"StratPay isn't answering your calls at 11 p.m., is it?" Kline coughed. "Ad hoc means now. It means I'm calling a guy in Dubai who knows a guy in Mauritius who has a live license to touch Kenyan shillings. You're paying for speed, not price."
Their usual PSP, StratPay Global , had just flagged a routine compliance review. Three million dollars in cross-border payments for a green-energy shipment out of Mombasa were frozen. "Standard procedure," the automated email read. "Resolution time: 7-10 business days." ad hoc psp
The airport lounge was quiet at 11 p.m., save for the hum of ice machines and the clink of glasses. Marcus Webb, CFO of Verdant Logistics , stared at his laptop screen. The numbers weren't lying, but they felt like a betrayal. "StratPay isn't answering your calls at 11 p
Marcus read it twice. There was no insurance. No dispute mechanism. No regulator to call if Kline simply vanished with the funds. That was the pact with ad hoc PSPs: you gave up safety for survival. You're paying for speed, not price
At 11:57 AM, three minutes early, the Dutch IBAN pinged. 2,865,000 euros net.
Ad hoc was the ugly, necessary shadow of fintech. When the polished PSPs with their fraud algorithms and risk committees said "No," the ad hoc providers said "How much?" They were small, agile, and operated on a patchwork of licenses, handshake agreements, and a healthy disregard for bureaucratic delays.
He slammed the lid of his laptop shut. "Ad hoc," he muttered, pulling out a second, older phone from his briefcase.
