Numbered Account (58 page)

Nick placed his palms together and brought them up to his chest. “I’m praying.”

Nick arrived at the Paradeplatz at five past two, anxious to get to the bank. It had taken him over an hour to slog down the icy path from the Uetliberg and catch a tram into the center of the city. An hour that he did not have. The game had a time limit now. Monday, Gino Makdisi would take possession of the Pasha’s merchandise. Tuesday, Konig would officially be voted his seats on USB’s board of directors. Nick could not allow either to take place.

The sky had darkened in the last hour. Ominous clouds rolled in from the north like an advancing army and hovered low overhead as if preparing to lay siege to the city. Oblivious of the weather, a throng of shoppers flocked up and down the Bahnhofstrasse. Smartly dressed men and women attacked their errands with a brio as joyless as it was efficient. Nick sliced through their ranks, impatience dampening his fear of what he was about to do.

He passed the front entrance to the bank and peered up at the gray building. A row of lights burned from the windows on the Fourth Floor. The lights enlivened the building’s sterile facade and offered passersby the impression that here stood an institution unmatched in its commitment to its clients. The model of industry and enterprise. He shook his head in disgust. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Nick walked to the rear of the bank and climbed the short flight of stairs leading to the employee entrance. He was dressed in a charcoal suit and navy overcoat, his workaday battle gear. He entered the bank, flashing the security guard his identification as he slid through the turnstile. The guard saw his dark suit and waved the card away. Anyone crazy enough to work on a weekend deserved easy entry.

On the Fourth Floor, Nick was hit with the sounds of an office in uproar. Phones rang, doors were slammed, and voices were raised, though none louder than Wolfgang Kaiser’s.

“Dammit, Marty,” Nick heard him shout from the far end of the corridor, “you promised me two hundred million in buying power. Where is it? Five days I’ve been waiting. So far you’ve produced only ninety million.”

A response was mumbled and Nick was surprised to hear his own name mentioned.

Kaiser said, “If I needed Neumann for a day or two, you should have taken his place and liberated the shares yourself. That’s what leadership means. Too late to teach you, I see.”

Rita Sutter scurried from the Emperor’s Lair and bustled down the hallway. When she saw Nick, a worried expression crossed her features. “Mr. Neumann. I didn’t expect you here today.”

Nick wondered why not. It looked like everyone else was here. “I need to speak with Herr Kaiser.”

Rita Sutter nibbled on a slender finger. “It’s a bad day. Terrible news from the exchange. Mr. Zwicki and Mr. Maeder are with the Chairman now. You’ve heard?”

“No,” he lied. “What is it?”

“Klaus Konig has picked up another one percent of our shares. He will have his seats.”

“So it’s finally happened,” said Nick, mustering whatever disappointment he could.

“Don’t mind the Chairman,” Rita Sutter counseled. “He has a sharp tongue. He doesn’t mean the half of what he says. Remember, he likes you very much.”

“Well, where is he?” Kaiser asked when Nick walked through the set of tall doors, this afternoon flung open to admit the Chairman’s counselors. “Where’s Mevlevi? What have you done with him?”

Rudolf Ott, Martin Maeder, and Sepp Zwicki stood in a semicircle around the Chairman. Only Schweitzer was missing.

“Excuse me?” said Nick. The question was preposterous.
No one did anything to the Pasha
.

“I’ve been trying to reach him at his hotel since last night,” said Kaiser. “He’s disappeared.”

“I haven’t seen him since yesterday afternoon. He was a little preoccupied with his business’s distribution network. He had a falling-out with one of his partners.”

Kaiser took note of his colleagues. “Tell me more when I’m finished with these two. Stay,” he commanded and snapped his fingers toward the couch. “Sit over there until I’m through.”

Nick settled into the couch and listened as Kaiser vented his anger at his
subordinates. He accused Zwicki of a catastrophic failure to communicate and of allowing Konig to scoop up the shares without so much as a peep. Zwicki tried unsuccessfully to defend himself, then bowed his head and fled.

Kaiser turned his attention to Maeder. “What is Feller doing now?”

Maeder melted under the Chairman’s burning glare. “Finishing up the last of the discretionary portfolios. We’ve managed to scrape up another fifteen million.” He adjusted his necktie and squeaked out a question. “No word yet on the loan from . . .”

