Numbered Account

Sprecher grumbled something about not being an operator and slid his chair back to his desk. Faris was right, of course. The place was supposed to be a hive of activity. The more frenetic, the better. A moving market meant someone somewhere was making money. He scanned the floor. Like bumpers on a snooker table, seven hexagonal desks sprang from the green baize floor. Around them, men stood in varied positions of action. He heard someone fire off an order for a thousand OEX contracts at the market. Beside him, Alfons Gruber was whispering feverishly into his handset, "I know Philip Morris is up twelve percent in the last week, but I still want to short the sucker. I hear the jury's ready to convict. I'm telling you, short it!"

Sprecher felt lost. This was not his world. It was everything he had rebelled against. A trader's career was nasty, brutish, and short. He did not enjoy phoning ladies and gentlemen with whom he had no prior acquaintance and hectoring them to put in their lot with Klaus Konig and the Adler Bank. It made him feel cheap. In his heart he was still a USB man, and probably would be until the day he died.

Sprecher returned to the task at hand. Officially stated, his job was to rally the votes of those institutional shareholders holding sizable blocks of USB stock to the Adler Bank's cause. It had been a difficult task, confidential shareholder lists pirated from USB notwithstanding. Holders of Swiss bank stocks tended to be a conservative lot. The Adler Bank was having little luck winning votes based on its past returns. Too risky, too aggressive by half, stammered the stodgy investors. With days remaining until USB's general assembly, he was convinced that the sole route open to capture two seats on the board of the United Swiss Bank was straightforward share accumulation: cash purchases on the open market.

There was only one problem. The Adler Bank's cash reserves had dried up. The bank had leveraged its assets beyond any prudent measure to secure its current position of thirty-two percent of USB's outstanding shares, a stake valued as of yesterday's close at 1.4 billion Swiss francs. God forbid Konig failed to gain the deciding one percent: the price of USB stock would collapse, and the market value of Adler's portfolio would drop between eighteen and twenty percent overnight.

Sprecher spotted a tall man waving to him from across the room. It was George von Graffenried, Konig's number two and head honcho on the bond desk. He waved back and began standing but Von Graffenried motioned for him to stay seated. A few moments later he was squatting by Sprecher's side.

"I've just received another surprise from our friends at USB," Von Graffenried said quietly, handing him a sheet of paper. "Get on it. A block of one hundred forty thousand shares. Exactly the one percent we need. Find whoever runs this Widows and Orphans Fund of Zurich and get your butt over there as quickly as possible. We have to capture their votes!"

Sprecher picked up the photocopy of USB stationery and brought it closer to his eyes. The Widows and Orphans Fund of Zurich. Fund manager Mrs. F. Emmenegger. He smirked. His American friend's ploy had obviously worked. Such was the pressure to surpass the thirty-three percent vote barrier that neither Konig nor Von Graffenried, despite never having heard of the fund, had bothered to research its authenticity.

"I'll expect an answer by tomorrow," said Von Graffenried. "We'll be here all day long."

Sprecher slapped the paper onto his desk and withdrew a pen. He read the sheet, suppressing an urge to laugh aloud. Look at the handwritten notes Neumann had inscribed: Called at 10:00, called at 12:00. No answer. We must not fail!! Young Nick, earnest to the last.

Dutifully, Sprecher picked up the phone and rang the number written on the sheet. An answering machine responded after the fourth ring. The voice sounded familiar but he couldn't place it, and upon hearing the beep, he left a brief message. "This is Mr. Peter Sprecher calling on behalf of the Adler Bank. We would very much like to speak with you as soon as possible regarding the voting of your block of USB shares at the general assembly on Tuesday. Please feel free to call me back at the following number. Mr. Konig and Mr. Von Graffenried would personally enjoy meeting with you to discuss the Adler Bank's famed investment strategies and to point out how the value of your shareholding would greatly increase with benefit of the Adler Bank's wise counsel."

"Very well done," applauded Hassan Faris. "This is Mister Peter Sprecher. Send out your wives and daughters. Trust us. We want only to ravage and enslave them. Do not worry."

Hassan's troop burst into laughter.

A light on the equity trader's desk lit up. Faris jabbed at the lit button and brought the phone to his ear. He plugged his finger into his other ear, then motioned for his charges to be quiet.

"Shut up!" yelled Faris. He swept his hands through the air, and his followers dispersed.