Read Online Bloodmoney by David Ignatius - Free Book Online

night, L.A. time, early morning in London. He wanted to reach him at home before he went to the office. Perkins had been Howard Egan’s nominal boss at Alphabet Capital. Sophie was in his office when he made the call, and he nodded for her to pick up the muted extension phone. As he dialed the call, Gertz silently mouthed the word, Shit . This was the moment when the bad news would become as real and messy as a turd.
    “My name is Mr. Jones,” Gertz began. His voice had risen an octave, and it had a nasally sound and a bit of a posh accent. It sounded so different that Marx wouldn’t have known it was him if she hadn’t been staring at him. He winked at her, acknowledging his impromptu tradecraft, as he continued speaking.
    “I work for the United States government. I’m sorry to disturb you at home so early in the morning, but I have some bad news about one of your employees.”
    “Where are you calling from?” The voice had the fragility of morning.
    “From the U.S. government.”
    “Oh.” There was a pause. “This is about Howard Egan, isn’t it?” Perkins seemed to know it before Gertz said a word. He had been worrying about this moment for a more than a year, and now here it was.
    “Yes, sir. Mr. Egan is missing. He was meeting a client of your fund in Karachi last night, and after that he disappeared. I’ll tell you honestly, we are concerned.”
    “Who is this?” asked Perkins. “Do I know you?” There was a tightness in the hedge fund manager’s voice now.
    “Sorry, Mr. Perkins, can’t say much. I’m Mr. Jones. And your man Egan is missing.”
    “Fuck! I knew something like this would happen. You need to take care of this.”
    “We are, sir. We’re doing our best. But we need your help.”
    “No. This is your mess. You clean it up.”
    Gertz’s voice was firmer now. He had a way of establishing control by inflection.
    “It’s not that easy, Mr. Perkins. Without your help, this will get very complicated, especially for you.”
    The financier was still angry, but more compliant.
    “What should I do? What should I tell people?”
    “You need to put out a statement, sir, to your employees and everyone else. That’s why I am calling. You need to send a statement to the British police and to the wire services saying that one of your people has disappeared in Pakistan while he was on a business trip for your firm. You should say that you’re hoping he’s just lost, but you would appreciate any information. You need to do it this morning.”
    “Okay, a statement. Let me get a pen. What should it say again?” The hedge fund manager spoke with an American accent, even though he had been living in London for almost a decade. He was trying to sound calm.
    “The statement should say what I just told you. Howard Egan went missing last night while he was on a business trip to meet with investors in your fund. You are very concerned. Anyone with information should contact the Pakistani police or the U.S. consulate in Karachi.”
    “Will it get picked up by the media? I don’t want a lot of reporters tromping around here. People promised there would be no publicity about…this. Ever.”
    “There won’t be. The media won’t care about his disappearance. Not unless they find a body.”
    “A body? You mean he’s dead?”
    “Maybe.”
    “Oh, my god. What a mess. Poor Howard.”
    “I’m sorry. Let me make a suggestion. Why don’t I send someone by your house this morning, right now, to help you draft the statement? Would that be a help?”
    “Yes, it certainly would. At home, not in the office.”
    The hedge fund chief was thinking. He was calculating risks, and he didn’t like what he saw.
    “Can I ask you a question, whoever you are?”
    “Sure,” said Gertz. “Fire away.”
    “What happens if Howard gets, um, tortured? And he reveals during interrogation that he, ah, worked for the government. That his work for my firm was, ah, you know, a cover story. What happens then? Because