Meltdown

By Robert Paterson

Cyberwar is about to define the world's future. At a secret meeting in Montreux, Switzerland, the financial trading platform was acknowledged by one of the world's largest banks as the fastest they had seen, with huge potential for profit and equal potential to devastate world financial markets. A fast-paced thriller that takes place in London,

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aspire Publishing Hub, LLC
• Release date: Jul 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9781958692035

Book preview

Meltdown

Copyright © 2022 by Robert Paterson

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN

978-1-958692-02-8 (Paperback)

978-1-958692-03-5 (eBook)

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Prologue

The Early Years

Lanesborough Hotel, London 10.08 a.m.

London, 10.32 a.m.

Hong Kong

Paris

Hong Kong

London

Beijing 11.30 a.m.

Beijing 5.00 p.m.

Hong Kong

London

Beijing

Paris

London

Beijing

Moscow

Moscow

Beijing

Moscow

London

KGB Intelligence Headquarters, Moscow

Beijing

Beijing

Military Airbase Xinjiang, Northwest China, 5.00 a.m.

Beijing

Russia

London

Russian Border

Beijing

London

London, 8.00 a.m. the following day

Russian Border

Beijing

Russia — KGB Warfare Centre

KGB Military Base, Russia

London 10.00 a.m.

London 5.00 p.m. — Trading Floor, Caldwell Sachs

Kazakhstan Border

Beijing

London 10.00 a.m.

Russia, KGB Control Centre, 1400 Hours

Pentagon, USA, 6.10 a.m.

Beijing

London Trading Floor, 16.15 Hours

18.00 GMT London

Beijing

London

Belgrave Square, 8.00 a.m.

Caldwell Sachs, 9.30 a.m.

Pentagon 07.00 Hours

Beijing 1.15 a.m.

2.00 p.m. London - Trading Floor

5.00 p.m. Caldwell Sachs

11.20 p.m. London

Caldwell Sachs, 9.30 a.m.

PROLOGUE

Some people are here on earth because they were sent to hell.

Gustav Lenovich was eight when he heard these words from the elderly, wizened priest who swung his incense holder as if to both condemn and absolve the sins of his poor congregation. It aptly described his torturous childhood and it also explained, or so he believed, the huge criminal empire and vast wealth that he had built over the years, based on the same foundations of cruelty and fear that formed his childhood.

Today, 50 years later, as Gustav Lenovich sat in the luxurious surrounding of London’s Lanesborough hotel, he had no idea that his actions over the following hours would bring the super powers of the US, China, and Russia to the edge war. Banks would collapse, there would be rioting and looting on the streets as cash machines stopped dispensing, and food prices would rocket with the realisation that the modern world was built on fragile trust and promises that would evaporate and explode as fast as gasoline thrown onto a fire.

As he waited for the appointed time his mind drifted back to the priest and his youth. The setting was a remote Orthodox church near Dobryanka, Northern Ukraine, near the Russian border, and the fierce blizzard that raged outside blew screaming shards of snow through the broken vestibule window, creating a ghostly, surreal atmosphere in the semi darkness. Outside the wind had created huge snow drifts that made the roads impassable. The God fearing and devout congregation consisted of the poor and desperate of this remote and desolate region who, like his mother, believed the priest when he said their daily struggle for life, the constant hunger and cold was because they had sinned. The priest’s haughty words, his majestic gold and purple cloak, his wizard like staff, the swirling smoke mingled with the freezing snow mist, and the sweet smell of burning incense in the cutting cold, created an image that embedded as deeply as a surgeon’s knife in Gustav’s childhood mind; just like the terrible cold which cut through his ragged coat to his bones in the void and despair of the Ukrainian winter. To Gustav, this place really was hell on earth.

‘How dare the Orthodox Church with its grandeur and opulence lecture him and his mother about their sins and the reason for their suffering whilst it passed round its gilded purse to collect from those, like his family, with nothing. Yet his mother dropped a small coin into the purse, as she always did, because absolution was based on the generosity of those with little to feed their own families.

What did this priest, silhouetted in the heavy mist of burning incense, and dressed so extravagantly in purple and gold, know of hunger, cold and poverty?’

The hypocrisy of the words had kindled a fire in Gustav that over the years had developed into a burning rage. He had vowed to escape the wretched misery of his childhood and to secure more wealth, more power, and more influence than the church itself.

