1988 - In the Bahamas (2)
1988 - In the Bahamas (2)
Nassau International Airport, general aviation area.
The first person to greet us after we finished our taxiing and disembarked was the customs team leader.
"Welcome to the Bahamas."
"Thank you."
"May we open the belly to check the cargo?"
Instead of answering, I put a cigarette in my mouth.
Click!Flick-.
Ara quickly took out a lighter and lit it for me.
"Hoo-. Want one?"
I directed the open cigarette pack towards the customs officer.
Inside the pack were one cigarette and several neatly folded 100-dollar bills.
The customs team leader naturally took out a cigarette and put it in his mouth.
"I'll dispose of the trash for you."
Then he took the cigarette pack, put it in his pocket, and lit his own cigarette.
"Good service."
"Bahamians are all friendly. The cargo seems fine. Please sign here."
He handed over a file folder he had tucked under his arm, and I signed the document.
"Then, have a pleasant trip."
"Good work."
The team leader nodded and went inside with the customs officers who had been waiting behind him.
And a cash transport vehicle that had been waiting a short distance away moved to the back of the plane.
They were the guards and bank transport vehicle arranged in advance.
"Let's go."
"Yes."
Ara and I boarded the transport vehicle.
It took 20 minutes to load the duffel bags from the plane and head to downtown Nassau.
We soon arrived at our destination.
On a commercial building that consisted of only four small, shabby offices, a simple brass plate inscribed with just 'Bank' was hanging.
"......Is that a bank?"
Ara whispered into my ear.
Most first-timers would probably think that.
"How many banks do you think are in that building?"
"Huh, are they all banks? It's a neighborhood with not many people, can they do business?"
She seems to think there are four banks because there are four offices.
"Seventy-seven."
"What?!"
Seventy-six private banks using the address as a shared location.
And one self-proclaimed world's 7th largest private bank.
"Welcome. Please verify your identity."
The person greeting us was a banker wearing an incredibly expensive-looking high-end suit.
An outfit that really didn't match the place, but that appearance actually added to the trustworthiness.
"Prophet. 764421. Blue Arrow."
"Confirmed. Customer Prophet. It will take about 10 minutes to confirm the amount, how about a cup of coffee each?"
"Sounds good."
Rrrrrrrrrrrrrr-!
Beyond the bank's bulletproof glass, an enormous number of dollars kept pouring out.
"My goodness......."
Ara's eyebrow twitched slightly.
She looked far more surprised than when she saw the dollars pouring from the duffel bag, but no one other than me would notice her expression change.
"Are those all dollars?"
"Yeah."
Surprisingly, this shabby building had a dollar-specific banknote sorter.
A machine that, if you pour in a jumbled mess of dollars, automatically sorts them by denomination and even finishes counting them.
It's even a sorter that can roughly detect counterfeits.
Just how much black money must be moving through here for them to bring in a machine like that.
"Customer. Here are the loan documents. Please check if they are as agreed upon in advance."
While the employee went to get coffee, the branch manager held out the documents.
"A loan? Not a deposit?"
Ara tilted her head.
"It's taking out a loan using the regular account where the deposit was made as collateral."
"......?"
A question of why go through such a complicated process.
"That money will get mixed moving between banks and will ultimately end up in my personal nominee account at BCCI (Bank of Credit and Commerce International)."
"Yes."
"But if someone is determined and tracks the banks all the way, it could be revealed. Especially the moment the money is spent."
That's why we take out credit loans using the accounts of companies established in the Bahamas.
The companies only hold accounts with RBC (Royal Bank of Canada), which has no connection to BCCI.
Of course, I won't repay the loan, so BCCI will seize and offset the account, and the personal account will vanish instantly.
Then only the clean money from RBC remains for me.
To be precise, it's the money of a bearer company made up of bearer shares.
"It's not easy."
After hearing my explanation, Ara shook her head side to side.
It's still unfamiliar to her in this world.
She'll get used to it after seeing it a bit more.
"But this is a crime, right?"
Ara whispered cautiously into my ear.
What an obvious thing to say.
Then if laundering stolen goods isn't a crime, what is?
Taking the money from the duffel bag and using it freely was a crime from the very beginning.
I smiled and nodded.
"Won't we get caught?"
"Don't worry. It's a complete crime."
"Is the bank's security that thorough?"
"That's part of it, but there's another reason. No need to worry."
"Okay."
In three years, BCCI will be forcibly shut down.
Ironically, the final traces of my money laundering will be destroyed by the IRS and the Bank of England.
That's why I don't worry about the aftermath, even the smallest possibility.
"Seems fine."
I signed the loan documents.
The total fee is 5%.
"Here you are."
Two cups of coffee arriving right as I finish signing.
Drinking the highest-grade coffee that doesn't match this shabby building, we watched the money being counted and transferred for a while.
