The Sacred Scroll by Anton Gill Read Free Book Online Page B

nineties the papers here were calling him the Murdoch of the East.’
    Marlow nodded. ‘One or two of his competitors sold out to him without any argument, even when their own market share was strong. But there’s nothing definite. Except that their acquiescence was sudden – dramatic, even. Boris Isarov of Global Technology was flying high when Adler shot him down. Global started to lose ground, senior executives peeled off – all of them, in fact, except one, Vladimir Bilinski, Isarov’s right-hand man and a hard nut, ex-KGB colonel, all that.’
    ‘What happened to him?’ asked Lopez. ‘I remember the name.’
    ‘He went off to the Moscow office in his Volvo with his chauffeur and his bodyguard one morning as usual, after kissing his wife and kids goodbye, and that was it. None of them was heard of again. The Russian and the German police looked into it, not very hard. Isarov launched an investigation himself. Whether he found anything out, nobody knows. But soon afterwards his own family was killed in a fire at his house. Wife and four children, oldest twelve, youngest two. Isarov sold his majority share in Global to MAXTEL soon afterwards and went into retirement.’
    Graves and Lopez exchanged a look.
    ‘I know what you’re thinking, but don’t forget Eastern Europe and Russia in the 1990s were like the Wild West. Adler wasn’t the only guy to play dirty. And there is nothing at all to link him to any of this. Isarov and Adler were close friends, and remained so. He went to the Isarov family funeral, there were photos on the front pages of
Isvestia
and
Die Welt
that spring showing him comforting Isarov, and he invited Isarov to his villa near St-Tropezthat summer. The autumn following the accident, Adler paid generously for his interest in Global.’
    ‘Where was Adler when the tragedy struck?’
    ‘In Dallas, closing a deal for a radio station there.’ Marlow looked back at the screen. ‘Later on, he dabbled in derivatives and credit default swaps, collateralized debt obligations, special-purpose vehicles, and all that sort of banking finagling, even sub-primes, but managed to steer clear of trouble when the financial balloon went up in 2008. He got rich and he stayed rich, and now he controls a network of TV and radio stations across the globe, as well as a clutch of newspapers, mainly here in the States, but he’s also got a toehold in India and China.’
    Marlow scrolled rapidly down a page. ‘Nowadays, he’s one of the good guys. A Maecenas where charities are concerned, especially in Africa, where he’s got a lot of goodwill; and he’s endowed university chairs all over the place, from Nigeria to Nebraska. Backing research undertakings like the Dandolo Project is a hobby of his. And he leads a simple life. Widowed – his wife died young – never remarried. Lives in Lausanne, and in the grounds, in a glass case, is an East German Trabant car, the first thing he treated himself to when he began his ascent. He’s had the thing gold-plated. He doesn’t spend much time in Switzerland – just enough to secure residency requirements.’ He sat back. ‘That’s it, but if we’re going to take a closer look at him, we need more on his background.’
    ‘I can help,’ said Graves.
    ‘Go on.’
    Graves scanned her own screen. ‘I’ve got this much. His father was a technician at the Boxberg power station. Motherwas a housewife, did some cleaning for a local politician’s family. Adler had an older brother, who died aged seventeen in some kind of hunting accident, in 1974. Adler went to a local school, then got a scholarship to Humboldt University in Berlin. He read physics, switched to economics.’
    ‘Any more on his business training?’ asked Marlow.
    ‘Nothing formal. I think he saw his opportunities when the Wall came down, and went for it.’
    ‘He was thirty-ish then. Late starter by the standards of a lot of the new boys.’
    ‘He spent 1982 to 1988 teaching in