Greed Read Online Free PDF

couple of men could pick her up, take her away to somewhere quiet.'

Matt turned slowly away from the window. His eyes narrowed and he could feel the muscles in his chest tightening. He had few expectations of Kazanov. He knew better than to believe the man had made his money in the Russian oil business. He knew he was a hard, ruthless thug who had worked for the KGB before looting a fortune when the system in his country started to come apart. And he knew that if he didn't get his money back to him sometime, he was likely to come after him. But Gill. . .

'Don't even think about it,' Matt snapped.

A thin smile started to spread over Pointer's lips. 'A primary school teacher. I reckon she uses her hands a lot,' he said, drawing out each word. 'All that painting and building things with the kids. If some guys snatched her and chopped off her right hand, I reckon that would be pretty bad for her.'

Matt squared up to Pointer, close enough to smell the coffee on his breath. 'I'd kill any man who laid a finger on her,' he said, his voice rising. 'I'd kill the man, then I'd kill Kazanov. Then I'd kill you. Slowly.'

Pointer backed away. 'Calm, Matt, calm,' he said quickly. 'We're just having a hypothetical conversation.'

'Let's keep it that way.'

'You've got a month, Matt,' said Pointer. 'Then we come after you. And you can shout and scream and threaten all you like, but remember this: we don't give a fuck if you've been in the Regiment or not. To me you're all just a bunch of pussies. And anyway, there is no back-up. You are just one man, and we're an organisation. We'll kill you, and then we'll cut her up, and there's nothing you can do to stop us.'

Matt looked straight into Pointer's eyes: it was like gazing into the face of a statue, he thought. 'Where the hell am I going to get half a million pounds in a month?'

THREE

The look in the man's eyes told Matt everything he needed to know. There wasn't any money. There never would be any money.

I'm just an embarrassment. They want to get rid of me.

Eddie Addler shifted his pen from one side of his desk to the other. His eyes darted up to the window, then to the door, then to one of the oil paintings hanging on the wall. Anything, Matt thought, to avoid looking me in the eye.

'I'm sorry, but I don't think there is anything we can do,' said Addler. 'With the state of your portfolio, there's just no chance of giving you any more credit.'

Tatton & Friedland was a private bank set up only seven years previously, but its St James's Place offices had been decorated to make it look far older. There was wood panelling on the walls, which were adorned with stuffed fish in cases and a collection of oil paintings of dogs and huntsmen. Matt had felt instinctively uncomfortable the first time he had set foot in the place. He should have trusted his instincts.

'If I could get some collateral, I was thinking maybe I could trade my way out of trouble.'

Harry Stroller had introduced Matt to Addler, back when he was still working for him full-time. At first Matt had dabbled in just a few shares, dealing through his usual bank account. As Stroller's tips had made him wealthier, he'd suggested Matt get himself a proper banker. Tatton & Friedland dealt with a small group of rich clients, mostly technology entrepreneurs or City bankers. You needed a quarter of a million to invest to get through the door. Matt had only just qualified.

'In these markets, Mr Browning, I can't help feeling you'd just be trading yourself into more trouble.' Matt could hear the pained tone in Addler's voice: polite still, but on the brink of rudeness.

'I made money before, I can make it again,' said Matt.

'From these records, I see you made a lot of money trading while you were working for Mr Stroller,' said Addler, looking at the computer screen on his desk. 'Spotting which internet and technology shares were moving up. Maybe Mr Stroller was discussing his own thoughts with you – I can't judge. Since you