THE TAINTED TRUST: A DOUGLASS CRIME AND ROMANCE THRILLER SERIES (THE KING TRILOGY Book 2) (29 page)

“It’s your imagination,” Kerri said, smiling and reaching for Visconti’s hand, urging him to walk.

Visconti tugged at Kerri’s hand until she stopped and turned to face him. “You can’t fool an old dog,” he said.

Kerri grinned. “You’re very perceptive… I was just thinking about a comment Jackie Crawford made this afternoon. It probably didn’t mean a thing.”

“About the divorce?”

“No. About you.”

Visconti’s brows furrowed and his lips tightened. “What did she say?”

“She didn’t think you could ever love a woman. She said your only true love is money.”

Visconti smiled, then laughed. “Obviously, she allowed the conversation to descend to the personal level.”

“Is she jealous?”

Visconti nodded. “I’m sorry. I should have been completely honest with you before I sent you into her den. Jackie’s a great gal, but she’s incredibly possessive.”

“She said your relationship with her is over. Is it?”

“I dated her a number of times this spring. As the relationship progressed, she began to expect more out of it than I did. A couple of weeks ago, she invited me to spend a weekend with her at her ski chalet in Aspen. When I told her I couldn’t go because of a business commitment, she tore into me with the vengeance of a scorned tigress.”

“Is that what ended it?”

Visconti nodded. “I couldn’t believe it. She behaved as though I had cheated on her, or somehow denied her inheritance… So, she invited someone else and that was the end of us.”

Relieved, Kerri kissed Visconti’s cheek. “Forgive me. Sorry I mentioned it.”

“I hope you understand, Kerri. It’s extremely important to me. With the exception of my first wife, I have never, ever asked a woman to live with me. You are the only one,” Visconti said, his eyes begging for approval.

“I do understand. Let’s walk.”

Visconti refused to move. “I can’t wait until the weekend. Let’s take the day off and move you into the apartment.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I can’t just rush out on Andrea and Miles. I’d feel as guilty as hell.”

Visconti nodded, accepting her excuse. “I’ve already waited a lifetime for you. I guess I can wait a few more days… What would you say if I invited you to run away to Europe with me and live in Monte Carlo?”

“You’re kidding!”

“I’m very serious.” Visconti’s somber expression and cold gray stare were clear indications of his sincerity.

“Why would you want to run away? You have everything right here.”

“Now that I have you, I have everything but the one thing I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember.”

“What’s that?”

“Freedom. I’ve never really experienced it. I’m trapped here. A slave to telephones, computers, the market, everything. I want to live the rest of my life in a place where everything is a choice, not a decision.”

“You’re really serious, aren’t you?”

“I’ve never been more serious about anything.”

“How would we live? Are you talking about retiring?”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about. I’m close to completing a deal that’s going to give me more money than I could spend in several lifetimes.”

Kerri was uncomfortable, off balance. Everything had moved too fast and was accelerating. “I don’t know what I would say,” she replied, desperately trying to think of what her answer would be if Visconti demanded one.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just want you to think about it.”

CHAPTER 73

Visconti received an urgent call from Zurich at nine the following morning. “Good news. I’ve found a man who’s perfect for our requirements,” Schnieder announced.

“Who?” Visconti asked.

“His name is Olaf Leutweiler. He’s the president of Weisscredit Bankhaus in Geneva. He has agreed to work with us and to provide Mike King with all the necessary assurances.”

“Wonderful. How much is he going to cost us?”

“Five million.”

“Ouch! Alfred, that’s a ton of money!”

“It is but you must understand that he is a crucial link in the procedure. What we are asking him to do involves great personal risk. It is a serious crime for bankers to behave in a fraudulent manner in this country.”

“Can we trust him?”

“Implicitly. He’s been a banker in Switzerland for most of his life, and a friend of mine for almost as long. Here, bankers learn quickly that their survival is proportional to their ability to keep secrets and to honor commitments. He has survived for a long time.”

