Geneva Connection, The (24 page)

T
HE
D
ISTINCTIVE
R
OAR
of the Sikorsky Super Stallion’s seven-blade rotor could be heard from miles away. They came in from the east so the prevailing wind would carry the sound away from the cartel’s headquarters. Each one of the eight helicopters carried fifty-five heavily armed US Navy SEALs. It was still dark as they approached Isla Tiburon at four a.m.

Special operations snipers had been dropped onto the island an hour before the attack. They’d been ready to take out any guards patrolling the outside, but that wasn’t necessary; there was no one around. Consequently, as the aircraft came in to land, the SEALs were confident that no one inside the building would be aware of the impending attack. Surprise was on their side.

Merriman was with Bob Butler and senior defense staff in a special war room at the Pentagon. They sat along one side of a conference table watching a live video feed of the impending attack from helmet cameras worn by many of the SEALs.

“It feels like we’re with them,” said Merriman close to Butler’s ear.

Butler nodded. “It’s clever technology.”

Merriman’s heart was thumping in his chest at the thought of the attack. He could feel the adrenaline racing through him. This was the moment they would turn the war by wiping Safuentes off the face of the earth.
This is for you, Mom and Dad.

The helicopters landed four hundred yards away, and the troops jumped from the aircraft four at a time and ran toward the building. After disabling the CCTV cameras, they placed explosive charges against the large metal doors and blew them open. Half of the men rushed into the stairwell and down to the first floor, where intelligence reports had indicated they’d find the sleeping quarters and most of the cartel’s personnel.

There was no one there.

“What the fuck is this?” said Butler.

“Absolute silence, please,” barked the senior defense officer at the head of the conference table.

When the SEALs turned to run back to the stairwell, they were met by a hail of bullets from the cartel’s enforcers; they’d walked into a trap. Somehow, the operation had been compromised.

Blood suddenly filled the lens of the helmet camera linked to the war room. The operator in the war room switched to another camera. Men were falling to the ground, torn apart by the bullets.

“My God,” said Merriman under his breath.
This is a bloodbath
.

Butler held his head in his hands, unable to watch the carnage.

By the time the other half of the US personnel reached the first floor, the enforcers had disappeared. The first group of US personnel had suffered massive injuries and many fatalities.

Moments later, the video screen filled with bright light as the remaining SEALs threw explosives down the stairwell to clear the area beneath them. They followed up with grenades thrown into the second floor entrance. When they entered the space, they were sprayed with bullets from enforcers lined along the back of the room. It took fifteen minutes and seven casualties to eliminate the enemy on that floor before the SEALs could make their way down to the next level.

A shard of shrapnel hit the helmet lens as explosive charges lit up the accounting floor. The place had been booby-trapped. The senior officer in the war room nodded to the video operator. The view switched to another camera as a door ricocheted off the wall, narrowly missing the camera. Merriman flinched. When the room came back into focus, it was obvious from the blood on the walls that many of the troops in there had been killed by the explosions.

A fire took hold of the building, filling the space with smoke. Flames licked at the heels of the retreating Seals. They regrouped at the helicopters to put on breathing masks before making their way back down the stairwell. The thick smoke made progress difficult and slow. Visibility back at the Pentagon was poor, but the sound recorded the continuing slaughter. Merriman could only imagine the horror of fighting an invisible enemy in the dark.

Gradually, the SEALs made their way to the lowest levels and to Jivaro’s suite. The smoke thinned and visibility was restored, as the SEALs were now below the fire at this level. In the minutes that followed, they found no cartel personnel left in the building. The enemy had simply vanished. They’d later discover an elevator from Jivaro’s suite to the sea, providing an escape route for any remaining enforcers.

An hour and a half after landing, the Americans had captured none of the fifteen lieutenants and there was no sign of Felix Safuentes. The SEALs loaded up the helicopters with their wounded and the handful of remaining injured enforcers and returned to their aircraft carrier.

“Gentlemen, we have just witnessed an unmitigated disaster,” said the defense officer after the live feed was terminated. “The cartel must have known we were coming. This was a turkey shoot.”

“We have to find the leak. All of our operations will be at risk until we do,” said Merriman. “This could put us back years.”

“When we find him, I’ll personally string him up,” said Butler. He had the stoop of a defeated man.

The subsequent debriefing was sober listening for Merriman. The SEALs had lost almost a third of their men in the firefight, with many more badly injured. His hopes of capturing Safuentes, discovering promising intelligence from the cartel’s IT systems, and avenging the death of his parents had come to nothing. Instead, they had suffered a massive setback and, to make things worse, now they knew the cartel must have an informer on the inside at the DEA.

Chapter 36

A M
ONTH
L
ATER
, Kent was returning to his office after the usual Tuesday morning investment committee meeting when Tara handed him a note.

“It’s a telephone message from a Mr. Cartwright from a firm called Adderley Dickins,” she said. “He wants to speak to you about a new deal opportunity.”

Kent walked to his desk and threw the message on top of all the others next to his phone. He’d make the call later, if he felt like it. In normal circumstances, he’d deal with a new investment inquiry immediately. In the past, there was nothing quite like the excitement of a new deal, but these were far from normal times. He’d lost most of his appetite for new business. Another transaction was just one more reason for the authorities to throw the book at him, if it was ever discovered he was investing criminal money.

Kirkland stood at Kent’s door. “Do you have a moment, John?” she asked.

“Sure, come on in.”

“I’m not sure about this high-speed rail deal. We’re beyond the first auction with our opening bid, and the final bids are due in by the end of next week.”

