Numbered Account

Nick smiled. For a split second he felt that they might even have half a chance. "I've got to get a copy of all the transfers made for account 549.617 RR since last July, when Konig began accumulating shares. Plus a copy of the Pasha's banking instructions. Our records show where the money went on its first leg. Your records will show which bank it came from on its last leg. Together that's a pretty good map."

"Maps are all well and good. But who are we going to show it to?"

"We don't have much choice. There's only one man reckless enough to move while Mevlevi is in Switzerland."

"Besides you and me, you mean. Who is it?"

"Sterling Thorne."

Sprecher looked as if someone had just stolen his cigarettes. "You're joking? I don't disagree that the man is reckless. The portrait you've painted makes him sound absolutely possessed. But what of it?"

Nick was careful to hide his own misgivings. "Thorne will do anything to get his hands on the Pasha. He's the only one who can use any evidence we manage to steal. If he knows that Mevlevi is in this country, he'll put the full efforts of the DEA behind our plan. I bet Thorne will bring in a fucking Ranger A-Team to kidnap the Pasha and take him back to the States."

"If he can find him…"

"Oh, he can find him. Monday morning at ten A.M., I'll be escorting the Pasha to a meeting in Lugano with an employee of the Federal Passport Office. Seems Kaiser has arranged for Mevlevi to obtain citizenship in this fine country as a way to get the DEA off his back."

"Kaiser set that up?" Peter gave a soft laugh. "Like you said, 'lock, stock, and barrel.' So how does one go about finding our Mr. Thorne?"

Nick patted his pocket. "I've got his card. Didn't he give you one too?"

"He did, but I'm a smart lad. I threw it away." Sprecher shivered suddenly. "All right, mate, let's make the plan. It's too cold up here to continue our little parley."

Nick thought of what he needed to do that afternoon. He wouldn't be free until six at the earliest. "Let's hook up at the Keller Stubli tonight at eight," he suggested. "I'm looking forward to seeing Yogi."

"Keep your fingers crossed," said Sprecher. "Hope that Bauer hasn't quaffed one too many beers."

Nick placed his palms together and brought them up to his chest. "I'm praying."

CHAPTER 52

Nick arrived at the Paradeplatz at five past two, anxious to get to the bank. It had taken him over an hour to slog down the icy path from the Uetliberg and catch a tram into the center of the city. An hour that he did not have. The game had a time limit now. Monday, Gino Makdisi would take possession of the Pasha's merchandise. Tuesday, Konig would officially be voted his seats on USB's board of directors. Nick could not allow either to take place.

The sky had darkened in the last hour. Ominous clouds rolled in from the north like an advancing army and hovered low overhead as if preparing to lay siege to the city. Oblivious of the weather, a throng of shoppers flocked up and down the Bahnhofstrasse. Smartly dressed men and women attacked their errands with a brio as joyless as it was efficient. Nick sliced through their ranks, impatience dampening his fear of what he was about to do.

He passed the front entrance to the bank and peered up at the gray building. A row of lights burned from the windows on the Fourth Floor. The lights enlivened the building's sterile facade and offered passersby the impression that here stood an institution unmatched in its commitment to its clients. The model of industry and enterprise. He shook his head in disgust. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Nick walked to the rear of the bank and climbed the short flight of stairs leading to the employee entrance. He was dressed in a charcoal suit and navy overcoat, his workaday battle gear. He entered the bank, flashing the security guard his identification as he slid through the turnstile. The guard saw his dark suit and waved the card away. Anyone crazy enough to work on a weekend deserved easy entry.

***

On the Fourth Floor, Nick was hit with the sounds of an office in uproar. Phones rang, doors were slammed, and voices were raised, though none louder than Wolfgang Kaiser's.

"Dammit, Marty," Nick heard him shout from the far end of the corridor, "you promised me two hundred million in buying power. Where is it? Five days I've been waiting. So far you've produced only ninety million."

A response was mumbled and Nick was surprised to hear his own name mentioned.

Kaiser said, "If I needed Neumann for a day or two, you should have taken his place and liberated the shares yourself. That's what leadership means. Too late to teach you, I see."

Rita Sutter scurried from the Emperor's Lair and bustled down the hallway. When she saw Nick, a worried expression crossed her features. "Mr. Neumann. I didn't expect you here today."

Nick wondered why not. It looked like everyone else was here. "I need to speak with Herr Kaiser."