Numbered Account

Nick did not move. He heard the pop of a high-caliber pistol and watched helplessly as the gunman's body pounded into the window, then slid to the ground. Ten feet behind him stood Sterling Thorne, gun extended.

Thorne approached the car, holstering his side arm as he walked.

For a moment, Nick sat still. He stared straight ahead of him. He thought the lake was very beautiful. He was alive.

Thorne knocked on the window and opened the car door. He was grinning.

"Neumann, you are one piss-poor liar."

CHAPTER 68

Nick arrived at the Kongresshaus at ten-forty-five, fifteen minutes before the general assembly was scheduled to commence. The auditorium, which seated several thousand persons, was filling rapidly. Reporters from the world's major financial publications dashed up and down the aisles, speaking to stockbrokers, speculators, and shareholders alike. In the wake of allegations that Wolfgang Kaiser had actively maintained close ties with a notorious Middle Eastern drug lord, all ears strained to learn who would assume control of the United Swiss Bank. But Nick had no illusions. After a spate of apologies and promises of tighter controls, business would continue as usual. The fact that Ali Mevlevi was dead and the flow of heroin into Europe slowed, at least for a little while, did little to console him. Thorne had his victory, but Nick's was tainted. Nearly twenty-four hours after his escape from the Hotel Olivella au Lac, Wolfgang Kaiser had not yet been apprehended.

Nick walked to the front of the auditorium and looked back on the sea of faces streaming in. No one paid him special notice. His role in the affair was unknown- at least for now. Angry and frustrated, he wondered if Ott and Maeder and all the others would conduct the meeting as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred yesterday. He imagined what Peter Sprecher would say:…but Nick, nothing out of the ordinary has. And his anger and frustration grew.

Still, he had half a notion that Kaiser just might show up. Self-preservation would dictate he stay far away from the general assembly, but Nick didn't think the idea of being caught had ever surfaced on Kaiser's private radar. The Chairman of the United Swiss Bank forced to flee Switzerland? Never! Even now he probably believed that he had done nothing wrong.

Nick spotted Sterling Thorne slouching near a fire exit to the left of the stage. Thorne caught Nick's glance and nodded. Earlier, he had given Nick a copy of that morning's Herald Tribune. A small article on the inside front cover was circled. "Israeli Jets Knock Out Guerrilla Strongholds." The story said that a renegade faction of Lebanese Hezbollah loyalists had been captured as they massed near the Israeli border, an unknown number killed. A final paragraph stated that their base in the hills above Beirut had been bombed and destroyed. "So much for Mevlevi's private army," Thorne had said, smirking. Though when Nick asked him about the battlefield nuclear weapon, his smile vanished and he shrugged as if to say "We'll never know."

Directly in front of Nick, a yellow rope was strung across ten chairs in the first row. Each chair held a white index card bearing the name of its occupant. Sepp Zwicki, Rita Sutter, and others he knew as residents of the Fourth Floor. Looking to his right, he caught sight of Sylvia Schon making a slow march up the aisle. She was counting heads, spotting how many of her precious charges had attended the meeting. Even now, she was following the Chairman's orders.

He walked toward her, his choler growing with each step. A portion of it was directed at himself- for believing, for trusting, maybe even for loving, all when he should have known better. But most took Sylvia as its target. She had traded on his life for her own benefit, and for that he could never forgive her.

"I'm surprised to see you here," he said. "Shouldn't you be helping the Chairman find the next flight to the Bahamas? Come to think of it, I thought you might even be there already."

Sylvia moved closer to him, trying on a sad smile. "Nick, I'm sorry. I had no idea that-"

"What happened?" he cut in, unable to stomach her false apology. "Did you discover that getting someone out of a hotel is a helluva lot easier than getting him out of the country- especially when the whole world's after him? Or are you planning on joining him after this whole mess cools down a little?"

Sylvia narrowed her eyes, and her face grew rigid. In that instant, any feelings they had shared for each other disappeared forever. "Go to hell," she snapped. "Just because I helped the Chairman doesn't mean I'd run off with him. You've got the wrong woman."

Nick found an unoccupied seat three rows from the stage and laid his cane on the floor. He sat down awkwardly and adjusted his leg. Doctors had cleaned and sutured the wound to his lower thigh. He wouldn't be doing the samba anytime soon, but at least he could walk.