But Michael Davidson was not finished fucking with Demetry Roybokov just yet.
Six days after the robbery in Dubai, three men walked into the offices of the Luxembourg Freeport. Valued client and representatives of a valued client, all.
They’d arrived via a series of airplanes starting in Goa, India and London.
“That is highly unusual,” Ms. Stoerman started at Nicholas Roybokov’s request.
’Phillipa, confidentially, this is being forced on us by the IRS”, he went on smoothly.
“I represent my father in this- and this is what we want done.”
The formidable woman glared at Helga and Graeme flirting in the back of the office while the adults tried to work.
“I can’t seem to get ahold of our contact..your father,” she started again.
“I’m still valid as a signatory on the account, yes?” he asked in the nicest way possible. “If you can not help us, I would speak to the Director.” Still in his politest voice.
Nicely done kid! Sloppy, Demetry, sloppy. Should have taken you off the account a month ago, Davidson thought.
Michael did not doubt Demetry was busy with other things right now. First he’d had to kill Feydor and his boys. Then he had to worry about Hattenfeld and Temescal getting arrested four days ago. And just this morning, Nicky told him that Kat was dead.
“Killed by Putin’s thugs. A message to my father,” the man said sadly.
Mike was very sorry about that but it also meant that the Bratva head had a lot of plates spinning. Too many to worry about his safety net in Luxembourg.
And Ms. Stoerman plainly wanted to get ahold of Demetry right now. But… These men had all the correct forms. And the son was on the account… and, here was the key point: They were not taking possession of anything. They just wanted the contents of the vault shipped back to the states. Right where it had come from!
“But sir, the tax implications are…”, she tried one last time.
“Rest assured madam, we are fully aware of the bite this is going to cause. But you must know how it is to deal with the IRS? They make Al Capone look soft! The deal is -we repatriate and pay this part and they don’t seize everything we own.”
Nick played it superbly.
Paper work, paper work, paper work, sealed the transaction.
Of course the Freeport can package and ship everything to the US for you. 1 May at the Teahouse for delivery? Strange, but certainly, sir.
The perfect robbery was completed with the stroke of a pen and some passwords. Nick, Graeme and Mike walked out of the Freeport offices together quietly debating whether this act counted as a robbery.
“If you have all the passwords and don’t keep anything, its not a robbery,” Graeme opined. He had a point.
“But if something doesn’t belong to you and you cause it to be removed from the rightful owner…” Mike also had a point.
“Find me the rightful owner,” Nicky said glumly. A third good point.
The three never settled the argument. After a brief goodbye Nicky moved to the back of the terminal line for departing passengers. He was going to try Switzerland for a while. Mike hoped he would be able to avoid the coming storm.
The last two gang members stood and looked at each other for a second.
Mike and Graeme embraced on the airport sidewalk. It was a beautiful April afternoon.
“Shammer, it was fun!” the Irishman said with his twinkle. He waved and was off.
“Be well!” Mike called to him and got a last wave in return.
No tears, no hysterics, just goodbye. Thats it.
The members of the gang had been sloughing off like dead skin for a while now. Davidson was getting good at parting.
Ira and Gretchen started it in Goa. The pair was breaking off for South America after the charter boat dropped them all in India.
After hugs for the others, Gretchen kissed Mike. “Thank’s Mikey!”
“I’ll get in touch when it goes down, he told Ira. “Take care of each other.”
Levinson grinned at him and poof! they were gone.
Rick Sanderson took his leave in Paris, two days later. A quick stop at the storage unit and he was good to go.
A steady rain provided the back drop as mentor and protégée hugged. “I never want to read your name in the paper,” Mike warned.
“Nah, thieving is too dangerous. I’m going to San Francisco… be a silicon valley venture capitalist.”
Mike laughed. “Any man with a briefcase…”
“Can steal more than any man with a gun…” Rick finished up the old saying. And he then too was gone.
As Graeme Donniger walked away at Luxembourg airport, Mike turned to see Sydney standing there watching him. Tears in her eyes. She was sad but happy.
He seemed it and told her, “yeah, I did right by them. I know they will be okay.”
Just like they were going to be.
“What’s next?” she asked.