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What happens in Vegas

 
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BeitragVerfasst am: 09.11.2013, 19:20    Titel: What happens in Vegas Antworten mit Zitat

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What happens in Vegas - the tale of Daniel Tzvetkoff
by:
James Leighton
From:
The Australian
November 02, 2013
12:00AM
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Tzvetkoff (right) with business associates outside Intabill's Brisbane office. At left, Michael Hui and Sam Sciacca.
Source: TheAustralian
Daniel Tzvetkoff and his fiancee Nicole Crisp at the opening of Zuri night club in Brisbane in 2008.
Source: TheAustralian
Overnight, Tzvetkoff went from genius to cautionary tale.
Source: TheAustralian
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JUST one year after losing close to $500 million, Daniel Tzvetkoff was back at the scene of the crime. Las Vegas, Sin City. This time he was feeling lucky.
the north face outlet In the shadow of the glowing amber tombstone that was the Encore Hotel, the baby-faced 26-year-old sat in a private outdoor cabana in the luxurious XS nightclub. Above him a fan whirred relentlessly, engaged in a fruitless battle against the arid desert heat. On the glass table was a flute of chilled Cristal, his favourite. In his mouth hung a Cuban cigar. And on his wrist, a gold Rolex, whose diamond-encrusted dial told him it was coming up to midnight. The night was still young.the north face outlet online Picking up his champagne, the stocky Australian made his way to the first-floor balcony. By now his friend, Michael Kollosche, Gold Coast real estate agent to the super-rich, had been gone for over half an hour. It was typical Kollosche. He couldn't help but talk to anyone who crossed his path, especially when he'd had a few drinks. Peering below, hoping to catch a glimpse of his party-loving friend, Tzvetkoff saw several girls cast aside their short skirts, high heels and boob tubes and dive into the pool. Their boyfriends turned a blind eye; they were either drunkenly playing blackjack on the outdoor tables or eyeing the scantily clad dancers gyrating to R&amp;B music on poles adjacent to the pool.
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Recommended Coverage
Life's a beach for FBI supergrass
FALLEN Australian IT whiz-kid Daniel Tzvetkoff has been living a jet-setting high-life while in the US witness protection program.
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the north face outlet These weren't the last days of Rome. This was Las Vegas, April 2010. Debauchery was everywhere. Tzvetkoff returned to the privacy of his lavish VIP cabana when a voice suddenly purred behind him, &quot;Got room for one more in here?&quot; By the time Tzvetkoff had gathered his thoughts the blonde had already invited herself inside. &quot;I'm Whitney,&quot; she said, holding out her hand. Watching on as Whitney poured herself a drink, he remembered the promise he had made to his heavily pregnant fiancee, Nicole, before boarding the plane: no girls, not under any circumstances. This trip was strictly business.&quot;Where are you from, sweetheart?&quot; Whitney enquired. &quot;Australia. Brisbane, actually.&quot; &quot;And what do you do with yourself in Brisbane?&quot; &quot;I own a high-risk payment processing company,&quot; Tzvetkoff proudly announced, not expecting her to have a clue what he was talking about.To be fair, not many people did. Tzvetkoff was a working-class boy without a qualification to his name. He had developed a secure online payments system that had made him very rich, very quickly. [His company provided billing services for thousands of online merchants worldwide, but the big money had been with American online gambling operators.]&quot;Is there a lot of money in the game?&quot; Whitney enquired. &quot;Sure,&quot; Tzvetkoff replied. A turnover of close to $1 billion in just 18 months had been proof of that. As had been the purchase of one of Australia's most expensive homes, a yacht, private jet, a nightclub and countless luxury cars. If only it wasn't all gone ...Whitney flashed a smile. &quot;So what are you doing tonight?&quot;&quot;I'm going to go straight to bed to call my fiancee and my three-year-old son.&quot;To Whitney's shock, Tzvetkoff strolled out of the cabana. He had had enough. In another life he had bled Vegas dry: nightclubs, strippers, parties with Mike Tyson. The lot. That was then, this was now. The last 12 months had certainly matured him. He had argued fiercely with Nicole before coming to Vegas. She thought there was too much to risk. He thought there was everything to gain. This was the trip that was going to signal his triumphant comeback after a year of unadulterated shit. He couldn't wait to tell her the evening had gone better than he would have hoped.Slipping 20 bucks to the doorman who lifted the red velvet rope for him, Tzvetkoff left the venue and walked up the extravagantly decorated marble corridor towards the lobby. Pushing the lift button, he waited impatiently, failing to spot the reflection in the gold elevator door of a large, dark-suited man behind him. Suddenly there was a click next to his ear. A feeling of cold metal being placed against his head. &quot;Don't f..king move,&quot; the man with the New Jersey accent ordered. &quot;Stay right where you are.