Beirut - An Explosive Thriller by Alexander McNabb Page A

one of Luxe Marine’s yachts.
The arms in question, she claimed, were looted from a cold war arms
cache near the Czech border. She has subsequently been reported as
missing, believed abducted. Dieter?’
    ‘ We have
preliminary results from electronic surveillance of Hoffmann’s
personal finances as well as his business interests. Both were a
problem until before two weeks. At this time a deposit counting
eighty million US dollars was made to the Luxe Marine business
account from Bankhaus Löbbecke. The payment was justified as a
deposit against an eighty million dollar order from a pair of
Middle Eastern businessmen, Michel Freij and his partner Selim
Hussein, for a fifty-metre yacht. The price of almost two million
dollars per metre is very high – significantly in excess of two,
even three times the market rate, I am informed.’ He smiled.
‘Although I am, sadly, no expert in luxury yachts.’
    Lynch joined
in the dutiful rustle of amusement that passed around the table.
‘The Bankhaus Löbbecke payment originated from a German dot com
company, Kaufsmartz.com. You know this company I think, Mr
Lynch.’
    ‘ Sure and I
do. Kaufsmartz is owned by Falcon Holdings, an offshore investment
vehicle owned by Falcon Dynamics, which belongs to Freij and
Hussein. We tracked the transfer they made to top up Kaufsmartz’
account – they were using a stream of micropayments to make the
transfers surreptitiously.’
    ‘ Quite so. We
also have tracked a payment of forty million dollars made almost
immediately afterwards by Luxe Marine to a certain Peter Meier,
Hoffmann’s brother-in-law. Meier has long been known to us in
connection with a number of cases involving the shipment of arms.
We have found no trace of the girl.’
    Lynch glanced
around the people in the room, his attention drawn to the big
customs man, Duggan, who was running his hand distractedly through
his ginger-blond hair and looking like he might explode at any
second. A physical man, a man of action cooped up with dull
talkers, Lynch conjectured. Duggan caught his eye and glanced
away.
    Channing
brandished his pencil. ‘Thank you, Dieter. Now, while investigating
Luxe Marine, Mr Duggan also made brief contact with a person who
identified himself as Gonsalves. There is a known associate of
Peter Meier’s, a Joel Gonsalves. He is an experienced ship’s
captain and a man with, let us say, a chequered past. We believe on
this basis he is commanding the yacht, which is called the Arabian Princess . It is
obviously early to draw any concrete conclusion from what is, at
this stage, highly circumstantial evidence. We have an unusual
transfer of money that is not, as far as I am aware, strictly
illegal, from Beirut to Germany. We have an order for an overpriced
luxury yacht. But we also have a missing girl who claims her father
has become an arms smuggler. She was, incidentally, a
prostitute.’
    Duggan was on
his feet, Jefferson pulling at his sleeve. He shook Jefferson off.
‘What the hell does that change?’
    ‘ Nothing, Mr
Duggan. Please, be seated.’ Dubois’ voice was a surprise. Insidious
and smooth, it flowed like mercury into the room. His accent was
faint, but Lynch reckoned women would find it attractive. He
wondered if Nathalie of the night-black hair and green eyes had
heard Dubois talking dirty in those low, musical tones.
    Dubois waited
for the big man to settle. ‘You are suggesting we proceed in
monitoring only, Brian? The man you employed to investigate this
matter in Beirut was killed, is it not so Mr Lynch?’
    Lynch glanced
at Channing. ‘May I speak openly?’
    ‘ Of course, Gerald. We’re with friends, partners , here.’
    ‘ Yes, he was
killed. His throat was slashed. Paul Stokes evidently struck a
nerve when he interviewed Freij. I obviously had no idea of the
ferocity of the reaction it would trigger. I have a transcript of
the interview. Stokes rattled Freij when he started to talk about
the money transfer from Falcon to its