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'What do you want, Vater? Everyone's asking for you. We need in be out there with our clients.'

'We will be soon enough.' He pushed a copy of the French Le Figaro across the desk. He had ringed in red the article recounting Chabrol's apparently natural heart attack. 'I hear you made the most of your vacation in the Caribbean with Delphine. Of course, Trapani will never know it was our work but he'll be delighted. You did well.'

Max shrugged modestly. 'It was Joachim's drug.'

Helmut allowed himself a small smile. 'So Comvec has its uses?'

Max ignored the jibe. "Trapani's one of the guests asking for you. He wants to introduce his cousin.'

We'll join him and the others shortly. There's something I need to ask you first.' Helmut paused, considering his words, confident that although Max would argue with him he would do his duty. As a boy Max had been wild and passionate, but he had tamed his son, taught him to follow the Kappel way. Helmut could still remember the time after Max's mother's death when the boy had gone a little mad. During his first winter back in Zurich, Max had donned a wetsuit, broken the ice on Schloss Kappel's lake and dived obsessively into its freezing depths, believing that if he went deep enough he could somehow turn back time and save his mother.

His son had hated him then, but over time Helmut had convinced Max that his mother's death was not only necessary but bonded them in some dark way. Short of suicide, or avenging her death by killing his father, Helmut knew there was only one way in which a nine-year-old boy in Max's situation could survive: by embracing his father's view of the world.

Shortly after his return from Hawaii, he sent his son to boarding-school in England. It gave Max time and space away from him, and the English boarding-school system was still the ideal environment within which he could learn to control his emotions. Max went to a preparatory school in Kent until he was thirteen and then to the King's School, Canterbury, where tradition and duty were valued. Every holiday, Max returned to Zurich, and Helmut would lead his son around the grounds and corridors of the ancestral home, impressing on him the weight of his responsibility and destiny. He never let him forget that one day he would lead the family and his portrait would adorn a wall of Schloss Kappel.

Max excelled at King's, then returned to Switzerland, where he read economics at university. He completed his obligatory national service with the Swiss Army, and a professional banking qualification, then a master's in business administration at Insead near Paris.

Eventually, Helmut had enabled Max not only to come to terms with his mother's death but also to understand why it had been unavoidable: she had threatened the Kappel dynasty. Once Helmut had conditioned his son to align himself with the family's interests, the boy's grief, rage and guilt receded to the point at which he felt no emotion at all. And, with manhood, Max had evolved into something exceptional, beyond human: a true Kappel.

Now, as he looked at his son, Helmut felt proud of his creation. 'How are things with Delphine?' he asked.

Max's eyes narrowed. 'Why?'

'I've been thinking about Henri Chevalier's merger proposal' A pause. 'You should marry her.'

Max laughed. 'But I don't want to marry Delphine Chevalier. I don't want to get married at all.'

This was another difference between his sons: Joachim flattered and coaxed Helmut but never openly challenged him. 'Marriage has a purpose, Max.'

MAX LAUGHED AGAIN. HE COULDN'T HELP IT. HIS FATHER collected and upgraded beautiful wives as he did the Ferraris in his garage. Max also knew that twice a month he visited Madame Lefarge's exclusive establishment in Paris's second arrondissement, famed for its broad range of exotic sexual services. 'With all due respect, Vater, you haven't set an encouraging example.'

'I married Joachim's mother to produce another legitimate heir, should anything happen to you. I married a third time because Eva is more outgoing and better at entertaining clients.'

'Isn't she also younger and more attractive?'

His father glared at him. 'Marriage is an ideal way to gain control of Banque Chevalier. Anyway, Delphine dotes on you. The family needs you to do this, Max. You're aware of the position with Lysenko, Nadolny, Hudsucker and Corbasson?'

'We'd be better off selling Comvec, which is losing millions, and slicking to what we know. We're bankers, Vater, not a biotech company.'

'We weren't always bankers, Max. And I'm not selling Comvec just when Joachim has made a breakthrough with his airborne Tag Vector.'

