Casebook 2: The Ranikston Deceptions - 2.3[index]

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“Ranikston,” he insisted.

“Yes, sir. But weren't you here just a few minutes ago?”

Ranikston went very pale. Then very red. And then he demanded his money.

Inevitably, the police were called. But I was on the scene moments later, Ranikston's bank card burning a hole in my pocket.

“What differences are there between the man sitting in the chair now and the man you served this morning?” I asked her.

“Well, sir. They're dressed differently. The suit is a different colour, sir. But I'd swear to you, sir. They look identical. And all the paperwork was in order. He's a highly valuable customer, sir. I recognise him.”

By this point, it was clear that negotiations were at a close. The manager had capitulated, and Ranikston's entire reserve was being transferred to a Swiss account with immediate effect. Now, a quarter of a million pounds is a lot of cash, but that was for the insurers to worry about. But to lose a billionaire's custom completely must have been a bitter blow.

Ranikston waited for the manager to confirm to him that the funds had been transferred and then stormed off, no doubt to pay a swift pre-emptive visit to his remaining cashpiles.