Today his vast criminal empire had tentacles that spread from Europe and Russia to America and the Far East. Through his single-minded focus he now yielded more power than many governments, but his obsession with privacy and his deep distrust of all but his most inner circle ensured he remained a ghost, a feared and mythical figure in the criminal underground. Gustav, or the ‘Cobra’, as he was known by his inner command, was shielded by a small group of fiercely loyal lieutenants who prevented anyone getting close. Terror and extortion were the tools of their trade, and over the years they had become experts in every form of sadistic cruelty to take what they wanted. Gustav had few friends and fewer enemies, as most were dead. In sharp contrast to his childhood, his huge fortune now allowed him to indulge in imaginable pleasure and to re-model his outward appearance. He was well groomed, immaculately dressed, and his good looks and engaging manner allowed him to mix freely within the upper circles of society. Yet underneath this glossy veneer lived ghosts of extortion, deception and every evil most feared by mankind.

THE EARLY YEARS

Gustav was born in the Ukraine on 9th November 1959 to a poor peasant family as one of five brothers, four of whom died from starvation, alongside many thousands in the terrible winter of 1962, when temperatures fell to -40 Celsius. The extended winter meant that families had long ago consumed

their livestock and provisions, and those that survived did so by digging through the frozen tundra in search of leaves and roots. Gustav was a scrawny child, prone to chest infections and asthma and had not been expected to live.

Meals were erratic and would often end in fights with his siblings as they scrapped over the meagre provisions. His mother tried to share what little food there was, and took to holding small amounts back to allow Gustav to eat when the others were absent. Without this, he would have starved, as he was no match for his brothers. In return, he promised his mother that he would one day leave to make a better life, and that he would come back for her. Little by little, through steely determination, he trained his mind to imagine his huge future success as if he possessed it now, painting a picture that was so detailed and so real that he could touch and feel it as if he possessed it already. In this picture he was healthy, strong and well-dressed, with huge power and wealth. He started exercising every day, regardless of daily setbacks, and in doing so gradually developed the rugged athleticism that he still maintained. He had the same piercing blue eyes as his father, framed by thick, wavy black hair, a tanned face with deep lines that ran down his cheeks highlighting his good bone structure. He had learned how to scrap when there was nothing to eat, how to fight, but most important, how to avoid fights that he could not win.

The frequent fights with his brothers and rival gangs were usually about food, and were part of daily life to avoid starvation. Frequent unprovoked aggression arose from boredom and frustration at their miserable existence. However, unlike his siblings, Gustav was canny and calculating and developed an early ability to read situations and people, coldly assessing personal risk and gain. He would never fight or retaliate unless he was certain of victory. His pent-up frustration would sometimes reach boiling point, but still he held back, knowing that his success was pre-ordained and certain, and only then he would then seek revenge for the many wrongs inflicted upon him. The cold and steely determination that had kept him alive during his miserable childhood when so many others had died would continue to serve him well.

Although he had no formal education, Gustav had a canny and innate intelligence that allowed him to quickly analyse and judge people and situations, and his self-confidence was abundant and infectious. He could also be charming and engaging, often beguiling his true feelings. No one would have guessed that this small, half-starved, boy would one day become a ruthless entrepreneur, controlling a vast underground empire of illegal activities that spanned the globe. He would win over the trust of influential business people, and the confidence of women, who became puppets in his hands before he callously discarded them.

Today was 10 November 2018 — the 47th anniversary of the day that his father had left his family. Gustav recalled the day as if it had been yesterday. It was the day after his eleventh birthday, bitterly cold and thick with snow. His father had been drinking heavily, as he did most days, and was shouting to Gustav’s mother in the kitchen, where she was making a watery soup from meagre scraps of vegetables and bread. His father’s voice was louder and more angry than usual, and he could hear his mother’s stifled screams through the bolted door that he had slammed shut after he had stormed in. Gustav had tiptoed up to the room to hear what was happening, peering through a slit in the battered pine; there was no need—he knew what was coming as the beating and screaming intensified. Finally, he could not stand it any longer; he forced the door open and stood there in his diminutive frame, tears trickling down his dirty face. His mother’s long woollen dress was stained where the soup had landed on her; her petticoats ripped, her face tinged with grey from the bruises, and smeared with streaks of spattered blood from her torn lips. His mother was half­cowering and half-kneeling, pleading with her husband, but he ignored her impassioned cries of anguish, brushing past her like discarded rubbish. As he passed he roughly swiped Gustav across the face, knocking him to the floor. Gustav watched, terrified, in a dream-like haze, as his father staggered from the house in an alcohol-fuelled rage, grabbing a half-empty bottle of vodka and some fur skins as he stormed into the freezing snow. Gustav never saw his father again.

