The 2$ Spring: A Victor Peters Novel

By Vania Von Vanistan

Victor Peters is back with another spell bound story set in the exotic backgrounds of China and the Middle East.
Once again Peters plays in the playground of the ultra rich and powerful people of various continents where people of all races, creed and social level fight for ultimate power.
This is a story of an International global power game and revenge, of economic maneuvers in order to gain that little edge over the competition and of political bickering and infighting that more often than not leads to cataclysmic events.

The author has a unique gift of capturing the twists and ironies of fate. His insights into the ambitions and passions of his characters are brilliant. The girls are gorgeous and ready to protect Peters, some for love and others for selfish motives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Dec 5, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491880425

Vania Von Vanistan

Vania Von Vanistan used to be an Executive Manager and part owner of a Swiss Private Bank in Geneva in the Nineties. During his various dealings with a multitude of clients, he came upon many different characters and deals. Some of these deals were rich enough to provide a base for a book and informative enough to warrant Vanistan to want to share his life experience with people around the World.

Book preview

2013 Vania Von Vanistan. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 11/21/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4918-8041-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-8040-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-8042-5 (e)

This is a work of fiction. No resemblance to actual events and or people was intended. Whereas all financial transactions described in this work are true, the author never intended for its readers to duplicate them. If you do so, you do it at your own risk. The author never intended his work to be used as advice for financial decisions and or actions. Please consult with your local financial advisor before trying any of them. You do so at your own risk.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 43

CHAPTER 44

CHAPTER 45

CHAPTER 46

CHAPTER 47

CHAPTER 48

CHAPTER 49

CHAPTER 50

CHAPTER 51

CHAPTER 52

CHAPTER 53

CHAPTER 54

CHAPTER 55

CHAPTER 56

CHAPTER 57

CHAPTER 58

CHAPTER 59

CHAPTER 60

CHAPTER 61

CHAPTER 62

CHAPTER 63

CHAPTER 64

CHAPTER 65

CHAPTER 66

CHAPTER 67

CHAPTER 68

CHAPTER 69

CHAPTER 70

CHAPTER 71

CHAPTER 72

CHAPTER 73

CHAPTER 74

CHAPTER 75

CHAPTER 76

CHAPTER 77

CHAPTER 78

CHAPTER 79

CHAPTER 80

CHAPTER 81

CHAPTER 82

CHAPTER 83

CHAPTER 84

CHAPTER 85

CHAPTER 86

CHAPTER 87

CHAPTER 88

CHAPTER 89

CHAPTER 90

CHAPTER 91

CHAPTER 92

CHAPTER 93

CHAPTER 94

CHAPTER 95

CHAPTER 96

CHAPTER 97

CHAPTER 98

CHAPTER 99

CHAPTER 100

CHAPTER 101

CHAPTER 102

CHAPTER 103

CHAPTER 104

CHAPTER 105

CHAPTER 106

CHAPTER 107

CHAPTER 108

CHAPTER 109

CHAPTER 110

CHAPTER 111

CHAPTER 112

CHAPTER 113

CHAPTER 114

CHAPTER 115

CHAPTER 116

CHAPTER 117

CHAPTER 118

CHAPTER 119

CHAPTER 120

CHAPTER 121

CHAPTER 122

CHAPTER 123

CHAPTER 124

CHAPTER 125

CHAPTER 126

CHAPTER 127

CHAPTER 128

CHAPTER 129

CHAPTER 130

CHAPTER 131

CHAPTER 132

CHAPTER 133

CHAPTER 134

CHAPTER 135

CHAPTER 136

CHAPTER 137

CHAPTER 138

CHAPTER 139

CHAPTER 140

CHAPTER 141

CHAPTER 142

CHAPTER 143

CHAPTER 144

CHAPTER 145

CHAPTER 146

CHAPTER 147

CHAPTER 148

CHAPTER 149

The central theme of The 2$ Spring is a power game. It has been brilliantly written and captures its audience in such a way that once you start reading it you will not want to put it away until the end despite its size. Get ready for countless sleepless nights!

It describes human nature and greed in the world of finance in a simple way. This makes reading easy.

The parts describing financial transactions show that the author is well documented and knows the intricacies and technicalities involved.

This book will appeal to people involved in Finance and Banking, Students and the general public as the language and style are within reach of the laymen.

A must read.

By MD from the People’s Reviewer Club Rating

CHAPTER 1

VANIA, MIKI COME LETS GO guys! Victor Peters shouted. There was a loud noise as four pairs of paws slid on the polished wood and finally came to an entangled stop at Victor’s feet. Vania was a mixed breed 50 kg dog; he had a stocky head and the muscles of the Labrador with the black and white spotted body and coat of a German Short haired pointer. His girlfriend, Miki, was a pure bred German shorthaired pointer. She had the same black and white spotted body. Her head was all black though unlike Vania’s which was spotted as his body. Miki having just been acquired was four years younger than Vania at the height of her six months. Needless to say that she is now sporting all of Vania’s mannerisms. Her character while resembling Vania’s in many ways was also quite different in others. But one thing they both had in common and fought to share was Victor. Victor’s brown eyes shone when he looked at both of them and for the umpteenth time berating himself for not having acquired Miki sooner. She has done so much good for Vania since coming in their lives. Vania finally knew that he was a dog and not a weird human being. He now had a mate to play with, run with, chase and talk to. Vania felt younger much younger, Miki always looked at him wide eyed and in utter adoration.

