The Spy Devils by Joe Goldberg (top rated books of all time .TXT) 📕

“Go to sleep, Spiros. Tomorrow is a busy day,” Theo said, just above a whisper as he rolled over, his eyes still closed. The sensation of the silk pajamas sliding on his skin made him sigh another contented breath.

Another tug on the ear. This time a little firmer.

“Ouch. Spiros, that hurt. Stop it!” he said, this time swatting at his ear. As he did, a hand clamped his wrist and twisted it just enough to stop his arm in mid-air like a petrified flamenco dancer.

“Ouch! What are you doing?”

Theo opened his eyes, expecting to see Spiros’ tussled blonde hair, Mediterranean suntanned skin, and blue eyes. Instead, his arm was frozen in place by the gloved tentacles of a monster dressed in black. A cap on his head, tinted glasses, and a dark cloth over the lower part of his face. In his other hand was something that, in the moonlit room, looked like a club.

Theo gasped in panic.

He saw Spiros sitting up on the other side of the king-sized bed, terror in his wide eyes. Theo looked at a black menace holding his lover by his silky curls with one gloved hand while the other was pressed against his smooth bare chest.

“Take what you want. Leave us alone.”

“Mr. Giannokis. Theo. May I call you Theo? I am so sorry to wake you,” said the American-accented demon whose death grip sent lightning bolts of pain through the soft tissues of the banker’s arm.

He tried to break free of the grip, but the fingers held tight onto his wrist. He was sure the bones would break if this monster closed his claw. He whimpered in pain.

“Does this hurt? Let’s make a deal. I will let go of you if you promise to sit still and listen to my proposition. Agreed?”

“Who are you? What–” Theo felt his wrist turn, forcing his elbow and shoulder into a position like a broken chicken wing.

“Let’s try this again because I think you might not be all the way awake yet, and I don’t want there to be any miscommunication. I am sure in your banking business, clarity plays a tremendous part in a successful transaction. So, let’s aim for clarity, shall we? Should we ask your friend here? Spiros. What do you say?” Bridger looked at Spiros. “Think Theo should listen?”

Spiros was shaking like a bowl of pudding. Demon, dressed in black like Bridger, pulled Spiros’ hair and, as he started to scream, his other hand clapped over his mouth and nose, cutting off the shrieking completely. His face started to go beet red.

“Stop. Stop!” Theo begged. “I understand.”

With a nod from Bridger, Demon took his gloved hand off the skinny man’s face, who immediately sucked air through his nose and mouth. Bridger let go of Theo’s arm, who rubbed and shook his fat flipper as if to make sure it was still attached.

“So, we have a deal?” Bridger waited until the man nodded. “Good news for all.” Bridger reached down and rubbed the bright floral-patterned material of the man’s pajamas between his gloved fingers.

“These are nice pajamas. Italian?” The man nodded. “100% silk?” A few more quizzical nods. Bridger looked at the large “G” ornately embroidered in white thread on the pocket. “And a stylish monogram. Nice. I’m more of a sleep in the buff kind of guy. Occasionally gym shorts and the odd shirt, but if I was into pajamas, by golly, I am going to have to get the name of your tailor.”

“What—what do you want?” Theo asked, bewildered on how to react to the man who had invaded his house.

Bridger inspected the pajamas once more.

“I’m sorry. That’s fair. I wake you up from a good night’s slumber, and I have not explained why. My mistake,” Bridger said with a realistic amount of sincerity in his voice. “Down to business. I want all the information on the holdings of the bank of the Viktor Bondar estate. Account numbers. Bank statements.” Bridger said as he stuck a finger in his ear, cocked his head. “Hold on.” He concentrated on listening to the voice on the other end. “Yes, sorry, thanks, almost forgot. My associate says we need IP addresses, routing numbers, server locations. All that techie stuff.”

Bridger waved his hand in the direction of the door, signaling Theo to move.

“I can’t do that. The Bondars own this bank.”

“Oh, Theo, we both know you can. You have the reputation of a quite capable financial mastermind. Let’s give it a try, shall we?” Bridger gestured again.

Imp’s quick research had revealed that Theo Giannokis, President, Private Credit Bank of Cyprus, was more capable than most and less scrupulous than the rest of the Cypriot financial community. His knowledge of the banking system's mechanism and, more importantly, ways to avoid any pesky regulations in the system, made him quite popular among the Russians, Ukrainians, and other groups partial to using Cyprus for illegal transactions.

The Bondars acquired the pieces of the shattered Cyprus bank in the fire sale aftermath of the European debt crisis. With the collapse of the Cyprus banking sector, the Bank of Cyprus was more than happy to sell off the “bad” asset. This coincided with the revelations of Cyprus’ role in the money laundering of Russian and other international assets, forcing a series of new laws to combat the issue. The bank was poison.

Through “loans” secretly channeled from their Ukraine Standard Bank system, Bondar brought in the capital, deleveraged and disposed of non-core assets, and turned the bank into a functioning financial institution. The re-branded Private Credit Bank of Cyprus rose from the ashes.

It was the Bondars’ private, secure, money laundering black hole.

“Viktor Bondar—” Theo said again.

“Yes, I know it is Bondar’s bank,” Bridger said, as if everyone already knew the secret. “Oleksandr Bondar told us. Quite a nice young man, once you wash away the disagreeable outer layers of an obnoxious spoiled brat.”

“Mr. Oleksandr Bondar? You spoke with him?” Theo looked up at Bridger’s covered face.

Bridger looked at Demon, who