“Okay, so we’ll give him his pound of flesh,” Visconti conceded.

“Has King contacted you?”

“No. Has he called you?”

“No, and it’s beginning to concern me. Why do you think he’s delaying? He sounded quite anxious when he called and asked me to help him dispose of the money. Perhaps I should call him and tell him how I propose to do it.”

“Good idea. While you’re at it, ask him if he’s called me and let me know how he responds.”

Schnieder called Mike at his Toronto office. “Good morning, Mike. It’s Alfred Schnieder. I called to inform you that I have developed a plan to achieve all of your objectives, cleanly. I presume you know what I mean. Would you like to hear it?”

“Sure.”

“We’ll work through a friend of mine. His name is Olaf Leutweiler. He’s the president of Weisscredit Bankhaus, a well respected bank in Geneva. He has assured me that the entire exercise can be completed with the utmost secrecy. It will never be necessary for him, or anyone else to know the source of the funds. He suggested that the confirmation can be done by means of a prearranged code into a designated answering machine… How do you like the plan?”

Mike gave no response, his mind far from the conversation.

“Are you still there?”

“Sorry. I was thinking… I like the plan. Thanks for letting me know.”

“When would you like to proceed?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll let you know.”

“Have you made Louis Visconti aware of your plan?”

“Not yet. I just haven’t had the time. I’ve been really busy with a number of other matters,” Mike said, reluctant to alarm or trust Schnieder with the knowledge of Phillip’s threat.

“I don’t mean to impose unwelcome pressure on you, Mike, but Olaf may not be available if we delay too long.”

“I understand what you’re saying, Alfred. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“I’ll await your call.”

Mike hung up, agonizing over the growing pressure of the vise into which Phillip had placed him. “Damn that kid!” he shouted, thumping his desk with his right fist.

Schnieder again called Visconti. “The good news is that King likes the plan. The bad news is that something is definitely causing him to delay.”

“Did he say what it is?” Visconti asked.

“No.”

“Can you speculate?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea.”

“Then call me the minute you hear from him.”

“I will, and would be grateful if you did the same.”

CHAPTER 74

Glen Cove. Friday, April 20. 7:00 P.M.

With tear-filled hugs and kisses Kerri thanked Miles and Andrea for their kindness and consideration during an extremely trying time of her life. After one last emotional wave, she climbed into the front seat of Visconti’s Mercedes, anxious to begin a new life with the man she loved, to share the joy of the intensely physical and passionate phase of a new relationship, to experience the endless fun-filled nights and yawn-filled days.

Dark threatening clouds were gathering beyond the horizon. History had lit the fuse.

In 1922, over three years after the First World War, the British convened a conference in Uquair, a Persian Gulf port. They intended to establish permanent boundaries for Saudi Arabia, Kuwait and Iraq. Significantly, Kuwait was not represented at the conference. Kuwait’s boundary with Iraq was moved northward to correspond with a line drawn in 1913 by the Turks and the British. In addition, Iraq was left with a narrow twenty-six mile entrance to the Persian gulf through the shallow Shatt al-Arab waterway. By contrast, Kuwait was given five times as much shoreline, including the enormous natural harbor at Kuwait City, and Bubiyan and Warba Islands, which dominated the approach to Umm Qasr, Iraq’s only port. By establishing the new boundaries, the British succeeded in protecting their strategic interests, but had simultaneously planted the seeds of jealousy and hatred. Those seeds, fertilized by a desperate need for money, would bear fruit in the form of Iraq’s wrath in 1990, sixty-eight years later.

Iraq’s need for money had grown to a critical stage. Crude oil prices were falling and world demand for the precious liquid was declining. Saddam Hussein, Iraq’s angry president, claimed the decline was the result of a U.S. induced recession. In desperation, he sent his deputy prime minister, Saadum Hammadi to each of the Persian Gulf states to press them to cut production. Saddam Hussein understood that the only way to increase prices was to curb production. When Hammadi visited Kuwait he also demanded $27 billion as compensation for oil allegedly stolen by the Kuwaitis from the Rumaila oil field, considered an Iraqi possession.