Victor was standing in the foyer of Vanistan. Vanistan is his house, but house indeed is a weak term. From the majestic entrance in black colored wrought iron with gold tips, lettering and arms, topped by a portico in old stone that joined the three meter high walls surrounding the twenty hectares property, to the one point one kilometers long alleyway bordered by century old oak trees and roses in summer time, Vanistan was nestled among a mix of forest, green lawns, man made lakes, hedges and gardens. Vanistan in and by itself comprised of three wings of a behemoth building with all around five meter high ceilings. The wing that housed the foyer and main entrance also housed five living rooms, three dining rooms a home theatre room, and library. The guest wing made of eighteen guest suites connected with the main wing through the professional kitchen, family room and breakfast room. The other wing connected through the library and was made of a salon du dauphin replica living room and then of the private quarters of Victor with an office, a living room with a fire place, walk in closets, bathroom and finally an oversized bedroom. The entire property was surrounded by a five meter wide terrace abutting a moat like canal another two meters wide with three bridges, one serving each wing. The living rooms were themed. Maharaja, Venetian, Moroccan, Empire and British Victorian styles fought for attention. The three dining rooms were in three adjacent rooms each opening in the other. On had a peculiar octagonal shape with ochre colored walls, light colored parquet floor with a marquetry table seating twenty. Leather padded chairs, crystal chandelier, working fireplace, crown moldings, and finally French doors opening on the wraparound terrace completed the Renaissance style dining room. Adjacent was a Roman style dining room where instead of chairs stood various Roman style recliner seats where you had to lie on your side to eat at the huge oversized marble table. The ground was made of Italian marble and red brocade silk curtains. The third dining room was set in a French Empire style reminiscent of a bygone Napoleonic era. The walls were a deep red with white doors and columns. The floor was a dark mahogany. Victor was about to step out of the door when he remembered that he left his wallet in his room. Along a brightly lit corridor with its countless French windows, arched passageways, sublime hardwood floor lined on each side with two tiles wide of Italian marble, covered by a Persian runner spotted with hair from the two dogs! Victor walked to his wing passing in front of the door leading to the indoor swimming pool on the side and detached from the main structure, which in turn led to the East and West stables where were housed in the west one, Victor’s horses and in the East one, Victor’s collection of cars. Each inside door’s frame glittered with gold markings, gilded gold leaves and ornate moldings. This 17th Century mansion was bought for a song and thoroughly renovated and amply modified. In its present state and with its museum feel and look, the value of the property without horses or the cars oscillated around 12 Million Dollars. Its proximity to Geneva sure helped keep the price on the high side. Located at the first exit of the Geneva-Lausanne highway, it was a mere five minutes from the outskirts of the second popular city of Switzerland. Geneva is the World capital for diplomacy and international co-operation magnified by the presence of various International Organizations such as the United Nations, the Red Cross, the CERN, the World Health Organization and countless others and non governmental organizations. On the World Financial exchequer, Geneva is ranked seventh ahead of Chicago, Frankfurt or Sydney. Quality of life is ranked third in the world. It is a mighty achievement for the ‘Peace Capital’ of the world where the Geneva Conventions were signed and where the ‘Société des Nations’ the precursor to the United Nations was created after World War 1 under the guidance and vision of then US President Woodrow Wilson. First appearing in History books as a border town fortified against the Celt-Germanic Helvetri, which the Romans conquered in 121 B.C. The Romans, the House of Savoy, The French Directory and Swiss Confederation either conquered and ruled or allied themselves with Geneva along the years. The most singular event that impacted Geneva and helped shape centuries thereafter was the Protestant Reformation with the emergence of the Protestant leader John Calvin in 1536. With France then annexing Geneva to its territory during its revolution in 1789 through 1799. Through Church and religion, Geneva then joined the Swiss Confederation yet again and has been an intricate part thereof since then. The City has a very strong Finance sector specialized in private banking, which constitutes of managing assets, International trade finance and commodity trade. Victors bank, Alpine Rhineland Bank, created some twenty months ago by Victor was of course specialized in assets management. Victor employed over fifty people in Geneva alone and ninety people under the Alpine banner around the world, namely in London, Rome and Singapore. The bank’s net worth was around Five Hundred Million Dollars. But known to a select few only, Victor was the sole shareholder of First Manhattan Bank, a Wall Street located, New York chartered bank that he bought some months ago with the proceeds generated by his part in the manipulation of the Japanese Yens currency that saw a forty-five percent fall of the yen over a three weeks span and a return of one hundred and forty percent for Victor’s clients and himself. First Manhattan Bank, which was tethering on the brink of bankruptcy, was now a sound financial institution with the temporary write off of its bad debts and cash injection of over one point six Billion Dollars. The Bank was now headed and managed by a new staff and Victor’s parents. Mr. Peters acted as the Chief Financial Controller and Auditor of the bank and of Alpine whereas, Mrs. Peters who was also a Funds manager at one of the biggest German Banks was now also manager of First Manhattan group of funds. Both in their mid to late forties were German Citizens who lived in Neuilly s/Seine in the western suburbs of Paris, France when not in residence in New York. Victor was on his way to their villa for a three weeks work vacation stint. His parents were away in New York working at First Manhattan, their villa was empty and Victor was going to use it. His real aim going for such a long time by his standards, to Paris was in reality to either fortify or put an end to his relationship with Alice Grendfel.

Alice Grendfel was a 1m65, 60kg, thirty something green eyed blond beauty who after a stint at the CIA was forced to retire as her face was known by America’s adversaries, worked as security and chief investigation officer at First Manhattan and then as Victor’s bodyguard and saved his life countless times. Set to become Mrs. Peters, she decided to move to Paris and become the CIA’s new station chief. Victor wanted to know once and for all if they would continue their amorous liaison and if so how, as they were separated by either a 45 minutes air commute or a 3 1/2 hours train ride. Alice followed her first love. She became independently rich with a Twenty Five Million Dollars one time payment made by Victor in appreciation of the numerous times she saved his life. (The Kracht of the Rising Sun October 2012). Victor quite baffled by her choice was greatly enamored with her and decided to take some time off in order to go to the bottom of things.