Outside the snow was over a metre thick. There was no food, no fuel for a fire, and no means of transport except by foot. Fortunately, his father had left some fur-lined skis. His mother cried for two days after his father left. He could still hear her deep sobs of despair; they had torn at his heart. He had tried to comfort her, but it was no use. He was young and felt powerless to do anything. Years later, he realized she was not grieving for her husband, but for her children, whom she felt certain would now die of starvation or cold. Gustav had had somehow survived, though all four of his brothers had died. It was the day his father had walked out that Gustav solemnly swore to himself that he would leave the Ukraine forever and make his fortune, heeding the resolution he made many years earlier in that small Orthodox church, and the picture he had painted of his future life.

Years later, he heard that his mother had died shortly after he had left; Gustav was her only surviving son. Gustav loved his mother deeply; she was warm, caring and had always put her children before herself, hanging onto the thin thread of life to feed them first. It was too late. Gustav realised only much later that he was the only reason his mother had prolonged her torturous life so long. When he finally left home, still a small boy, there was nothing left for her. He had inadvertently killed his own mother.

Meals were erratic and would often end in fights with his siblings as they scrapped over the meagre provisions. His mother tried to share what little food there was, and took to holding small amounts back to allow Gustav to eat when the others were not there. Without this, he would undoubtedly have starved, as he was no match for his brothers. In return, he promised his mother that he would one day leave to make a better life, and that he would come back for her. Little by little, through steely determination, he trained his mind to focus on his eventual success. He exercised every day, developing a rugged athleticism, which accentuated the fine bone structure in his face. He had the same piercing blue eyes as his father, framed by thick, wavy black hair, a tanned face with deep lines that ran down his cheeks. He learned how to scrap when there was never enough to eat, how to fight, and most important, how to avoid fights that he could not win.

The frequent fights with his brothers and rival gangs were often about food, to avoid starvation. Acts of unprovoked aggression often arose from boredom and frustration at their miserable existence. But, unlike his siblings, Gustav was canny and calculating, and developed an early ability to read situations and people, coldly assessing personal gain and risk. He learnt never to fight or retaliate unless he was sure of victory. His pent-up frustration would sometimes reach boiling point, but still he held back, determined that one day he would be successful, and would then seek revenge for the many wrongs inflicted upon him. His cold, steely determination had helped him brazen out and stay alive during his miserable childhood existence when so many others had died.

Although he had no formal education, Gustav was wily and possessed an abundant self-confidence. He could also be charming and engaging, beguiling his real character. No one would have guessed that this small, half-starved, boy would one day become a ruthless entrepreneur, controlling a vast underground empire of illegal activities that spanned the globe. Ove the years he had used his charm and confidence to win the trust of influential business people, and the confidence of women, who became puppets in his hands before he callously discarded them.

Gustav’s father had said little, but he still remembered his last words: The Communists will remain be in power for no more than 10 years. The country is opening its borders to the West to exploit its vast oil and mineral reserves. Officials will grow rich from selling land, and fortunes will be made. You should leave this place when you can. There is no future here. Get close to the officials, help them, win their trust and then above all, be bold and opportunistic in your dealings with them.

In Gdansk, Gustav had worked on the railways, organising shipments of raw materials across the Ukraine and into Russia. He quickly recognised the opportunities for making money. The Communist government was selling off land to raise capital. Gustav realised that the officials selling the land were more interested in how much they received themselves than in the value of the land itself. He borrowed money from a corrupt bank and through persuasion and bribes, secured the rights to vast blocks of Ukraine’s natural resources at hugely discounted values. Sometimes with the more difficult transactions, he resorted to threats of intimidation. It wasn’t long before he learned that fear was the best method for getting what he wanted. He was always careful to avoid being directly associated with any of the officials who conveniently disappeared. The method of killing was also important and served as a warning to those who tried to cross him. Usually, this involved slow and painful mutilation. Few who had seen the bodies had any lingering doubts about doing what he asked.

At 16, Gustav had followed his father’s advice and moved to Gdansk, a large industrial town where he hoped to find work. He laughed out loud as he thought of the simplicity of his father’s advice to get rich, join the bureaucrats and help steal the country’s riches. It aptly described the basis of his present power and his huge wealth, which had long since been laundered into respectable businesses and Swiss bank accounts. It also aptly described Gustav’s latest plan, except it was not the government that he planned to rob. It was something far larger. It was the foreign exchange market itself, the biggest, most valuable and most liquid market in the world.

