Novels by Thomas Kennedy:

Romance/Thrillers/Humour:

Dark Drink and Conversation

More Dark Drink and Conversation

Twisted Love and Money

Love on the Dark Side of the City

The Irish Detective

Forensic Affairs

Debits and Credits

The Doorbell Went

The Tigerman

On the Ninth Green

Young Woman Dead

Riviera Tramp

Madeline goes Foreign

Fantasy Fiction Novels:

Druids Raptors and Egyptians

The New York Druid

The Chicago Druid and the Ugly Princess

The San Francisco Leprechauns

The Boston Druid and the Wizard

The Great Fury

The Dublin Fosterling

The God of Death takes a Holiday

Swan Magic

Wish no Wish

Business Guides:

Changing and Surviving in Business

Targeting Performance

Riviera Tramp

Chapter one

The stretch limousine provided by the bank glided along smoothly from the airport. Inside Annabel struggled to deal with jet lag.

'Christ,' she thought. 'I have to break out of this way of life.'

From the outside it appeared non-descript, just another address in a terraced line of three storied houses dating from sometime earlier than the nineteenth century. A gold plaque indicated the name of the bank without mentioning the word bank. Overhead there was a security camera.

The chauffeur held the door open while Annabel gathered herself. She nodded her thanks and gave a tired smile. 'Show time,' she thought.

Annabel held her briefcase tight under her arm and buzzed the buzzer.

Yes? a voice came clearly over the intercom.

Annabel Beauvoir. I have an appoint....

Before she'd finished the buzzer buzzed and the door opened inwards. The door was heavy but well machined and it glided silently.

Annabel stepped inside.

The door closed behind her and she felt trapped in a small lobby. Then as the outer door closed with a faint click the inner door slid back and she was admitted into the lobby proper.

The inside reminded her of the inside of a small church, with a large expanse and a domed ceiling. Any resemblance to the outside facade was lost in a blink of an eye. Clearly the inner building spanned the length of the street and the outside was just a facade from a previous era.

Annabel crossed the red carpet on the marble floor and followed it to a reception desk manned by an attractive dark haired woman.

Welcome Annabel Beauvoir. I'm afraid you are late. You have missed the coffee reception.

Sorry, the flight from Amsterdam was a little late.

You flew into Zurich Airport, I presume?

Yes I took a commercial flight. Never fully reliable. But I like Zurich airport, there's so much space.

Yes, we Swiss build for the long term.

The receptionist had the name Ingrid on her badge. She typed into the machine and then picked up the phone.

The steward will take you to the conference room, she said.

Thank you Ingrid, Annabel said.

Ingrid watched as the uniformed steward came and with great politeness, indicated to Annabel to follow him.

'Frumpy but with potential,' was Ingrid's verdict. She didn't approve of Annabel’s summer frock under a crumpled cardigan over...

Ingrid paused her judgement. Annabel was wearing a very expensive line in high heels. Something Ingrid would die for.

Ingrid herself was dressed sharply and well made up from hair to heel, reflecting the high quality standard of the bank and the first class level of service it aspired to for its wealthy clients. She was the first person visitors met and the bank put high value on making a good first impression.

She returned to her screen. She was pleased to note that all of the invitees had now arrived.

The conference was under way. It was not a large gathering. The exclusive guest list had been specially compiled and the invited numbered twelve in total. Annabel decided she was the only person under forty and there was one other woman in the audience in a black business suit.

The atmosphere seemed to be relaxed. 'Soft sell,' Annabel decided.

There were three expensively suited men in matching shirts and ties at the top table. Then Annabel noticed the fourth at the table. Half hidden behind papers was a bespeckled woman in a suit consisting of skirt and jacket and a blouse without cravat, but matching the shirts of the men. Clearly this was the bank team gathered to make the presentation.

Young lady? the tall man standing in the centre of the group addressed her.

Annabel looked up, slightly startled to be addressed as 'young lady,' but she knew she was the only one who could be said to resemble the description. She raised two eyebrows in acknowledgement.

We have got through the introduction stage, the man continued. I am Karl Schmidt, lead investment manager and this is my team. As he spoke he waved his hand at the group on the top table.

Young lady, are you in the right venue? This is a senior investment meeting.