Once back to the foyer, Victor and his two tails walked out in the summer heat that was placating the town. He immediately cursed himself as he could have taken the air-conditioned corridor that led to the East stables. Soon he was sweating profusely and his off white ultra light three-piece super 240 Suit was soon stained by his body’s salty liquid oozing out from his pores. Annoyed at himself, he finally reached the East stables. His bags and the little guys things were already loaded in his Mercedes Benz AMG supercharged 560 SEC black coupe. Once the two lads were in the back seats, Victor tried to prevent them from coming in the passenger seat. Vania used to sit there. But now with Miki mimicking him, two 50kg dogs could not fit in that seat and Victor still had to drive the car! After greeting his household staff, Alfred and his wife Gertrude, Alfonso and his wife Consuela and Raj the cook, they made their way out of the property. Alfonso and his wife Consuela were flying to Puebla, Mexico to spend some time with their relatives while Alfred the Butler and Gertrude the head maid, a husband and wife duo from the northern part of Switzerland were heading to their home Canton for three weeks paid holidays. Raj was catching a flight to Mumbai his home city. Vanistan was going to be deserted save for the security outfit that patrolled the grounds and outside perimeter twenty four hours per day and seven days a week. Victor became very security conscious after his various near death experiences of the past months. Making a left after exiting the property, they made their way to Geneva. Shortly thereafter they were on the city’s right banks driving alongside the Lake Leman passing near the President Wilson Hotel, the hotel d’Angleterre, the Beau Rivage Hotel, all various Geneva landmarks and most prestigious hotels. Making a left on the Mont Blanc Bridge they headed to Geneva’s left bank where all the rich places were. Driving along Quai Gustav Ador, they were soon at the junction with the road heading to Cologny and the Castle, actually, Victor’s castle, that headquartered his bank Alpine Rhineland. Driving along the slowly rising road that reached the center of Cologny, Victor called his friend, driver and personal security guard Farid.

Farid was a twenty five year old born in Algeria. He accompanied Victor everywhere. His main job was to take care of Victor, anticipate his needs and make things happen. Married with two kids, he lived at the border town of Ambilly on the French side next to Annemasse in Haute Savoie. Victor drove past his castle without stopping knowing full well that once inside, there would always be something to do even if it was summer time and dreadfully quiet. Turning right between the exclusive gold club of Geneva and the castle he made his way to an unnamed border crossing into France. Not that he had anything to hide but the French tended to be quite abusive and did not respect rich people. Seeing such an expensive car would automatically draw from them the royal treatment and Victor did not have two or three hours to lose answering inane questions and standing in the heat that has been sweltering the valley for three weeks in a row. Temperatures of thirty-five degrees Celsius have been registered daily. At night it went down only to twenty-four, unheard of! Usually nighttime would see lows of fifteen, eighteen at a maximum, enabling people to cool down. Air conditioning was a luxury and could only be found in the most expensive hotels, some offices, most of the private banks, and a select few houses. Not even all of the exclusive pricey shops were air conditioned in 1989. Once in France, Victor stopped in front of Farid’s four bedroomed Villa. He was already outside with his luggage. After fitting his suitcase into the trunk, he got in and they were soon en route to Paris. After reaching the highway and its tollbooths, they had a clear road devoid of traffic. It was Monday and French people were either at work, for a few, or at the beach for the majority. It was after all the last week of July and it was the start of the vacation period all over Europe particularly in France. Four hours later, they entered the Parisian circular ring road that surrounded Paris and separated the city from all of its suburbs built in the post war era. Turning left at the Porte d’Orléans at the end of the A6 highway, they made their way to Neuilly Sur Seine and the Peters fashionable villa located in this exclusive neighborhood and being as expensive as the Champs Elysées Avenue and the 8th and 16th Districts. This town that first appeared in 832 AD as a small hamlet had greatly changed across the centuries. From the royal residence ‘Château de Neuilly’ to various multi national companies headquartered there, the town always attended the most affluent and wealthy citizens and foreigners alike. At Porte Dauphine, Victor exited and made his way across the Bois de Boulogne to his parent’s villa. The villa was set at the corner of a street and surrounded by shrubberies and trees planted inside the walled property. Three floors of one hundred square meters each stood above ground. The ground floor was set up three stairs and comprised on one side, an office, Mr. Peter’s lair, a library—Mrs. Peter’s lair, a big kitchen, a wood paneled corridor that separated the floor in two with a dining room, living room and a small reception room on the other side. Masking the entrance to the kitchen was a circular staircase leading to the first floor where Mr. & Mrs. Peters’ master bedroom and sitting room area were located. The second floor consisted of three fully appointed bedrooms under the roof each with its own bathroom.

As soon as the car stopped in the interior court where Mr. Peters Rolls Royce Corniche, Mrs. Peters Mercedes S class and Victor’s Bentley Turbo R were parked, Vania tried to rush outside so eager was he to meet with the second most important person in his life: Mrs. Peters. Unknown to him was that both Mr. and Mrs. Peters were in New York.

After they were settled and unpacked, they walked the two dogs for a bathroom break while enjoying a much cooler temperature. It was twenty-four degrees, a far cry from the thirty-six hitting at that same time Geneva, a distant six hundred kilometers away. Since Farid’s new found wealth and made to measure clothes given to him by one of his various girlfriends, he looked as fashionable as a magazine model! With his gift from Victor a ten months old Porsche 911 Turbo and his new clothes he was having even more success with the ladies. But for him, the only noticeable change was in the quality of his conquests. They were younger and more educated and independent working girls. This brought a new maturity to him in the sense that he started going for quality and not quantity.

What do you plan to do tonight? Farid asked.

I do not know yet. I have not called Alice yet!

Go ahead man, I am getting hungry! Farid said rubbing his belly.

OK I will call her when we get back to the house Victor replied.

Fifteen minutes later they were back at the villa and Victor went to the phone and called Alice Grendfel. Alice was almost happy. She now held a position that she always envied: Chief Station in a big city like Paris. She was independently wealthy. She had a nice office overlooking the Place de la Concorde and the Hotel du Crillon. Her apartment was a three bedroomed affair in Passy another affluent neighborhood in the area. She had a chauffeur and two bodyguards at all times even though she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself as she already evidenced in the recent past. The only blemish was Victor Peters. What she took as love had turned out as infatuation accented by their close proximity day in, day out and all the life and death situations they went through in a short period of time. She understood that she did not love him when she chose her job instead of being Mrs. Peters. Once in Paris, she had time to reflect and concluded that whereas she liked Victor very much and would be forever indebted to him, she did not love him. Now she was dreading Victor’s reaction when she would tell him about her feelings. Or more appropriately lack of feelings. Victor on his side just wanted to confirm what he had been feeling for her lately: nothing. After the first week, he did not even miss her. Sure he had been trying to convince himself that she was the one, proof his trip to Paris. But deep inside he harbored no illusions whatsoever. It was done and over with. It was just a question of official closure. Pulling his new cellular phone out he put a call into her. After the first ring came the disembodied voice of her mailbox. Victor left a message asking to meet with her that evening.