&quot;Tzvetkoff stood frozen to the spot. A gun was being pointed to his head; by whom, he didn't know. But in that moment he knew there were only two organisations it could possibly be - the FBI or the Mob. Either way, he knew one thing: the comeback was over. A jail cell or a hole in the desert awaited him. And at that moment he wasn't sure which was worse. A year earlier, July, 2009: The last few months had been nothing short of disastrous for Tzvetkoff. Intabill, his internet payments business, was finished. [He was being accused of siphoning millions of dollars out of his embattled company to fund a lavish lifestyle of imported cars, beachfront mansions and parties, and the American gambling operators were after him for tens of millions.] The media were digging their teeth in. Assets were being sold. Liquidators were set to be appointed; lawsuits were flying left, right and centre.While his business partner, Sam Sciacca, was engaged in a fire sale of Intabill's assets, trying to ensure Intabill staff and various creditors got paid the money they were owed, Tzvetkoff was holed up in his Gold Coast condo, his head firmly stuck in the sand. It seemed almost every day there was another media story revelling in his demise. The Tall Poppy Syndrome was in full effect. Once they had built up the young genius; now it was time to kick him when he was down. Even for a guy with his confidence, he struggled to remain immune from the criticism. Money and success had defined him: Daniel Tzvetkoff, internet tycoon, self-made multi-millionaire. Now he was a cautionary tale: too much too young; another Generation Y whiz-kid bites the dust.Spending most days locked in his room, he barely spoke to anyone. Just a few months earlier he had been one of the richest people in Australia. How could it all now be gone? Under the weight of lawsuits and debt collectors, Tzvetkoff had no choice but to do the hardest thing in his life: he declared himself bankrupt. It was rock bottom. It seemed the only way to go was up, but a deeper, much darker, pit awaited him. Various organisations he most certainly did not want to get on the wrong side of had started to take a keen interest in his activities. Since Intabill's collapse a series of private investigators, apparently on the instructions of the poker companies, had descended on Brisbane and the Gold Coast. His family and friends had been harassed. Tzvetkoff was certain he was being followed and that his home had been bugged. It seemed that these guys had been instructed to recover monies any way that they could.While Tzvetkoff was well aware of the involvement of the investigators, he wasn't quite as clued up as to what was happening on the eighth floor of 1 St Andrews Plaza, New York. This was the location of the office of Preet Bharara, the new US Attorney for the Southern District of New York. Bharara was swamped with files, each apparently more urgent than the last: domestic and international terrorism, narcotics, arms trafficking, white-collar crime, public corruption, gang violence, organised crime and civil rights violations. Yet while Bharara would initially concentrate on bringing down those who had partaken in insider trading, earning him the nickname the Sheriff of Wall Street, there was another file on his desk that would soon focus his attention. The name on the file was Daniel Tzvetkoff. April 2010: Following the collapse of Intabill, several businessmen had expressed an interest in purchasing the company's intellectual property from the liquidators. They could see it was a good business; it had just grown too quickly and had a bad slice of luck, that was all. In the right hands it could be a gold mine. That's what Gold Coast-based billionaire Bruce Mathieson was thinking when he took the plunge.With all the key software and databases at his disposal, Mathieson began to focus on putting together his new company, Payovation. He would have hired Tzvetkoff to run the show but he knew that would be impossible. By now, his name was mud. He was the brash young kid who had been sued for over $150 million by his customers and his business partner, Sciacca. No matter that he claimed most of the charges were bullshit; if people saw that Tzvetkoff was officially connected to Payovation, the company wouldn't stand a chance.However, after arranging to meet Tzvetkoff on the Gold Coast, Mathieson liked what he saw. The kid was hungry, bright, switched on and eager to prove people wrong - just the type of guy he