Blood Money (31 page)

It's five o'clock on a beautifully warm cloud-free morning in Monaco.

Wearing an immaculately tailored suit and hand-made Italian leather shoes, Eddie Slater walks alongside the Fontvieille harbour where Alexis's new super-yacht will soon be moored. If it wasn't for his shaven head, his broken nose and a jaw-line like a busted breezeblock the smartly dressed psychopath might even appear to be a gentleman.

Turning the corner of Quai Jean-Charles Rey, the bodyguard approaches one of the many sandy coloured ‘neo-provençal style' residential blocks that occupy so much of the available land-space. Smoking as usual, he stops outside the entrance where up on the 5th floor, his VIP boss owns a sea-view apartment. Perched high above on the cliff that overhangs the harbour, the Palace of Monaco looks down upon the beautiful azure waters and the multitude of luxury yachts.

Monday mornings always follow the same well-drilled routine and with perfect timing, Alexis makes his appearance moments later. The pair then walk, side by side, for 300m along the sea-defence wall to the Heliport. Within minutes they are in the sky, fast-tracking toward the flight-prepared Cessna Citation waiting at Nice airport.

*

At 6am, timed to coincide with Alexis and Eddie being in the sky over France, synchronised dawn-raids commence on the homes of the four senior portfolio managers.

Eight-person strong collaborative deployments of investigators from the Serious Organised Crime Agency (SOCA) and the Financial Services Authority swoop on the exclusive addresses spread across the commuter-belts of Oxfordshire, Kent and Surrey. At each house the family's morning routines are rudely interrupted by a loud knock on the door. When opened, a uniformed policeman is standing on the doorstep to show the householder a signed search warrant. As officers enter each of the four homes, children cry in bewilderment and trophy wives scream-out for their horrified husbands to
‘Do something!'

Troops of officers begin carrying away armfuls of computers and paperwork from each family home. The four men: David Pritchard, Mark Harvey, Oliver Robertson and Ben Willington can only stand open-mouthed in disbelief. They never thought this day would come. Protesting their innocence, they try to maintain some semblance of dignity as they're removed from their executive homes in marked police-cars that have been conspicuously waiting in the background since the foray began.

Awoken neighbours pull back curtains to catch glimpses of the shameful scenes being played-out on next door's gravelled drive. Faces fill with disdain as their over-active imaginations jump from one conclusion to the next as to why the ‘man next door' has just been taken away by the police.

Laptops, smart phones, i-pads, memory sticks, games consoles, hard-drives, CD's and DVD's are all seized. Anything with the facility for the storage of electronic data is ‘bagged and tagged' before being loaded into a waiting transit van for later examination.

*

At the same time, a synchronised operation is in progress (though rather more discretely) at the highly exclusive ‘Mayfair Astoria' in Stratton Street, in which Alexis's presidential penthouse suite occupies half of the top floor. A smartly suited plain-clothes officer approaches the attendant receptionist. Quietly and calmly he asks to see the duty manager and with a guarded show of his warrant card he leans over the desk, adding in hushed tones “It concerns a
private
matter.”

Once the duty manager has fully understood the situation, he asks for a show of sensitivity and discretion before allowing the uniformed officers waiting in a white van at the end of the street to use the rear delivery entrance and the service elevators at the back of the building. Once they've been given entry, they begin to search Alexis's suite for evidence. The SOCA/FSA team quietly and professionally sweep the penthouse for paperwork, electronic devices and digital storage media. All such items are catalogued and removed. The search is so thorough that one of the officers even finds five little plastic zip-lock bags hidden in a water cistern in one of the en-suite bathrooms. Each looks to contain something like a gram of fine white powder. After firstly taking photographs of them in-situ, the officer in charge declares that he suspects them to contain Class A drugs and he has them removed as evidence.

*

In Hill Street, Mayfair, just around the corner from Alexis's residence, another team begins a raid on Eddie Slater's rented apartment. The officers get one of the tenants to let them in through the communal entrance and from there they go straight to up to the top of the grand staircase to begin drilling-out the bodyguard's door lock.

