Trader Jack -The Story of Jack Miner (The Story of Jack Miner Series) (42 page)

He didn't reply. Instead he picked up his glass and gulped down more whisky. The bottle was now empty. Hal went to a cupboard and took out another Jack Daniels. I snatched it from him, took hold of his arm, dragged him to the kitchen, put on the kettle and poured him a cup of coffee. I had to make him as sober as possible, get some sense out of him. Back in the living room he slumped in his chair and sipped his coffee.

'You screwed my wife. You were a boy. Sixteen! Imagine how I felt.'

'It happened only once. It was a chance meeting.'

'Quite a coincidence that you know about Jacqui.'

'It was the first time I had seen Maggie since Scotland. I swear it.'

'When I found out that you were the father, I decided to teach you a lesson. I couldn't find where you were. Then I read about your coffee trading. Trader Jack, the Teen Trader.
Daily Mail, Wall Street Journal.
A celebrity. Not for long! I would crush you.'

He then told me about his bizarre revenge.

'I joined Banque Discretione about the time you made money in the coffee market,' he said. 'Yevgeny Faramazov has a major stake in the Russian bank that owns Discretione.

'Faramazov is a major investor in the Russian hedge funds that lost billions in the coffee market. His company owns Horoshi Kofia, the Russian coffee manufacturer that also lost a lot of money.'

'Borodino and Veruschka? It's not my fault that the Russians sold short and lost. We were bullish on coffee so we bought. What's wrong with that?' I said.

'They weren't terribly pleased with you, Miner.'

'Why didn't they bump me off then?' I asked, trying to joke about the possibility, though the thought terrified me.

'They needed you.'

'Why?'

'I told them that you would be useful. That they should use you.'

'How?'

'Russian and foreign natural resource companies in oil, gas and mining are their main investments. Faramazov and his friends wanted to make the companies profitable and list them on international stock exchanges. Faramazov's hedge funds also had big bull positions in oil, gas and other commodities. But prices were depressed at the time. My plan was to push up those prices. If we could do so, it would be win for the resource companies, win for their hedge funds, win for Faramazov and win for Banque Discretione.'

'And win for you!' I muttered. 'What was the plan?'

'First spread the word to banks, analysts and others that major shortages were on the way. That demand from China, India and emerging nations would overwhelm production.'

'So where did I come in?' I asked.

'When prices were depressed few believed us. So the second phase of our strategy was to encourage international hedge funds and other big time punters to push up the prices of oil, natural gas, metals and other commodities. Make prices treble, even quadruple. Aquarium would lead the way.'

'Why Aquarium? There are much bigger funds. Why me?'

'You made a name for yourself in the coffee market,' said Humford, glaring at me. 'You also gave excellent presentations to pension funds and other investors, telling them that energy, other commodities and natural resource shares would boom. We passed the word around that Trader Jack, the coffee star, was buying oil and gas. That encouraged others to follow and prices took off.'

'You mentioned Aram. What about him?'

Hal's smile looked more like a sneer. I could tell that he thought I was naive.

'I had met Aram some time ago. So I approached him and encouraged him to be your partner, even though the two of you didn't get on. I promised that Discretione would put a lot of money in Aquarium on one condition. The fund had to keep buying to keep the momentum going, keep prices on an upward trend.'

'I thought that it was Cy Grobnick who persuaded you to invest.'

Hal sniggered: 'That Jew! No way. We made a deal with Aram.'

'I suppose you are anti Blacks and Muslims also,' I said with disgust.

He seemed to find that funny. Coffee dribbled on to his chin while he giggled stupidly.

The racist. Made me feel sick.

Wiping the bottom of his face with his hand, Humford continued: 'Poor Aram! At first he bought in good faith when I told him that energy prices were cheap and they were at the time.'

'Discretione put hundreds of millions into Aquarium. You were our biggest investor! Why?'

'Our clients were the investors. Not the bank. The more investor money you had, the more gas and oil you could buy.'

'Did you encourage Aram to borrow money as well?' I asked, biting my lip.

'Yes. I helped him get credit lines from American and French banks. This enabled Aquarium to buy even more commodities and securities.'

'What was your deal with Aram?'

'We made him financially secure. Aram had money problems when I first approached him.'

