THE SPYMASTER OF MONTE CARLO: 18) CLOWNS
A Throwback Thursday Memoir of Intrigue & Lunacy
January-April 2005
In mid-January, the prince was in Sweden dog-sledding with a Swede named Stig Carl-Magnus Carlsson, who had apparently paid for aide-de-camp Bruno Philipponnat’s recent vacation in the Bahamas (an entry fee to Albert's social orbit).
Clown # 1.
Carlsson’s past, we’d already learned, was rather murky. And so the prince requested we delve into it.
On February 4th, I briefed the prince in London—a late morning session in his Dorchester Hotel suite.
Dipping into the breakfast trolley, I began with my Charvet shirt experience in Paris one month earlier—and how CIA's LIPS had carelessly put the DST onto me.
“The French may one day stop me on my way to Monaco through Nice airport,” I said. “I should probably make my role as your intelligence adviser known to them.’
The prince worried that this might leak to his father, Prince Rainier. “It’s difficult,” he said, head bowed. “My relationship with my father is very complicated.” But he agreed to the necessity of this.
Moving on, I identified three main targets on which CIA had chosen to focus in their cooperation with us. The prince acknowledged and approved. (I still hoped to pursue these initiatives with headquarters despite LIPS's “streamlining” with a non-agenda.)
On Stig Carl-Magnus Carlsson:
He left a trail of failed businesses behind him. He is a habitual bankrupt who lives a precious lifestyle at the expense of his investors. Be wary—he will probably use your name to lure potential investors into new companies. His so-called “internet company” in Shanghai—China Internet Ventures Ltd—does not actually do anything other than act as an introduction service for people desiring to do business in China.
I recommended the prince exert caution about associating himself with conmen like Carlsson—or he would otherwise risk having his name used as a means to dupe potential investors.
The prince requested we dig deeper on Carlsson. “Did investors lose money?” he wanted to know.
I guess he hadn’t been listening when I told him investors lost money. Nonetheless, we would flesh out further detail.
I pointed out to the prince (again) that Bruno Philipponnat—his gatekeeper as aide-de-camp—was not keeping riff-raff away but instead establishing inappropriate closeness to those who wanted to ingratiate themselves with the prince, often for his own financial gain.
I also briefed the prince on Steven Saltzman (Clown # 2) and a particular videotape in his possession that starred Albert himself.
A trusted informant had passed me disturbing news about Saltzman, son of Harry Saltzman (one of the original James Bond movie producers) and part of what I would later come to know as the Paris Clique.
Another member of the Paris Clique was Thierry Lacoste (Clown # 3), a lawyer known to the prince since childhood, son of Nadia Lacoste, who for many years handled media relations for the Palace.
This pair of jokers were said to be waiting in the wings for Albert to inherit the throne so they could enrich themselves.
Furthermore, Saltzman was said to possess a videotape he had made at Albert’s 40th birthday party inside a Paris striptease-club in which a young woman is seen to perform a sexual act upon him.
Saltzman had taken to showing this video at select society parties around Monaco, saying, “This is what I have on your prince.”
“I was not undressed,” the prince told me, adding that he would confront Saltzman about this.
I hadn’t asked whether he was dressed or not, so I guess it was a confirmation.
Again, princely recklessness.
Finally, I gave Albert a written report from Italian sources.
He took it to another part of his suite to read while sitting upon the throne.
Arriving in Monaco next day, I noted that the concierges in my apartment building— Shangri-la—would go on heightened alert whenever they saw me (or my deputy) come into town. They believed, correctly, the prince’s presence was imminent.
On February 8th, LIPS came to M-Base to brief Albert on Sri Lanka and Slovenia, countries the prince would soon visit. LIPS said he would provide a shortlist of issues for Albert to explore with his hosts.
Alas, no such issues (or questions) materialized, rendering LIPS Clown # 4.
Once LIPS (mercifully) departed, I provided Albert with the addendum he had requested on Carl Carlsson:
I had personally spoken with Stanley Berk—of California, USA—an investor in Carlsson’s business venture, Scoop.