After picking up her message, Alice was having a hard time calling Victor to meet that day. ‘Why meet at all? A phone call should suffice’ she told herself. Besides, now working at Paris with all its nightlife and amorous opportunities, she had already moved on and found a new boyfriend, a French Count! No less! Her mother, Birgit was ecstatic. Her father was greatly annoyed as he really liked Victor and knew deep down that had it not been for Birgit’s manipulations, Alice and Victor would still be a couple and about to get married. Alice finally called Victor. After the third ring Victor answered. He was in his parents’ living room, sprawled on the Louis XVI couch that his mother liked so much. For Victor, it was not comfortable at all. Whereas this type of furniture was visually attractive and among the most beautiful antiques if not the most beautiful, they were utterly uncomfortable and back killers.

Victor Peters here

Hi Victor. Alice here.

How are you my love?

There was a few chilly seconds delay before Alice responded.

Victor this cross country relationship will not work.

Why not? Victor asked.

Because we will not be seeing each other a lot and I don’t see you leaving Geneva for Paris!

And you will not leave your job for me too, right?

After a few seconds delay, which seemed like an eternity she said:

Yes there is that too!

At that instant, Victor realized that he did indeed still love Alice and that he had come to Paris for nothing. The he started being really angry.

Are you still there? Alice asked, as it had been Victor’s time to be silent.

Yes. You could have saved me a trip here and told me that in Geneva!

Sorry, I just realized my true feelings and made my choice!

Great, I wish you God speed in your life and hope that we can remain friends.

Victor said graciously. Alice was to say the least surprised. She was bracing herself for Victor’s wrath. In the end if nothing she was almost sorry. Prepared that she was for a fight. Unknown to her was the stark realization that came unto Victor. A muted TV set was on TFI channel and was showing a rerun of Miss France. Victor while watching distractedly and talking to Alice came to the conclusion that there was nothing he could do to keep her and whereas he indeed had some good times and enjoyed her very much, the sea was still full of fish. And as shown on TV some really beautiful ones, young for his age, well he was too young to fight to keep an older woman!

Good luck in your life Alice. Please stay in touch. Victor said.

I will and thanks for everything! she said.

She was referring to the Twenty Five Million Dollars Victor gave her for saving his life numerous times.

You are welcome. Bye!

And just like that Victor was single again or rather officially single again. He had been feeling single for a long time already!

Farid he yelled.

Yes, yes I am coming. He came from the kitchen where he was preparing some coffee for Victor.

What is it? He said coming into the room.

Vania and Miki were sitting on their hind legs, wagging their tails and waiting to see what their idol was going to say.

Lets go party tonight. We need to find a place where we can really have fun and find some really nice French girls!

You are through with Alice I take it

Yep

About time. You should have left sometime ago!

Yeah whatever. Its over now and it’s party time. Paris here we come!

CHAPTER 2

AROUND 16H30 VICTOR RECEIVED A call from Rose McCoy one of his newest recruit, she was the CEO of First Manhattan Bank—New York.

Vic how are you? she was one of only two people who called Victor ‘Vic’! Rachel his childhood friend who now worked for him was the other one.

Yes Rose, what’s up?

Malvinsky contracted a deal with some Arab guys who just called looking for him. I guess they never heard about his death!

Stefan Malvinsky was the creator and now deceased owner of First Manhattan Financial that Victor purchased and converted into First Manhattan Bank. The Arab guys, in question were part of the investment pool in the Yen play made by Victor some months ago.

OK, where are they presently?

In Paris.

How convenient. I am there right now.

They are staying at the Georges V Hotel on the Avenue d’Angleterre.

Victor fell silent. This could not be right!

Eh Rose was it not rather the Hotel d ‘Angleterre on the George V Avenue instead? Now it was Rose’s turn to mark a pause.

I guess umm I don’t know the place had it been London, it would have been a different story!

Rose just spent ten years of her life working and then heading one of the top US Brokerage Houses branch at London.

What’s the name?

Prince Abdul Bin something

Rose I can’t possibly call the hotel and say Prince Abdul something, now can I?

Sorry boss, I did not catch his lingo and neither did the secretary!

Give me the phone number

[phone]

Oh good it’s a cellular phone!

How do you know?

The number starts with a 6 after the country code

Good, like that you will not have difficulties retracing him.

I’ll let you know later.

Bye

Bye Victor said and put the phone down.

Victor knew that some group from Dubai invested in his deal. But he never knew the name of the beneficial owner of the company in question. Dialing the phone, Victor was trying to remember the specifics of the Dubai entity.

Prince Abdul please Victor said.

This is he, who is this?

Victor Peters, you just called First Manhattan Bank in New York and spoke with my CEO Rose McCoy.

Yes I want to speak with Stefan Malvinsky.

The Prince was a fat, dark complexioned, mustachioed fellow in his forties. At IM60 and one hundred and twenty kilos he was grossly overweight. Having found out that he commanded more respect and attention when dressed in his traditional garb, he always wore a black silk overflowing robe over his shirt and pants. His head was covered with a traditional headdress.

Prince, how to put it. Victor marked a pause trying to formulate his answer, Malvinsky passed away and I am his replacement.

When, how, how did he die?

Are you free this afternoon? I am in Paris and I can come to see you at your hotel. You are at the Hotel d’Angleterre, right?

Yes! A stunned Abdul said.

I can be there in ninety minutes if you are free that is! Victor said

I will wait for you. But make it 18h00 instead.

Fine, I will be there! Victor replied closing his phone.