liked. So, even though he couldn't officially hire him, he agreed to pay Tzvetkoff $10,000 a month to work as a consultant. Better yet, if he hit his targets then Mathieson would be willing, eventually, to give up a 25 per cent slice of equity to him. This was just the sort of opportunity Tzvetkoff had been waiting for. He had stopped feeling sorry for himself and was ready to ram the critics' words down their throats. Having learnt from his mistakes, and with a successful, experienced billionaire backing him, he knew he was onto a good thing.With Tzvetkoff working in the background, Mathieson asked Michael Hui, who had been Intabill's legal counsel, to head up the company. Hui would accept, but only on two conditions: they wouldn't touch poker, and he, not Tzvetkoff, would be calling the shots. Mathieson readily agreed. Now, after a few months in business, Payovation was preparing to announce its arrival on the world stage at the Electronic Transactions Association (ETA) Tradeshow at the Mandalay Bay casino, Las Vegas. Anyone who was anyone in the payment-processing world would be at the show. With this in mind, Hui and others from the business were all set to descend on Vegas. Tzvetkoff was not invited. In this embryonic stage it was just too risky for him to be seen to be connected with Payovation.But Tzvetkoff had decided he was going anyway. Damn the stigma. He was the one who had been screwed over, and he had nothing to hide. If the top dogs of the payment-processing world were going to be there, then he was going too. He was going to walk the floor and let everyone know the big man was back in town. What better place to announce his comeback than Las Vegas, where just a year earlier his whole empire had come crashing down?Joining Tzvetkoff in Las Vegas was his close friend Kollosche, who was a sucker for the charms of The Strip. Together they would mingle with the great and mighty at the ETA before swanning off into the night to hit Las Vegas head on. Having flown in on a separate flight, Hui did all that he could to avoid seeing Tzvetkoff in Vegas. This included staying at the opposite end of The Strip to him. Thankfully, while Tzvetkoff had made it known he was in town, he had not associated himself with the Payovation stand. This was a small mercy. As was the fact that he and Kollosche had both jumped ship early to hit the bars on The Strip.At 7am the next day, Hui's alarm woke him from his slumber and he turned on his phone. A message popped up on the screen. What the hell! Surely someone was playing a prank. The text, from an unknown number, read: &quot;Daniel's been taken by a group of guys.&quot;As his heart-rate quickened, Hui sat on the edge of the bath and wondered what to do. Kollosche! Surely he would know if this was true. Hurriedly scrolling through his phone, he found Kollosche's number. The real estate agent finally answered. &quot;Michael! Thank f..k! I've been trying to get hold of you.&quot;&quot;Was that you who messaged me saying Daniel had been taken?&quot; Hui asked, whispering so that he wouldn't wake his partner.&quot;Yes, mate,&quot; Kollosche said. &quot;We were in XS nightclub together. He left before me, but I followed him out. By the time I got to the lobby I saw this group of guys bundle him out the door.&quot;Holy shit! Hui's hand gripped the side of the bath as he shut his eyes tight. &quot;Who took him?&quot; he asked. &quot;Do you know?&quot;&quot;No idea,&quot; Kollosche replied hoarsely. &quot;I just saw a group drag him away. I've spoken to Nicole and the embassy are doing all they can to find out more ... &quot;Later, at the airport, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He hurriedly pulled it out. &quot;Nicole! Have you heard anything? What's going on?&quot;&quot;The embassy has just called me,&quot; she said, sounding calm in the circumstances. &quot;It's the FBI. They've arrested Daniel.&quot;Tzvetkoff was holed up at North Las Vegas Detention Centre, sharing a tiny cell with a man charged with murder. Worst of all, his lawyer had advised him he was facing 75 years in jail if found guilty of the charges - which included breaches of the Unlawful Internet Gambling Enforcement Act (UIGEA), Illegal Gambling Business Act and New York Penal Code, as well as conspiracy, bank and wire fraud and money laundering. [He was accused of assisting illegal online gambling companies to launder about $584 million into offshore accounts]. It was all a far cry from his heyday as the playboy prince of the Gold Coast. It was a cramped two-bedroom apartment in Harlem. The heating barely worked and the furniture looked like it had come from a flea market. But for Daniel, Nicole and their two children, it was now home. It certainly beat jail, that was for sure. By now, April 2011, Tzvetkoff had been out of jail for just over eight months. A deal had been cut. In exchange for becoming an informant, he would be placed in witness protection. However, it