Annabel coughed. The man was speaking in French, albeit with a Swiss accent. She wondered, given the name if he was Swiss German in origin.

International Funds, Swiss Inwards Investment meeting? she managed.

French was her native language so that was no problem. But she felt her brain was mashed, having come to Zurich via meetings in New York, Singapore and London and Amsterdam. What she'd call a busy week.

Right, Karl said, and what might be your name?

Annabel Beauvoir.

The woman surrounded by paper nodded in affirmation and Karl smiled.

Welcome, our other participants have introduced themselves already. We are all senior in the investment world. We have here Hedge Fund and Pension Fund investors who deal in hundreds of millions and some in billions. Perhaps you could start by describing your investment vehicle Miss Beauvoir.

You may call me Annabel. My fund for this meeting is Hong Kong based. It has a declared capital of forty million...

Aah? Karl said with an accusatory glance towards the woman on his right. Annabel decided she must have compiled the invitee list.

Are you not attached to the Beauvoir bank in Monaco? the woman asked.

Your name? Annabel asked.

Sorry I am Ava Trouvenan, assistant investment manager. You missed the introductions.

They smiled at each other. Annabel decided she liked Ava. She was sincere in her tone and diffident.

I am a representative of the Monaco Bank, Annabel explained, but in this instance I am representing a Hong Kong Fund.

Excellent, Karl cut across the conversation in a dismissive tone. The mention of forty million had cut no ice with him.

He turned to the gathering. We will assign investment advisors to each fund to ensure a hands on personal service. The overall framework is the same but we can tailor to individual requirement.

There were smiles and nods of agreement.

Excellent, a man in the front row said. We came to do work and do business, not to be given a presentation. Let's get busy.

There were smiles all round. Karl began to call individual teams, some were in twos but most attendees were solo. Annabel found herself to be last on the list as the others were taken away for individual treatment.

Ava came and sat beside her. Karl is not too pleased with me, she confessed with a smile.

Are you one of the advisors Ava?

Yes, but not senior. Karl only wanted multi-million, minimum hundred million funds for today. You appear light on the millions but very welcome.

Thank you. I think myself that Karl is a bit of a misogynist prick, what do you think?

Ava laughed. Annabel like her laugh. Ava quickly gathered herself. It was not practice for Swiss bankers to laugh out loud.

I agree, but dare not say it, Ava said with a smile that reached her eyes.

So what is he proposing for me?

I have been given you Annabel. I am to advise you. Don't worry, I know the market and am as good if I may say so, as any of the other senior advisors.

But being a woman, an assistant and go for.

That could be the reason. I have served the bank well for twenty years and I know the Swiss Market well. I specialise in Switzerland and do the briefs for the others. Please have confidence in me.

Of course.

Ava led Annabel to the coffee table and when Annabel refused coffee, she then asked her if she would like to use the ladies.

Yes, was the crisp answer.

Then they got down to business in Ava's paper cluttered office.

But Annabel noted with satisfaction that Ava's desk was clear except for a computer and one piece of paper. Evidence she decided, of an uncluttered mind.

Now can we begin? Ava asked as they settled. You have a forty million dollar fund. Is that Hong Kong or American Dollars?

Ava, let's step back a second.

Ok.

First I own the Beauvoir Bank in Monaco. It is managed by my uncle Simon. He recommended your bank for the business I have in mind.

You own the bank!

Ava's fingers clattered on the keyboard as she googled. That bank has a balance sheet of twenty billion, not forty million.

Relax Ava, leave the computer alone. I will explain.

Ava looked worried but she smiled and looked Annabel kindly in the eye. Please... she offered.

The fund I am talking about and didn't wish to explain to the assembled meeting, is the result of a deal I made some ten years ago.

You were making million dollar deals ten years ago in Hong Kong? But you are hardly... Ava paused, realising the impoliteness of getting a woman's age too old.

I'm thirty five now, Ava explained with a smile. I inherited over a hundred million and went initially into business in the far east. I studied languages and I wanted to use my Mandarin.

I thought you were younger, Ava lied. Asked to guess she would have said forty. Must be the frumpy clothes and lack of makeup she decided.

I digress. Let me continue. I sold a Hong Kong business for forty million dollars.