Farid! He yelled

What Farid yelled back!

Get the Bentley ready and dress properly. We are going to see a bonafide genuine Arabic Prince!

Oh no! I thought we were going to party!

Afterwards. Go get ready we need to leave soon.

Things sure have changed since 4200BC when the first traces of habitation in the Paris area by the Parisii, a sub tribe of the Celtic Senones were recorded. Across the span of centuries, through the rule of various conquerors such as the Romans or the Germans, the changes of the center of power from Paris to the Loire valley and back, the French revolutions, the domination of Louis XIV or the Napoleonic wars and era, Paris held strong and in the end thrived to become a major Historical, Economical and Cultural Centre on the World stage. With its rating as one of the top 5 most populous cities in the World, it meant that traffic was always horrendous in the city of lights, irrespective of Baron Haussmann’s renovations in Napoleon III reign and the second empire in 1852. Haussmann leveled entire districts of Paris to erase the narrow medieval streets to replace them with a huge network of wide avenues and neo-classical facades. These same avenues that were created to allow rapid army deployments and troop movements did nothing or next to nothing to alleviate the constant car flow and bumper-to-bumper traffic. Blocked at the Port Maillot roundabout, Victor was slowly but surely going in a fit of rage. He detested not being on time whereas in various aspects of his character you could not detect a point of origin or belonging, punctuality was one trait that belied his German ancestry!

Meet me at the hotel d’Angleterre. I do not want to be late! he said opening his door and almost being run over by a biker slaloming through cars. He closed the door and said you know what?

What? Farid said

Its a good thing that I do not carry an arm. I would have shot this guy!

Yeah a good thing! Hold on!

Farid stepped on the accelerator and expertly guided the big black car in an opening that brought him in the reserved bus lane. He immediately started to gather speed. Midway to the place de L’Etoile, he turned right and started a circuitous approach to the Avenue George V.

See, we should have cut across the Bois de Boulogne to Porte Dauphine. Next time listen to me!

Finally the big black Bentley emerged on the Avenue George V. Crossing the wide Avenue, Farid veered the car in the side alley and stopped in front of the Palace. Valets and doormen immediately rushed to the car to open the doors.

Come with me, I might need Arabic translation. Victor said to Farid

OK Boss.

Valet, park the car, but keep it around here. Victor said slipping him a fifty French Francs note.

Of course Sir! Welcome to the Hotel d’Angleterre Sir

Thank you Sir Victor replied and walked inside the small marble lobby with intricate designs on the ceilings, marble statues set amid green leather sofas and chairs.

How may I help you Sir? The girl at the reception counter said.

Hi. Prince Abdul Bin something please

Ah his Majesty Prince Abdul Bin Rasmullah is expecting you. He is in our Presidential Suite on our Penthouse Floor.

Thanks

Victor said eyeing up the girl, now that he was single, it was open season and all nice looking girls were fair game! Farid, who was just behind, followed him to the elevator that took them to the last floor.

Two armed security guards stood in front of the entrance of the double mahogany doors leading to the Presidential Suite. They were dressed like Siamese twins, both with dark glasses even though they were posted in a corridor devoid of direct sunlight, dark suits, crew cut, moustache and traditional lapel radios.

Stop, please identify yourselves! One of them said.

Tell your Boss that Victor Peters is here. Victor said.

And who is he? the other guard replied looking at Farid.

My translator. Now move it I don’t have all day. Enough with the chitchat! Victor snapped back.

Leave if you are not happy. We have to do our job! The belligerent one said.

Victor immediately reached for his cell phone and called the Prince.

Eh—move over there. One of them told him

Shut up and do not address me. Do not utter another word! Victor said, thinking ‘what’s wrong with these people? Nothing—a small voice said, it’s with you that something is wrong! Indeed, he was unsettled by the break up with Alice irrespective of what he said or thought.

Yes? The Prince’s secretary answered.

Your guards at the door won’t let me in and I hate to be late! Victor said.

The doors suddenly burst open and out came a small man of Jewish ancestry, bald with a long broken nose, angular features, pudgy with one gold ring on each finger! Each ring was enriched with diamonds, rubies emeralds or sapphires. He wore gold-rimmed glasses and looked ridiculous. Armani tailored his suit. He had a brown leather belt, while wearing black and white shoes. Victor had a hard time not to laugh.

Mr. Peters, come in, come in, please excuse these idiots.

He said throwing an incandescent look that almost smoldered both clowns. Pausing for a breath he said in a rapid-fire tone:

My name is Adam Levi and I have been with his Excellency for over ten years and with his Royal Highness the King for twenty years before that. He asked me to guide his son. This is Farid. He is my friend, bodyguard and translator.

Please come in!

He said and led the way inside the oversized suite. Ushered in a marble foyer with a big crystal vase full of red roses under an Italian chandelier whose light was reflected in the ensemble of full body length mirror fixed to the white wall facing the entrance. A small corridor split the suite in two. On one side was the living quarter of Abdul while on the other side was the big living room, dining room and office. Lights were on everywhere and created an artificial, hot atmosphere. Walking on the carpets that covered the floor, one could not shake the walk in the clouds feel. Seated in an oversized recliner was his Excellency Prince Abdul Bin Rasmullah, Prince of one of the Emirates Kingdoms.

Welcome Mr. Peters! Thank you for coming so quickly to see me.

He said in a deep baritone voice speaking in an Oxford accented English.

Thanks your Excellency for receiving me.

His fingers were also covered with gold rings encrusted with all kind of precious stones. He too wore 18k gold-rimmed glasses. A goatee completed the picture of the overweight prince.

So tell me my friend what happened to Malvinsky? Abdul said.

He was shot dead by a mob execution team for various crimes committed by him! Victor said settling down in one of the comfortable chairs facing Abdul.

Oh, what crimes are you referring to? asked a visibly troubled Abdul.

He was arrested for child molestation, kidnapping, murder, underage sex, conspiracy to commit a crime and the list goes on and on! Because of his actions at least five deaths can be imputed directly to him and one actual murder committed by his own hands!