LANESBOROUGH HOTEL, LONDON 10.08 A.M.

Gustav Lenovich stared transfixed. The deep furrows on his forehead were the only sign that that he was lost to the world around him—to the soothing cacophony of hushed voices, the chinking of bone china, the crisp tapping of the heels on the stone floor from the demure tail-coated butlers serving breakfast. Slowly he looked up and stared across the busy room, oblivious to his opulent surroundings.

Truly extraordinary, he mused, his imagination racing ahead. Three trillion US dollars traded each day was several times the combined value of all the world’s stock exchanges. Gustav was studying a report on the world’s largest, fastest moving, and most liquid market; a market where prices change faster than 100 times per second, and millions of trades and hundreds of billions of dollars were managed by vast computers swapping a vast complexity of buy and sell orders at warp speed, with little or no human contact.

The market was so vast and prices changed so fast that only the biggest banks with the most advanced systems could compete with the constant increase in volume and velocity as machines battled against machines to win the tiniest advantage that would reap huge profits in this hugely competitive war. The traders used every weapon in their arsenal— speed, stealth, false trails, and phantom orders that dissolved as fast as they appeared, to name but a few. False rumours, deliberately leaked information and whale trades often set off an avalanche of sales by currency speculators, only to find out later that a counterparty had deliberately created a false trail to force down prices for an immediate profit. Automated computer programs or BOTs would scour the market looking for patterns that indicated short-term market trends, and throw out huge buy or sell orders to manipulate prices, only to reverse the orders at the last millisecond, making hundreds of thousands of dollars at the expense of the slower and less nimble.

Traders would create masked accounts with hidden IP addresses that disguised their identity and location and intention. At three trillion dollars, a day the global foreign exchange market was by far the largest market in the world, yet it remained invisible. Despite this, it worked like all markets, matching buyers and sellers of currency and futures. Traditionally the market traders were mostly banks and brokers who matched buyers and sellers, usually for companies importing or exporting goods or services, and taking a tiny margin on the price difference. But today 95% of the market volume was speculative, comprised of investors betting on whether one currency was likely to rise or fall in value against another.

The market that was originally based on international trade had evolved into the world’s biggest casino, and was now dominated by banks, hedge funds and speculators, each taking short-term bets on the direction of currencies, often switching in an out of currency trades hundreds of times a second to scalp tiny price differences across global exchanges. Algorithmic trading programs would buy and sell billions of dollars, Japanese Yen, or Swiss francs, often within milliseconds, speculating that they would profit from short-term currency movements. Few companies or individuals purchased physical currency and there was little need when one could hedge positions through derivatives that could use gearing to vastly amplify the short­term profit or loss on a small bet.

Banks, hedge funds, and computer systems had taken over the financial markets, where a click of a button could place a buy/sell order for millions of US dollars, or execute a series of derivative trades equivalent to taking bets worth billions of dollars on any tradable security and virtually any future event. Many of these trades were made through opaque offshore companies, using multiple trading accounts to obscure or prevent identification. It had become a cyberwar—a war that used weapons of mass destruction in the form of obscure, web-based algorithms, with strange names that trawled the oceans like hungry sharks, looking for profit and sending out false signals and false or cancelled trades to throw off their scent and ambush and kill their rivals.

Other algorithms worked like bloodhounds, tracking the scent of major trades before they took place, and placing orders milliseconds before to drive up the price and gain a quick profit at their counterpart’s expense. The risks were such that whale trades, as they were known, were often split into thousands of small orders to keep them under the radar. So, the battle was now about stealth and speed, with systems pitted against each other in a frenzied war that was increasingly difficult to understand, and nearly impossible to regulate. Everything about this market, the secrecy, the stealth, the deception, the bluff and counter bluff, but most of all the vast opportunity for profit, appealed to Gustav. He had never been accepted by the clubby financial world, and no bank would touch his ‘dirty’ money except for the fact that a bank’s greed was often stronger than its morals. This new enterprise would not only make a fortune but also present a way to undermine the hypocrisy of the banking system, and in doing so wreak havoc on the financial markets he so despised.

London was the nerve centre of this global market, with new speculators joining daily to try their luck and make or lose their fortune. And like real casinos, the winners were the small group who controlled the market and set the odds.

