"No, Leo, allow me to reiterate this once more—it's not you, it's us. I sincerely invite you to join this great plan.
Please forgive me, but after meeting you I began collecting information about you. You are an ambitious man, but every step you take feels heavy because you haven't yet earned full recognition from the mainstream powers of America.
With this platform, however, everything changes.
The tycoons who wish to legally avoid taxes will be eager to befriend you. While it may still not grant you total acceptance, it will greatly accelerate the process. And beyond all else—this is absolutely good business."
Jim leaned forward as he spoke.
Leo shook his head. "You still haven't answered my core question. Have you even started yet? Or is this plan just some idea floating in your head, Jim?"
"No, Leo, the pipeline already exists. It was once used to funnel wealth for the British Empire. Converting its function now is easy. I have excellent relationships with the presidents and kings of those Pacific island nations. I know their hunger for money—getting them to pass favorable policies is just a matter of words.
The banks? Even simpler. The City of London has been in drought for a long time. Their greatest hope each day is to see fresh capital flow in so they can even pay next week's wages.
As for the lawyers—British lawyers, like the bankers, are idle. I can find more than enough top-tier firms eager to stand behind us. They're tired of petty neighborhood disputes.
And the most crucial of all—the politicians. Leo, here I will not lie to you. Since Humphrey first told me of this plan, I realized I had found a new position for Britain within global finance. This is not only an achievement, but also the stepping stone that could place me in a better position to serve the people of Britain."
Leo chuckled. "You want Downing Street?"
Jim nodded firmly.
"Jim, from what I hear, it sounds like you have everything prepared, save for one thing—a sum of money to test, or should I say, to activate this system. You know plenty of wealthy Americans. Why me?"
"I do know many. But those who are willing to operate entirely by our design lack sufficient funds. Those with enough money already know the British lawyers and politicians themselves; they could demand the island nations craft laws to suit them."
Leo's face hardened. "I understand now. You're saying I'm weak—and that my money is more obedient."
Jim quickly waved his hands. "No, Leo, that's not it! Your participation creates the balance we need. A stable channel requires all parties to check and trust each other."
His explanation was feeble. Leo knew the truth—his wealth had grown too quickly, and his influence had yet to catch up.
But tax avoidance aligned with his interests. He shifted his thoughts. Jim had let slip something important: if Leo was truly indispensable, then the balance of power needed to change.
"My men will be embedded along this line. I need to guard my money."
Once money leaves, every path it travels must be watched. Without oversight, hands might reach into the flow. Worse, it was a perfect excuse to study how the pipeline itself was constructed. One day, when his influence was strong enough, Leo intended to build his own tax haven pipeline—his own network.
Jim instantly saw through him. "Leo, many segments of the pipeline are hidden. It would make others uncomfortable."
Leo rose coldly. "Jim, you said yourself—this business requires trust. But unlike the Swiss, your newborn pipeline doesn't carry a century-old reputation. And don't think you can fool me. Those so-called top banks and law firms are nothing but window dressing. At best, middling institutions hungry for scraps.
To speak frankly—entrusting my fortune to your fledgling system without oversight, based solely on your word? You are not worthy.
Thank you for the coffee."
Leo turned to leave. Jim grabbed his arm. He knew Leo was bluffing, but he dared not risk it. Leo was indeed the perfect partner. Jim sighed inwardly. No wonder this man had amassed such wealth at a young age—his ability to sketch the essence of things with just fragments of information was terrifying.
Jim surrendered. "All right, Leo. On behalf of everyone, I agree."
Leo's lips curled. Strength was always the sharpest weapon at the table.
"And since you need my money to lubricate the channel, and I am, in your words, a crucial part of the system—there will be no service fee on my funds."
Jim wiped sweat from his brow. "Leo, people must eat."
"With me, you'll eat well. If that hurts your pride, let me rephrase—good meals are worth waiting for, Jim."
