Numbered Account

The limousine sped down Talackerstrasse. Nick sat in the backseat watching the city pass by. As they drove past the Hauptbahnhof, he took note of the Pasha's instructions and running them once more through his head, spoke up. "The Platzspitz isn't open to the public anymore," he said. "The gates are locked. It's off-limits."

The chauffeur pulled the limousine to the curb, then turned in his seat to offer a like opinion. "This is correct. The park has been closed for eight years. Too many bad memories."

The Platzspitz was Zurich's infamous "needle park." Ten years ago the place had been a junkie's paradise. An assembly point for the forlorn and forgotten of Europe. The Pasha's private gold mine.

"I've been assured we'll have no problem entering," said Mevlevi. "Give us forty minutes. We just want to have a stroll through the grounds." He climbed out of the car and walked to a gate cut into the heavy wrought iron fence that surrounded the park. He tried the handle and the gate swung open. He cast a last glance at Nick. "Come on, then."

Nick jumped from the car and followed. He had a presentiment that something bad was going to happen. What business could bring Mevlevi to the park? Who had assured him the gate would be open? And been right?

Nick passed through the gate and followed the Pasha along a gravel pathway bisecting triangular patches of grass dusted with snow. Giant pines towered above their heads. Behind them loomed the Gothic tower and cleft battlements of the Swiss National Museum.

Mevlevi paused long enough to allow him to catch up. "You decided to join me."

"The Chairman asked that I accompany you," said Nick evenly, though to his own ear he lent his words a combative ring. In his heart he had given up the amoral preserves of banking for the riskier estates of law enforcement. If he couldn't intervene directly, then he would bear witness, he would record, he would make himself a living testament to this man's crimes. And if that meant he had to become an accomplice, and later pay the necessary price, then so be it.

"Ordered you was more like it," said Mevlevi as he set off at a leisurely pace. "Still, he thinks highly of you. He told me your father was at the bank before you. You respect your heritage, following in his footsteps like a good son. My father always wished for as much, but I could never be a derv. The spinning, the chanting. I was only interested in this world."

Nick walked alongside the Pasha, barely hearing his words. His mind was filled only with plans and plots and schemes to end the man's reign.

Mevlevi said, "Family is important. I've come to think of Wolfgang as a brother. Without my help I doubt the bank would have grown at such a rapid pace. Not because of my money. What I gave him was the spark to succeed. Without the proper encouragement it's surprising what an intelligent man cannot do. All of us are capable of great acts. It's the motivation we so often lack, don't you agree?"

Nick suppressed a caustic grin and managed to say yes, though he was certain his definition of "great acts" differed wildly from the Pasha's. What spark had Mevlevi provided Kaiser to succeed? What did he have in store for Nick?

Mevlevi said, "Soon it will be time for the next generation to see to the bank. It's a pleasure to know that some of that responsibility may fall on your shoulders, Mr. Neumann. Or may I call you Nicholas?"

"Mr. Neumann is fine."

"I see." The Pasha waved a finger at Nick as if scolding him. "More Swiss than the Swiss themselves. A good strategy. I know it well. I've lived in other men's countries my entire adult life. Thailand, Argentina, the States, now Lebanon."

Nick asked where he had lived in the States.

"Here and there," said Mevlevi, as if it were the title of a catchy tune. "New York, California." Suddenly, he walked faster. "Ah, my colleagues have arrived."

Ahead, on a park bench facing the river Limmat sat two heavily dressed men. Shadows cast by the boughs of an overhanging pine masked their faces. One was short and stocky, the other larger, plain obese.

"This shouldn't take long," said Mevlevi. "Feel free to join me. In fact, I insist. Kaiser expects me to provide you with a bit of a business education. Consider this the first lesson: How to maintain a proper relationship between supplier and distributor."

Nick steeled himself. Be silent, he told himself. Be vigilant. And above all, remember every goddamned word spoken.

***

"Albert, Gino, I am thrilled to see you again. Salaam Aleikhum." Ali Mevlevi kissed each man three times- left cheek, right cheek, left cheek- all the while pumping their hands.

"Salaam Aleikhum, Al-Mevlevi," each said in turn.

Albert was the smaller of the two men, a tired accountant one audit past his prime with wiry gray hair and mottled yellow skin. "You must tell us the latest news of our homeland," he said. "We have heard encouraging reports."