Berk told me the following:
Once Carlsson had the money from his investors, he engaged in inappropriate behavior, spending rampantly on personal items and selling securities in Scoop to cover personal debt. His actions set the business back, and it ultimately failed. Berk and his fellow investor, Stephen Grayson, filed a complaint in court alleging breach of contract and fraud, saying that Carlsson made promises with no intention of performing.
I suggested the prince make his aide-de-camp Phillipponnat aware of this, a gentle way of making him realize he would potentially embarrass himself and the prince if he continued to allow Carlsson access to the royal court.
(Three months earlier, Philipponnat had called the hosts of a New Year’s Eve party the prince planned to attend to insist they invite Carlsson, supposedly at Albert’s behest.)
Albert responded by saying I should make his aide-de-camp aware of Carlsson’s poor character and business transgressions.
Dutifully, I phoned Philipponnat and left a message for him to call me.
He never did.
When I later mentioned this to the prince, he replied, “I don’t think he wants to hear your message.”
In early March, Albert traveled to Moscow with the fellers—Munsch (Clown # 5), Haskins, Carlsson—and Gocha Arivadze (Clown # 6), who rented a brothel for the night to celebrate the prince’s birthday.
Albert, as such, ignored our reporting on Carlsson and Arivadze, and doubtless did not heed our advice regarding security concerns while traveling in Russia.
It is a dead certainty that the FSB would secretly record activities in his bedroom, which, depending on the nature of such activities, could one day lead to blackmail.
Munsch, in particular, was hard to lose. Albert had loaned him a cell phone years before that he’d never returned. More recently, he had provided Munsch with a key to his private Monte Carlo bachelor pad. So whenever Munsch was in Monaco, he simply let himself in. (This was why others around Albert referred to him as Dr. Mooch.)
When I spoke to the prince by phone on March 19th, he told me, “Munsch came in at 5:30 in the morning stone drunk and woke me up.”
It was a mystery to me why Albert put up with these clowns and all their clownish antics.
I attempted a meeting, but he was off to the Rose Ball Gala that evening.
“After that?” I asked. It was not unusual for us to meet late at night.
“After that I hope to get laid.”
We managed to meet midafternoon the next day. I brought the prince up to date on a number of issues.
What’s the latest, he wanted to know, on Operation Hound Dog?
I had gone passive on it, inundated by more important matters.
But Albert was very keen to know what others had to say about him behind his back. So it was time to resurrect that operation.
“Dad’s sick,” the prince said.
He told me his father had always wanted to gather the family in a caravan for a road-trip across the United States.
“You should surprise him with a cross-country trip this summer,” I suggested.
It was not to be.
Two days later the prince flew from Italy to his father’s intensive care bedside.
Prince Rainier would never leave the hospital.
On Easter Sunday, the old man miraculously bounced back from death. But the end was only days away.
The Paris Clique ringleaders—Lacoste and Saltzman—descended on Monaco from Paris and made their existence known as Prince Rainier lay dying.
Word was, they intended to create a “kitchen cabinet” to advise and influence Albert from behind the scenes.
Munsch ensconced himself in the prince’s apartment throughout the ordeal, and when the Albert finally suggested he move elsewhere, Munsch (Albert told me) “pretended not to get the message.”
Prince Rainier passed on April 6th at 6:25 in the morning.
A new era had dawned.
Rainier had never prepared his son for the role he now faced as Sovereign ruler of Monaco. Maybe he thought himself immortal. Or maybe he had tried and given up. He certainly must have known that his son surrounded himself with clowns.
(When Rainier was incapacitated from illness six months earlier, Albert had made several decisions—all reversed by Rainier after he regained his health.)
The prince was “low, numb, and overwhelmed,” according to his close friend Mike Powers.
However “complicated” their relationship, Albert unquestionably lost “his closest friend and mentor.”
The prince took calls from French President Jacques Chirac, British Prime Minister Tony Blair, former U.S. President Bill Clinton—and even the Queen of England.
The CIA and MI6 conveyed condolences to the prince through me.
A drink in Paris with Nicolas Sarkozy was postponed, along with a state visit to Slovenia.
The Hereditary Prince was now Prince Albert II.
And the clowns would all come out to play like never before.
The real question was this: Would Albert take command—or would he become clown-in-chief?
Great stuff. I keep a close eye in case the passing of time - and certain people - enables you to reveal more.