Vince Flynn - Act of Treason

There was a long pause and then the banker asked, “Who am I speaking with, and how did you get this number?”

“Neither is important at the moment. What is important is that I am in a position to help you avoid a potentially embarrassing situation.”

“Are you an American?”

“Yes. Did you get the e-mail I sent you about a press conference the FBI is going to hold today?”

“I did.”

“Did the name Alexander Deckas mean anything to you?”

“No.” There was hesitation in the voice. “Should it?”

“That depends how involved you are with your clients.”

Dumond pointed to the monitor that was mirroring Kapodistras’s screen. The banker was searching his database looking for a match. After a few seconds the client profile for Deckas popped up on the screen.

“It is the stated policy of our bank to not discuss our clients under any circumstances.”

“Mr. Kapodistras, I see that you were a vice president at the bank back in two thousand and one. Do you remember what it was like in your business when it was discovered that Osama bin Laden had been using Cyprus banks to hide his al-Qaeda funds?”

Rapp had seen the official report. Greek regulators and U.S. federal agents had descended on the Mediterranean island, and the banking business had been thrown on its ear. Decades of the Cyprus banking industry marketing itself as the Switzerland of the Mediterranean was destroyed overnight by the actions of a militant few. People banked on Cyprus because it gave them the same thing the Swiss did: absolute privacy with exceptional service. And they did it in many cases for half the fee. The reduced fees were nice, but the privacy was paramount. Clients fled in droves. Clients who had nothing to do with terrorism, but nonetheless did not want any government knowing how much money they had, or worse, how they had obtained it.

“It was a difficult time to be in my business, but in difficult times comes great opportunity.”

Kapodistras sounded like a man who might be willing to deal. “Well, I have an opportunity for you today.”

“What kind of opportunity?”

“An opportunity to spare your bank.”

“From?”

“Scrutiny that you do not need. An army of regulators from Athens, and an even bigger army of U.S. federal agents going through your bank file by file…line by line. Media parked out in front of your bank for a week driving your customers away. It won’t be pretty.”

There was an extremely long pause before Kapodistras replied. “Whom do you work for?”

“The American government.”

“And why are you paying me this courtesy?”

“I am an impatient man and I believe the two of us can get what we both want without turning this into a public spectacle.”

“You are interested in this Alexander Deckas?”

“Yes.”

“May I ask why?”

“Yes. Do you remember the attack on President-elect Alexander’s motorcade this past November?”

“The one that killed his wife?”

“Yes.”

“What about it?”

“Your client was the man who detonated the bomb.”

There was no uncomfortable laugh. No denial. Just silence for at least ten seconds and then, “What proof do you have?”

“More than you could imagine, including a confession, but for the sake of brevity I’m going to cut to the heart of the matter. In two and a half hours the FBI is going to announce that they have arrested Mr. Deckas. The evidence against him is overwhelming. A team of FBI agents is en route to your island right now. They should be landing in a few hours. I am offering you two choices. The easy way, or the hard way.”

“I’m listening.”

Rapp placed his hand over the mouthpiece and whispered to Dumond, “Tell Wicker and Hacket to go to his office.” Rapp removed his hand and spoke into the phone. “On Saturday night my people took Mr. Deckas into custody and transported him back to America. We went through his office and home in Limassol and are in possession of his banking records as well as a key for a safety deposit box in your bank.”

“And you would like to see what is in that box.”

“That’s correct.”

“And if I say no?”

Rapp sighed. “If you say no, I will turn everything over to the FBI. They will probably show up at your home tonight with the Greek authorities and drag you down to the bank and force you to open the box. The FBI being the thorough, distrustful gents that they are will want to go through all of your records to make sure none of your other clients are connected with Deckas. The Greek authorities will allow this because they will want to look like good allies…and after all, the man killed the future president’s wife. People will start to talk, and you will become known as the bank of choice for terrorists and assassins. Your legitimate customers will leave out of fear of association and your unsavory customers will do the same for the exact same reason. By the end of the week I would imagine your deposits will be cut in half and your fifteen percent stake in the bank will be worth considerably less. Who knows…you might even be forced out.”

“Whom do you work for? The CIA?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that, Mr. Kapodistras.”

“How can I trust you?”

Rapp detected the tension in the man’s voice. He was being faced with a very tough but ultimately easy decision. “As far as I can tell, sir, you have brought none of this on yourself. Your job is to protect your bank, your depositors, and your investors. The best way to do that is to give me what is in that box. If my instincts are correct, the sooner you distance yourself from the contents of that box the better off you and your bank will be.”

“What will prevent you from turning any evidence over to the FBI?”

“I’m not looking to put anyone in jail.”

After a long pause the banker said, “I need some time to think about this.”

“I’ll give you one minute.”

The banker laughed thinking Rapp was joking.

“I’m serious. Two of my men are probably talking to your secretary as we speak. They expect you to come out of your office and take them down to the safety deposit room. If you do not, they will call me and I will turn everything I have over to the FBI. I will also tell them that we have spoken and that you were extremely unhelpful. In addition to that there are some other very nasty things I could employ, but we don’t want to get into that over the phone. I’ll send someone to talk to you about it in person.”

“But there are procedures: signature cards, passwords, the key.”

“We have the key, and one of my men can forge the client’s signature. All you have to do is provide the password.”

“I will need to inventory the contents of the box.”

“Go right ahead. In fact…I’m sure there’s some cash in there. Keep half of it for your troubles. The rest of it, though, my men are taking with them. Do we have a deal?”

“Yes,” the banker said without any hesitation. “We have a deal.”

“Good. Now go straight out to your reception area and greet my men. Act like you have met them before. The big one you may call Kevin and the shorter one Charlie. Take them straight downstairs and do whatever they ask of you. If all goes well, they will be out of your way in ten minutes or less. Any questions?”

“No.”

“Good. Thank you for being so cooperative.” Rapp placed the handset back in the cradle and said to Dumond, “Continue to monitor all of his calls and e-mails. If he doesn’t do exactly as we asked, crash his entire system and tell Wicker and Hacket to get out of there.”

Rapp walked over and grabbed his jacket.

“Where are you going?” Dumond asked.

“I need to run down a lead.”