adozen or so private jets stood under the blazing sun parked on the tarmac
of the almost humble Tivat International Airport; a sure sign that a special
event was taking place in the small newly independent state of
Montenegro.
Once the heat of the day retreated, guests sipping their evening cocktails on the
poolside terrace of the luxurious Splendid Spa Resort, situated in the heart of
Bečići, just one mile from Budva’s Old Town, they could admire Tarasov’s yacht
anchored in the bay, its lights twinkling against the star studded sky.
SA
Suddenly a rocket curved up into the dark, bursting in a spectacular shower of
light announcing the start of the evening’s festivities; a spectacular display of
fireworks. The oligarch’s guests paused to watch the brilliant figures traced in the
night sky as waiters filled their glasses with champagne; amongst them were
crowned heads, billionaires, bankers and discreet political figures.
Ostensibly the event was to celebrate Tarasov’s birthday, his fiftieth, and
Montenegro had not been chosen by chance. The small nation had only recently
gained independence from the remaining rump of the forgotten Yugoslavia. The
extravagant celebration was part of a strategy to put the small country on the
society map, not only transforming into a tax haven and select destination for
jetsetters, but also an exclusive fife for the very rich.
More discretely, given the politically correct need for crisis low-profile, Sergei
Tarasov and Michael Fitzwilliams were celebrating the birth of their new banking
empire. The newly created INI Banking Corporation, with its headquarters at Saint
Mary Axe, now spanned the world: London, Amsterdam, Moscow, Hong Kong
and of course the Caribbean; managing property, energy and commodity
investment funds.
For Fitzwilliams it was a personal triumph; he with his family controlled a
decisive share in the new structure. The banker was no mere figurehead; he was an
‘oligarch’ in his own right. In less than a decade he had expanded his banking
empire from a middling Irish bank, providing loans and mortgages in the Republic
of Ireland and the UK, to a powerful transnational financial institution present on
three continents.
Amongst the guests was Saif al-Islam Gaddafi, one of the sons of the enigmatic
Libyan leader. Saif was one of the major investors in Marina Montenegro, for
which INI was to lead a banking pool that would invest half a billion euros
destined to transform it into the finest leisure port in the Adriatic if not the
Mediterranean.
With billions to invest from the oil and gas revenues of his country, the Libyan
had become one of the small country’s key investors. After decades as an
international pariah, Libya had gained a veneer of respectability. Amongst his
friends, Saif now counted a number of powerful personalities, including English
lords, who discreetly pulled strings at Westminster and in the City of London. The
Libyan even counted Tony Blair as a family friend, and had been seen in Corfu
with Lord Mandelson along with one of the Rothschilds.
Montenegro had become a fashionable spot for the very rich. Only two months
before Saif Gaddafi had thrown his own very discrete and private party in Budva to
celebrate his thirty seventh birthday. His list of guest had included Prince Albert
Rainier of Monaco, Oleg Derispaska the Russian oligarch, Peter Munk, Polish
billionaire Yuri Kovalchuk, Lakshmi Mittal the India steel billionaire, Austrian
investor Martin Schlaff, and Montenegrin Prime Minister Milo Djukanovic.
On a visit to London, Saif, surfing on Libya’s wealth and newly found place
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amongst nations, was a guest of the Duke of York at Buckingham Palace. At
another reception at the LSE he was praised by a professor in glowing terms: ‘I’ve
come to know Saif as someone who looks to democracy, civil society and deep
liberal values for the core of his inspiration.’
Saif Gaddafi responded in a risible speech telling his listeners: ‘In theory Libya is
the most democratic state in the world.’