million dollars,’ Gallagher said looking for a spark of interest in Nielsen’s eyes but finding none. He had learned that Nielsen had no family, that his life was devoted to the pursuit of collecting money by whatever means, either fair or foul. ‘I’m going to give you the opportunity to pull off one of the greatest financial coups of the century. That five million dollar cheque is only the down payment on several roomfuls of books, or paintings or carpets or whatever you might want to own.’
Nielsen’s thin lips parted in what might have been considered a smile. ‘We’ve only just met, Mr Ryan, if that’s really your name and already you love me so much that you want to increase my wealth enormously. You know I’ve been in business for almost forty years and I’ve dealt with every type of con merchant you can imagine. And every one of them began their pitch by telling me how much richer they were going to make me but what they really meant was how much richer they wanted to make themselves at my expense.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Your banker’s draft bought you exactly one hour, Mr Ryan. And the clock began ticking the moment you pushed the button on the gate outside. I suggest you move on quickly if you want to get your money’s worth.’
Gallagher took a deep breath. It was now or never. He had already made up his mind that if Nielsen didn’t agree to join him that he was going to kill every living thing at the chalet. Those who were drawn into his plan and who declined to help him would be counted as liabilities and would have to be eliminated. Nielsen might have felt impregnable in his chalet on the hill but Gallagher already had a mental picture of Nielsen, his bodyguard and the dogs lying dead. It would all be so simple.
‘I’m involved in an operation to destabilize Saudi Arabia,’ Gallagher said smoothly noticing Nielsen’s fair eyebrows rising. That’s got your attention, he thought. ‘The whole operation is multi-faceted. The political establishment will be attacked from every direction. You don’t need to know all the details but suffice it to say that I need you to put pressure on the currency.’
‘And the other pressures?’ Nielsen’s interest was evident.
‘Some of a more direct nature and some indirect. The Saudi state is too well buttressed to fall under one single blow. But if a range of state institutions are put under attack simultaneously, the whole system might just crack.’
Nielsen was punching keys on one of his iMacs while Gallagher had been talking. ‘Okay, Mr Ryan, you’ve passed the first hurdle. You have my undivided attention. I am certainly interested in your project.’
‘What are you doing?’ Gallagher asked.
When Peter Nielsen was a boy he had learned three things. The first was that people were inherently cruel. His limited disability was not his fault but was due to the cocktail of genes his father and mother should never have mixed. But in the nineteen sixties who’d heard of genes or DNA. Since the age of fourteen, he had been uniquely aware of how people looked on him because of his bent frame. The boys at school had laughed at him and the girls had shunned him. Being socially ostracised had turned him into a studious, introverted young man. The second thing he had learned that what he lacked in physique he more than made up for in intelligence. He had no problem in securing the top place in his class in Copenhagen’s best school and the doors of every university in Europe were open to him. At university he discovered that he had a gift for finance. He received his MBA and Ph.D. degrees from the Wharton School at the University of Pennsylvania. It was while working for Merrill Lynch in New York that he had learned the third truth, he could spot a phoney a mile away. These three elements of Peter Nielsen’s life had made him rich beyond the dreams of most men. His wealth was measured in billions of dollars but he had still had the drive to
Nielsen’s thin lips parted in what might have been considered a smile. ‘We’ve only just met, Mr Ryan, if that’s really your name and already you love me so much that you want to increase my wealth enormously. You know I’ve been in business for almost forty years and I’ve dealt with every type of con merchant you can imagine. And every one of them began their pitch by telling me how much richer they were going to make me but what they really meant was how much richer they wanted to make themselves at my expense.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Your banker’s draft bought you exactly one hour, Mr Ryan. And the clock began ticking the moment you pushed the button on the gate outside. I suggest you move on quickly if you want to get your money’s worth.’
Gallagher took a deep breath. It was now or never. He had already made up his mind that if Nielsen didn’t agree to join him that he was going to kill every living thing at the chalet. Those who were drawn into his plan and who declined to help him would be counted as liabilities and would have to be eliminated. Nielsen might have felt impregnable in his chalet on the hill but Gallagher already had a mental picture of Nielsen, his bodyguard and the dogs lying dead. It would all be so simple.
‘I’m involved in an operation to destabilize Saudi Arabia,’ Gallagher said smoothly noticing Nielsen’s fair eyebrows rising. That’s got your attention, he thought. ‘The whole operation is multi-faceted. The political establishment will be attacked from every direction. You don’t need to know all the details but suffice it to say that I need you to put pressure on the currency.’
‘And the other pressures?’ Nielsen’s interest was evident.
‘Some of a more direct nature and some indirect. The Saudi state is too well buttressed to fall under one single blow. But if a range of state institutions are put under attack simultaneously, the whole system might just crack.’
Nielsen was punching keys on one of his iMacs while Gallagher had been talking. ‘Okay, Mr Ryan, you’ve passed the first hurdle. You have my undivided attention. I am certainly interested in your project.’
‘What are you doing?’ Gallagher asked.
When Peter Nielsen was a boy he had learned three things. The first was that people were inherently cruel. His limited disability was not his fault but was due to the cocktail of genes his father and mother should never have mixed. But in the nineteen sixties who’d heard of genes or DNA. Since the age of fourteen, he had been uniquely aware of how people looked on him because of his bent frame. The boys at school had laughed at him and the girls had shunned him. Being socially ostracised had turned him into a studious, introverted young man. The second thing he had learned that what he lacked in physique he more than made up for in intelligence. He had no problem in securing the top place in his class in Copenhagen’s best school and the doors of every university in Europe were open to him. At university he discovered that he had a gift for finance. He received his MBA and Ph.D. degrees from the Wharton School at the University of Pennsylvania. It was while working for Merrill Lynch in New York that he had learned the third truth, he could spot a phoney a mile away. These three elements of Peter Nielsen’s life had made him rich beyond the dreams of most men. His wealth was measured in billions of dollars but he had still had the drive to
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