Jim's face darkened. He wanted to walk out, to abandon both Leo and his friendship. But his secretary, Bernard Woolley, a shrewd man who had climbed the bureaucracy from the bottom, gave him a subtle signal. Bernard understood perfectly: success here would shorten Jim's path to Downing Street by five or even ten years.
He also knew Jim needed Leo. Without Leo's capital, the other players in the pipeline would never accept Jim's leadership. This was the truth: Jim was trying to conjure influence out of thin air. Not shameless—just politics.
Seeing Bernard's signal, Jim sighed. "Fine. State all your demands at once."
Leo smiled. The balance of the deal had shifted. "Jim, if you'd spoken plainly from the start, we might already be celebrating. My final demand: I take forty percent of the profits."
Jim nearly exploded. "Impossible! This system feeds hundreds of mouths. You cannot take forty percent. You already have enough, Leo—I thought you were a man of moderation."
"How much, then?" Leo pressed.
"Twenty percent at most."
"Thirty. And tomorrow, fifty million for trial funds will enter the system. Decide, Jim."
Jim shut his eyes in pain. "Take my share as well. Thirty it is. But I hope you keep your word."
"Pleasure doing business." Leo extended his hand.
Jim nearly stumbled from exhaustion as he shook it, then hurried from the hotel.
"Jim, business is business. This won't affect our friendship, right?" Leo called after him with a grin.
Jim didn't answer. He only walked faster.
Leo collapsed onto the sofa. Even he felt drained—negotiating with such politicians was taxing. But he had achieved his goals.
The fees were trivial compared to what he'd save in taxes. He had pressed Jim to the limit to send a message: in friendship Leo was one man, but in business he was another. Touch his money, and retaliation would be merciless.
More importantly, with thirty percent of the profits came thirty percent of the power. He could now justify embedding his own finance men into the channel. Through them, he would learn exactly how the pipeline operated.
The next day, fifty million dollars entered the system with a single phone call—proof of how modern finance was already taking shape. Jim might have been furious yesterday, but today, seeing the money, he was all smiles.
Arriving with the funds was Edward, Leo's financial chief. Though invisible to the public, Edward controlled all money in the West for Leo. Every investment by Kevin or Sean flowed through him, and every dollar they earned was routed through countless small-town accounting firms before reaching a secret account in Las Vegas.
Now, fifty million had been drawn from that account for the pipeline.
"Jim, which island have you chosen? Is the policy ready?" Leo asked.
"Jersey. Its governor is an old friend of mine. The policies are in place. The trust company, called LA, has already been established. I've had the paperwork sent here—you'll have it by this afternoon. Or, if you prefer, send someone to see Jersey for yourself.
Now, Leo—shall we begin?"
Leo nodded. "Of course. I'll stay in London two more days. Show me your performance."
The mechanism was simple on paper: transfer → scatter investments → accounting → declare losses or expenses → finally the trust. On paper, Leo's personal income might drop to a single dollar. Of course, he would still pay roughly the same tax as last year, so as not to provoke the IRS too directly.
But in practice, it required shell companies. Forty of them, spread across Britain, Canada, Australia, Hong Kong, Malaysia, New Zealand. A flood of money would pass through, and all the pipeline kept was the condensation on its walls.
And if the IRS ever tried to trace it? They'd have to fight in dozens of jurisdictions, each defended by elite lawyers. By the time they won, the company would be dissolved and reborn under another name.
But truthfully, the IRS was far behind. They hadn't even begun cross-border investigations yet. Leo was already operating in a modern way while they were still stuck in medieval methods.
Edward confirmed the LA Trust existed on Jersey. The island was so small it was almost primitive, and LA was its only company. But Leo no longer cared—the Morgan Bank account for LA already showed fifty million dollars. That was enough.
As Leo boarded his plane, he told Jim: "Tomorrow, another hundred million. This time, into Bank of America. The new trust—call it LB."
Once the money reached Bank of America, Leo would funnel it into the James River Asset Management Company.
The reason he was rushing back to the States was simple—Sidney had called.
American Realty was about to go public. Leo was needed at the bell-ringing ceremony.