Taking cash out of the transport vehicle, counting it, filling out deposit documents, and loading it back onto the transport vehicle to send to the bank vault.
What a ridiculous sight, isn't it?
We blankly watched the cash transport for a few minutes like that.
"The loan amount has been deposited. Would you like to check?"
Processed faster than I thought.
The final amount coming in after finishing the money laundering is $8,326,782.
I found out while organizing before loading it onto the plane, the total amount was 10 million even excluding the corporate bonds.
So even after paying 1 million for Ara's auction fee, 8.3 million dollars remain.
"You probably handled it well. It's not a huge amount anyway. The car?"
"You should see it right away when you go out the entrance."
I accepted the car keys the branch manager handed over.
"Thank you for using our services. Customer Prophet. Have a good trip."
"Bahamians really are all friendly, as expected."
Leaving the bankers' polite send-off behind, we exited the bank.
A large black sedan visible right after exiting the bank.
"Not bad."
"Isn't it a good car?"
"Is it? Let's get in first."
"Yes."
The car's interior was clean, but also a bit disappointing.
"I wonder when navigation will come out."
"What's navigation?"
"......Such a thing exists. Can you look at the map for me?"
Vroooom-!
I started the Rolls-Royce.
The destination was Nassau Airport.
It was almost time for Matthias's plane to arrive.
"It's really amazing."
On the way to the airport, Ara, sitting in the passenger seat, blurted out.
"What is?"
"How can you create so many companies like that?"
The companies I received the loan from totaled ten.
The president's names were all different too.
"Well, because they're all set up as a package."
There are management companies that specialize in that sort of thing.
Usually as subsidiaries of law firms, accounting firms, or trust companies.
If you go and ask for a shell company, they pull one out right on the spot.
They make paper companies whenever they have time.
"They make them using the names of people who work at those companies, like office workers or cleaners."
"Goodness."
"Those people do it as a side job. They get an incentive for the task of signing documents. There are even people who make that nominee president task their full-time job."
Ara shook her head vigorously.
Given that there are clubs like Nabi, how could there not be specialized management companies?
Professional nominee presidents sometimes sign tens of thousands of documents a day.
"How is that possible?"
"Tax havens have different laws."
When establishing a corporation in a normal country, a representative and directors are needed, but in tax havens, a company, not a person, can be a director.
A structure where the director of a paper company is another paper company.
That's how you can infinitely multiply companies through round-robin methods.
"It's dizzying."
Ara clutched her head.
It seems too much information entered her head in just half a day.
Maybe I should stop the complicated talk here.
"Did you check out the hospital?"
"Yes. There's a single room at The New York Hospital."
"A good place."
Expensive, that is.
But for a high earner making 90,000 dollars a month, it's manageable enough.
Once company insurance can cover it, there will be even more leeway.
"May I ask what illness it is?"
"It's a genetic disease called Pettihops Syndrome."
There's a disease like that?
First time I'm hearing of it.
Well, that's why it's a rare disease.
Ara started talking about the disease her sibling has.
Pettihops Syndrome.
A rare genetic disease, showing symptoms similar to myasthenia gravis.
A disease where you cannot move your entire body except for autonomous breathing and barely speaking.
There are suppressants to prevent worsening that spreads even to involuntary muscles, but there is no cure.
And those so-called suppressants are originally just treatments for other diseases, so because they are used for a different purpose than intended, insurance doesn't cover them.
Roughly that kind of story.
"Lily probably can't escape from a hospital bed for life."
"Younger sister?"
"Yes."
The younger sibling's name is Lily Berry.
"She's my second younger sibling, ten years apart."
"Second?"
"Ah, I have two younger siblings."
I see.
There was one more younger sibling.
"......Hmm?"
"What's wrong?"
"Ara, you became an adult this year, no, last year, right?"
"Yes."
"But then your younger sibling, they're a minor, aren't they?"
"Right?"
"Then you're saying a minor sibling is alone in Dallas?"
Ara has no parents.
The parents who adopted her died five years ago.
No relatives either, and the legal guardian has already been transferred to Ara.
Doesn't that mean only one sibling is left at home?
"Ah! Don't worry. My sibling is in LA."
"......?"
"She's working as a model. Her agency will take care of her."
"I see."
Well, Ara wouldn't be foolish enough to leave a minor alone.
As I got to know a bit more about her like that, the airport began to appear ahead.
"Shouldn't we have a picket or something?"
"It's fine."
Since I know his face.
We met when he was old, but I saw pictures of him when he was young often.
Still, we were partners for over 20 years, there's no way I wouldn't recognize him.
"There he is."
I recognized Matthias at a glance as soon as I saw him coming out of the gate.
"Matthias Keller-Roth. Correct?"
At my words, the man with blond hair and a square jaw grinned.