“What’s the problem? Sounds like you’re making good progress.”

“I’ve been liaising with the Tritona team, and they’ve told me to make sure we win the bid by paying whatever it takes.”

Is she becoming suspicious?
Kent thought
. She realizes paying too high a price for this asset is economic madness.
He had to make sure Tritona got what it wanted, no matter how poor the prospective investment returns might be. If necessary, he resolved he would take over the running of the rail deal himself.

“I raised the issue of returns with Dieter a few days back. He’s still comfortable paying a very high price for this quality of asset. His plan is to raise the end customer pricing on the rail line if they need to.” Kent was still playing to the hidden microphones, so did his best to rationalize Tritona’s actions, but he was dealing with his most intelligent partner.

“It’s a big risk, though. He may not be able to raise prices with the political flak that would create. I can’t see this one ever paying.”

“Believe me; they’re aware of the risks. Besides, the poorer returns will not sit inside our fund, remember. The company will be held directly by Tritona. We’ll just manage it for them.”

“Okay,” Kirkland said, looking less than convinced. “I just needed to make sure they understand the implications of paying to win this thing.”

“They do. We’ve done our job by pointing out the reduced investment returns. In spite of that, Tritona want to acquire the asset. Now we have to win it for them.” Kent picked up his phone as though he needed to make a call.
Got to get rid of her
. “Is there anything else?”

Kirkland took the hint. “No. Thanks for your help.” She looked confused as she stood up to leave.

After Kirkland left Kent’s office, Tara came in. “That Mr. Cartwright has been on again. He says he must speak to you about his deal today as it’s time sensitive. He was quite pushy, almost rude,” she said.

Kent held up his left palm. “Okay. Okay. I’m doing it now.” He picked up the message from the pile and punched in the numbers as Tara left.

“Can I speak to Mr. Cartwright, please? This is John Kent from CBC returning his call.”

“Mr. Kent, thanks for coming back to me,” said Cartwright. “Sorry about the urgency. We have a deal which I think is just right for CBC, but there’s not much time to do it, if you’re interested.”

“Can you give me an outline of the deal on the phone? I want to be sure it meets our investment criteria.” Kent smirked as he said those words. Since acting for Tritona, CBC had completed many deals way off CBC’s investment strategy. They did whatever Tritona wanted these days.

“Of course. Adderley Dickins is a London-based corporate finance boutique advisory firm. We only do a couple of deals a year as we have a very small team. Consequently, we’re very selective over which deals we take on. We only take on winners.”

Kent had heard all this before. Most advisors would take on any client if they were prepared to pay a fee. He’d make his own mind up if the deal was worth pursuing or not. “That’s comforting to hear. Tell me a little about the opportunity,” he said.

“We’re advising the management team of Europe’s largest independent insurance broking business. I’d prefer not to say the name without a confidentiality agreement in place, but I can tell you the business is very profitable and always has been.”

“Why do they need our money?”

“Unfortunately, their bank is one of the many that have run into trouble during the financial crisis and it’s reducing all non-committed lines of credit.”

“I recognize that story.”

“I’m sure you do. We’re seeing a lot of bad behavior by the banks at the moment. They’re running around like headless chickens. Unfortunately, my client has no committed term facilities—”

“Let me guess. The bank has pulled the overdraft facilities.”

“Got it in one. They need the overdraft to meet the usual seasonal peak. Bluntly, my client needs access to cash, and quickly, or else it will fail.”

This was exactly the sort of distressed deal Kent had set up CBC to do. Although he had recently been trying to find credible reasons to reject new investment opportunities, he knew he had to walk a fine line. His phone was bugged so he could hardly kill off a good one like this without arousing suspicion.

“How much do they need?”

“Two hundred million pounds within a month. The requirement is only for three months, though. After that, they’ll have cash on deposit again once the premium income starts to come in.”

“That sounds like a CBC deal. I’d like to hear more.”
Shit!

“That was our judgment, too. In the short time available, I hope you’ll understand we’ve not been able to prepare a formal fundraising document.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem.” Kent thought for a moment about using the absence of a business plan to kick the deal into the long grass, but many deals came in without one, so that wouldn’t be a credible reason. “We can learn what we need from a meeting with the management team.”

“Can I suggest we arrange for you to meet the team here, at our London offices, early next week?”

“Yes, that would work well for me. I’ll get my PA to arrange a date for me to come down. In the meantime, if there’s any background reading you can send me, I’d appreciate it by e-mail ahead of the meeting.”

“Of course. I’ll also send over a confidentiality agreement too. I look forward to meeting you.”

“’Bye for now.”

Kent asked Tara to make the meeting and travel arrangements. Rather than risk another Kirkland situation—having to deal with too many awkward questions—he decided he’d handle this deal personally. Besides, it would be nice to get out of the office for a while and find something distracting.

Chapter 37

T
HE
F
OLLOWING
T
UESDAY
, Kent caught the seven thirty a.m. London train from Peterborough. Parking the BMW in the station car park, reminded him of the frightening experience some weeks earlier. He hadn’t seen those men since, but he was convinced they were around somewhere. They’d made their point; they’d let him know he was being monitored.

He unfolded his
Financial Daily
and sat back in his first class seat to enjoy a quiet read. Rarely during the week did he have an opportunity to read the whole newspaper without interruption. Train journeys were an exception, and he even managed to get as far as the foreign news at the back of the paper. There was a long story about another earthquake in Japan and then an article on America’s war on drugs.
It’s all so bloody depressing
, he thought as the train reached King’s Cross.