Numbered Account

Nick reached the end of the row and started up the aisle. His leg argued for him to slow. He ignored it and moved even faster, passing through a pair of swinging doors into the foyer. The long, low room was packed to bursting with the overflow crowd. Reporters hovered in every corner, urgently filing dispatches by cellular phone. Nick threaded his way through all of them. He had a strong desire to yell at the top of his lungs for every goddamned person to get out of his way, but somehow he was able to check it, and after another minute he was outside. He rushed down the broad flight of granite stairs. A fleet of taxis had assembled along the curb. He jumped into the first in line and barked his instructions. "Take me to the United Swiss Bank."

Three minutes later, the taxi lurched to a halt in front of the imperious gray building. Nick paid the driver and got out. He hurried up the stairs, noting the uniformed policemen loitering on the pavement nearby.

Hugo Brunner stood behind the lectern inside the lobby, and when he saw Nick, he came forward shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Neumann. I have strict orders you are not to be allowed into the bank."

Nick leaned on his cane, a little out of breath. "From who, Hugo? The Chairman? Is he here?"

"That is none of your business, sir. Now if you please…"

Nick stood up straight and slugged Brunner in the stomach. The hall porter gasped, and as he doubled over, Nick rewarded him with a jab to the chin. Brunner collapsed to the marble floor and lay still. Apologizing silently to the older man, Nick bent forward and dragged him behind the lectern. The bank was so quiet that not a soul had noticed.

The Emperor's Lair was deserted. Lights burned in offices on either side of the corridor, but all were empty. Nick limped toward the Chairman's anteroom, his only company the echo of his own uneven gait. The double doors to the Chairman's office were closed. Nick took a deep breath, then placed his ear against the smooth paneling and listened. He heard a rustle inside, then something heavy hitting the floor. He gripped the handle and turned it slowly. It was locked. He took a step backward, lowered his shoulder, and threw himself at the door. It buckled inward and he stumbled into the room, unable to stop himself from falling to one knee.

Wolfgang Kaiser stood a few feet away, a surprised look pasted on his face. His skin was gray and haggard. Dark pouches supported his eyes. He had removed the canvas of the Renoir oil from its gold leaf frame and was rolling it up tightly. A cardboard cylinder sat on the couch next to him.

"It's the best I can do," he said, in a light tone inappropriate for the occasion. "I haven't put aside any cash, and I imagine my accounts have already been frozen." He motioned with the rolled-up canvas. "In case you're wondering, it belongs to me, not to the bank."

Nick found his cane and pushed himself to his feet. "Of course. I know you wouldn't dream of stealing from the bank."

Kaiser stuffed the canvas into the cardboard cylinder, then popped on a plastic top. "I suppose I should thank you for killing Mevlevi."

"Anytime," said Nick. He was put off guard by Kaiser's collegial tone. He reminded himself that yesterday the same man had wanted him dead. "Where's Rita Sutter? I didn't see her at the assembly."

Kaiser opened his eyes a little wider and laughed. "So that's how you knew I was here? Clever of you. She's waiting for me downstairs. We came in through the gate at the rear. She stuffed me in the trunk of her car. Insisted it was safer."

"I'd say that makes her the clever one."

Kaiser placed the cardboard container on the couch behind him. He took a step away from Nick, absently brushing the end of his mustache. "You have no idea how thrilled I was when you decided to join the bank. Foolish of me, I know, to think you actually wanted a career with us. For a while, I thought you might take my place one day. Call it an old man's ego."

"I didn't come here for my career. Just to find out why my father was killed. He didn't deserve to die so you could leave your stamp on this bank."

"Oh, but you have it backward, Nicholas. I needed the bank to make sense of my life. I always viewed it as something greater than my own ambition, or at least something worthy of it. Your father was a different story. He wanted to shape it in his own image."

"The image of an honest man?"

Kaiser laughed wistfully. "We were both honest men. Just living in dishonest times. Surely you can see all I've done for the bank. We're up to three thousand employees. Think of their families, the community, the country even. God knows what would've happened had Alex taken over."

"At least he would have still been alive, along with Cerruti and Becker."

Kaiser frowned, then sighed. "Maybe. I only did what I had to do. You have no idea the pressure Mevlevi put me under."

Nick thought he knew it only too well. "You should have fought him."

"Impossible."