Havana Harvest (42 page)

“How do I know your name is really Bernard Lands and that you are telling the truth?”

Lonsdale took a deep breath. “Call the Hotel Baur-au-Lac and ask for me. If I am registered there they must have my passport and credit card numbers. N'est-ce pas?”

Bodner got to his feet with a groan and staggered over to his desk. He pressed the intercom and asked Frau Fischer to call Bernard Lands at his hotel. In no time Frau Fischer reported that Mr. Lands, who was indeed registered, was out. Was there any message?

“Never mind.” Bodner hung up and turned to his visitor. “You've scored a point, but how do I know you didn't just borrow the name, which you could have overheard in the hotel's lobby?”

He's thinking clearly again
, Lonsdale said to himself and answered brazenly. “You don't, but think carefully. If I were an ordinary kind of blackmailer would I go to all this trouble?”

Bodner seemed to hesitate, and Lonsdale was sure he was going to cooperate. It was only a question of time.

The banker sat down and remained motionless for a while. Depressed, he stared at a fixed point above Lonsdale's head. Then he turned on his computer and keyed in some numbers. Within thirty seconds his printer spewed out Montalba's account activity since inception: three sheets of paper. After glancing at them the banker handed them to Lonsdale. “Your friend has about three hundred and fifty thousand dollars in his account, which he deposited over a twelve-year period. There have been no withdrawals. The account is not in his name, but in that of his daughter, Maria Teresa. Montalba remains the sole signatory as long as he's alive.”

Lonsdale glanced at the sheet. Bodner's summary was dead on. Montalba was putting aside money for his only child, his daughter. But where did the money come from? Lonsdale looked at the papers in his hand again. All deposits, except the first thousand dollars, were wire transfers from the National Bank of Mexico.

“You've got what you wanted,” Bodner ordered, still dazed. “Now get out.”

Lonsdale turned on his heel and left, straightening his tie as he passed Mrs. Fischer on the way out.

Back in his room he cleaned up then booked himself an appointment with the hotel's
masseur
in the steam room and on his way down in his bath-robe, bought a new shirt and pair of pants in the Baur-au-Lac's haberdashery. By the time he got to the sauna his muscles were beginning to stiffen up and his bruises were seriously hurting.

Bodner had been a far more effective physical adversary than Lons- dale had expected.

Lonsdale spent a half hour in the steam room and another forty minutes with the
massseur
under whose capable and soothing fingers the kinks and knots in Lonsdale's muscles soon dissolved. Thus, by late lunchtime he could move his body almost without pain.

Almost. There was still pain, but it was bearable.

Lonsdale had a double vodka and San Pelegrino in the grill, followed by a roast beef sandwich washed down with strong espresso. At three he called for a limousine to drive him to Vaduz, Liechtenstein's capital city.

Then he checked out.

Tuesday and Wednesday
Jethou, The Islands of Jersey

Built on a bluff, Antony Benedict's magnificent house on the Island of Jethou offered spectacular views of the ocean from every window, but none more dramatic than the one from the living room, cantilevered out over the sea.

Sipping a double Absolut with San Pelegrino, Lonsdale told his host about the purpose of his visit while, a hundred feet beneath him, the sea boiled as it exploded against the rock then retracted, only to come racing back to crash again into the mass of the island.

A corporate lawyer, Benedict practiced his profession from his spacious home office, and specialized in forming and administering offshore corporations around the world. A graduate of Trinity College, Cambridge, he'd been a University rowing “blue.” Although years of easy living had made him overweight you could still see the power in his shoulders and barrel chest that had caused his teammates to elect him with one voice their scull's “stroke,” or lead rower.

The lawyer had bought Jethou, an island in the English Channel between Jersey and Guernsey, after living twelve years in the Caribbean, where he had acquired firsthand knowledge of the chicanery and double—dealings of members of the international jet set. During these years—his years in the monkey house he called them—he had also learned that the super rich showed one common concern: how to protect their assets from confiscation triggered by sudden and violent political upheaval.

“What I need is for you to incorporate an offshore company in Switzerland and to open a bank account for it,” Lonsdale told Bendict, whom he had known for years and who had assisted him very ef- fectively in the past. “After that, I want this company to appear to be owned by you, but its shares, which will all be bearer shares, will be in my possession. Once this is done, I'll have someone wire a million and a half U.S. dollars into your trust account in Cayman.” Lonsdale looked up at his host. “I assume the account is still at Bar-clay's Bank?”

Benedict nodded and Lonsdale continued. “The money will arrive with instructions saying to be called for by
X
.” He looked at Benedict again and asked “What would you like
X
to be?”

“You mean what name we are to use?”

“Precisely.”

Benedict pursed his lips. “How about some sort of a difficultish code name?”

“Like … ?”

Benedict closed his eyes for a few seconds then said: “Let's try D91N.”

“All right with me, but why?”