The report confirmed Gustav’s thoughts. Despite its size, the foreign exchange market remained a private club controlled by a cartel of five banks, each acting as a market maker and setting the prices. The labyrinth of systems, security and secrecy and around the inner cartel was virtually impenetrable. The cartel set the prices for banks, brokers and traders around the world, each adding a small profit before selling the currencies to their clients through an array of brokers, resellers and trading systems. It was a hugely profitable business for the cartel and its resellers, and the barriers to entry were formidable. Sitting in between the banks and traders were the hedge funds, the speculators, and operators of dark pools that anonymously matched buyers and sellers to allow massive trades to be executed without market disclosure. It was this ‘investment’ group that was responsible for the vast increase in trading volume, accounting for 95% of all trades. To win the cyberwar they scoured the world looking for the brightest mathematicians, quants, and programmers to continuously improve the speed and agility of the trading platforms that now controlled the market.

Some platforms would match buyers and sellers to minimise risk, automatically adjusting prices up to 1,000 times per second to ensure that prices were the same across all markets. Others would use this information to take speculative positions, laying false trails to hide their true intent. Like the spokes of a hub, the cartel’s banks and trading platforms were connected to a vast network of electronic exchanges around the world, monitoring the signals and deciphering the market noise generated by thousands more banks and hedge funds, each with their own systems. This vast network operated 24/7 with an exotic array of firewalls, security monitoring, and counter-espionage systems to guarantee its security. The core of this secretive and opaque cartel made vast sums of money and was impossible to break, or so it seemed.

Gustav let out a deep breath. It looks perfect, he said in a low voice, acutely aware of the highly sensitive nature of the detailed plans carefully laid out before him. He looked up and barely noticed the butler discreetly hovering near his table, who looked at him quizzically, clearly waiting for instructions.

Nothing more, thank you, Gustav said, dismissing him with a flick of his wrist. He felt completely calm and relaxed, almost meditative, despite the enormity of the scheme that he would unveil in less than an hour. At short notice and without explanation he had summoned to London all his inner associates from Europe and other parts of the world.

Gustav had built his business empire and his own cartel through years of hard work and discipline. Above all, he demanded complete loyalty, discipline, and discretion from his subordinates. Previous associates who had questioned him without good cause had found their businesses and assets stripped bare and redistributed, or become unwitting victims of an accident that would leave them financially and physically crippled. Gustav’s eyes moved slowly around the room, focused like a snake, as if he sensed something or someone watching him; they came to rest on an ornately gilded 19th-century portrait on the wall above the fireplace in the adjoining room. The man was tall and handsome, with azure blue eyes and a weather-beaten face, a deep furrow, and the noble upright posture of a colonial army officer. His expression was confident and strong but the eyes betrayed a lingering shadow, like the dulled light from an approaching storm, perhaps reflecting an inner turmoil or sadness. The face and expression reminded him of his father, and the thought sent a shiver down his spine as his painful childhood memories returned.

The sudden appearance of another waiter interrupted his thoughts. "May I bring you some tea, sir?

Thank you, but I’ll wait for my guests.

It occurred to Gustav how the luxurious surroundings and the calm, unhurried atmosphere of the hotel stood in such stark contrast to his childhood. He wondered how many of the people around him had experienced real hardship, starvation, or had ever looked death in the face. He doubted that any had faced his experiences; none but his closest friends, who shared his background, understood what he had been through, and how his early childhood had moulded his inner steel.

His most profitable enterprise was now Shweize Privatbank, the Swiss bank that he owned with some minority shareholders. He had originally set it up to launder money from the vast profits he had made selling oil, gas, copper, and uranium from his homeland in the Ukraine, and from black market racketeering across Europe and the Far East. This banking connection opened his eyes to the vast profits in the secretive and private world of international finance. Gustav had the statistics, which confirmed that the foreign exchange was by far the biggest market in the world, and London was the epicentre. It dominated world trade, with daily transactions several times the combined value of the world’s stock markets, accounting for trillions of dollars and generating enormous profits for the banking cartel that controlled it. The market was open 24 hours a day, representing every country and every time zone, with new traders, banks, hedge funds, and speculators of every nationality joining the feeding frenzy daily. Why hadn’t he realised the huge potential earlier, he wondered? The foreign exchange market, despite being so opaque, was simply vast and London was its hub, the trading capital of the world. It was the reason he had arranged the meeting at the Lanesborough Hotel in London.

It was Monday, 26 November 2008 at 10.20 a.m., and the meeting was due to start in 10 minutes. The assembled group were mainly of East European origin.