In rejecting the Iraqi claim, the Kuwaitis gave Saddam the excuse he needed to set forces in motion which could only be stopped by extraordinary means. The forces would trigger a chain reaction of events which would dramatically change many lives, including those of Louis Visconti and others close to him.

The arrival of July, 1990, coincided with the invasion of an intense steamy heat wave in the New York area. As temperatures climbed, so too did the price of crude oil. At an O.P.E.C. planning session in Jidda, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait finally agreed to abide by its production quota. News of the agreement sent the spot price of crude oil up two dollars a barrel.

July 16, 1990.

Tariq Aziz, Iraq’s foreign minister, wrote to the Arab League accusing Kuwait of overproduction and of stealing oil from the Rumaila oil field. A speech delivered by Saddam Hussein contained a thinly veiled threat of military action if the Kuwaitis continued. The wording alarmed the western world. Unable to decide on an appropriate response to Iraq’s threat, the Kuwaiti cabinet made a colossal miscalculation by assuming Saddam was bluffing in an effort to extort money.

July 21, 1990.

The American C.I.A. reported the first Iraqi troop movements near the Kuwait northern border. In an effort to mediate the dispute between Iraq and Kuwait, Egyptian president Hosni Mubarak, King Hussein of Jordan and King Fahd of Saudi Arabia sought and got assurances from Saddam that Iraq would not invade so long as negotiations continued. Not completely appeased by the assurances, investors bid the price of oil up to almost twenty dollars a barrel.

Disturbed and shaken by the unexpected reversal of oil prices, Visconti called Assif Raza at his New York home and quickly dispensed with the pleasantries. “Sorry to bother you, Assif. I need to talk to you about crude oil. Do you mind sparing me a few minutes?” he asked, fidgeting nervously in anticipation of bad news.

“I can give you all the time you need, Louis. Oil is a subject very near and dear to my heart.”

“I get a little nervous when I see the price move up four bucks in one week. I can handle movements of a buck or two, but this is beyond my pain threshold. Is this a trend or just an expensive hiccup?”

“I would suggest you relax, Louis,” Raza replied. “Even if Kuwait sticks to its production quota, the world will still be swimming in oil. Furthermore, to the extent Kuwait reduces production, Iraq will increase its output to replace it. You must understand that Saddam Hussein is desperate for money. He’ll do anything to get it.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. What the hell is Saddam doing with his troops on the Kuwaiti border?”

Raza chuckled. “He’s a good poker player. He’s bluffing. Military action against Kuwait would be lunacy. He knows the United States will protect its interests in the area. They would deal with Iraqi forces like cannon fodder.”

“Should I stay short?”

“Most definitely. In fact, you might want to take this opportunity to increase your position.”

“Not possible. The FTC is watching me like a hawk. I’m classified as a large trader.”

“Then stay where you are and relax. When everyone’s finished posturing and all of the hands have been played, you’ll be a very wealthy man.”

Visconti gazed skyward and breathed a large sigh of relief. “Thanks, Assif. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your advice.”

“You’re very welcome, Louis. Please call if there’s anything else I can do for you.”

July 31, 1990, 10:30 A.M.

Miles Dennis’s eyes were riveted to the moving electronic tape on the wall outside his office. He read the shocking news with heightened anxiety. “U.S. intelligence sources report a continuing buildup of Iraqi troops on Kuwait’s northern border… King Hussein of Jordan visited Sheik Jabir al-Ahmed al-Sabah, the Emir of Kuwait, to warn him that the meeting of the Arab League, scheduled for tomorrow in Jidda, will be critical.” He called Andrew Tarquanian, Iacardi’s senior oil and gas research analyst.