Monaco Police Captain Yves Subraud possessed quite an agenda on the 22nd of August (2005), starting with a painting that had allegedly been mishandled by Monaco’s Red Cross.
Perhaps mishandled was not the right word.
A valuable painting by Miro had disappeared, presumed misappropriated by Philippe Narmino, Director-General of the Red Cross (and senior judge), and his friend, Gerard Brianti.
They had stolen it.
Apparently, the woman who donated this painting happened upon it for sale at an art gallery in France. Suspicious, she sought the gallery’s owner, who told her, “Oh, no, madam—this painting belongs to Gerard Brianti.”
Where did Brianti fit in with Monaco’s Red Cross?
In a scam that had been going on for ten years, Brianti’s company, Ageprim, enjoyed an exclusive deal with Monaco’s Red Cross to conduct valuations of everything donated to it: art, automobiles, boats, and real estate. Brianti’s company invoiced the Monaco Red Cross an astonishing five percent of the value of every item assessed! (Narmino signed the checks paid to Ageprim.) That is how Brianti would have access to the painting.
This association—Narmino/Brianti—led Subraud into an explanation about a Monegasque faction of bisexuals, said to be more influential in Monaco than the Freemasons. Subraud identified three opposing factions within the Monegasque establishment: 1) Freemasons, 2) Catholics, 3) Bisexuals & homosexuals. Membership sometimes overlapped.
That evening I dined with the European Division Chief from MI6 at Quai des Artistes in preparation for his audience with the Prince next morning.
By this time, I had grown accustomed to the Prince forgetting our plans to meet, though we had a simple rule between us: If important visitors were expected, he might be late, but he’d show up. Nonetheless, I always had a nagging qualm that he would space out the meeting, as he had others; and though I’d warn visitors in advance to be prepared for this, it was always a tense period, awaiting Albert’s call to confirm his imminent arrival.
The Prince was only slightly late for our British dignitary on the morning of 22 September. The annual international yacht show has caused dense traffic and parking problems.
Upstairs, the MI6 European Chief briefed us, with great substance, on several important issues. Albert authorized me to provide MI6 and Britain’s Financial Services Authority with Monaco police files on a handful of suspect Brits resident in the principality.
After MI6 departed, I updated the Prince on various dossiers and operations.
He told me he was under enormous pressure to appoint Philippe Narmino chief of Monaco’s judicial system. We both knew a scandal was brewing around Narmino stemming from his alleged involvement in a) misappropriating a painting by Miro donated to the Monaco Red Cross and b) rigging valuation assessments to favor his friend and sharing in outlandish commissions.
The Prince stated that a man was innocent until proven guilty.
I countered that this was not about putting Narmino on trial but assessing his worthiness as chief of the judicial service. If there was smoke out there, I pointed out, such an appointment would send the wrong signal to his subjects.
Albert instructed me thus: Let’s get to the bottom of it, investigate Philippe Narmino.
Next, I briefed the Prince on our latest intelligence on Franck Biancheri.
Out of about 5,500 Monegasques, including children and senior citizens, there was but a small pool of eligible professionals for important posts within the principality. Although born in Monaco, Jean-Luc Allavena was not a Monegasque until later in life when new hereditary legislation was passed. (Allavena’s mother is Monegasque, but his father is French.) Biancheri had tried to block such legislation because he perceived Allavena an eventual threat to his career aspirations. Thus, it was ironic—a few years later—that Allavena be given the very job Biancheri coveted and for which he had been groomed by his father.
Biancheri had already heard rumors about the investigation into his alleged corruption. His behavior in recent days was cowed. He knew, of course, he would not be chef de cabinet, a move that sent shock waves through the Monegasque establishment. Now he waited for the other shoe to drop: His removal from his position as finance minister.
It had already been suggested to him that perhaps he should leave the ministry of his own volition, save himself the embarrassment of removal, and become Monaco’s ambassador to Paris. (I already understood that Monaco does not put corrupt Monegasque government officials in prison but shifts them to less important jobs where they cannot steal as much—a concept known as Cultural Acceptance Level.) But Biancheri held firm. His wife Sylvia was “the tough one,” according to President Stephane Valeri, who dropped by M-Base early that evening for a chat. She apparently ran the show and had advised her husband: “Lay low, wait it out.”
Stephane Valeri’s ulterior motive for exposing Biancheri became clear that evening. Knowing the government possessed more power than the National Assembly, Valeri fancied taking Biancheri’s place as finance minister to position himself as the best well-rounded choice for minister of state, which could now be a Monegasque due to Monaco’s new treaty with France. A small cluster of Monegasques vied for—and stabbed one another in the back over—the honor of one day becoming the first Monegasque minister of state. Valeri flew up to Paris the following day for dinner with Thierry Lacoste, Albert’s personal lawyer, to lobby for Biancheri’s job.
After a full day of such Machiavellian intrigue, I liked nothing better than to sit in solitude at the Monte Carlo Wine Bar and, over two glasses of fine Margaux, contemplate that day’s revelations—along with how I ever found myself in this rather unique position.
Next day, a meeting with a source we had cultivated within Monaco’s football team. Without the prince’s permission, a new football coach had been appointed by the duo running the team—Michel Pastor and his cousin Gerard Brianti—from which Brianti allegedly received an illegal kickback.
Our football asset informed us that Monaco Football Investment (MFI), ostensibly a private company, received government funds; that MFI was in fact a Michel Pastor cover for utilizing government money to support Monaco’s football team—in violation of European football league rules. If exposed, this could have resulted in Monaco’s expulsion from the league. According to our spy, the Prince approved this orally (to Franck Biancheri) and this serious breach of league rules was being covered up by three persons: Pastor, Brianti and Biancheri. (I immediately suspected that Biancheri had feigned the Prince’s “oral approval,” the same way he allegedly took three million euros from Adnan Houdrouge supposedly destined for the Prince.)
HSBC in Monaco, which had loaned money to MFI, said our spy, also loaned 3.5 million euros to Brianti personally “based on nothing” i.e., no collateral. And Brianti had just purchased a new boat, from Chantal in San Lorenzo, Italy, for 3-4 million euros, of which he paid 25 percent in cash from football kickbacks.
Meantime, corrupt Italians resident in Monaco were queueing up for Monegasque citizenship, their ultimate protection from prosecution in Italy. One such criminal had just received his Monegasque passport. Only the Sovereign can approve an application for Monegasque citizenship.
I had briefed the Prince on this individual. Yet despite Albert’s undertaking to cleanse Monaco from these kinds of characters, he’d given his approval.