WATER WORKS: 22) SAMANTHA WAKEFIELD
Sunday Funnies: A Novel of Intrigue, Lunacy & H2O
29.
Arrangements had been made for me to lunch at Wilton's on Jermyn Street with a senior officer MI6. My instructions are to tell the restaurant manager my name and he'd handle the intro. He leads me to a booth containing a rosy-faced woman with long dark hair and full lips.
"Mr. Sandak?" The woman holds out her hand. "Samantha Wakefield."
A waiter appears with a glass of white wine for Wakefield. I order the same. She remains discreetly silent until the waiter departs.
Then: "I understand you're interested in the Scrogg twins?"
I nod, happy that Ms. Wakefield did not wish to have an in-depth discussion about the weather.
"You have some reason to believe they are engaged in a water business?" she asks.
"I do."
Wakefield smiles. "I've been authorized to conduct an exchange of information with you."
I was looking to be briefed, not de-briefed. Though I quickly decide I'd be delighted to part with my briefs for Wakefield.
"What, exactly, are the Scrogg twins up to?" she asks.
"I flew here hoping that you will tell me.”
"I see." Wakefield's eyes twinkle. "What is it you'd like to know?"
"Oh, everything I guess."
"Starting from...?"
"From birth."
"Fine." Wakefield sips her wine as the waiter delivers mine.
"Are you ready to order?" the waiter asks.
"Bangers and mash for me," says Wakefield.
"I'll have the same." When in Rome…
The waiter grunts approval and disappears.
"The twins were born in Bethnal Green, in the east end of London," says Wakefield. "Their father was a carpenter. They learned the trade from him and became contractors. During Britain's building boom, they became fabulously wealthy."
"How wealthy?"
"We estimate their worth at eight hundred and sixty million pounds. Seven years ago they sold their business and took up residence in Monte Carlo to avoid capital gains tax. Our interest in them did not begin until three years after that."
"What happened to interest you?"
"Our agent on the Riviera was watching several foreign individuals in whom we have an ongoing interest. These individuals met with the Scrogg twins in Cannes." She pauses.
“Please go on”
"Yao Li and John Wang."
"Sounds like a comedy duo."
"These chaps are not at all humorous, I'm afraid," says Wakefield.
"Maybe you're not trying hard enough to find their funny side?"
"Our agent—the one on the French Riviera I mentioned—he was tortured for three days by Yao Li's goons. His hands and feet were found in a rubbish tip in Nice. His head washed up on the beach at Juan les Pins."
"It wasn't 007, was it?"
Wakefield's features harden. "I knew him personally."
"James?"
"No. The agent who lost his life."
"Sorry, no offense." I hold her gaze. "Who are Li and Wang?"
"Yao Li is a princeling."
"Ah, of course, the PRC: Princelings' Republic of China."
Wakefield nods. "He is the son of Yao Lo. You've heard that name?"
"Chief of Weng-Lu.” China's Intelligence service.
"Correct. Yao Lo's son, Li, is part of the privileged group of princelings who will inherit China's leadership when their elders pass on. In the meanwhile, they can do almost anything they wish, immune from the law—immune from any kind of responsibility or irresponsible behavior. They earn business degrees in Britain or the US, then return to China and work in high finance."
"What about Wang?"
"The Chinese underworld."
"A lethal combination."
Wakefield nods.
"And you're saying," I say, "that Wang and Li are in cahoots with the Scrogg twins?"
"The Scroggs still own six apartments in Monte Carlo. One is occupied by Li. Another by Wang."
"What about the other four?"
Wakefield moistens her full lips with chardonnay. "One is home to Teddy Scroggs' ex-wife. Another appears to be occupied by a swarthy single man."
That would be Armand Sieff.
"And the others?" I ask.
"Home to the twins when they're on the Riviera. A rare occurrence these days."
"Okay," I prod. "Back to the princeling and his sidekick."
"Yao Li and John Wang entered into a business relationship of some kind with the twins.”
That would be the Liechtenstein trust.
"Soon after the Scroggs made their Chinese connection," Wakefield continues, "they bought a small island from the Netherlands, and that is where they now reside."
"Aren't they trying to start their own country or something?"
Wakefield nods. "They brought plumbing and electrical power to the island and made it habitable, so now they're making their case to the International Court at the Hague that they should not be liable for taxes. In effect, they're staking a claim to their own feudal system, with a workforce of serfs they've imported from the Far East." Wakefield pauses. "We believe that Yao Li and John Wang are using Scrogg Island to..."
"Is that what it's called?"
"That's what we call it. We think they're using it as a stop-off point for smuggling Chinese weapons into the United States."
"Huh?" This stumps me. "For what purpose?'
"To make money. Yao Li can buy surplus weapons in China at a pittance, then re-sell them at a huge profit."
"Sell to whom?"
"Street gangs in U.S. cities."
I shake my head in disbelief. "Why haven't you shared this with our government?"
"But we have," says Wakefield, a surprised expression, as if she thought that was the nature of my interest.
"Then why hasn't our government done anything about it?"
"That's what we'd like to know.”
Upscale sausages and mashed potatoes materialize in front of us.
"Ever heard of the Dulci Acqua Consortium?" I ask.
Samantha shakes her head, but her eyes register recognition.
"Their aim, as I understand it," I say, "is to control the world's freshwater supply. As I further understand it, the Scrogg twins are behind Dulci Acqua. And if I'm understanding you correctly, the Scroggs are just another cut-out for a corrupt Chinese princeling and his mafia associate."
Samantha Wakefield shrugs, changes the subject to the weather—and lays some open-source reading material on me for the flight home, mostly a smattering of newspaper articles on the princelings in general and Yao Li in particular.
A party animal at heart, Li is mostly animal, I soon discover from my homework flying home. His favorite pastime is late night clubbing. That is, clubbing the unfortunate women he chooses at random to rape. Boyfriends who get in the way also get clubbed, sometimes to death.
The police, of course, ignore Yao Li's antics.
In China, everyone is supposed to understand that princelings will be princelings.