Inside, a pervasive stale smell emanates from the overflowing ash-trays. The deployment is surprised to find so few possessions as they move from room to room. There's a flatscreen TV, a few basic pieces of furniture and the only electronic items worth removing are a games console along with a selection of highly violent video-games.

The larder is sparsely stocked and the kitchen cupboards and drawers are practically empty except for a few utensils and a couple of plates and bowls. In the bedroom, there's a mattress on the floor, apart from that, the space is filled with a vast array of fitness equipment. There are no books, no DVD's, no computers, no ornaments, no pictures or decorations and no house plants either. The only ‘furnishings' that exist are the curtains, and they undoubtedly came with the flat when it was let-out. The team have been briefed to look for fire-arms and knives, but despite their best efforts, no weapons of any description are found.

*

At 5:58am Lombard Street is all quiet and peaceful.

Sixty seconds later, three transit vans and three mini-buses arrive in convoy, stopping just outside the Kronos Headquarters. Made-up of 15 officers from SOCA, 15 from City of London Police and 20 FSA employees, this is the biggest of all the raids being simultaneously deployed this morning. The SOCA officer in charge alights from the lead mini-bus and walks up to the front door. Impatiently, he buzzes for attention via the small intercom panel. After a brief exchange of words, the nightshift security guard decides it's best interest to cooperate and he proceeds to open-up the front door. A thorough examination of the search warrant confirms it to be bona fide, so he can only stand aside and contacts his line manager to explain the situation.

The lead officer signals for his team to enter the building without delay. Obeying his instructions the search team begin exiting their vehicles and start pouring into 60 Lombard Street.

Safe in the knowledge that there are no employees on the premises to obstruct them, they take inside dozens of empty crates, stacked on tri-wheeled trucks, and begin systematically setting about their allotted tasks.

*

The Cessna Citation descends smoothly on its approach over the Thames estuary; in the final stages the pilot flares the aircraft to ensure its touch-down is as gentle as possible. It takes just a few minutes for him to taxi over to the south-west corner of the airfield and on reaching the Jet Centre ramp he's directed to an available parking location by the attendant ground staff.

Just before 7am (and bang on time) Eddie opens the cabin door and descends down the steps onto the asphalt. As normal, he proceeds over to arrivals, but as the bodyguard waits at the immigration control booth, instead of having his passport handed straight back to him the officer retains it and then looks nervously across at two nearby security guards. As soon as they see his nodded signal they begin walking forward. Confused, but not panicking, Eddie decides it's sensible just to find out what the problem is. But rather than offering any explanation, the serious-faced guards merely invite him to accompany them over to an office on the far side of the arrivals hall.

“Look, I really haven't got time for this. I'm very busy and I'm on a tight schedule. Please understand, I'm not trying to be difficult, it's just that I really don't have the time for any nonsense.”

“I'm sure you can spare us just a few moments sir, please take a seat in here as there's a small detail we need to check. It won't take long I promise.” The more senior of the two guards has a kind face, but Eddie can sense his anxiety. The senior man nods his head reassuringly over to the small office just a few steps away. The door stands open.

“I promise we won't keep you more than a few minutes.”

Eddie hasn't got time for these clowns, but he's not in a position to argue either. So he steps inside and sits down on one of the two plastic chairs that are placed either side of a small table. The two officials leave without saying a word, shutting the door behind them, something that Eddie finds both rude and odd. Within seconds the door opens again and two gigantic police officers the size of barn doors enter. Suddenly the small office seems very crowded indeed. “Please stand up sir.”

Slater can't for the life of him understand what the hell is going on. This surely must be some kind of a mistake, so it seems foolish to attempt to fight his way out of the room, after all…if these gorillas are as dumb as they look, he'll most likely be released without charge after answering whatever stupid questions they have.