Benedict laughed. “Think about it for a bit. I'm sure you'll stumble onto the reason sooner or later.” Lonsdale made a face and continued: “As soon as the money arrives transfer it to the Swiss company's bank account.” “Who will have signing authority over the account?”

“For the time being, you will, Anton, and if you die, your partner Caldwell in Cayman will, but Caldwell is not to know who the beneficial owner of the Swiss company is.”

“I have to tell him
something
.”

“Then tell him the company is owned by whoever turns up with the bearer shares.”

“Which you will have in your possession.”

“Which I, or, if I die, my legal heirs will have possession of to do with as they please.”

Benedict nodded. “I see what you're trying to achieve. Now tell me, what's her name?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Come off it, Lonsdale.” The lawyer's light-blue eyes twinkled with merriment. “I have known you for fifteen years during which I never once saw you concern yourself with your death, or its effect on your assets.” Benedict rose and, drink in hand, walked over to the large window. He watched the sunset for a while then turned to face his guest.

Lonsdale laughed and told him about Micheline.

“You will be careful, won't you?” said Benedict.

“What do you mean?”

“Look old chap, I'm not trying to pry, but I've been watching your comings and goings during the past decade and a half and I've a general idea of how remarkably well-informed you are. After what you've just asked of me I'm more convinced than ever that your many varied responsibilities, of which, I confess, I know precious little, include the directing of substantial operations one of which seems to be in the process of making its debut, and a well-financed debut at that, I might add.” Benedict took a contemplative puff on his cigar and continued. “I'm rather fond of you, you know that, and I don't want any harm to befall you. That's all.”

Lonsdale was touched. “I promise I'll be careful.”

“You should be at your age, old chap, you should be. I'll look after everything you've asked for first thing tomorrow morning. I'll sell you one of my shell companies and I'll have your bearer shares for you by Monday next. Your company's bank account will also be open by then. You may thus inform your people that they should be prepared to wire the funds next Monday. I'll provide the details when I send you your share certificates. Where do you want them sent?”

“To Micheline, via messenger.”

“You must then give me her address.”

Without a word Lonsdale handed the lawyer a sheet of paper with all the particulars then got up to leave. Benedict waved his cigar in Lonsdale's general direction. “Good-bye old chap and good luck.”

“Good-bye Anton and thank you.”

“For what?”

“For your hospitality, for your advice and for caring.”

At three a.m. that night Lonsdale sat up in his bed. His subconscious had worked out that D91N stood for NSD, as in LoNSDale.

Thursday
Palm Beach, Florida

Lonsdale felt great. He was perfectly on schedule. While driving from Miami to Palm Beach he mentally ticked off the principal accomplishments of the past few days: debriefing Spiegel; obtaining copies of Montalba's Swiss bank account; forming a Panamanian company through the attorneys in Vaduz and opening a bank account for it; forming a Swiss company for his own purposes through Benedict; and opening a bank account for it in Zurich. He'd also recruited a field commander, Gal, whom he was on his way to visit, and he'd likewise secured the services of a paymaster, Ramirez, who was standing by for instructions.

What remained to be done?

Getting the account numbers from Vaduz and Benedict and passing them along to Morton so he could fund the operation was priority one. Then there was the recruiting, the training, the purchase of weaponry, the
Barbara
, the helicopter … lots to do still. And he had a month left at best during which he also had to somehow squeeze in a trip to Cuba. Lonsdale needed help big time. He could hardly wait to see Gal.

As it turned out Gal was just as anxious to get on with the job. He had identified two team leaders, both on leave from the Mossad, robust and Spanish-speaking, each with a “following,” two in one case and three in the other. That made a total of eight with Gal.

“I have my eyes on two Cuban drivers. They know Havana and are handy with weapons. If we can secure their services we have half the field force we need and can start training.” They were sitting on Gal's porch in the dark, sipping Diet Cokes. “What about the money?” Gal asked. “It's due tomorrow.”

Lonsdale was embarrassed. “I know I haven't kept my promise, but the problem is technical, not financial.” He then explained that the Panama account would not be open before late Friday so that funds could not be transferred to it before Monday. “But I fully expect to be in funds by Monday at the latest. As I told you, Ramirez is the paymaster and sole signatory on the account. Deal with him.”

“What will be the effective date of employment of my men?” The delay was making Gal nervous.

“Monday.”

“And when can I start ordering material?”

“Also on Monday. Ramirez has the list of suppliers.” Lonsdale had an idea. “Reuven, why don't I turn the purchase program over to you? That'll leave me free to look after chartering the
Barbara
, buying the helicopter, and hiring the pilots and the communications guys.” He looked at his host. “Would that be OK with you?”

Gal seemed relieved. “Sure. Too many cooks spoil the broth.” He took a gulp of his drink. “The new starting date, Monday, gives me a chance to honor my previous commitments.”