Hal staggered to the bathroom and I did some serious thinking. Whether I liked it or not, I was caught in a scam. A scheme that encouraged investors to climb aboard a hot-air balloon that would inevitably burst. Pension funds and other investors were going to get badly hurt. Companies would fail and workers would lose their jobs. Worse still, Humford had succeeded in tainting me. He had associated me with the Russian mafia.

Hal came out of the bathroom. He looked a bit better, now that he had washed his face. He went to the liquor cabinet, opened a bottle of red wine and filled two glasses. Several newspapers were in a magazine rack. He pulled out a
Wall Street Journal
and passed me a glass of wine.

'What was Faramazov's role in all this?'

'Faramazov headed the operation.'

I thought about the Russian mafia coffee deal with the Colombian cocaine barons.

'Is Faramazov involved in drugs?'

'I don't know anything about that side of the business,' said Hal.

I didn't believe him. The drug chain probably laundered money through Discretione.

'Pearl Fleecer. How did she figure?'

'You mean Petrovna Fleshnikov. She changed her name. She's an employee and former lover of Faramazov. He owns her public relations company. Useful. Your own private, apparently independent, spin doctor. Faramazov and her father Ivan Fleshnikov were former KGB officers. Their association goes back a long way.'

'Petrovna Fleshnikov! Talk about sleeping with the enemy,' I whispered to myself.

'Surely you now realise that Pearl didn't meet you by accident,' said Humford sneering. 'You're probably bitter, but the irony is that she saved you. Believe it or not, she was very fond of you. You're still alive because of her and me!'

I shuddered. Pearl - Petrovna Fleshnikov - the girl I once loved. A daughter of a KGB officer! It beggared belief. I downed my wine quickly and glanced at the
Wall Street Journal.
On the front page was the headline: 'Oil & natural gas slump - Manipulation fears.' The article was by Israel McTavish. I snatched the paper from Hal to see whether McTavish had written about me.

'The Commodity Futures Trading Commission and the UK Financial Services Authority are investigating unusual activity in the oil and natural gas markets. Jack Miner's Aquarium Fund and other hedge funds were big buyers, but Miner was unavailable for comment,' it said.

The article didn't mention any connection with the Russians. I sighed with relief.

'After Aquarium and other suckers bought, what was the next phase of your operation?' I asked.

'When prices rose to satisfactory levels, Faramazov listed his companies on the Russian and London stock exchanges. Their shares trebled within months. Faramazov and his friends made a lot of money. Our clients did well too. Soon there was such euphoria that prices rose way above our expectations. Naturally Faramazov's hedge funds began to take profits.'

'And Aquarium and other foolish managers were the buyers,' I said, becoming increasingly angry.

'Precisely! We had to sell our holdings to someone. Aram had an agreement with us. He had to keep on buying from us until we instructed him to stop. If he didn't obey . . .'

'Faramazov would put on the financial pressure and threaten him and his family,' I whispered.

Aram's complex deals began to make sense. Instead of taking profits, the scared sucker had bought. Prices began to fluctuate wildly while they were peaking. Our losses mounted, so he hid them away in the 'Aquarium Volatility Account'.

'I suppose Ivan Smeerneck was also on the payroll.'

'Yes. Smeerneck is an old friend of mine. Very useful. You met him through Pearl didn't you? Faramazov set that up. Pearl encouraged you to pass on Smeerneck's details to Aram so that he could be broker to Aquarium. Smeerneck helped us in two ways. First he built a relationship with Aram and helped us offload our positions. Second, you met Smeerneck and his senior dealer before Aram. This would convince a judge and jury that you were the instigator of the fraud.'

'Very thorough!' I hissed. 'One thing I can't understand. If you wanted Aquarium to keep on buying, why did Discretione withdraw hundreds of millions of dollars from the fund in November and December? Why didn't you get out gradually? Sell bit by bit?'

'Three reasons. If Discretione's investors had lost large amounts of money, we would lose them as clients. Second the Swiss National Bank would have held an enquiry. That would not have suited us. I had to get them out quickly.'

'And the third reason?'

'I decided that it was time to break you, Miner,' laughed Humford hysterically.

'We have to dump our oil, gas, gold, shares and bonds. Everything to repay $1 billion loans,' I said. If we sell in a weak market, prices will fall further and we'll be left with massive losses. We could owe billions!'

