Free The Hollow Man by Oliver Harris Page B

Older, I mean?”
    Herring tightened his lips. “We’re going to need a urine sample.”
    “Where would you like it?” Belsey said.
    Gaunt opened his desk drawer and produced a small pot, which he rested on Belsey’s edge of the desk as if to avoid contaminating himself. Is that all he had in there? Belsey wondered. Receptacles for urine? “OK, sure,” Belsey said. He took the pot, went towards the toilets, then he kept going to the lifts and out of the front doors.

11
    B elsey looked up “Company Formation” in a Yellow Pages in Holborn Library and found what he was looking for.
    Ocean Wealth Protection and Private Banking Assistance. Same-day Company Formation Agent. Start a new business in 3 to 5 minutes: £32.00—Tax Havens and Privacy Solutions.
    Privacy solutions sounded right. He knew an international business corporation—an IBC—could be set up in somewhere like Antigua with the click of a button, complete with an office address and even board directors provided by the Antiguan authorities. Your name didn’t come up on any paperwork but you could steer money through. Ocean had a walk-in office in Belsize Park just a few minutes from Hampstead Police station. Belsey knew the street: a parade of estate agents, cosmetic surgeons and boutique clothes stores. He imagined Ocean looked at home there. He was correct.
    He parked the Porsche Cayenne outside their office, making sure Ocean had a good view of it. He got out, straightening his suit, and rang the intercom.
    “Straight up the stairs.” There was a positive note to the voice. Belsey climbed narrow steps to a door marked “Ocean Ltd.” The office was run by two men, one young and one old, with computers and little else. The older one had the faded sparkle of a player, hair cropped close, gym-build. He looked like a bank robber trying to dress as a banker. The younger one wore a white shirt with suspenders and a pink tie with a fat knot. On the wall was a map of the world with coloured flags pinned to a lot of small islands. A free-standing fan moved cigarette smoke towards a double-glazed window, where it rolled back towards the desks. Belsey was gestured to a seat at a bare desk in the centre of the room.
    “Coffee?”
    “Black, thanks.”
    Belsey glanced at the walls. Around the map were a lot of plaques and certificates that told you little other than the outfit knew how to look cute. The older man poured the coffee.
    “How can we help?”
    “I’d like to buy a company,” Belsey said. He took a sip of good, strong coffee. “I need to cover my back.”
    “What kind of thing were you thinking of?”
    “Two IBCs somewhere offshore, maybe Antigua, with nominee directors and a trading record. I want a postbox address that can’t be traced to me and an anonymous deposit account in the name of one of the shelf companies, somewhere untouchable. But I need it respectable enough to transfer medium sums into a European current account without drawing attention.”
    They leaned back, nodding. The younger agent balanced a pen between his index fingers.
    “Sounds like you know what you’re doing.”
    “I need an idea of prices.”
    “It depends on the jurisdiction. For an off-the-shelf company, the British Virgin Islands is attractive: Crown property, starts at eight hundred and forty. Jersey is twice that, but then it’s a major financial centre. Otherwise there’s Dominica, the Seychelles, Anguilla. All the companies we sell will have records going back at least three years. Dominica’s the cheapest that we’d feel comfortable recommending.”
    “What’s on Dominica?”
    He flipped a small laptop open.
    “We could sell you, for example, the Dutch Export Import Trading AG, set up March 2005. Or the American Auto Management Corporation, a couple of months older. Each comes with a law firm as nominee director, so that any dealings remain confidential. You get power of attorney so you can manage the company. There’s no reporting