His associates knew very well that Gustav’s calm demeanour could turn in a second; a misplaced comment or the smallest threat to his business empire could expose his cold and ruthless self. His network of lieutenants, informers, and spies, some of them working in rival organisations, provided him with a constant stream of intelligence. He had a fearsome reputation in the underworld and regularly removed anyone whom he suspected of crossing him. His canniness and speed of retribution, often when least expected, had earned him the nickname the "Cobra."

Gustav was excited as he thought about the vast potential profits his plan would generate, but his audience remained quietly apprehensive. They were unaware of the nature of his plans, or why they had been summoned, but acutely aware of his reputation. They waited patiently and quietly as the 10.30 a.m. start approached. The Cobra, under covert names, had contacted the leading traders in London, New York, and Hong Kong with an idea to disrupt the market and redistribute some of its huge wealth. His plan was to sabotage the foreign exchange market using a small team of software experts to penetrate the security systems and intercept trading orders before they were executed, thereby gaining advance information on the direction individual currencies were heading. Large buy or sell orders influenced the price of currencies, just like all markets, and gathering this information in advance and using it to pre-empt orders would allow vast profits to be made. The challenges were the vast speed of the market and the security and encryption, which created huge barriers.

A longer term and riskier strategy was to make small changes to the prices being quoted, thereby diverting huge amounts of money. Whereas the former was completely legal, apart from the questionable acts of espionage and interception, the latter was tantamount to theft, though the only real losers would be the banks themselves, who would notice an unaccountable dip in their vast profits. Of course, by the time they found out what had happened, assuming they ever did, Gustav would have long disappeared.

The more he researched, the more confident he grew that his plan was not only viable, but had a very high chance of success. Furthermore, banks routinely covered up multi-million pound losses from insider trading, employee theft, and security breaches because confidence that banks were safe was more important than anything. This meant that even if his plan was discovered the banks would be extremely reticent about pressing charges. Gustav was feeling confident; he had developed a deep knowledge and understanding of the FX market, which was important in order to convince his business colleagues to partake in his latest venture. He knew that currencies were traded in pairs, mainly sterling/US dollar, Euro/sterling, US dollar/Yen etc. and there were a small number of international banks that acted as market makers to settle trades between themselves and to provide the world markets with the liquidity that the other banks and traders needed. The key to success was to somehow penetrate the systems of two or more of the leading banks and their trading counterparts to allow the prices to be intercepted and eventually to be fixed at both ends. This was no mean feat, but the potential rewards were enormous. This was the reason he had assembled a team of the brightest software engineers and security experts in the world from London, France, the US, Israel, and China to work with him. To secure their loyalty, he had bribed them with large up-front payments, plus the promise of a share of profits. After sending each initial payment, he had taken care to lock them into their agreements. Each participant had received a telephone call, which was followed by a personal visit from his enforcement team, graphically explaining the consequences of backing out, betrayal or failure.

Gustav had organised his project team by following the same security protocols that were used by leading investment banks and software companies. Project detail and the software code would be carefully segregated to prevent any individual or group knowing too much, or gaining too much power. Only he would understand the full scope and scale of the plan. Those involved would be told the minimum necessary to complete their tasks, often working in isolation or small teams of two or three people, reporting only to the project heads.

LONDON, 10.32 A.M.

Amanov Reichborg was late; London traffic was in gridlock. It was cold, raining and his taxi was negotiating road works at the top of Sloane Street, heading North towards Hyde Park and the Lanesborough. Would it be quicker to walk he wondered? Amanov had been invited to attend the meeting with Gustav, along with several other prominent businessmen, and the last thing he wanted was to be late. Although wealthy and powerful in his own right, Amanov was still fearful of Gustav, whom he had known since childhood.

Those attending the meeting acknowledged the Cobra as their business mentor; they grudgingly accepted that he was largely responsible for their success and that he could just as easily remove it, or remove them for that matter. Amanov also knew from experience that loyalty and discipline were the two qualities that Gustav ranked above all others, and he did NOT like to be kept waiting.

Only another few minutes until we get there, gov, said the taxi driver, seeing the look of frustration and worry on Amanov’s face. Staying there, are you? What line of business are you in then?

Amanov did not reply; the driver had been talking non-stop on the phone about football, sports, women, and every other subject that came into his head. Now that the call was finished, why did he think he could continue his monologue with him? Amanov had much more serious things on his mind.

Amanov grew up in the same village as Gustav and was the same age, but completely different in build and look. He was tall and stocky, with blonde hair and deep-set brown eyes, shadowed by thick brown eyebrows that overhung a roughly shaven face that hid numerous scars from chicken pox and