THE SPYMASTER OF MONTE CARLO: 33) AN EXIT RAMP FOR MARK THATCHER
A Throwback Thursday Memoir of Intrigue & Lunacy
December 2005
On December 10th, word reached me that Mark Thatcher, errant son of former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, was seen walking Monaco’s streets.
Thatcher had just copped a felony plea in South Africa for plotting a coup d‘etat in Equatorial Guinea and had been expelled from that country.
My immediate concern was that Thatcher had chosen Monaco for his next home.
Captain Yves Subraud checked police files and confirmed it: Thatcher had officially become a resident three months earlier on a carte temporaire.
Almost all residents buy or lease an apartment as a condition of residency. The authorities do not generally recognize keeping a full-time suite in a hotel as satisfying this requirement.
Except for one loophole: The Fairmont Hotel inherited this quirk from Loews, Monaco’s first American-style hotel with casino, lured to the principality by Prince Rainier and Princess Grace in 1975.
Crafty Thatcher had learned about this loophole from his Monaco lawyer, a long-time American Monaco-resident named Peter Manasse (rhymes with pain in the ass).
I dispatched Subraud to the Fairmont to confirm Thatcher’s status. Indeed, he had taken a monthly contract.
This was excellent news.
Why?
We now had the ideal person with whom to make an example as part of Operation Scribe.
Mark Thatcher was universally disliked as a spoiled, arrogant exploiter of his mother’s name. He had made millions of pounds through dubious deals, including the one that got him chucked out of South Africa—and he scrupulously avoided paying tax to the UK.
I did not want to embarrass Lady Thatcher. So before taking any action, I contacted a good friend who was very close to the former prime minister to discreetly explain the situation, suggesting that her office might want to arrange for Mark to quietly leave Monaco without any fanfare.
The word that came back was something like, There's no talking to Mark, do what you need to do.
Thus, I contacted my old friend Nigel Nelson, political editor at a British Sunday newspaper, The People.
He jumped on it.
Nelson had to investigate the story for himself, of course, and he did this quickly, then published his piece—THATCH YER LOT – Monaco Move is at risk—on December 18th.
Mark Thatcher move to Monaco - World News - Mirror Online
That afternoon I reached Prince Albert by phone and briefed him on the Thatcher situation.
We had good reason to believe Thatcher’s newest associate was Ivan Todorov, a Bulgarian with strong links to Bulgarian organized crime groups.
Todorov was already on our radar screen for other reasons, including wining and dining Bulgarian politicians aboard yachts berthed in Monaco’s harbor.
Based on what we uncovered, we speculated that Thatcher and Todorov had created an enterprise to smuggle and peddle conflict diamonds from Africa, using Monaco as their base through Thatcher’s new residency.
I recommended to Albert that he take speedy action to expel Thatcher before media descended upon the principality (after Nigel Nelson's "scoop") to ask how he could have possibly gained residency status several months after the prince announced a ban on shady people with dirty money.
Albert switched gears, told me he was “losing sleep” over having not appointed Philippe Narmino Chief of Judicial Services.
Again, I urged him to resist whatever pressure he felt under.
“SIGER will not feel safe investigating criminal activities if the justice minister is one of Monaco’s biggest criminals,” I cautioned, using Thief # 1 Gerard Brianti—Namino’s partner in crime—as an example.
We had just learned that Brianti paid for Bruno Philipponnat’s cabana at the Monte Carlo Beach Club every summer, in return for receiving from the aide-de-camp details of Prince Albert’s schedule i.e., whom he was meeting on a daily basis.
I added that Brianti had been touting himself around town as “Albert’s closest friend in the world” since returning from a hunting trip in northern France with the prince.
“You’ve got to avoid cronyism, or even the perception of cronyism,” I counseled Albert. “We could overlook the Red Cross painting if it were not for Narmino’s Ageprim valuation scam with Brianti. At least wait for the report.”
Clair George, our chairman emeritus, phoned me from Washington to check in.
I told him what was going on.
He said, “Keep looking over your shoulder.”
Next night, late, December 19th, I received a phone call from JLA and scribbled this note into my journal: D-Day tomorrow [Narmino decision]. A2 must make decision before 2:30 p.m. AG worried about political fall-out from not appointing a Monegasque on the heels of new treaty with France.
My advice to JLA: Enlist Counseil Nationale President Stephane Valeri to support the appointment of a temporary Frenchman instead of Narmino. After all, Valeri was no friend of Narmino and knew we had serious concerns about him.
JLA agreed, and pointed out that Prince Rainier had tried to orchestrate these appointments (Biancheri, Narmino) before his death.
I believe it was Rainier’s chef de cabinet, Raymond Biancheri, who choreographed this while Rainier was seriously ill.
(Several times, Rainier told his confidantes, “I’m too ill to rule any more,” and they said, “No, no, no—your son is not ready yet.” What they actually meant was, they were not ready yet.)
I said to JLA, “Rainier is gone, Albert is the Sovereign Prince. He has to make the tough decisions, it goes with the territory, even at the risk of losing friends.”
One tough decision the prince did make (it was more like a no-brainer) was to summon the interior minister to the Palace and reprimand him for approving Mark Thatcher’s temporary application for residency.
The minister was shocked—shocked!—and agreed that “a mistake” had been made. He returned to his ministry, tail tucked beneath his cheeks, to commence the expulsion process.
The following day, Philippe Narmino appeared at JLA’s office expecting to be handed the job he coveted as head of justice.
Instead, JLA grilled him. Narmino admitted nothing, denied all. The prince put off making a decision.
Meanwhile, JLA had checked with the external affairs ministry for their file on Igor Yurgens, the Russian supposedly appointed Monaco’s Consul to Moscow.
The ministry had nothing on file about Yurgens. Not a copy of his passport, not a curriculum vitae, no address, nothing. No one knew who had appointed Yurgens, who had recommended him or what his credentials were. Certainly, no one had vetted Yurgens’ suitability for this honor.
That was left for me to do.
With Christmas approaching, the pressure was off—temporarily—for Albert to decide about Narmino.