Keys to the Kingdom (5 page)

‘I have no idea,’ Gallagher said. ‘But I’m sure you do. I do know that if we’re successful, there’s every chance that the price of oil will go through the ceiling. In 1973, the oil crisis managed to increase the oil price by a factor of five. Anybody holding significant oil stocks is going to make a killing in the market. So I presume that you’re going to gain on both ends.’

Nielsen tapped some keys and then swivelled in Gallagher’s direction. The iMac’s screen was covered in figures and two charts were superimposed on each corner of the screen.

‘The patient is very ill indeed. One might say that the patient is terminally ill and that it is only a matter of time before the whole edifice collapses. Your project is timely. I have been watching the financial situation of the Kingdom closely for some time now.’

‘What will you do?’ Gallagher asked.

‘I’m going to start buying and selling Riyals using various front companies. Banks all over the world will begin buying and selling Riyals gradually driving the price down.’

‘Two questions,’ Gallagher said. ‘How much can you drive it down and how long will it take?’

‘The answer depends on how much the Saudis and their American friends want to defend the currency. The Saudi Riyal is a non-convertible currency so it’s open to attack. Given the very precarious situation of the economy, the currency could hit the cellar. Maybe a fifty to seventy percent drop could be accomplished within a month. A larger drop will inevitably take longer.’

‘When can you begin?’

‘I already have begun. Once I have the economic data to hand I can begin the process of buying and selling. Over the next few weeks I’ll continue to put the pressure on. If there are external events accompanying my efforts,’ Nielsen stared at Gallagher. ‘Then it could all go very quickly. When my friends in the financial markets realise that something is happening to the Riyal they will immediately join in the feeding frenzy like the sharks that they are. There is no more predatory beast than the currency speculator. Once they join in, the end will be very close indeed.’

Gallagher could imagine the chaos the currency devaluation would cause in the streets of Riyadh, Jeddah and Taif. The lower and middle class who essentially formed the Riyal economy would be wiped out. Savings would disappear overnight and inflation would soar. The mosques would ring with denunciations of the government and the Ruling Family.

‘That fits perfectly with my timing,’ Gallagher said. ‘I assume this means that we have a deal.’

Nielsen picked up the bank draft from the desk. ‘We certainly do.’ He extended the draft towards Gallagher. ‘I don’t need this.’

‘Neither do I.’ Gallagher stared into Nielsen’s eyes. ‘I paid five million dollars to have access to you for one hour and I got what I paid for. I’m a man who pays his debts, Mr Nielsen. I’m sure you understand.’

Nielsen could feel the menace in the words.

‘The threat is unnecessary I assure you. Your proposition is going to make me a lot of money and that’s the only incentive I need to put the plan into action. So let’s dispense with the heavy handed approach and simply say that we’re partners in a venture. And partners should be able to trust each other without threats. The question on my mind is whether you can carry out your part of the bargain.’

‘Count on it,’ Gallagher said.

‘I’m going to do a lot more than that, Mr Ryan,’ Nielsen flicked the computer screen back in his direction. ‘I’m going to invest quite a lot of money without any guarantees. That’s not good business practice. But you look like a man who can make good on his promises. However, I don’t suppose that there’s any way I can contact you if things go wrong.’

‘If things go wrong for me I certainly won’t be contactable.’

Nielsen felt a thrill of excitement. He liked dealing with individuals who were willing to risk their lives. Dealing with the Russian Mafia had been exciting but it had also been dangerous. Ryan was another matter. This was going to be the most fun Nielsen had in years.

‘So this will be our one and only meeting?’

‘That should be your fervent wish,’ Gallagher said rising. ‘This operation has been compartmentalised. I will deal with my part and you will deal with yours. There are others who have individual tasks but they know nothing of the overall strategy. That way if one part fails or becomes known to the authorities then no harm can come to the others. I am the only person who holds all the threads in my hand.’

‘A Danish schnapps before you go, Mr Ryan,’ Nielsen rose awkwardly from the chair. ‘To cement our relationship.’