Wow. Any possibilities of any of his clients being tainted by this whole mess? Asked now a visibly disturbed and concerned Abdul.

Not anymore. We took care of things!

Good, Good. Who are you and how do you fit in the picture?

You invested Hundreds of Millions of Dollars some months ago and doubled your monies!

How, how do you know that? Asked a decidedly surprised Abdul.

Because I made that deal. Victor said, settling back deep into his chair.

Now it was Abdul’s turn to move forward in the chair. Body language being a great barometer for who wants what, who is disturbed, who is in control and who needs whom! Where do you fit in with Malvinsky then?

He came to me with monies to invest in my deal and then got carried away with his past catching up with him and finally losing him! I am the President of Alpine Rhineland Bank, a Swiss bank located in Geneva Victor said.

Yes I heard about Alpine. But how do you fit in with First Manhattan? We called them after all! Adam said.

The oversize leather chair totally engulfed and dwarfed him!

Rose McCoy the new CEO of First Manhattan called me after receiving your call.

Yes but why you? You are with Alpine Rhineland, not First Manhattan! Abdul answered.

First Manhattan is now owned by Alpine Rhineland Bank!

Oh, ok! But I never heard about this. Abdul said.

Only the US Federal Reserve Bank and Banking commissions of Switzerland and the US know about it as I had to clear it with them before being allowed to acquire First Manhattan and change it’s status from a financial service company to a bank!

Who owns Alpine Rhineland Bank then? Abdul enquired.

With an enigmatic smile, Victor answered A bunch of companies and various shareholders around the world.

Yes, but who is the main share holder?

Nobody in particular, there are twenty companies each owning five percent!

And at your young age you are the President? Asked a decidedly belligerent Adam.

Victor understood that Adam must have had a deal with Stefan where he invested the Prince’s money and Stefan paid him a colossal return on the side. This was immediately evidenced by Abdul who said:

Did you say one hundred percent?

Yes Victor answered.

That’s not funny. I only received a seventy percent return!

Maybe Stefan kept the balance.

Adam said confirming Victor’s doubts about the thieving Adam Levi.

Maybe he did! Surely he did! If you want to get it you will have to join an ever-growing line of creditors. And, besides, I doubt it’s a good idea as there was never any contract with him and going to a Judge what will you say? Sorry you Honor I only made a seventy percent profit in three weeks time instead of one hundred percent? You will be lucky if he does not put you in jail and throw away the keys!

I see your point. Still it bothers me to know that I could have made more and this turd robbed me!

Again Prince, join the club! There are many angry people out there! Anyway, lets try to be constructive instead and make money. Reminiscing on what could have, what should have been and ifs and buts will only ruin your mental health. Live life without regrets!

Easy to say!

And easier to do! Victor replied and then added before Abdul could answer:

Just think as follows: can I go back in time and change things? No, of course not! As you were not clever enough to take the appropriate steps beforehand, its not now that the deed is done and over with that you can change things! So why sour your stomach with such considerations? Learn and move on!

In the ensuing silence, only faint street noises could be heard. Seeing that he was not about to bite the dust and his secret revealed, Adam said:

Mr. Peters is right your Highness!

Yeah I guess so and besides its not like if we made nothing either!

Exactly! A relieved Adam said.

What can I do for you? Victor asked.

Same types of transactions! Abdul said.

Here is how I work, Victor said. Both Abdul and Adam were sitting with their torsos forward listening intently. I make around sixty to sixty five percent per year for my investors at Alpine Rhineland. When there is a possibility like the one we just all profited from, I will call you and propose it to you. If you are onboard you’ll make more money. If not you’ll stay at the sixty five percent mark!

Victor was feeling the extreme heat of the room and was slowly getting ill at ease. Both Abdul and Adam were quite comfortable and looked like they hated air conditioning. Victor would not take his jacket off, as it would be, for him, a serious breach of etiquette!

You must really be annoyed paying so much money for a room where the air conditioning does not work. Victor added.

Ah, we shut it down as it was freezing in here! Adam said.

Mr. Peters, are you free for dinner tonight? Abdul asked.

Yes, what do you have in mind?

A new Moroccan restaurant that just opened in the Sentier right on Boulevard Sebastopol.

That will be good and a welcome change! Lets try it then. At what time do you want to meet? Victor said.

About 21h30.

No problem. Farid get the address from Mr. Adam. Gentlemen, we will see you tonight then. Victor said getting up.

He was in a hurry to get out of the room. He just did not do well in the heat. Victor hastily left them and walked out leaving two dumbfounded and slightly disturbed persons.

Your Highness, please excuse my boss. He is sick in the heat and becomes nervous with only one thing on his mind: how to get out of the heat! Farid who stayed behind said (they were talking in Arabic now).

What did you expect from the Northern crusaders! Abdul said.

Farid thought ‘crusaders but good enough to make you money, imbecile, hypocrite, two faced fat sucker.’ Farid merely echoed what the Arabic commoners thought about their rulers who had a lavish lifestyle and spent money on frivolous things and foreigners instead of their own starving people.

The address please. He said curtly.

After getting the address down he saluted them and walked out too. Victor was already in the lobby discussing with the cute receptionist who was about to go on a coffee break. Victor convinced her to meet for a drink at the Fouquet’s Brasserie, café, restaurant, the centennial institution world renown for its famous patrons.

Boss, I have it. Shall we go? Farid, who just arrived, said.

No leave the car here and let’s walk to the Fouquet’s for a drink.

Victor said with a slight nod of his head to the receptionist, a twenty six year old blond with blue eyes. On their way to the Fouquet’s, Victor stopped by the Louis Vuitton Flagship store at the corner of Avenue Georges V and the Champs Elysees Avenue. He favored their ultra comfortable shoes. After having bought two new pairs of shoes, Victor made his way across the wide avenue to the outdoor terrace of the Fouquet’s where the receptionist was seated and had been waiting for two minutes.

Sorry I am late! Victor said while grabbing a chair.

Late! I have only just arrived and thought that I was late.