“Obviously not,” barked Kaiser. “Or we would have purchased those shares instead of Konig.” He dismissed Maeder and found a place on the couch next to Nick. Ott followed suit.

“No idea where he is?” asked the Chairman again. “I leave you with the man who owes me two hundred million francs and you let him disappear.”

Nick didn’t recall the Pasha owing Kaiser anything. Mevlevi had given his word to consider the loan. Nothing more. Clearly, he was keeping his whereabouts secret to avoid just this sort of confrontation. “You might find him with Gino Makdisi. Probably taking the place of his older brother. Cementing a new relationship.”

Kaiser stared at him queerly, and Nick wondered if he knew what had transpired yesterday at the Platzspitz. Or if that was to be the Pasha’s little secret.

“Your responsibility was to guide Mr. Mevlevi around Zurich,” said Kaiser. “
At all times
. An easy task, or so I would have thought. Instead you show up at the bank at half past three, a zombie from what Rita Sutter tells me, and sit in your office waiting to do that bastard’s bidding. Forty million he received. Forty million you transferred out. You had the good sense to delay his transfer once. Why didn’t you think to do it again?”

Nick met Kaiser’s intense gaze, knowing it was wiser not to answer. He was sick and tired of Kaiser’s constant bullying. At first he had found it a mark of the Chairman’s decisiveness, his will to succeed; now he saw it as pure bluster, a means to shift the blame for his own mistakes onto his subordinates. Nick knew that even with the two-hundred-million-franc loan, it was too late. Konig had his thirty-three percent. And the cash for his purchases had come from Ali Mevlevi. Tough luck, Wolfgang. There’ll be no loan from the Pasha, no last-minute dispensation granted by your unholy savior.

“What have you come in for today?” Kaiser asked. “More lazing around? Three weeks at the top and you’re exhausted. One more soldier who couldn’t cut the mustard.”

“Don’t get upset at Mr. Neumann,” said Rita Sutter, who had entered the room with a stack of photocopies. “I’m sure he has been doing his job as best he can. You told me yourself Mr. Mevlevi can be diffi—”

Kaiser attacked her venomously. “No one asked for your opinion. Put the papers down and show yourself out!”

Rita Sutter smiled tremulously, blinking back tears as she retreated.

Rudolf Ott kept his fists bunched to his chest and snickered. “You were saying, Neumann?”

“I came in to help Reto Feller with the portfolios. I hadn’t heard that Konig had reached the thirty-three-percent barrier.”

In fact, Nick had no intention of helping Feller liberate more shares. His days as a willing accomplice were over. He had come for one reason only: to steal the Pasha’s file from DZ.

“He may have his thirty-three percent,” Kaiser said, “but I won’t allow him his seats on the board. Not while I command this bank. To think that at one time he worked with us. The traitor!”

“And not the only one among us,” hissed Ott.

Kaiser ignored him. “I won’t permit it!” he said. “I simply won’t!”

Nick averted his eyes from the Chairman. He knew Kaiser wouldn’t give up until the final vote had been cast at the general assembly. But the truth was that once Konig had purchased this last block of shares, the battle was over. Kaiser would fight the changes in management Konig’s presence would bring, but in the end he would lose. Public sentiment was in favor of any measure that might result in a company’s rapidly increasing its earnings. The Chairman was the last of the old school; the last of the men who believed that long-term growth was more important than short-term results. In the end he was too Swiss, even for the Swiss.

Kaiser turned his attention back to Nick. “Get down to Feller’s office and find out where our holdings stand. I want a list of all the votes we can count on from our institutional shareholders and—”

Ott placed a pale hand on the Chairman’s shoulder. Kaiser stopped speaking and followed his lackey’s gaze to the entryway. Armin Schweitzer walked slowly into the room. His face was waxen, damp with sweat.

“I arrived as quickly as possible,” he said to Kaiser and Ott. His eyes avoided Nick.

The Chairman rose from the couch and strolled to his director of compliance. “Armin, I am sorry to drag you out of bed. Rudy tells me you are suffering from the flu. Remember, rest is the only cure.”

To Nick, he just looked badly hung over.

Schweitzer nodded weakly. He appeared confused by the Chairman’s solicitous nature. “I’ll be sure to heed your advice.”

“You’ve heard the news, I take it?”

“Mrs. Sutter informed me. Our next fight is to oust Konig from the board. We should look at this as only a temporary setback. With your leadership, I have no doubt that we’ll succeed in getting rid of him.”

