Royal Heist by Lynda La Plante

outlined the Internet crash. “But I don’t understand. Can’t David Lyons sort this out?”
    “’Fraid not, Jimmy. He’s dead. He topped himself.”
    Wilcox was meticulous about how his food should be served, and Rika had it down to a fine art. Fresh white linen napkins lay next to the fine bone-china plates and coffee cups. She had changed into a navy ski suit. “I’m meeting the boys on da slopes. Will you see later?”
    “I have a few things to do. Maybe we could meet for lunch, take the boys to the hamburger joint.”
    “But you no like dat place.”
    “I know, but they love it. Tonight I’ll arrange a nice place for us to go and eat, maybe dance. What do you think?”
    She curled her arms around him. “Vatever you vant. I love you.”
    “I love you too.”
    She cupped his chin in her hands. “You vould tell Rika somethink happen if it’s not good, yes?” she asked.
    “Of course. Go on, now, see you later.”
    She paused at the door. She was seeing something in Wilcox that she had never seen before. Something was weighing him down.
    He smiled. “Now, go on, go meet the kids.”
    This time she left, and he closed his eyes. His entire fortune, bar a few hundred thousand, had gone. David Lyons had killed himself and, as he sliced the top off his egg, Wilcox wished he had done it for him. He did not blame de Jersey; it had been his own decision to bankroll the Internet company. And he still trusted de Jersey to get them out of the mess. Deep down, though, he was afraid. He wondered if de Jersey would have to resurrect the Colonel.

CHAPTER
    3
    D e Jersey sat at his desk jotting notes. An opened newspaper had an article ringed in red about the falling prices of Internet stocks. Some compared it to the Wall Street crash. The headline screamed, TYCOONS WHO LOST A BILLION OVERNIGHT and THE STARS WHO SAW THEIR INTERNET FORTUNES CRASH. Five British investors had lost a billion in less than a year; five others had lost more than half a billion. The only compensation for de Jersey was that his name was not mentioned in any of the press reports.
    Leadingleisurewear.com had grown into one of Europe’s largest Internet retailers as well, but it had now been confirmed that they had brought in liquidators. The company had spent nearly 230 million pounds since its inception eighteen months previously. Staff at its New York headquarters learned that the fledgling enterprise had collapsed, taking with it the entire backing of its investors. The founder, Alex Moreno, admitted that the company had failed to control costs.
    De Jersey wrote and underlined the man’s name on his pad. He turned back to his computer, took out one disk, and slotted in another. He continued scrolling through David’s reports, which detailed previous companies started by Moreno. Apparently, he had successfully launched four companies on the Internet over the past six years. In a lengthy article, Moreno expressed his deep regret but said he still believed leadingleisurewear had been on the right track in aiming to become the largest Internet retail clothing business in the world. He admitted they had spent money too freely opening lavish foreign offices in Britain, Germany, and Sweden, and offering perks to lure the best employees.
    De Jersey almost bit through his cigar. Management had purchased fleets of cars and enjoyed first-class hotel accommodations as well as luxurious apartments and houses. The article identified the big losers in leadingleisurewear as “an English aristocrat and two other British businessmen.” As the controlling shareholder, de Jersey had suffered the biggest loss: nearly a hundred million pounds.
    It was almost five o’clock in the morning when he finished assessing the documentation David had compiled for him. His losses were far greater than he had at first anticipated. All that remained was the three million he had stashed in his offshore account in the Caymans, and with David gone, he would now have to gain