THE TAINTED TRUST: A DOUGLASS CRIME AND ROMANCE THRILLER SERIES (THE KING TRILOGY Book 2) (36 page)

“Good. In addition to being very happy for both of you, I applaud your decision. Under the circumstances, it makes infinite sense.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you agree.”

“Be warned. The delicate balance of this equation will eventually be lost.”

“You have a way with words, counselor,” Mike said. “So will my sanity.”

CHAPTER 86

September 2, 1990.

O.P.E.C. announced that it had resolved to lift production quotas, thereby restoring normal supplies of crude oil to world markets. The resolution succeeded in allaying the fears of investors only temporarily.

After an encouraging start, September, 1990 evolved into a terrible ratchet wheel. As the wheel turned, the world’s fears and concerns intensified. It became increasingly apparent that Saddam was preparing to invade Saudi Arabia as Iraq’s forces and armaments consolidated their positions along the border between Kuwait and Saudi Arabia. It was clear that whatever the outcome of the invasion, the Iraqis would, as a minimum, succeed in knocking out a very significant portion of Saudi oil production. Investors feared the loss of that production could not be replaced by increased production elsewhere in the world and oil prices would skyrocket. Compounding investors concerns were the logistical problems facing the United States and its allies. No matter how quickly they moved to defend Saudi Arabia, it would not be soon enough to stop the Iraqis.

Now desperate, Louis Visconti faced another catastrophic loss with his September crude position, now in the spot month. Like so many investors caught in a loss position, his pride would not allow him to give up. He was in denial and in far too deep. In spite of pleadings from both Kerri and Miles Dennis, he refused to liquidate. Pressure on him mounted as Mike King continued to delay release of the funds in the trust. By the end of the second week of that pressure-filled month, Visconti had begun to receive daily telephone calls from his coconspirators, Phillip and Alfred Schnieder, both anxious to know if Mike had authorized the release the funds.

Kerri found it almost impossible to live with Visconti while simultaneously maintaining the facade of a woman in love. As difficult as it was however, her determination to help her father gave her continued strength. Visconti’s betrayal of both Phillip and her father had focused her resolve. It had crystallized it into a personal vendetta.

Strain had also taken its toll on Mike, however he had no choice but to continue into the void of uncertainty. While he worried about the safety of both Kerri and Phillip, he knew his continued inaction would build pressure on both Visconti and Phillip. It was only a matter of time before one of them reached the breaking point. Like vultures, the Feds were waiting and watching on the sidelines, ready to pounce on the first person who blinked. When it finally happened, Mike prayed he could contain or escape the fallout before it engulfed him.

September 13.

Reports abounded in all forms of the media that an Iraqi invasion of Saudi Arabia was imminent. Investment experts, oil industry analysts and politicians were now making public speculations about the price of oil. They predicted it would reach extraordinary heights, with dire consequences for the world economy. For days, Visconti had digested one after another of the negative developments. Now approaching the breaking point, he called Assif Raza in a desperate attempt to find consolation. To his shock and horror, Raza again advised him to flee the market. His pain threshold had finally been breached. Bitter and confused, he capitulated, his hands shaking, beads of nervous sweat bathing his forehead. “Get me out!” he demanded of Miles Dennis.

“I can’t believe it,” Dennis quipped. “The great Louis Visconti is finally waving the white flag. You know you’re going to take a big hit.”

“I don’t give a shit! Just do it!” Visconti shouted, then slammed the receiver into its cradle.

Dennis called Visconti forty-five minutes later. “Louis, we got you out. That’s the good news. The bad news was the price.”

“What was it?”

“Thirty, sixty-five.”

“What’s the margin call?”

“You sitting down?”

“Never mind the crap! Just tell me what it is.”

“Twenty-two million, five hundred and thirty-five thousand.”

