Numbered Account Page 46

  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—”

  “I saidnow, dammit!” yelled Kaiser, in a baleful voice Nick had never before heard. “Leave!”

  The indignity was complete, the Chairman’s cavernous office as silent as a tomb. Schweitzer turned and walked from the room under the bewildered stares of his colleagues.

  “And the rest of you,” the Chairman commanded, “go back to your posts. We haven’t lost her yet.”

  CHAPTER

  53

  The witnesses to Schweitzer’s dismissal gathered in the anteroom to the Emperor’s Lair and exchanged expressions of disbelief. Ott and Feller appeared energized by what they had seen. Nick thought they could barely keep the smiles from their faces. Rita Sutter, though, sat behind her desk in a sort of stunned silence, shell-s
hocked. Nick waited until Feller had left the office, then approached Rudolf Ott.

  “I’ve been asked by the client I was escorting yesterday, account number—”

  “Mr. Mevlevi,” Ott cut in. “I know the man’s name, Neumann.”

  “He asked me to deliver all correspondence from his account being held at the bank.” Nick had wanted to broach the issue with the Chairman, but Schweitzer’s arrival—and departure—had prevented him from bringing it up. Now he was stuck playing to Ott.

  “Is that right?” Ott stepped closer to Nick and like a courtier eager to catch up on the latest rumors, linked arms with him and set off down the corridor. “I understood he reviewed his file yesterday afternoon.”

  “He was interrupted.” Nick jostled his arm, trying without success to remove it from Ott’s clutch. “News of Cerruti’s death.”

  “Ah.” Ott nodded as if now he understood what had transpired. “When does he want it?”

  “This evening before seven. I had planned on asking the Chairman but . . .” Nick let the sentence drift off.

  “A wise decision,” said Ott. “This is hardly the time to bother him with administrative matters. As for Mevlevi, can’t he wait to read his correspondence while at the bank?”

  “I suggested the same to him. He says he wants to review his mail before we drive to Lugano Monday morning.”

  “Wants it by seven tonight, does he?” sniffed Ott. “And he expects you to bring it to his hotel?”

  “That’s right. To the Dolder. I’m supposed to leave it with the concierge.”

  “Well, Herr Kaiser will be relieved to know where he can contact Mevlevi, won’t he? Though he can hardly risk a visit. Much too public to be seen with one of Mevlevi’s sort. Especially now.” Ott looked up at Nick, who stood a head taller. “All righty then. Let me give security a call. Be at DZ in ten minutes. That’s three sharp.”

  Nick extricated himself from the man’s clinging grip. He had taken only a few steps when Ott called after him. “And Neumann, be sure to take Mr. Feller with you. He spent a year with Karl. He’ll help you find what you’re looking for much faster.”

  Nick returned to his office, cursing his luck at being saddled with Feller’s obnoxious presence. He closed the door and locked it, then circled behind his desk and opened the second drawer of his filing cabinet, taking out a battered sepia folder. He set the folder on his desk and began filling it with random memos and out-of-date papers until it approximated the girth of the Pasha’s file. Halfway through his task, he stopped and opened his top desk drawer. As he had done yesterday, he felt along its underside, hoping that the Pasha’s transaction confirmations might have magically reappeared. His fingers scraped unsanded wood. Nothing more. He had no idea who might have taken them, or why. Yesterday their loss had seemed a disaster. Today he dismissed it as small potatoes. The confirmations of the Pasha’s transfers into and out of the bank would hardly paint as bold a picture as Mevlevi’s entire file. It was the file he wanted. The signature cards, the originals of all seven transfer matrices, the names of the portfolio managers—most important, Wolfgang Kaiser’s—who had supervised the account. The whole damned thing.

  Nick closed the drawer and shifted his attention back to the task at hand. He slipped off his jacket, slid the surrogate file into the back of his pants, then adjusted his belt so that it was held firmly in place. This done, he put his jacket on and left his office.

  # # #

  “Did you see his face, Neumann? Did you?” Feller asked, as the two men waited for an elevator to take them to the first floor. “I’ve never seen a grown man cry. An executive vice president of the bank, no less. My God. He was blubbering like a child. No, like a baby!”

  Or like an innocent man, Nick thought.

  The elevator arrived and both men stepped inside. Nick pressed the button for the first floor and kept his gaze directed at his feet. He found Feller’s glee irritating and inappropriate.

  “What did Kaiser mean about the shareholder list?” Feller demanded. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

  Nick said he didn’t quite catch it himself.

  Feller repeated his question. “What did he do, Neumann? Tell me. Lately, you’ve been spending more time with the Chairman than I have. Fill me in.”

  “I can’t,” Nick said, lying to get the nervous twerp off his back. “I don’t know myself.”

  He knew the details of the crime, but he didn’t know its motivation. Why would Schweitzer betray the bank that had been his home for thirty years? Had the promise of a return to his former duties as head of a trading desk been that tempting? More money, a new title with an aggressive and extremely profitable bank. Nick didn’t think so. At USB, Schweitzer was a member of the Chairman’s inner circle, privy to daily decision making at the highest level of the bank. Heady stuff—even if officially he was director of compliance. He could hardly hope for as much at the Adler Bank.