Max frowned. He was tired of arguing about this. 'Comvec wasn't set up to create costly breakthroughs. It was set up to enable other people's breakthroughs to reach the market quickly and profitably. It was about supplying the picks and shovels to those involved in the gold rush, not about us getting sucked into it.'

Joachim had sold the idea of Comvec to their father by appealing to his vanity: he had presented it as an opportunity to lead the family business into a revolutionary new field that would permanently secure its future. The original pitch, to which Max had reluctantly agreed, was that Comvec would use Joachim's Ph. D. in viral vectors, and the bank's legal, commercial and regulatory experience -- plus, of course, its funds - to help embryonic biotechnology outfits specializing in gene therapy to bring their discoveries to market.

Gene therapy was apparently the future of medicine. Rather than treating the effects of disease, it promised to correct the instructions encoded within the DNA coiled inside the chromosomes of each rogue cell. It promised to cure genetic diseases like cancer and cystic fibrosis by rewriting the mistakes in the base software, so that cancer cells died when they should and the human body produced the correct proteins in the correct amounts, ensuring it a long, healthy life.

Max was no scientist but he understood gene therapy in terms of sending a parcel. It involved two key elements: the contents to be sent and the package -- including the address and delivery mechanism -- that was employed to despatch them.

Developing the contents involved engineering a DNA patch of healthy genes to correct a damaged sequence of faulty ones. Creating the delivery mechanism involved the use of genetically engineered viruses -- the so-called viral vectors that Comvec developed. Joachim summarized Comvec's commercial and technical role as helping small biotech businesses perfect the most appropriate package fotr delivering their gene-therapy products to the correct cells and markets.

It was originally agreed that Comvec would develop a range of stock viral vectors and focus on getting the therapies to market as soon as possible. But Joachim had spent time and money engineering ever more complex viruses, resulting in his much vaunted breakthrough, the Tag Vector, which allowed a gene-therapy cure to be delivered to one individual, then spread, like a game of tag, to others via a secondary flu-based airborne vector. It also targeted the sex cells of the patient, which meant the cure could be passed down to subsequent generations. One proposed application was the vaccination of the Aids-ravaged third world.

'Vater, Joachim's Tag Vector might be technically brilliant, but it won't be commercially viable for years. It'll take decades to get the relevant approvals from the European authorities and the FDA.'

'That's your opinion, not Joachim's. I want the Chevalier merger to go ahead.'

Max sighed. 'I'll think about it, but merging with Banque Chevalier won't solve our problems. It'll only buy us time.'

"We need time, Max. I also need to know my legacy is secure. You must marry and produce an heir. You're almost forty, and Joachim is already married. He's only had a girl, but he's trying. Don't fight me on this, Max - I've indulged you enough. I've turned a blind eye to your addiction to diving, and the time you waste at your house on the Cote d'Azur. But this is one area on which I'll give no ground. You're my successor, Max. You have responsibilities. You must play your part in protecting the bank and securing the family line.'

'I accept that but at the rate we're losing clients we'll need a more radical solution if we're to protect all this.' He made an expansive gesture that took in the house, the portraits and the grounds. Then he pointed to Marco Trapani, who was talking to Joachim. 'And if we don't want to lose any more clients today, we'd better get out there and mingle.'

Helmut straightened his cravat and headed for the door. 'Tell me about Trapani's cousin again.'

Max followed his father into the hall. We need to do more research, but his name's Professor Carlo Bacci. According to Joachim, he's a respected scientist from the States who left big business a few years ago to set up on his own in Italy. He now needs financial backing and consultancy advice to get his project to market'

Helmut grimaced as they walked down the corridor to the double doors that led to the terrace. Max could imagine what he was thinking: was this what the Kappels had sunk to, humouring their clients' downbeat relatives?

'Sounds like a waste of time,' Helmut rasped.

'If it is a waste of time you can blame Joachim,' Max muttered, as they went out into the sunlight. Smiling, he stretched out his arm to greet the first client. 'Apparently Professor Bacci is particularly impressed by Comvec and its long-term commitment to speculative projects like the Tag Vector . . .'

