Numbered Account (20 page)

A glass of water and a few magazines sat on the nightstand.
Der Spiegel, Sports Illustrated —
the swimsuit edition — and
Institutional Investor
, which had a mean-looking fellow with a brushy mustache on the cover. He probed the mattress, then lay on the floor and looked under it. Nothing. The flat was clean except for the pistol. That was hardly unusual. Every man in the Swiss Army kept a service revolver at his home. Of course, they probably didn’t keep it next to their bed with nine bullets in the butt and a round chambered. Still, he didn’t think it strange for the mark to have a gun. After all, Al-Makdisi had called him “the marine.”

Wolfgang Kaiser slammed his hand onto the conference table. “It’s in his blood to be loyal. Did you hear him?”

Next to him stood Rudolf Ott and Armin Schweitzer. All three focused their attention on a beige speakerphone marooned in the mahogany sea.

“Knew it all along,” said Ott. “I could have told you five minutes into our first interview.”

Schweitzer muttered that he had heard him, too, but the tone of his voice said he didn’t believe a word.

Kaiser had reason to be content. He had kept an eye on Nicholas Neumann for
years. Followed the boy’s difficult childhood, the mother’s peregrinations from
one town to another, his stint in the Marine Corps. But only from a safe
distance. Then three years ago, he’d lost Stefan, his only child; his beautiful,
doomed dreamer. And soon afterward, he had found himself thinking of Nicholas
more and more. He suggested that the boy enroll at Harvard Business School, and
when Nicholas agreed, he said aloud what he’d been thinking for over a year:
“Why not bring him to the bank?” He’d been disappointed when Nicholas chose a
post on Wall Street. He hadn’t been surprised, though, when he called six months
later, informing him he hated the place. Nicholas had too much European blood in
his veins to fall into that go-go lifestyle. And hadn’t he just said it?
It was in his blood to be loyal to the bank
.

Yet, despite his contacts over the years, Kaiser had had no idea what Neumann would really be like until just this moment. And by that he meant very specifically that he’d had no idea whether or not he would be like his father. Now he had his answer. And it pleased him enormously.

The speakerphone squawked.

“I hope you were able to follow our conversation,” said Martin Maeder. “I had the windows closed and the blinds lowered. It was like the tomb of Ramses. We scared the shit out of the kid.”

“He didn’t sound too scared, Marty,” said Armin Schweitzer, standing closest to the speakerphone, arms crossed over his barrel chest. “His math skills certainly didn’t suffer.”

“The kid’s a wizard,” gushed Maeder. “Arrogant as all hell, but a goddamned Einstein!”

“You’re right,” said Kaiser. “His father was the same way. Worked as my assistant for ten years. We practically grew up together. He was a bright man. Terrible end.”

“Gunned down in Los Angeles,” added Schweitzer, unable to disguise his glee in the misfortune of others. “The place is a war zone.”

“I won’t hear your ignorant accusations,” shouted Kaiser, his exuberant mood soured. “Alex Neumann was a good man. Maybe too good. We’re damned lucky to have his kid.”

“He’s one of us,” said Maeder. “Didn’t fidget once in that chair. A natural.”

“So it seems,” said Kaiser. “That’s all for now, Marty. Thank you.” He terminated the connection, then looked at Ott and Schweitzer. “He acquitted himself well, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would caution against reading too much into Neumann’s actions,” said Schweitzer. “I’m sure he was motivated more by fear than by any loyalty to the bank.”

“Really?” asked Kaiser. “I disagree. I can’t think of a better way in which we could have tested his executive mettle, or his loyalty to the bank. It takes balls for a trainee to make that type of decision in the absence of any guidance. Rudy, call Dr. Schon. Have her join us.
Sofort
!”

Ott scrambled to the telephone.

Kaiser took two measured paces toward Schweitzer so that the men were an arm’s length apart. His countenance darkened. “It’s you with whom I should be concerned, Armin. Isn’t it your duty to monitor the surveillance list given us by Mr. Studer and this Thorne character? Of all our numbered accounts, certainly
this one
should have caught your eye.”

The director of compliance met the Chairman’s gaze. “Franz Studer gave us no warning. I was indisposed Wednesday evening when the list was submitted to us. I didn’t have a chance to review the list until yesterday afternoon. When I saw it, naturally I was appalled.”