certainly wasn't like the witness protection schemes you see in the movies, where agents trail your every move and watch your back. In this case, Tzvetkoff had been left pretty much to his own devices.They were just surviving on whatever money their families sent them but Daniel and Nicole both loved New York, as did their friends and family who came to visit them regularly. The mansions had been swapped for a decrepit apartment. Tzvetkoff rode the subway instead of a Lamborghini. The nearest he got to a boat was taking the ferry to Staten Island. And the nightclubs and booze had been traded for cups of coffee on the sofa watching TV.Did he feel guilty about enjoying his newfound freedom? Not a chance. The people he had informed on had it coming. Let them rot. They had showed no loyalty to him, so why should he give it back to them?Working with the Department of Justice, Tzvetkoff helped sift through the mountain of information they possessed. Over 90,000 emails, documents and statements were already at their disposal, but once Tzvetkoff got to grips with it all he helpfully explained the processing game to them. He showed how some banks were happy to process the money, knowing full well it came from online poker. However, with others you had to dress it up a little by setting up shell payday loan companies and the like. He even reverse-engineered some transactions to show the trail of money. Placing deposits into the poker companies' websites, he proceeded to track the money around the globe until finally it ended up in the hitherto secret offshore main poker bank accounts, before tracing the money all the way back to the original account.Not only had Tzvetkoff agreed to act as a cooperating witness, but should any of these cases ever go to court he had confirmed that he would be happy to testify against the US poker chiefs on behalf of the state. This was something he was actually looking forward to.But even Tzvetkoff was shocked at the events that transpired on the afternoon of April 15, 2011. Having woken up just after 10am, he had followed his regular routine: shower, breakfast, walk, coffee. Tzvetkoff went to the kitchen to grab a snack when he heard Nicole shriek from the other room. &quot;Shit, Daniel! Come in here quickly. Hurry! Quick!&quot;Tzvetkoff stood in the doorway and focused on the television. &quot;Breaking news at this hour,&quot; the news presenter announced. &quot;Online poker players received a nasty surprise today when they found that their accounts were no more.&quot; Edging closer to the TV, Tzvetkoff was stunned to read: &quot;Feds shut down Online Poker.&quot; He switched on his laptop. Under the Department of Justice's official seal there was a message on all of the poker home pages that read: This domain name has been seized by the FBI ...&quot;Well, what does that mean?&quot; Nicole asked after a moment of silence.Tzvetkoff finally turned around to face her. &quot;I think they've shut down online poker in America. It's gone.&quot;He brought up all the poker news websites and forums to see what was being said. Headlines screamed: &quot;The Shit Hits the Fan&quot;, &quot;Poker Panic&quot;, &quot;Players Lose Everything&quot;, &quot;DoJ Shuts Down Online Poker&quot;. One phrase in particular seemed to be used by every media outlet: &quot;Black Friday&quot;.Scouring the articles, Tzvetkoff pieced the story together. The Justice Department had charged the founders of PokerStars, Full Tilt Poker and Absolute Poker [all Intabill clients] with criminal offences involving conspiracy, bank fraud, money laundering and offences under the UIGEA and Illegal Gambling Business Act. Furthermore, 75 bank accounts had been seized and the Justice Department announced it was seeking more than $3 billion in civil penalties. For now, online poker was dead. All the players' accounts were frozen. No one knew if they would see their money again. For online poker, it was Armageddon.Tzvetkoff suddenly felt sick to his stomach. &quot;I don't believe it,&quot; he muttered, placing his finger on the top right of the screen. Pointing to the front page of the indictment, he highlighted the words &quot;superseding indictment&quot;. &quot;Look at the case number as well.&quot; Nicole peered closer. Turning to his confused fiancee, Tzvetkoff struggled to get the words out: &quot;That case number is the same as mine. This is a superseding indictment to my case.&quot;Suddenly, Nicole realised the implication: this provided a clear link between Tzvetkoff and the complete collapse of online poker in America. How long was it going to take for people to put this information together? And then how long would it be before Tzvetkoff was primarily blamed for the collapse of online poker? He was a dead man walking. Daniel Tzvetkoff remains in witness protection. Edited extract from Alligator Blood by James Leighton (Simon &amp; Schuster, $29.99)
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