winces and then grits his teeth.
“Remember we have the originals.”
Kate holds her hands over her eyes.
“Yes, but what are we going to do with them? We’ve been ordered to hand them in. Even if we ignore the injunctions we’ve been served, no court of law will admit the information we have as evidence.”
“We’ll have to go to the press.”
“Yes, but—”
A black Mercedes van with dark-gray tinted windows pulls up from the left and stops directly in front of them. The rear door opens. Joe grabs Kate’s hand and makes to his left. But there is no time to react. Two men approach from behind and simultaneously inject needles into the back of their arms. They nudge their bodies forward. Kate and Joe fall onto the back floor of the van. The door closes, and the van races away.