‘Thanks but no thanks. I’ve got other business and what I definitely don’t need right now is to have a drunk driving problem in Switzerland.’

The two men moved towards the door.

‘Keep your eye on the financial markets over the next few weeks,’ Nielsen said falling in beside Gallagher. His heart was pounding. When he had received the banker’s draft he had contemplated sending it back. What a mistake that would have been. There was something about Ryan that he couldn’t put his finger on. It was charisma or leadership, call it what you would but he had the feeling that Ryan could lead men to hell and back and that they would enjoy the experience.

‘I appreciate your involvement,’ Gallagher said standing beside the driver’s door of the Audi. ‘I wasn’t sure that you would buy into my scheme.’

Nielsen extended his hand. ‘Have no worry, Mr Ryan, whenever there is a large amount of money to be made by manipulating the markets then you can be assured that I will play.’ This time, like Russia, he would be ahead of Soros. By the time he had finished with the Riyal it would be clear who was the real master of the markets.

Gallagher took the extended hand and shook it firmly. He climbed into the front seat of the Audi and started the engine. As he moved off down the driveway towards the iron gates he looked in the mirror and saw Nielsen’s bent form still standing where the Audi had stood. He smiled as he thought that data banks of the world’s intelligence agencies were full of details of people like himself who were responsible for local or global murder and mayhem. But even the most horrific terrorist act touched far fewer lives than the manipulations of Nielsen and his friends on the financial markets. The financial crisis of 2007 had proved that point.

Nielsen watched the Audi disappear down the driveway before turning back towards the chalet. He would spend the next few hours in his study giving orders to undermine the Saudi currency and at the same time give him a strong long position in the oil futures market. He felt exhilarated at the possibilities of making a fortune on both ends of the deal. The crash of the Riyal would provide one fortune and the chaos in the oil market another. He felt in his pocket and found Ryan’s bank draft. He wondered whether he should frame it or cash it. He decided he would cash it.

CHAPTER 7

Houston, Texas

Frank Terman had ditched his habitual flower shirt and was dressed in an ill-fitting dark blue suit and an open neck white cotton shirt. It wasn’t every day that he was called upon to strong arm a Congressman and he decided that he should at least look the part. He was sitting at the corner table at the Remington Restaurant at the St. Regis Hotel in downtown Houston when Congressman Rick Bradley entered the room. Terman had spent some time examining Bradley’s picture but the photo hadn’t quite caught the arrogance that the man exuded in person. He hadn’t been looking forward to leaning on the Congressman but the haughty posture of the man had changed his mind.  He watched while the maître d’ pointed him out to the Congressman. The look on Bradley’s face indicated that he wasn’t impressed. Terman smiled. He was the son of an Armenian father and an Iranian mother and had what he liked to think were swarthy good looks. Many folks thought that there was more than a hint of tar in his background.

Congressman Bradley hesitated before walking slowly towards the corner table. Terman ignored him and moved his gaze slowly around the large red walled room. He was looking for someone like himself who appeared out of place in the exalted dining room at the St. Regis. The twenty or so diners in the room all looked like they fitted right in. Terman turned his gaze to Bradley whose approach was punctuated with short stops at tables where he was obliged to press the flesh of Houston’s patricians.

‘Mister Terman?’ the accent was unmistakably Texan.

Terman looked up and saw that the Congressman had reached his table. ‘Take a seat, Congressman.’

Bradley hesitated again before taking the seat directly across from his host.  A waiter appeared at their table almost immediately.

‘Bourbon and branch,’ Bradley said without taking his eyes off Terman.

‘Two,’ Terman said simply.

Neither man spoke until the waiter was outside listening distance.

‘I’m confused,’ Bradley began. ‘I received a letter from Jake Linkletter some months ago indicating that it would be in my interest that I should meet a Mr Terman should he request such a meeting.  Since Jake is no longer with us, I assumed the letter was null and void.’

‘You could say that in me Jake Linkletter is speaking to you from the grave,’ Terman said.

Bradley shifted uneasily in his seat. ‘I have a great deal of respect for Mr Linkletter. He gave me significant financial support during my campaigns. May I see your authority to speak on Jake’s behalf?’