Hence the fund.

Yes Ava, but there is a twist to the tale.

Oh?

Yes, due to an oversight in the contractual terms, I got paid in Bitcoin.

Very fashionable at the moment.

Exactly. Bitcoin has risen by several thousand times its then value.

Forty million in Bitcoin ten years ago must be worth billions now, Ava said in amazement.

Annabel delved into her briefcase. These are my supporting documents. I have been steadily selling the Bitcoin. Not so many as to disturb the market but enough to get back into American Dollars. Given the changes in Hong Kong and the Chinese repossession of Hong Kong, I would prefer to get my funds out of there before some greedy judge or General goes after them. I am no longer confident in the rule of law in the territory.

What are these papers?

My references to verify my position including Lawyers and banks. You will need this paperwork to authorise the transfer of my funds to your bank. What I want from you Ava is an investment plan to steadily place three billion American dollars into swiss francs and then into investment in Swiss equities.

Three billion?

Yes, Ava. The forty million is the capitalised start-up of the fund, three billion is its current value.

Ava took a deep breath.

Annabel watched her keenly for signs of panic. There were none.

This is above my pay grade, Ava said.

Annabel smiled.

It will take a week to verify all the detail, Ava added.

I'd like to start transferring funds today. You can verify as we go but you will be more relaxed as I make the transfers.

We charge...

I know, my uncle Simon said fifteen percent but you and I know that is far too much for a sum this size. I will allow five percent if I get top class service. Ongoing fund management fees as normal is ok for me. The fund will be in my name. It is my personal piggy bank and I want an anonymous numbered account. I like to stay below the radar and keep out of the gutter press.

Why not use the Beauvoir bank in Monaco? Ava asked.

I put my income through my accounts there. As you know Monaco is income tax free. But this is separate from my main investments. A sort of windfall gain, but not taxable thank goodness.

I'll have to talk to Mr Schmidt. I'm not cleared to take on clients of this size.

Please do, Ava, but I will tell him I will only do business through you. I want you in a principle role not an assistant. So if he wants my business he will have to promote you.

I'll have to verify.

Of course. But you asked me to have confidence in you Ava. Well I do. One of the secrets of my success is to pick the right people to work on my behalf.

Thank you.

And tell him my offer of initial five percent fee is non-negotiable. I'm sure he will be happy to accept, given I propose to manage the fund through you for this bank ongoing Ava.

It took the rest of the afternoon to sort out the business.

Annabel left the bank and took the limousine provided, feeling exhausted, and headed for her hotel. She had to eat, shower and rest. Her private jet was in use in Asia and she would need a scheduled flight to get to Nice and pick up her car. It was an early flight so she arranged an early call.

But before that she had a date to dine with her current boyfriend, Ralf. It wasn't going to be pleasant, but she was in the mood to be unpleasant.

Annabel had felt that her affair was going well, so she  had decided she needed to get Ralf security clearance. But when her security people had told her he was keeping a mistress on the side she decided she would be brutal and end it before she left Zurich.

Her jaw tightened. She realised she was over-tense. But she felt she had reason. It could not be the hectic intercontinental, inter-city hopping, week of work she had just finished. That was grist to her mill. No it was her personal life.

Her romances were the only area of her life where things were not a success. She had just turned thirty-five a week ago.

A week ago Ralf had forgotten her birthday. She had got loads of gifts and presents from all and sundry and a mention in the London Times. But Ralf, the bastard. Self-centred and self...

She stopped thinking and clenched her fists.

'I have to break the mould. Do what you always do and you get what you always get,' she decided.

She let her fists loose. No Ralf was going to get her wound up. Step one, she was going to blow him out, the bastard.

Step two, as soon as she got the chance she was going to do something mad. Something out of the mould. What, she had no idea. When, she had no idea. But she'd know, she'd know.

Chapter two

Fair strewth Drongo, what the fuck was in that red handbag? Plonk grog for sure, my head is like a wombat's arse, the young Australian groaned and kicked at the leather jacket that was supporting Robert's head.

Ahhooohhh, Robert managed in reply, moved a bit, but did not open his eyes.

Robert suspected Drongo meant tramp or bum in Australian and the red