CHAPTER ONE
THE GLOBE
5 NOVEMBER 1991
Armstrong Faces Bankruptcy THE
ODDS WERE stacked against him. But
the odds had never worried Richard
Armstrong
... [Show More] in the past.
“Faites vos jeux, mesilames ct
niessieurs. Place your bets.”
Armstrong stared down at the
green baize. The mountain of red chips
that had been placed in front of him
twenty minutes earlier had dwindled to a
single stack. He had already lost forty
thousand francs that evening-but what
was forty thousand francs when you had
squandered a billion dollars in the past
twelve months?
He leaned over and deposited all
his remaining chips on zero.
“Les jeux sontfaits. Rien ne va
plus,” the croupier said as he flicked his
wrist and set the wheel in motion. The
little white ball sped around the wheel,
before falling and jumping in and out of
the tiny black and red slots.
Armstrong stared into the
distance. Even after the ball had finally
settled he refused to lower his eyes.
“Vingt-six,” declared the
croupier, and immediately began
scooping up the chips that littered every
number other than twenty-six.
Armstrong walked away from the
table without even glancing in the
direction of the croupier. He moved
slowly past the crowded backgammon
and roulette tables until he reached the
double doors that led out into the real
world.
A tall man in a long blue coat
pulled one of them open for him, and
smiled at the well-known gambler,
anticipating his usual hundred-franc tip.
But that wouldn’t be possible tonight.
Armstrong ran a hand through his
thick black hair as he walked down
through the lush terraced gardens of the
casino and on past the fountain. It had
been fourteen hours since the emergency
board meeting in London, and he was
beginning to feel exhausted.
Despite his bulk – Armstrong
hadn’t consulted a set of scales for
several years – he kept up a steady pace
along the promenade, only stopping
when he reached his favorite restaurant
overlooking the bay. He knew every
table would have been booked at least a
week in advance, and the thought of the
trouble he was about to cause brought a
smile to his face for the first time that
evening.
He pushed open the door of the
restaurant. A tall, thin waiter swung
round and tried to hide his surprise by
bowing low.
“Good evening, Mr. Armstrong,”
he said. “How nice to see you again.
Will anyone be joining you?”
“No, Henri.”
The head waiter quickly guided
his unexpected customer through the
packed restaurant to a small alcove
table. Once Armstrong was seated, he
presented him with a large leather-bound
menu.
Armstrong shook his head.
“Don’t bother with that, Henri. You
know exactly what I like.”
The head waiter It-owned.
European royalty, Hollywood stars, even
Italian footballers didn’t unnerve him,
but whenever Richard Armstrong was in
the restaurant he was constantly on edge.
And now he was expected to select
Armstrong’s meal for him. He was
relieved that his famous customer’s
usual table had been free. If Armstrong
had arrived a few minutes later, he
would have had to wait at the bar while
they hastily set up a table in the center of
the room.
By the time Henri placed a
napkin on Armstrong’s lap the wine
waiter was already pouring a glass of
his favorite champagne. Armstrong
stared out of the window into the
distance, but his eyes did not focus on
the large yacht moored at the north end
of the bay. His thoughts were several
hundred miles away, with his wife and
children. How would they react when
they heard the news?
A lobster bisque was placed in
front of him, at a temperature that would
allow him to eat it immediately.
Armstrong disliked having to wait for
anything to cool down. He would rather
be burned. [Show Less]