Terman let his right hand fall to the side of his chair and lifted a small document case before placing it on the table.

The waiter returned and placed a glass of Bourbon and branch water in front of each man. ‘Would you gentlemen care to order now?’ he asked.

‘Later,’ Congressman Bradley said without looking at the waiter. ‘You were saying,’ he added when the waiter had departed.

Terman flicked open the document case and opened the flap displaying a series of papers inside. ‘Mr Linkletter had a favour to ask of you,’ he said. ‘But unfortunately he didn’t have time to follow through. He was afraid that his death might remove any obligation you might have felt towards him. He entrusted certain documents to me in order to ensure that you would positively respond to what he wanted from you.’

Bradley looked at the man across the table from him. He had no doubt that he was some sort of thug. But he had been mentioned in Jake’s letter so there must have been a modicum of truth in what he was saying. ‘Every donation to my campaign has been properly registered so I’m at a loss to understand how Jake intended to ensure that I would comply with the request of a dead man,’ Bradley picked up his glass and sipped.

Terman smiled exposing a pair of gold teeth. He pushed the document case towards Bradley before picking up his drink and draining it in one gulp.

Bradley looked at the small leather case before him but did not touch it. He had no fear of cancelled checks or whatever other papers Jake had preserved.

‘Check it out,’ Terman said. ‘But do so discretely,’ he added quickly. ‘The guys whose hands you were shaking on your way over here may be in a hurry to the washroom to wash their hands if they get sight of the photographs of you screwing a thirteen year old girl.’

Bradley looked around quickly. Then the corner of his mouth twitched.

‘Oh, yes,’ Terman said. ‘Don’t bother to deny it. Mr Linkletter kept a file on you. Lots of lovely pictures and one video.’

Bradley was now sweating profusely. He closed the document case and pulled it towards him.

‘They’re copies,’ Terman said. ‘I’ve got the originals.’

‘If I do the favour, what happens?’ Bradley asked.

‘You get the originals back. That’s Mr Linkletter’s promise.’ But not mine, Terman thought.

‘What’s the favour,’ Bradley asked.

‘The Saudis owe the American people a lot of money. We’re running a major deficit so some ambitious Congressman could make a name for himself if he started insisting that the Saudis pay us back what they owe,’ Terman said. ‘Mr Linkletter wanted you to be that Congressman. You’re going to be an all American hero.’

Bradley mopped his face. ‘There are only two countries that are off limits to complaints from Congress, Israel and Saudi Arabia. I’ll be a pariah if I go after Saudi.’

The waiter made a move towards their table but Terman stopped him with a look that said ‘piss off’. ‘So that’s worse than losing your job and spending two to twenty years in jail. I don’t think that you’d like it there. And don’t forget a lot of Americans would consider you to be a patriot.’

Bradley drained his Bourbon. ‘It doesn’t look like I have much of a choice.’

Terman smiled. ‘Mr Linkletter would be very grateful to you.’

‘When do I have to launch this project?’ Bradley asked.

‘To-morrow, and we expect you to call in every favour you have on the Hill,’ Terman said waving at the waiter who approached the table cautiously. ‘The Congressman and myself have decided against eating.’ He tossed a hundred dollar bill on the table. ‘For the drinks and a tip.’

The waiter scooped the bill and beat a retreat.

‘The Saudis are going to crunch my nuts when I go after them,’ Bradley said picking up the document case.

‘Do your job and you’ll get out of this with a smile on your face,’ Terman said standing up.

‘When do I get the originals?’ Bradley asked.

‘I’ll be in touch,’ Terman said and headed for the door. He was ravenous. He needed to find some place where he could have a steak and a beer and mix with people like himself. Putting a Congressman in your pocket sure can give you an appetite, he thought.

Terman failed to notice that the male member of the quiet couple sitting across the room had been taking photographs of both him and his companion. The photos were already winging their way to Langley. The couple continued with their meal, it was a rare thing indeed for the Company to pay for a meal at such a prestigious hotel. Another tag team would pick up Terman as he exited the St. Regis.