Sorry I am two minutes late.

You must be German! she answered.

No Swiss German Victor replied lying. He was born in Germany, raised part of his time in France and the other part in Switzerland.

Ouch! Worse! she said laughing.

Do you speak French? Victor asked as they were conversing in English.

Not well, I am learning. I arrived two months ago!

You relocated then?

No. I am supposed to train here for one year then be sent as Manager to one of the Group’s other hotels around the world or stay here if the post becomes vacant.

One year is a long time, you may as well have relocated here then!

I guess so.

After another thirty minutes of aimless chatter they agreed to meet again the next day for a tennis match at the Porte de Sèvres Sports complex. Farid who went for a walk came back with the car. It was time for them to head back to the villa at Neuilly to feed Vania and Miki, change and get ready for their dinner appointment.

CHAPTER 3

THE BENTLEY STOPPED IN FRONT of the restaurant at 21h30 exactly on time. Farid stepped out and came to open Victor’s door. Victor wore a three piece dark blue, almost black ultra light super 230 suit with a light yellow silk shirt, ruby encrusted 18k gold cufflinks, black leather belt and shoes, a hand crafted pair from Louis Vuitton in extra smooth leather with gold buckles, one of the pairs that he bought that same day. His shirt was open necked and he wore a red Hermes square in his breast pocket. Farid was clad in a brown suit, white shirt and brown tie matching his suit. Looking at him one would not know that he acted as a chauffeur cum bodyguard.

The restaurant was at the corner of the Boulevard de Sebastopol and a side road leading to the Bourse area. From the outside it looked neither stylish nor contemporary Parisian. The facade of the restaurant along the Blvd Sebastopol masqueraded as the front of an Arabian Palace with dark blue and gold lettering and Arabic designs under harsh lights illuminating its name. The inside of the window were plastered with intricate Arabic wood and plaster carvings and a heavy dark blue drape slightly parted in the top to reveal the heavy dark blue chandelier of the dining room. The chandelier was a wood and steel affair with dimmed colored bulbs. The lights set a garish mood around an elevated platform where laid musical instruments and a dancing area. Entering through the heavily draped double doors on the side of the restaurant, outside traffic noise was immediately replaced by Arabic music filtering through the various speakers more or less hidden amid a set of paintings and fake stars along the dark blue draped walls. After the two double doors stood a lantern and behind the lantern there was an Arabic woman dressed in western clothes. On the left was a traditional Parisian bar, with its zinc counter, coffee maker machine, beer dispenser taps and stools. Separating the dining room from the bar was a small poorly lit corridor that led to the toilets and to the kitchen.

I hope drunks don’t go to the kitchen by mistake. Farid said.

I hope so too, quiet now! They are going to beat us to a pulp and then throw us out of here if you continue! Victor said under his breath, only audible to Farid.

How can I help you Sir? Do you have a reservation?

I am supposed to meet with Prince Abdul Bin Rasmullah. I trust he has a reservation. Victor said. The woman made a big show about checking her book and finally said:

I am sorry Sir, we have no such reservation!

Farid, are you sure this is the place! Victor asked

Yes boss!

Let’s wait and see. If soon they are not here, call them to verify the address

Ok Farid replied.

Victor went to the bar and ordered a diet coke. He then walked back to the girl and said But based on the number of people here, I don’t think that there is any problem in getting a table! The restaurant was eerily empty.

Actually our patrons start coming at 22h30 and the show only starts around 23h30! Show what show?

Belly dancing. And we are solidly booked. The girl said.

Oh well I guess I’ll wait for my party and take it from there.

Ok Sir!

The girl said and retreated back behind her lectern looking table where there was an appointment book and a phone.

What are you drinking Farid? Victor asked.

I’ll get a panaché.

What’s that? Victor asked

Beer with lemonade! Don’t tell me you did not know!

I learned something new today!

And what’s that? Farid asked.

People are crazy. Ruin lemonade with beer. Victor said shivering.

And me I thought you were going to say ruin good beer with lemonade. Anyway try it once, you may like it.

No thanks.

After thirty minutes, Victor who was getting hungry was about to leave and go find some food. They still had not shown up.

Eh Farid, let’s get the fuck out of this place man.

Victor said, he only forgot, but then again how can you forget something you do not know that Middle Easterners were always noticeably late. Not to be disrespectful, as it is not considered so in their culture, just it is in their genes to never be on time! A common trait among the third World from South America, Africa to Asia and even in Spain, Portugal and Italy! Funnily though, in Northern Italy or Spain, people were usually on time whereas their southern compatriots still lived in another century with a different set of rules and urgency. Victor paid for the drinks and made his way out.

Sir, I am sure I will be able to find a table for your friend and you. Please stay. Besides, we have a really good new cook. The girl said.

Victor let’s stay, I’ll get some food from my part of the World, please!

Farid said all of the time looking at the girl who was cute but fifteen pounds overweight to Victor’s liking, a mannequin to their liking! Thank God all tastes abounded in the world. If not there would have been problems. What with the rarity of people due to the high demand!

OK I guess I’ll get to taste your cuisine then! Victor said.

They followed Fatima to a table set near the dancing area. After they were seated, a waiter appeared with a menu and a surprisingly extensive wine list. Even if Victor did not drink, he educated himself in wines in order to avoid mishaps while ordering with clients and girlfriends alike. Nothing worse than not to know about such things mainly when you entertain people almost every night of the week. The restaurant being still empty, Fatima their hostess, stayed more time than needed at their table conversing with Farid in Arabic. Victor, now about to pass out so steep was the hunger sensation was more and more annoyed. He signaled to the waiter who rushed back to their table. Get me some appetizers, nothing with seafood or fish. Please hurry up, I am starving! Said a pale light headed Victor who had eaten more than ten hours ago and whose sugar levels were wreaking havoc on his nervous system. After another ten minutes, some typical Arabic food appeared at their table. Vine leaves wrapped around ground beef and rice, a paste of chickpeas and wraps, some hot sauce, olives, poached tomatoes and pickled jalapenos. Victor was half way through this feast when the waiter came back to take their orders.

