The Scottish Banker of Surabaya - By Ian Hamilton Page 0,87

the reality was; I didn’t need unnecessary detail.”

“So the branches you set up in places such as Toronto and New York were for the sole purpose of returning money to the ’Ndrangheta?”

“Yeah.”

“And those branches make loans to those companies?”

“Yeah, and to some individuals.”

“How do you know they’re connected?”

“I don’t. There’s someone in place at every branch. In Toronto it was Rocca, who was a member of the gang or involved with it in a serious way. He gave instructions on how much money was to go to whom and for what. We just do what we’re told.”

“And then you paper them all as loans?”

“Aye, although in reality they aren’t loans, because none of them are ever repaid. Not even a penny of interest finds its way back.”

“How do you explain that?”

“Explain to who?”

“Bank authorities.”

“I told you, some of them are getting paid off, but just to be safe we run two sets of books. One set shows that the loans are performing and giving us a profit, which we declare and pay taxes on — modest taxes, but it makes us look legitimate. The other set of books is run for the Italians. All they show is money in, money out, and what we have on account.”

“And the real estate holdings?”

“They don’t care who actually owns what, just how much money was given to whom. The real estate records I maintain for bank records and for the other set of books.”

“So the equity base we saw when we looked into the bank is real?”

“On paper it is.”

“How does the . . . ,” she said, checking the name again, “the ’Ndrangheta generate so much cash?”

“Drugs, knock-offs . . . you name anything illegal and they’re probably into it.”

“So all this real estate investment is — what, an attempt to go legitimate?”

Cameron began to laugh. “Hardly. They just have too much cash to leave it lying around. After they put what they need back into their core businesses, they need to do something with the excess. That’s why we exist. We’re a dumping ground. Can you imagine how much money they have in total if we’re just handling what they don’t need?”

Ava returned to her notebook. The thirty million dollars now seemed like small potatoes. “Then why did they have to screw around my clients?”

“They don’t give a shit about your clients.”

“They took thirty million dollars from them.”

“No, Purslow took the thirty million.”

“They got it back.”

“You need to understand how they think,” Cameron said. “In their minds, Purslow stole thirty million dollars from the bank. How it got there didn’t concern them. It was there; therefore it was theirs. And even if it wasn’t, they’re the ones who retrieved it, and in their minds it’s always finders, keepers. They are the greediest people I’ve ever met.”

“What about closing the branch office. Was that related to this?”

“No, not at all. The decision was made months before. They felt there was only so much money they could put into any one market before they would start to attract attention to themselves, and they’re absolutely paranoid about attracting attention — to themselves or to the bank. We had reached a threshold in Toronto and they decided to pull out for at least a while.”

“So that part was true.”

“Aye, we were only weeks away from closing when Purslow did his thing. I’ve never seen them quite so angry. Like I said, they thought he was stealing their money. And just as bad, he was potentially the cause of some unwelcome publicity. So they found him and they killed him.”

“What about Lam? Why didn’t they kill him if they were so concerned about publicity?”

“They talked about it.”

“And?”

“Rocca convinced them not to. He was worried that Lam might have spoken to some people after their first meeting or had written stuff down, and that if something happened to him the problem would just get bigger, with more people involved, more questions being asked. He said Lam was a coward and that it would be more effective if they just scared him into keeping his mouth shut. And he was right. At least I think he was right . . . but then Lam talked to you, didn’t he.”

Ava ignored the implication. “Why didn’t they just give him his money back and send him on his way?”

“They didn’t have to, did they. Scaring him was more effective.”

She thought of the terrified little man she’d met in Ho Chi Minh City what seemed like a very long time ago.