“Thanks for nothing,” Visconti spat. Defeated and emotionally drained, he replaced the receiver, then lowered his face to his hands, condemned to contemplate his grim future in the investment business. After an ill-conceived and protracted experiment with crude oil futures, he had succeeded in losing over two hundred and thirty-six million dollars. His stewardship of the King’s trust had been a failure of legendary proportions. After almost exactly ten years on the job, the Crown Prince of Wall Street had succeeded in reducing its value from three hundred and twenty-five million to one hundred and sixty-six million.

If news of his incredibly dismal performance ever became public knowledge, his future as a manager of other peoples’ money would be limited, at best. Even if the failure was never made public, his will to continue was gone, his confidence shot. He was finished. Under no circumstances could he risk facing public humiliation. He had to run away as far and as fast as he could. He wiped his face with his hands, lifted the receiver and dialed Kerri’s office number. “Hi. It’s me,” he said, his voice cracking and sullen.

“How are you?” she asked, trying to sound excited, aware he had just liquidated his crude position and was unlikely to be in a good mood.

“I miss you… Can I take you to lunch? Anywhere you want. We need to talk.”

“Sounds ominous… Is it?”

“Worst day of my investing life. I’m done, Kerri. I have to get away from this bull-shit life. I just want us to disappear. I want to go so far that no one will ever find us. I want to do it soon, real soon.”

Kerri had received an extremely important signal. She was going to have to move fast and think very clearly. “How soon?” she asked.

“Let’s talk about it at lunch.”

“Louis, I’ve got to go. I’ve got two calls waiting. What time?” she asked, anxious to call her father, fast.

“I’ll pick you up at your office at twelve-thirty.”

“Good. See you then.” She hung up using her index finger, then dialed the number for Reserve Oil. She had to wait for Mick to return her call from his car.

“Before you tell me why you called, I want to tell you I love you and I miss you,” Mike said.

“I love you and miss you too,” Kerri said, thrilled to hear her father’s voice again. “It’s finally happening, dad. Things are starting to move. Louis liquidated his crude oil position this morning.”

“Give me the bad news.”

“He lost another hundred and thirty-six million. There’s more… He wants me to run away with him as soon as possible.”

“How soon? Did he say?”

“No, but he’s taking me to lunch today. He told me he wants to talk about it.”

Mike gave no response.

“Did you hear me? Dad, are you still there?”

“I can’t let him go. I’ve got to stop him. I’m going to call Dan Turner and tell him what you’ve just told me. I’ll call you back as soon as I’ve talked to him.”

“We’re going to lunch at twelve-thirty. If I’m not here, just leave a message. I’ll call you when I get back.”

Mike called Dan Turner and told him of Kerri’s news.

Turner took little time to make a decision. “In spite of the risks involved, I think we’re going to have to move. I think you should call Visconti. Tell him you’ve decided to go ahead with the transfer of funds, but that your Toronto lawyer has insisted on doing the transfer… Do you know of a place where we can park the money? We’ve got to get it out of Visconti’s hands as soon as possible.”

“Yes, my daughter works for a company by the name of Iacardi & Sons, in New York. I’m sure we can put it there.”

“How much does she know?”

“Everything.”

“Good. She has to understand how crucial her cooperation is. Visconti can’t know where the money went. I’ll need her telephone number. I’m going to have to communicate directly with her.”

Mike gave Kerri’s business number to Turner.

“For your edification, Mike, I’m stepping way over the line to do this for you. I wouldn’t do it if I wasn’t so wrapped up in this whole unbelievable mess and if I didn’t feel so personally involved.”

“I appreciate that, more than you’ll ever know, Dan.”

“To remove our finger prints, I’m going to arrange to have it done through an unaffiliated law firm in New York. If anyone asks you who moved the money, you can truthfully tell them you don’t know. Kerri will know, however, and I’m going to ask her not to tell you. Please don’t ask her.”

CHAPTER 87

New York. Thursday, September 13.

It was hot for mid September, uncomfortable in the sun for even short exposures.