Ah there is more? I am already stuffed. Victor said.

I want a lamb couscous and a vegetable tagine. Farid said.

Give me the grilled sticks of lamb please. Victor said

After the departure of the waiter, Farid said:

You should have tried the couscous and tagine!

You should have said so, call him back.

No we shall share.

What is this tagine?

You will see soon enough! Farid replied back.

Weird these guys being so late! Are you sure you got the correct address? Victor asked again.

Yes call them to make sure! Farid said his mouth full.

I left the number at the villa!

People started arriving at the restaurant. Plenty of Arab males, rarely accompanied by Arabic women made up the vast majority of the patrons. Most women who came in looked to be the working type. Some high class, the rest were of the average type, yet still two notches above the prostitutes on the rue St Denis, one block away. Little by little, Victor was starting to get a feel of the other clients. Businessmen in their majority: conmen, genuine businessmen and some regular normal people. Understand by normal people: employees, civil servants. The majority of the crowd was Arabic from North Africa to the Middle East with some French who came either because they were invited or because they liked such type of food and entertainment! There were also some black Africans. Victor tried to eavesdrop on conversations around him to pass time waiting for his food to come.

Farid I am bored. I can’t even understand them, try to listen and tell me what they are taking about!

Farid was doing just that when the Prince, Adam and a retinue of bodyguards and five women came through the doors. They were ninety minutes late!

Mr. Peters how are you?

Abdul said walking to him in his overflowing black robe and his white headdress.

I am fine. I am not sure I had the right address.

Oh and why is that? said Abdul.

Before Victor was able to answer the restaurant owner came to them.

Good evening your Highness! It’s such an honor to have you. Please sit, make yourselves at home. Salim Bel Cadi said.

He was of average height and average weight, which was suspicious—did he not eat his own restaurant’s food! He had a dark complexion, short black hair and dressed in a burgundy off the rack suit from Daniel Hechter with a white shirt and a yellow tie. He stank of Habit Rouge cologne. A white pocket square adorned his left breast pocked. He had a gold Rolex on his wrist as well as the traditional gold-jeweled rings on both of his pinkies. After a space was made for Abdul and his party by adjoining tables to Victor and Farid’s table, everybody settled down and a bottle of Mum champagne appeared.

This is on the house to welcome you here! Salim said.

Abdul dismissed him with an imperious wave of his hand and turning towards Victor he said:

You have already started dining?

Salim just stood there and blanched noticeably.

Of course, you guys are late and I am hungry. Victor replied.

Salim smiled as he saw somebody who did not care about Abdul’s origin or image, he was really annoyed at the way Abdul treated him. This is my place he thought and the champagne is mine too and not your due! Wait till you see your bill, camel dung, he muttered under his breath.

If you are hungry, then I guess you have to eat. Abdul said to Victor.

Adam was signaling Victor to let it slide. Victor just did not care.

21h30 is not 23h30, in my country and civilization being exactly on time is a must. You cannot disrespect somebody else by trivializing his time and making him wait!

Yeah, but you waited, so where is the problem, you need me, you wait!

Wrong! I did not wait! As I was here I stayed to have dinner and indulge Farid in his home country or region’s cooking.

Abdul was surprised, as Victor did not just present him his other cheek after being slapped. Besides he was the first person who dared to treat him like that. That was not only a first but was also quite peculiar. Having never been confronted to such a situation he did not know how to react and what to say. But one thing was that he could not allow Victor to insult him in that fashion and get away with it.

Is the food good? Adam said to try to diffuse the already tensed situation.

Yes. Pretty good.

Farid answered trying to do the same feeling guilty as had he not forced Victor’s hand, they would not be there having dinner and Victor’s deal would not be in shambles! In the meantime Victor was staring hard at Abdul; and he was not one to back down or avert is eyes. Abdul abdicated first and broke eye contact.

I truly and sincerely apologize for being late, but please understand that in our part of the world things work differently! Adam said.

Abdul immediately started verbally abusing Adam in Arabic.

"Do not apologize to this infidel, who does he think he is? Does he not know who I am? Blah, blah, blah!’

Your Excellency he made you Three hundred and Fifty Million Dollars in three weeks. Imagine how much more he can do!

Adam’s shrill voice carried around the room and as if on cue the music stopped blaring from the speakers. As the majority of clients were Arabic, everybody heard the heated exchange.

Yes but still, he needed my money in the first place to do it. And that’s why he is here. Abdul answered hotly not even noticing that the music had stopped and that everybody was listening in on their private conversation. Farid quietly translated for Victor. In the silence that followed Victor said:

I came to see you as a courtesy because I happened to be in Paris and you are a client of one of my banks. I existed before knowing you and I will continue after you. Consider our relationship as terminated and get off my table!

Gentlemen, please cool down. Let’s not be hasty and ruin such a wonderful relationship. Adam said.

Yes absolutely. Farid said in return.

I don’t eat with crusaders.

Abdul said pushing his chair back violently. The chair clattered down to the floor and Abdul stood and signaled Salim.

And me with camel herders! Victor said rather loudly.

Barman bring my bottle of champagne to a new table. Abdul said.

Salim walked over and said: If you gentlemen could wait please we are setting up a table for you.

Mr. Peters please excuse him. I will come to see you. Adam said.

Victor did not even answer. The tension in the restaurant was palpable, as instead of resolving a problem between them normally and in a civilized way, religious insults have been traded. What saved Victor was that the majority of clients in the restaurant was from North African descent and as such despised Middle Easterners whereas they all agreed with the ‘camel herders’ statement, they also agreed with the ‘crusaders’ part too. Salim who sensed a huge problem about to develop went in a back room that doubled as his office and as a dressing room for the belly dancers. A voluptuous dark haired Arabic girl was putting the finishing touches to her costume and makeup when Salim walked in.

Salma, are you ready?

Good evening to you too Salim, and no, I am not ready yet!

Get out there now, we need to diffuse a bad situation!

Salma the 1m65 67kg, black-eyed brunette was slim compared