In my capacity as intelligence chief to Prince Albert of Monaco, I tried to bring Claude Palmero, the now disgraced Palace accountant, into the fold. I wanted him to join our team as one of the good guys.
But Claude could not go there.
The date was 10 March 2006.
At my invitation, Palmero and I met for drink at Fusion along Monaco’s main harbor.
I made my pitch: We are both part of the same team, working for Prince Albert. Join our crusade to clean up corruption in Monaco.
But Palmero resisted.
On one hand, the man who ran Albert’s estate still harbored anger and resentment over the treatment of his father during what became known as Monaco’s “Postage stamp scandal,” for which his old man took the rap.
On the other, Palmero was jealous of my position and standing with the Prince. Mine was a responsibility he secretly coveted for himself.
This had earlier been conveyed to me by Captain Yves Subraud of SIGER, the political branch of the Monaco Police Department, along with Jean-Raymond Gottlieb, also of SIGER.
They told me that before they knew about my existence (and before the Prince authorized them to cooperate with me), Claude Palmero had been acting as a self-appointed intermediary between them and Albert.
And then, after the death of Prince Rainier III and Albert’s ascension to the throne in April 2005, and without authorization from Albert, Palmero tried to formalize the arrangement, to the extent of offering Gottlieb money from his own pocket.
Palmero fantasized himself as a super-spy. I suspect he was more of a Walter Mitty character.
Or maybe he simply liked to collect (or pass on) gossip about his neighbors.
In any case, Captain Subraud humored Palmero along and even provided him with an anonymous cell phone.
Learning of his interest in espionage from Subraud and Gottlieb is what prompted me to reach out to Palmero for a drink on 10 March 2006.
At this meeting I tried to convey that we were on the same team—The Prince’s Team—and that I would willingly accommodate him if he desired to play a role in our clean-up efforts.
But Palmero’s cold, stiff demeanor never softened for a moment. He may also have felt threatened by my activities since he was privy to our investigations into the corrupt activities of several Monegasque government ministers and other officials, including senior judge Philippe Narmino, who years later resigned in disgrace.
It became clear within minutes that Palmero’s sympathies lay with Franck Biancheri, who was being removed as finance minister due to his widespread corruption, proven by our service and brought to the Prince’s attention.
Palmero voiced a personal reason for his displeasure: His own father, implicated in the Monaco postage stamp scandal, suffered a heart attack and died at the age of 68. “The stress, the humiliation—it killed him,” Palmero told me, adding that Biancheri was going through the same thing, “destroyed and devastated.”
As for the unlawful misbehavior that led to Biancheri’s shame: “His dealings were in the context of the times,” Palmero told me.
It was clear to me that Claude Palmero still subscribed to such dealings, and such times, apparently believing that corruption was sacred to Monaco. And it was also clear that Palmero’s effort to ingratiate himself with SIGER was based purely on his own self-preservation as a corrupt courtier.
Now it is Claude who is “disgraced and devastated,” following the footsteps of his corrupt friend, Franck Biancheri, and his own father.