Numbered Account

"Jesus," Jester rasped, sounding out of breath. "I said he's in Switzerland."

"Who?"

"Mevlevi."

Thorne felt as though he had been punched in the stomach. "You're telling me that Ali Mevlevi is in Switzerland?"

"He arrived this morning. He called the house where I'm staying to make sure everything was all right. Told me that after the load came through safely he'd build me my own house at his compound. He's got a big gig planned for Tuesday. The bank's meeting. He's in deep with that bank, I told you a dozen times."

Thorne pleaded. "You've got to give me more than that. What about his army?"

"Khamsin," said Joseph. "Mevlevi's operation. He's moving his men out tomorrow at 0400. He's kept the target quiet, but I know they're going south toward the border. He's got six hundred fanatics revved up for something big."

"0400 Saturday," Thorne repeated. "No target, you say?"

"He told no one. Just south. Use your imagination."

"Dammit," whispered Thorne. Not now! What was he supposed to do with that information? He was a defrocked government agent, for Christ's sake. He'd kept a buddy at Langley apprised of his suspicions. He'd give him a call, maybe fax him the latest. He'd have to make it their problem and pray. He just hoped that six hundred men showed up as more than a dot in the midst of all that military traffic on the Lebanese-Israeli border.

Thorne's mind returned to the problem at hand. "Super work, Joe. But I need something to nail him here."

"Keep your eye on the bank. He'll probably stop by some time. I told you he and Kaiser are tight. They go way back."

Thorne watched a Mercedes limo drive up to the gate and stop. "Never. Mevlevi knows we're on to him. You think he has the balls to drive right past me?"

"That's your call. But you have to let me know how you're going to handle this. I don't want to be with these guys when the heat comes down. It'll get ugly fast."

"You hold tight and give me some time to set something up. We have to arrange a welcoming committee on this end."

"Hurry it up. I can't call every hour. I got one more chance before we move out of here."

The gate clanged, stopping at its fully opened position. The limousine advanced into the courtyard of the bank.

"Stay calm, Joe. You give me until Sunday and we'll set up a nice reception. Take you out of the fire without getting you burned. I have to figure some way to take that product off the streets and still nail Mevlevi. You call me Sunday."

"Yeah, all right. If that's the way it's gotta be." Jester hung up.

"Hang in there," Thorne said to the dead line. He exhaled and dropped the phone to his side. "You're almost home, kid."

Inside the courtyard of the United Swiss Bank, the taillights of the Mercedes flashed red as the limousine drew to a halt. Thorne looked on as the rear door of the automobile swung open and the top of a head emerged. The gate began closing: a long curtain of black metal rolling along a steel track. He recalled Jester's words. He and Kaiser are tight. Keep your eye on the bank.

The first man out of the limousine was the chauffeur. He adjusted his jacket, then put on his cap. The back left door opened on its own. A head of black hair peeked out, then dipped back below the smoked glass.

Thorne dipped his head, trying to see past the moving screen. A pair of shiny loafers hit the pavement. He could hear the brush of the heels on the cement. Again the head popped up. The man was turning toward him.

Just a second longer, he begged. Please!

The gate crashed into place.

Thorne jogged toward the bank, curious to learn who had been inside the limousine. A laugh drifted over the wall. A voice said in English, "I haven't been back for ages. Let's have a look at the place." Funny accent. Italian maybe. He stared at the gate for another minute and wondered, What if…? Then he smiled and turned away. No way. Couldn't be. He had never believed in coincidence. The world's small. But not that small.

CHAPTER 46

"I purchased this piece thinking of you, Wolfgang," said Ali Mevlevi as he stepped into Wolfgang Kaiser's office. His arm was pointing at the fabulous mosaic of the mounted Saracen brandishing his sword above a one-armed moneylender. "I don't get to see it often enough."

Wolfgang Kaiser strolled to the door of his private elevator, his broad smile bursting with all the bonhomie in the world. "You must make it a habit to stop in more often. It has been a while since your last visit. Three years?"

"Nearly four." Mevlevi grasped the outstretched hand and drew Kaiser in for a hug. "It's more difficult to travel these days."

"Not for much longer. I'm pleased to say that a meeting has been arranged on Monday morning with a colleague of mine, a man well placed in the naturalization department."

"A civil servant?"

Kaiser raised his shoulders as if to say "Who else?" "One more who never quite got accustomed to living on his salary."

"Doing your bit for privatization, are you?"