Visconti took Kerri to lunch at Heinrich’s, a tiny restaurant specializing in Bavarian foods and offering pleasant outdoor dining facilities, just off Broadway. They found a table for two, fortunately under a large green umbrella. Both ordered bratwurst on the bun with Bavarian beer. Visconti placed his hands behind his head and leaned backward. He smiled as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nostrils. “This is the way I want us to live the rest of our lives. No more big deals. Just you and me and Europe.” He leaned forward, his eyes glazed as he stared into Kerri’s, pain and stress obvious. “The thrill of the chase is gone. I’m burned out. I haven’t got what it takes any more.”

Even though Kerri felt little pity for Visconti, she now knew the enormous losses he had sustained had affected him deeply. “I’m sorry to hear that. How serious are you about getting out?”

“Very. I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”

“I hope it’s not because you got a bloody nose in crude oil.”

“So you know,” he said, his face flushing to crimson.

“Of course I know. I was in Miles’s office when he got you out.”

“It’s not just that,” Visconti admitted, his eyes twitching. “Burnout isn’t the result of one single event. It’s a cumulative thing. It’s voracious. It eats away at your confidence, and when that’s gone, you’re finished as an investor.”

“When do you intend to go?”

“Tomorrow.”

Kerri’s internal alarm exploded. Tomorrow was too soon. She had to delay. She knew her father needed more time. “Tomorrow! What am I going to tell Miles?”

“Just tell him we’re going to Europe on a short vacation. I’ll tell my partners the same thing. That’ll be it. We’ll be gone.”

“What are we going to live on? I don’t think we can collect unemployment insurance in Europe.”

“We won’t have to work another day of our lives. That deal I told you I was working on is about to pay off, big time.”

There was now no doubt in Kerri’s mind. Visconti intended to scoop the money in the trust and escape to Europe with it. “But what if it doesn’t?” she asked.

“Don’t worry. It will,” Visconti promised.

“How soon?”

Visconti shrugged his shoulders and fidgeted nervously with his fork. “Today or tomorrow.”

“Then let me know when your ship comes in. We’ll talk then.”

“What’s the matter? Is it something I said? Are you angry?”

Kerri glared at Visconti with all of the acting skills she could muster. “I can’t just pack up and leave. I don’t think you understand a damn thing about me, Louis Visconti. Not too long ago, another man lured me all the way to New York with the same kind of promises. I don’t think I have to remind you of how many he kept.”

“Is it money? Is that what you want?”

“You still don’t understand. I don’t want money. I want certainty. I want to know I’m not going to be left alone and out of work in some foreign country when you get tired of me.”

“Then I’ll give you an agreement. I’ll sign anything you want. I’ll give you fifty percent of everything I own, without conditions. If I die, you can have it all. I love you, Kerri. I’ll do anything to prove it to you.”

Kerri believed Visconti only so far, but not nearly far enough to let her guard down. Maybe he really did love her, but his love of money ruled him. If he was prepared to kill Phillip for money, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her to release himself from obligations contained in an agreement. She stood and forced a smile. “I have to get back to work, Louis. I’ve got a million things to do this afternoon.”

“Kerri, please give me an answer,” he pleaded. “If I give you an agreement, will you come to Europe with me?”

“You’re asking me to take a big step, Louis. I need time. You’ve had a lifetime to think about it.”

Again Visconti gave Kerri a cold gray stare. “Don’t take long. I have to get out. I’m done.”

Visconti’s warning sounded more like an ultimatum. It forced her to make a decision. She smiled and reached for his hand. “Get Jackie Crawford to prepare the agreement this afternoon. Now can we get going?”

Within minutes of Visconti’s return to his office, he placed orders to sell all of the stocks and bonds in the King’s trust. He used the entire cash balance to purchase, for the benefit of the trust, one hundred percent of the shares of Forta Equitas, S.A., a shell company solely owned by Visconti. The proceeds from the sale were placed in his numbered account in the Banco Privata Svissera, in Geneva. He telephoned Jackie Crawford.