“Naturally,” said Kaiser, unconvinced. Schweitzer had two excuses for every missed step, but never an apology. Indisposed? Probably something that could only be cured by a few generous shots of schnapps. He put his hand on the man’s shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t ever forget at whose behest you serve, Armin.”

Rudolf Ott hung up the phone. “Neumann’s papers will be here right away,” he announced, then glared at Schweitzer. “I can’t get over the coincidence of this account number appearing on the list while both Herr Kaiser and I were absent in London. And you, Armin,” Ott let the final word dangle, “
indisposed
.”

Schweitzer rolled forward onto the balls of his feet. His cheeks colored. Ott took a step backward, cowering. Schweitzer looked at the Chairman, and his stance relaxed. “You’ve confirmed that Franz Studer did not accidentally allow the account past his desk?” he asked.

“If the account is on the list, it is because Studer put it there,” said Kaiser calmly. “Hard to believe even he’s joined the Americans. At least we know where he stands.” He shook his head and for the first time realized the hairbreadth nature of their escape. He exhaled noisily. “We were damned lucky.”

Ott raised his hand shyly as if afraid to be called upon. “Another piece of unfortunate news. Dr. Schon has just informed me that Peter Sprecher is leaving us.”

“Not another one,” said Kaiser. He didn’t have to ask where Sprecher was going.

“To the Adler Bank,” said Ott. “Another lion for Konig’s menagerie.”

“One more reason not to trust Neumann,” said Schweitzer, suddenly heartened. “The two are fast friends. Where one goes, the other will follow.”

“I think we can rule out Neumann’s leaving,” Kaiser stated. “He stuck out his neck for all of us. He didn’t do it without a reason.” He walked slowly over the maroon carpet, his feet traveling from one canton to the next. From the blue and white shield of Lucerne to the bear of Bern to the bull of Uri. “Regardless of Mr. Neumann’s motivations, it is clear that we can no longer handle our special accounts as before.”

Schweitzer spoke immediately. “Why not have members of my staff, of compliance, handle our special accounts? We can keep perfect track of our clients’ commands.”

Kaiser said nothing. He had his own notions about who should keep track of the special accounts.

“Why not bring Mr. Neumann into our offices?” suggested Ott. “He’s shown a flair for handling this account, and you do require a new assistant. Mr. Feller isn’t coping well with the increased workload. Konig’s bid is making matters unmanageable.”

“I beg your pardon, Herr Kaiser,” said Schweitzer hurriedly. “But the thought of bringing Neumann to the Fourth Floor is unconscionable. No thinking man would—”

“No thinking man would have allowed this numbered account to appear on our very own internal surveillance list,” said Ott. “Studer be damned! But to calm you, Armin, we can keep a closer eye on Mr. Neumann on the Fourth Floor. He would be ideal to assist in responding to our North American shareholders. We require a native English speaker to pen our rebuttals to the American press.”

Kaiser stood between the two men, his head tilted slightly backward as if he were smelling the air. “Very well,” he announced, pleased that Ott had beaten him to the suggestion. “Decision made. I want him here Monday morning. No time to lose. We’ve only four weeks until our general assembly.”

Schweitzer stalked from the conference room, ever the jilted suitor. As he reached the door, Kaiser raised his voice. “And Armin . . .”

“Jawohl,
Herr Kaiser?”

“Keep a sharper eye on the lists submitted to you by Franz Studer. He’s on the other side now. Is that clear?”

“Jawohl,
Herr Kaiser.” Schweitzer nodded curtly and closed the door.

“Poor Armin must feel rather the goat today,” said Kaiser, sighing.

“I’m disappointed in him,” added Ott. “I hope we mustn’t question his allegiance.”

Kaiser turned on his plump deputy. “Schweitzer has been with us for thirty years. His devotion cannot be questioned.” He didn’t need to mention what had secured the man’s obeisance. Two female corpses, a smoking gun, and a philandering husband made for big news in any country. It had been an expensive affair to keep quiet. But worth it. He’d have his hands wrapped tightly around Schweitzer’s balls for the rest of the man’s life. He turned his mind to more pressing matters and asked, “Have our friend’s assets been located and transferred?”

Rudolf Ott clasped his hands in contrite supplication. “The entire amount was wired out first thing this morning. The transfer of funds form Neumann mentioned was located and removed. It never reached Agent Skouras.”

“Christ, it doesn’t do to upset a client like that, two hundred million on deposit and one percent of our shares in his pocket.”