'You're on the road to financial hell, Miner. Ruined! They're going to lock you up and throw the key in a sewer!'

With some difficulty, I controlled my anger.

'You're also caught in the whirlpool, Humford. You've gone too far. Sure your Russian bosses made big money, but they are still committed to the raw materials market. What about their energy and mining companies? If prices crash, they could be in big trouble. Their shares and bonds will slump. Some of the companies might fail and lay off workers. The Russian government would then be involved.'

'You're right. I realised that before you came. I went too far. That's why I'm packing. Booked on a plane to South America. They wanted me to withdraw money in stages, but I decided to protect our clients and finish you.'

I looked at him closely. He had a wild look in his eyes and it wasn't the booze. It wasn't just because he had an irrational hatred for me. He had also lost Maggie and Jacqui. He was over the edge. To pull me down, Humford had deliberately screwed up his devious plan. After building Faramazov a model energy and resources castle, he had grabbed a sledgehammer and knocked it down.

'What about Aram?' I asked.

'He came here, just like you; complained that we had put him under unbearable pressure. Couldn't understand why Discretione had pulled money out of Aquarium. Why I reneged on my deal. He threatened to tell the authorities. I warned him that my bosses didn't play games.'

'And you? What about you?'

'Now he's gone and I'm next,' said Humford, pouring some more wine into his glass. 'I lost them money and I know too much.'

He had a look of despair and I began to feel nervous. How could I forget Yapolovitch of Moscow Narodsky, hanging from Charing Cross Bridge; Journalist Marcia Mirikover, pushed under a train; Aram and his mother, caught in a fire.

'Is your bank connected to Moscow Narodsky?' I asked.

'Moscow Narodsky merged with Faramazov's bank after Yapolovitch died. It became Narodsky Faramon and it owns Banque Discretione.'

At last all the pieces fitted together. We sat quietly for a minute or so.

'You had a good life. Why did you do this?' I asked.

'Because you're going down. You're finished, you bastard. You screwed my wife. Now that you know everything, you'll be watching your back for the rest of your life.'

During his 'confession' I was boiling inside and now I lost it. Shouting and swearing, I jumped up from my seat, grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him up. He was bigger than me, but I had done a lot of weight training. I shook him, put my arm around his neck in a wrestling lock until he was red in his face and was choking. I wanted to finish him off.

Then I thought of Jacqui and regained control of myself. I let go, slapped him and pushed him back into his chair. I must have hit his nose as blood started pouring out of it. I rushed to the bathroom pulled out some toilet paper and gave it to him. He mopped up the blood on his face, held his nose tight and tilted his head to stop bleeding.

'Why don't you do it?' he said in a rasping voice. 'Come on! Finish me off!'

'You're a nothing,' I growled. 'I'm not going down because of you. I'll fight back.'

Despite my tough talk I knew I was finished.

I had some blood on me, so I went to the bathroom to wash it off. I just kept washing and washing. The taps were on at full blast. Water was all over the place, over my clothes, the floor, everything. I calmed down and switched off the water and stood there for a few minutes, eyes closed, silent.

The dog barked suddenly and scratched the door of the bedroom. I opened the bathroom and saw a stranger in the living room. His hood was down and he was wearing a black tracksuit and black gloves. His forearm was locked around Humford's neck. He was dragging him towards the balcony. It was clear what he was going to do. He would push Hal over the railings; make it look like suicide.

'Stop!' I shouted, rushing over to them.

Jazz, who was still in the other room, was barking like crazy, but I didn't have time to let him out. I grabbed Hal's legs and pulled. The man was in a mask, but I could see his eyes. They glared at me. I recognised those eyes. How could I forget them? I had first seen them on Charing Cross Bridge. The nightmare bridge. I looked down at Hal. He was unconscious. In that instant the man loosened his grip and sprinted to the balcony. I rushed after him, but he was too swift for me. He balanced himself on the railings and then dived towards the tree. It was about ten to fifteen metres from the balcony. The yellow light of the streetlamp shone on him as he reached out and clung on to a branch. He let go and as he fell, clutched a lower branch, then another and finally landed softly on his feet. Then he sprinted into the darkness. The remarkable acrobatic skills were the same as that show in Edinburgh. At Faramazov's party. It was Krepolovitch. It could only be Krepolovitch.