  Moreover, Peter Sprecher had made a point of repeating Von Graffenried’s words that the list of institutional shareholders had come at a bargain price, practically for free. That didn’t jibe with the careerist treachery of which Schweitzer now stood convicted. On the contrary. It reeked of the basest of human motivations. Revenge.

  Feller rapped his knuckles against the wall in a nervous tattoo. “What kind of turncoat would provide information to the enemy in the midst of a battle, eh, Neumann? I ask you that.”

  Nick didn’t answer, choosing only to grunt in general agreement. Feller’s questions had forced his mind back to an unwelcome suspicion that had been scratching at the base of his skull these past few minutes. Who had whispered in the Chairman’s ear that it was Schweitzer who had given the list of institutional shareholders to Konig? Nick had set the trap by himself, and he had told just two people about it.

  In a distant world, Feller was continuing his tirade against Schweitzer. “God, did you see him crying? To think he’s almost sixty. It was like seeing your father break down.Unglaublich.”

  Nick turned on Feller. “Schweitzer’s life is ruined, don’t you see that? What kind of pleasure do you get out of glorying in his destruction?”

  “None,” answered Feller, momentarily abashed. “But if the bastard stole confidential information pertaining to our defense and gave it to the Adler Bank, I hope he burns in hell. Look at you, Neumann. You would never for an instant consider doing anything to hurt the bank, to harm the Chairman. It’s unthinkable!”

  Nick felt the heft of the false dossier pressing against his spine. “Absolutely,” he said.

  # # #

  A security guard was waiting at the entrance toDokumentation Zentrale. Nick and Feller flashed their identifications and the guard admitted them to the bank’s central archive. The room was deserted and pitch-black. Feller walked inside and turned on a bank of fluorescent lights. The guard took a seat at the reading table.

  “Like old times,” said Feller, ambling to Karl’s customary position behind the worn green counter. He leaned against it and asked in a palsied voice, “What can I do for you, young man? Want a file, do you? Well then fill out the form, you cretin. You young pups are all alike. Lazy, stupid, and slow. I don’t know how the bank will survive. Haven’t you finished writing up your request yet?” He pretended to take one from Nick. “No reference—no files. Moron.”

  Nick laughed. The imitation wasn’t half bad. Apparently he hadn’t been the first guy ever to ask for files without giving his proper personal reference. Feller motioned for him to come behind the counter.

  “I need the file for numbered account 549.617 RR,” Nick said.

  Feller repeated the number and set off down the central path that ran between the rows and rows of shelves. “Five four nine, what was the rest?”

  “Six one seven.”

  “All right, come right this way.”

  They walked a few yards farther, then took a right turn down a row of shelved materials stacked fifteen feet high. Like street signs, numbers were posted at e
very corner. Feller moved quickly through the narrow aisles. After a break in the shelves, he turned left down a narrower corridor, hardly wide enough for two persons to stand side by side. Suddenly he stopped.”Here we are then, 549.617 RR. What do you need from this file?”

  “Just the uncollected correspondence.”

  “Up on the fourth shelf.” Feller pointed above Nick’s head. “I can’t reach it.”

  “Don’t you have a ladder for this?”

  “There’s one here someplace. Quicker just to climb up the shelves. We used to have races to see who could touch the ceiling first.”

  “Really?” said Nick. He needed exactly such a distraction to occupy Feller. He stood on his tiptoes, and the fingers of his right hand just reached the Pasha’s file. “You think you still have it in you?”

  “Naw, I’m too used to life on the Fourth Floor,” said Feller, patting his belly.

  Nick spotted his cue. “I don’t believe that for a second, Reto. Give it a go. I’ll let you practice a few times and then I’ll whip you myself.”

  “You? With your leg? I’m not a cruel man.” But Feller was already removing his suit jacket. “Not in normal circumstances, anyway. But hey, if you want a thrashing, no problem. “He turned his back to Nick and trained his eyes on the small spaces and gaps in each shelf that might serve as his footholds.

  Nick withdrew the file from his back and laid it on an empty section of shelf. Tiptoeing, he stretched to reach the Pasha’s file.

  A terrible racket echoed through the hallways as Feller clambered up the shelves and touched the ceiling. “See, Neumann,” he called, glowing with pride from his perch between the shelves. “That took about four seconds.”

  “Damn quick,” said Nick with appropriate awe. He glanced down to be sure that his body was blocking the shelf where he had laid the surrogate file. It was.

  “Are you kidding?” asked Feller, caught up in revisiting his old haunts. “On a good day, I could make it upand down in four seconds. Here goes again.” He clattered down the shelves, and before Nick could worry that he might spot the file, he turned around and climbed right back up again. He had made it halfway up to the top when the security guard yelled from across the room. “What are you two doing back there? Come here at once.”