Numbered Account

Sprecher sat up and took note. He rolled his chair closer to his neighbor while inclining his head so as best to eavesdrop on Faris's conversation.

"Wait a moment, sir, I must write this all down," said Faris. "I never make a mistake on so big an order… Yes, sir, that is why you hired me… For-tee million… Is that U.S. dollars or Swiss francs?… Dollars, yes sir… At the market… One minute… Mr. Konig, our cash account shows only two million dollars… Yes, of course I can arrange for settlement on Tuesday… No, we aren't required to say anything… Well, technically, yes, but we'll just pay twenty-four hours late, that's all… On Tuesday morning at ten… Will the money have arrived by that time?… Yes, sir… I repeat: An order to buy forty million U.S. dollars of USB shares at the market for settlement Tuesday. The entire purchase to be booked into the Ciragan Trading Account."

Sprecher eased his chair back another few inches. He wrote down the words exactly as Faris had spoken them.

"Yessir, I will call with a fill before the day is out… We may have to work on the after market… I will keep you informed." Faris slammed down the receiver.

"What is the Ciragan Trading Account?" asked Sprecher. Best to pry while the trader was occupied tending to the details of the call.

Hassan scribbled Klaus Konig's instructions onto his order block. "What's that, Sprecher? Ciragan? It's Konig's private account."

"Konig's? That doesn't sound like the name of a Swiss trading account. Surely it doesn't belong to the Adler Bank proper."

"It is the account of his largest investor. Most of the USB stock we have purchased is being held in Ciragan Trading. We hold proxy over all shares in that account. They're as good as ours." Hassan looked up from his writing. He wrinkled his brow in annoyance. "Why am I telling you? It's none of your fucking business. Go back to your work, whatever the hell it is you do all day."

Sprecher watched Faris call down to the floor of the Zurich stock exchange. The trader excitedly relayed the "open to buy" for forty million U.S. When the order was filled, the Adler Bank would pass the thirty-three percent barrier. It could, for all intents and purposes, count on winning two seats on the board of the United Swiss Bank. Kaiser would be finished. Nick too.

Ciragan Trading, Sprecher whispered. He'd heard that word only once in his life. Ciragan Palace. The password for numbered account 549.617 RR. The Pasha.

Zurich wasn't a big enough town for it to be a coincidence.

He picked up the telephone to call Nick. The whine of Faris's voice reminded him that calling from the Adler Bank was no longer wise. He grabbed his cigarettes and his jacket. Time for a late lunch. "Be a good chap, young Nick," he whispered to himself, "and keep your bloody ass firmly planted behind your desk for the next ten minutes."

CHAPTER 49

Nick trudged up the steep hill. The sidewalk was as slick as a wet bar of soap, cobbled with fissures of ice. Normally, this kind of walk would put him into a dark mood. Tonight, he found a grim enjoyment to it. Anything to divert his mind from the events he'd been party to that afternoon. Three hours ago, he had tried to murder a man. He had willed himself to pull the trigger and take the consequences. Even now, part of him wished he'd been successful.

Nick slowed and rested against a barren tree. He was content to hear his heart beating and see his breath's vapor wash. But after a second, another chorus of sound and light took their place. He heard the muted crack of Mevlevi's pistol as it fired three bullets into Albert Makdisi's chest. He caught the Pasha's contemptuous sneer as Rita Sutter announced Cerruti's death. He saw Albert Makdisi's wrecked face, its crushed nose and accusing eyes and he imagined his own face replacing it. Suddenly, he felt sick. He dropped to his knee and heaved. His empty stomach produced a trickle of bile that burned his throat. He gasped, sucking in the cold night air. He had become Mevlevi's pawn. He was in hell.

After leaving the Platzspitz, Mevlevi had ferried him back to the bank. Kaiser was out. The Emperor's Lair was quiet. Three messages from Peter Sprecher lay on his desk. He ignored them. Reto Feller called once, saying that he'd taken the remaining portfolios Nick had not yet "liberated," and that USB now controlled fifty-eight percent of its outstanding votes. The Adler Bank was mired at thirty-two percent.

Pietro from payments traffic called at 4:15 to inform him that a newly activated numbered account (one of the five Mevlevi had obtained from the International Fiduciary Trust that morning) had received a transfer from the Schiller Bank. The amount: forty million dollars. Nick followed the Pasha's instructions and immediately transferred the full amount to the banks specified by matrix one. Immediately afterward, he left the bank.