Numbered Account

"I wouldn't believe every rumor you hear. Hold on a second, chum." He cupped a hand over the mouthpiece, but Nick could still make out the muffled words. "Hassan, throw me that price sheet. No, the pink one, you bloody wog. Yes, yes, that's it." Sprecher released his hand from the mouthpiece. "Anyway, Nick, think about our proposition. I'll tell you more tonight. See you at eight, right?"

"I don't think so. I only drink with my friends."

Sprecher started to protest, but Nick had already hung up.

***

At 12:35, Nick headed to the Chairman's office with a final copy of his letter in hand. He sauntered lazily down the quiet hallway. At this hour even the biggest grinds were eating lunch. The floorboards squeaked under his lolling step. Suddenly, he felt the presence of someone behind him.

"Tired or drunk, Neumann?" Armin Schweitzer barked.

Nick was sick of being afraid of Schweitzer. Shaking the papers in his hand, he turned and said, "I couldn't get the words to flow right, so I took a wee taste of Scotland's finest. A dram of single malt does wonders for finding the muse."

Schweitzer smirked. "A smart-ass, no less. Well, on this floor we keep our backs straight and our step spirited. You can wander in the park, if you like. What do you have there?"

"Some ideas the Chairman had for whipping the bank into shape. It's a letter to be sent to the shareholders." Nick handed Schweitzer a copy. Why not extend an olive branch? He still wanted to find out what the bastard meant by his father's "embarrassing behavior."

Schweitzer skimmed the letter. "Dark days, Neumann. We can never fit Konig's model of a bank. He prefers machines. We still like the living, breathing variety, thank God."

"Konig doesn't stand a chance. He'll need a mountain of cash if he wants to take us over."

"Yes, he will. But don't underestimate him. I've never met a greedier man. Who knows where he's put his mitts? He's an embarrassment to all of us."

"Like my father?" Nick asked. "Tell me, what exactly did he do?"

Schweitzer pursed his lips, as if considering how to answer. He sighed and put his hand on Nick's shoulder. "Something you are much too intelligent to even contemplate, my boy." He handed the letter back to Nick. "Run along now. I'm sure the Chairman is eager to see his puppy dog."

Nick rose on his toes, flushed with anger. He bit his tongue but couldn't resist a parting jab. "My office is open if you're interested. Help yourself. Never know what you might find there!"

CHAPTER 33

A war council had convened in the executive boardroom. Four men in progressive states of unease were scattered around the immense chamber. Reto Feller stood against the far wall. His arms were folded across his chest, and the heel of his foot was rapidly wearing a hole in the carpet. Rudolf Ott and Martin Maeder sat at the prodigious conference table, the very picture of conspiracy. Each faced the other with hunched back and lowered head, whispering. Armin Schweitzer paced the length of the room. A sheen of perspiration matted his heavy features. Every few steps, he withdrew a handkerchief from his hip pocket and with an unashamed stroke dried his forehead. They all awaited the arrival of their master. On this ship, there was only one captain.

At precisely two P.M., Wolfgang Kaiser threw open the tall mahogany doors and entered the boardroom. He walked briskly to his usual chair. Nick followed him and took an adjoining seat. Ott and Maeder straightened their backs. Feller dove into the nearest chair. Schweitzer alone remained standing.

Kaiser dispensed with all formalities. "Mr. Feller, what is the status of the Adler Bank's share purchases?" His voice was dry and grim, as if assessing the damage of an artillery barrage.

Feller answered in a shrill voice. "Twenty-eight percent of shares outstanding. Another five percent and Konig will automatically be granted two seats on the executive board."

"Scheisse!" came an unattributed response.

"Rumor has it the Adler Bank will make a fully funded takeover bid," said Schweitzer. "Bastards don't want two seats, they want the whole damned show."

"Quatsch," said Maeder. "Nonsense. Look at their balance sheet. No way they can take on that much debt. Their assets are fully leveraged to cover their trading positions."

"Who needs debt when cash will suffice?" squealed Feller.

"Mr. Feller is correct," said Wolfgang Kaiser. "Klaus Konig's buying power has hardly dwindled. Where in God's name is that son of a bitch getting his cash? Doesn't anybody know?"

No one spoke. Maeder and Ott bowed their heads, as if shame were ample excuse for their ignorance. Schweitzer shrugged. Nick couldn't remember when he had ever felt more ill at ease. He was profoundly aware of his inexperience. I don't belong in this room, he kept telling himself. I shouldn't be sitting here with the bank's top brass. What the hell do they want with me?