“I thought you’d be pleased,” said Kaiser.

“How could I be pleased?” Schweitzer laughed awkwardly, looking for support to Ott, and in a sign of his confusion, to Nick.

“The Adler Bank,” said Kaiser. “You were close to Klaus Konig at one time, weren’t you? Both from the trading side of the firm. Both wheelers and dealers.”

“I was a bond man myself. Klaus concentrated on equities and options.”

“But you got along?”

“He was a decent sort. Before he went to America, that is. He came back with his head stuffed with all kinds of financial garbage.”

“Still, it is exciting what Konig is pulling off these days,” Kaiser said begrudgingly.

“Excitement has no place in the world of investments,” declared Schweitzer. “It belongs in the gaming halls of Monaco. I think Klaus has become addicted to risk.”

“You used to share the same appetites, didn’t you?” Kaiser suggested in a salacious tone. “New York? London? Those were heady days for you.”

Schweitzer dismissed the suggestion outright. “Another lifetime.”

“But one to which no doubt you wish to return.”

“Absolutely not. I’m happy where I stand today.”

“Come, Armin, you mean you don’t fancy a return to the trading side of the family? Compliance must be a dull racket for a man of your proven skills.”

“If we are talking about a possible transfer, then perhaps we should do so in private.” Schweitzer glanced around him, visibly uncomfortable discussing his present situation. A select audience had gathered in Kaiser’s office. Nick sat perched on the couch. Ott stood by his master’s shoulder. Rita Sutter crept closer, step by cautious step. Only she prevented Reto Feller from carelessly bounding headlong into the escalating pas de deux.

“Armin Schweitzer,” boomed Kaiser, like a man envisaging his own promotion, “executive vice president for bond trading.” He paused and asked in a good-natured voice, “Is that what Konig has promised you? A new title with the Adler Bank?”

Schweitzer replied meekly. “I beg your pardon?”

“I asked what Konig has promised you. In return for your espionage?”

“What are you talking about, Wolfgang? There’s been no offer. I would never speak with Konig, let alone work for him. You know that.”

“Do I?”

Kaiser advanced on Schweitzer, stopping when he stood only a foot away. He ran his fingers along the lapels of the doomed man. Without warning, he drew back his hand and slapped the larger man across the face. “I rescued you from the bowels of another country’s prisons. I made a place for you at the summit of this bank. I gave you a life. And now this? Why, Armin? Tell me why.”

“Stop!” shouted Schweitzer. He put a hand to his inflamed cheek. For a moment the room was still. All motion suspended. “Stop,” he repeated breathlessly. “What in God’s name are you talking about? I would never betray you.”

“Liar!” Kaiser shouted. “What has Konig promised you in return for your cooperation?”

“Nothing! I swear it. This is insanity. I have nothing to hide.” Schweitzer stepped forward and pointed his finger at Nick. “Who’s cast these stones against me? Was it him?”

“No,” Kaiser stated sharply. “It wasn’t him. But have no worry, my source is impeccable. You only think it was Neumann because you stole the list from him, don’t you?”

“What list? What are you talking about? I’ve never given Konig a thing.”

Rudolf Ott slithered to his master’s side. “How could you, Armin?”

“Whatever you’ve heard, they’re lies,” said Schweitzer. “Garbage, pure and simple. The bank is my home. I’ve given you thirty years. Do you think I’d ever do anything to endanger it? Be serious, Wolfgang.”

“Oh, I am, Armin. Deadly serious.” Kaiser paced in a circle around the accused man. “I saved you once. If this is how you choose to repay me, fine. Enjoy your new post at the Adler Bank. Your stay here is at its end. Next time you see me on the street, cross to the other side. Next time we happen to dine in the same restaurant, you’ll leave immediately, or else I’ll stand up and publicly accuse you of these crimes. Do you understand me?”

Schweitzer’s eyes were open wide and he blinked wildly to clear them of tears. “You can’t mean this. This is a mistake. I never—”

“No mistake has been made, save yours to work for Konig. Good luck to you, Armin. Now get out of my bank.” Kaiser’s arm pointed stiffly toward the hallway.

Still, Schweitzer refused to leave. He took a few off-balance steps as if walking on the rolling deck of a seagoing vessel. “This is madness. Please, Wolfgang — Herr Kaiser — at least give me the opportunity to clear my name. You have no right to—”