Deciding to co-operate, Eddie stands to his feet. He figures so long as he doesn't antagonise them and keeps his mouth shut…

“Please turn around and face the wall.” Eddie compliantly does as he's told. “Now put your hands behind your back.” Eddie lowers his head and then shakes it in disbelief. He has no other choice but to do as he's asked. Inevitably they clamp handcuffs across his brawny wrists. “Edward Archibald Slater, I am searching you under Section 60 of the Criminal Justice and Public Order Act 1994, under the suspicion that you may be in possession of a dangerous weapon and evidence relating to an investigation into alleged insider dealing.”

As soon as they have uttered those words, the larger of the two officers begins to pat him down. His wallet is removed, then his keys and his cell-phone. Eddie's now realising that this is just the start of what's going to become a very bad day.

“Come on pal” says the slightly smaller of the two gigantic policemen, in a deep, guttural voice, “let's all go and take a look at your car…then after that you can accompany us to the station to answer a few questions.”

As the hulking policemen lead him out of the office, Eddie sees that there are a second pair of coppers, almost as big, standing just outside. He'd certainly made the right decision not to resist; perhaps he should be flattered…they'd certainly come mob-handed and were well prepared for trouble.

Eddie is leaving the arrivals hall just as Vasilakos is entering. The Greek stops in his tracks as he sees his bodyguard being placidly led away by two enormous policemen. Now he notices the other pair of uniforms who have remained behind and sensing the danger he stops dead in his tracks. Initially, the two officers seem pre-occupied with watching Eddie being escorted away, but then they turn their eyes in his direction, and with no one else in the hall, there's no confusion as to whom they are looking at.

Still rooted to the spot Alexis looks back at the Jet Centre ramp and thinks of turning-tail and getting back onboard his aircraft, but the plan has one fatal flaw. His chubby mouth falls open causing his sagging jowls to wobble. A team of police officers are ascending the steps and entering the private jet that he's only just disembarked from.

Intent on having them ejected at once, Alexis's rotund frame moves for the glass door, but he finds himself being held back.

Alexis struggles valiantly, but he's unable to shrug off the attentions of the two policemen holding onto his shoulders. “What's the meaning of this?
Get your filthy hands off me this instant!
And tell your retarded colleagues to get off my private property! I want to see identification! I want your numbers and the name of your commanding officer! You're making a big mistake, I can promise you that!
Do you have the slightest fucking idea who I fucking am?!”

“You are Alexandros Vasilakos and you're coming with us.” But Alexis has no intention of submitting to their ‘authority'.

“I'm not coming anywhere until you begin treating me with some respect. What right do you think you have to tell me what to do?!
I said get your filthy hands off me this instant!
”

But the officers do not remove their hands, they only tighten their grip as Alexis tries to pull himself free of his tormentors. When he continues to resist, one of the two officers places a boot behind his knee and pressing down hard against the top of his calf they drop him to the floor. As his corpulent body writhes and bucks, he attempts to kick out at them with his short stubby legs, but it's wholly ineffective against the strength and weight that's holding him down.

Now handcuffed and sweating profusely, Alexis expends what little bit of fight he has left, but the officers keep him pinned to the floor and repeatedly tell him to calm down. When Alexis's resistance finally stops it's simply down to sheer exhaustion. The two policemen help their restrained detainee to his feet so they can man-handle him towards the same office where Eddie had been held only a few minutes earlier.

Having told him he's about to be searched and having explained why, they examine Alexis's wallet, they confiscate his phone and the memory stick he keeps hung around his chubby neck. With no further energy to resist, he begins to verbally harangue them. “Call yourself copper's?! You're a laughing stock! An embarrassment! You should be out protecting the public from muggers and rapists! You really have no idea who you're dealing with. By the time I'm finished with your superiors you'll be booted off the force never to work again.
Give me my property back and give it back RIGHT NOW!”

His tirade is relentless. “If so much as one thing goes missing I'm going to be holding you two fuckwits fully responsible!”