“No sir, most unwise.” Ott parroted the Chairman like a court eunuch.

“And were we able to route the transaction through Medusa?” Kaiser referred to the on-line data management system that had become operational only two days before.

“Yes, Herr Kaiser. Sprecher’s and Neumann’s terminals have been altered to share access with it. No sign of our client’s transfer will be detectable.”

“Just in time,” whispered Kaiser gratefully. He’d been aware for years that the intelligence agencies of several Western nations possessed technology capable of tapping into their main data banks. The Americans were especially crafty. Their first line of attack was the sophisticated communications technology that allowed them to listen verbatim to the interbank conversations carried on between Cerberus and its computer brethren around the world. Transfers of funds made from Zurich to New York or from Hong Kong to Zurich were easily intercepted.

Medusa was the answer to these unwarranted incursions: a state-of-the-art
encryption system capable of detecting and defeating any and all on-line
surveillance measures. When Medusa was fully up and running, USB would be able
to conduct her private banking the old-fashioned way:
privately
. But it had not come cheap. One hundred million francs had been allocated for the development, construction, and implementation of Medusa. And one hundred fifty million spent. What were hidden reserves for?

A firm knock on the oak door interrupted Kaiser’s thoughts.

“Good morning, Herr Kaiser, Herr Dr. Ott,” said Sylvia Schon. “I have Mr. Neumann’s dossier.”

Ott walked briskly to meet her and thrust forward his right hand, palm up. “The file please. You may go.”

“Not so quickly,” said Kaiser. He walked the length of the room and extended his hand. He had forgotten how attractive she was. “Dr. Schon, a pleasure to see you.”

She looked questioningly at Ott, then walked past him and handed the file to Kaiser. “Neumann’s file as requested.”

Kaiser accepted the file. “He’s one of your boys. Any word on how he is faring?”

“Nothing but praise from Mr. Sprecher.”

“Given his decision to leave the bank, I don’t know precisely how to evaluate that. What about you? Had a chance to get to know him?”

“Only briefly. We had dinner last night.”

“Where?” He couldn’t prevent himself from asking.

“Emilio’s.”

Kaiser raised an eyebrow. “I see. Maybe Konig has a point about using our assets better. If you took every one of your recruits there, we’d have to file for bankruptcy within a week.”

“I thought the bank should ensure he feels welcome.” Sylvia Schon darted a glance at Rudolf Ott.

“I’m hardly one to tell you how to do your job,” said Kaiser. “Neumann’s special. His father was very close to me. Fine man. Fine son. And how does Mr. Neumann feel about our “proposed cooperation’? Get a chance to discuss that with him?”

“We touched on the matter. He mentioned in no uncertain terms that he thought it unwise for the bank to cooperate with the authorities. He said “the walls of the bank should be made of granite, not sandstone.”’

Kaiser laughed. “Did he? How refreshing for an American.”

Sylvia Schon advanced a step. “Has he gotten into any trouble? Is that why you wished to see me?”

“On the contrary. Seems our boy has a nose for keeping us
out
of trouble. We’re thinking about bringing him to the Fourth Floor. I need another assistant.”

“Mr. Feller isn’t bearing up under the increased pressure,” added Ott malevolently.

Sylvia Schon raised a hand in protest. “Mr. Neumann has been here less than two months. Maybe after a year, he could assume a position on the Fourth Floor. He’s hardly begun his employ.”

Kaiser knew the promotion would feel like a dagger in the woman’s back. No one was more ambitious and in truth, no one worked as hard. She was a tremendous asset to the bank. “I understand your concerns,” he said, “but the boy did go to Harvard, and Ott tells me his thesis is brilliant. Knows more about the bank than you or I, right, Ott?”

“Certainly more than
I
do,” said the vice chairman. Ott checked his watch. He fidgeted as if needing to visit the men’s room. “Herr Kaiser, we are expected in Salon 2. The Hausammanns.”

Kaiser tucked the file under his left arm and shook Sylvia’s hand. He’d forgotten how soft a young woman’s skin could be. “First thing Monday morning, understood?”

Sylvia Schon lowered her eyes. “Of course. I’ll inform Mr. Neumann immediately.”

Kaiser noted the downcast expression on her face and made a sudden decision. “From now on, I want you, Dr. Schon, to handle our recruiting in the States. Get over there in the next couple of weeks and find us some stars. You’ve shown a talent for nurturing the employees in your department, eh, Ott?”