A WEEK LATER: 16 AUGUST

KAPPEL PRIVATBANK STOOD ON BAHNHOFSTRASSE, IN THE HEART OF Zurich's financial district. The sturdy classical building, with its imposing portico and barred double-cube windows, seemed a strange blend of temple, fortress and prison. As Professor Carlo Bacci stood in the street and looked up at it he thought that in many ways it was all these things: a shrine to Mammon, a stronghold for its clients' riches, and a repository for unclaimed deposits.

He clutched his silver briefcase close to his side, reassured by its precious contents, laptop in the other hand. He had been so delighted with his daughter's reaction to his engagement that he was tempted to tell Isabella how he had won Maria's heart and made her happy. That would be a mistake, though: although Isabella was a neurologist and would appreciate the significance of his technical achievement she might not understand why he had done it. Not yet. Not until he could show her and the world the happiness his drug would bring. He thought of the hairs he had taken from Isabella's head, then of Leo. If he used the drug on Leo she would under-stand. Soon he would make everyone understand. But to realize his vision and share it with the world he needed more money and resources of the kind he'd once taken for granted in the States.

He strode through the huge embossed doors into the lobby of the bank. It was even more impressive inside. The floor was black and white marble, laid out like a huge chessboard. Marble pillars and tall green plants soared to the high ceiling and its gilt cornice. An imposing portrait of a man with white hair and pale blue eyes stared down from the wall behind the reception desk. The subject, Dieter Kappel, resembled Helmut but wore an old-fashioned collar and dark jacket. Suddenly Bacci realized how nervous he was.

It had been different when his cousin had first introduced him to the Kappels at the Schloss. He had enjoyed mingling with the glamorous guests and had been impressed that, although it had served its clients, including celebrities, for two hundred years, he had never heard of Kappel Privatbank: that was true discretion. He had also been impressed that it was a family bank -- so different from the faceless international institutions he had dealt with in the past.

He had been particularly interested in Comvec. Two days ago, Joachim Kappel had shown him round the small but well-equipped Comvec facility south of Zurich. Their laboratory was good, rather than exceptional, but they had already made some major advances. Their viral vectors, particularly the airborne Tag Vector, were brave and revolutionary, and the Kappels' commitment to the venture was extraordinary. How many other banks would dare to invest in something as speculative and long-term?

But the tour of Comvec had been a relaxed public-relations exercise, and the meeting at Schloss Kappel had been in a social setting where the champagne was flowing and everyone was charming. Today was a business meeting and for Bacci everything was riding on its success. He wanted the Kappels to back him and his project, which made him nervous.

He approached the reception desk where he was directed to the lifts and told to go to the sixth floor. As he walked across to them the first opened and Klaus Kappel stepped out. Bacci recognized him from the party at the Schloss, but he was deep in conversation with a short, stocky man with a bald head and dark tan, and didn't notice Bacci. Klaus was tugging at his beard and shaking his head. As Bacci stepped into the elevator and the doors closed, he heard him mutter, 'All I'm saying, Herr Lysenko, is that you have everything to gain by staying with us.'

Bacci stepped out of the elevator on the sixth floor and an assistant directed him to the conference room. 'At the end of the corridor. Just knock.'

By the time he reached the imposing oak door his palms were sweaty. He squared his shoulders, smoothed his suit and checked his case. Then he knocked twice.

SITTINGAT THE LONG TABLE IN THE OAK-PANELLED CONFERENCE room, Max was surprised by how nervous Professor Bacci looked as he sipped his espresso and fiddled with his silver case. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt nervous -- or, indeed, the last time he had felt anything.

He glanced at the file in front of him. It contained everything he and his brother had been able to discover about Bacci. Joachim had once heard him speak at a gene-therapy symposium in Basle. Apparently the professor was an unorthodox but highly respected scientist in his field of neurology and genetics. When they realized he might have something to offer, they had rolled out the red carpet. Joachim had showed him around Comvec, and although Klaus was busy with Feliks Lysenko the rest were here. Helmut sat in his customary seat at the head of the table, and Joachim beside Max, facing Bacci.