Numbered Account

But that applied only to Europe. The Far East was seven hours ahead of Zurich, and Nick recalled that matrix six included two banks in Singapore and one in Hong Kong. If he gave them until twelve P.M. local time to credit the funds to the Pasha's account, the Pasha could only have discovered their absence at five A.M. Swiss time. One hour prior to Maeder's call.

Confronted with Maeder's Cheshire grin, he suddenly felt very naive.

"Tell me, Mr. Neumann," asked Maeder, "what is the overnight carry on forty-seven million dollars?"

Nick took a deep breath and glanced at the ceiling. This kind of quick figuring was his specialty, so he decided to give Maeder a little show. "For the client, two thousand five hundred seventy-five dollars. That's at yesterday's rate of two and one half percent. But the bank would credit the money to its overnight money market fund and earn approximately five and one half percent or seven thousand and, um, eighty-two dollars. That would give the bank a positive carry of around forty-five hundred dollars."

Maeder banged at his calculator like a nearsighted typist. Robbed of his thunder, he slid it across the desk and changed tack. "Unfortunately, our client is not concerned about several thousand dollars of accrued interest we failed to credit his account when we added his assets to our overnight float. What concerns our client is your failure to honor his transfer instructions. What concerns our client is the fact that sixteen hours after he gave you, and I quote, 'bank reference, NXM,' an order to wire transfer, sorry, to urgently wire transfer, his assets elsewhere, his money is still in Switzerland. Care to explain that?"

Nick unbuttoned his jacket and sat a little easier in his chair, pleased that he was to be given an opportunity to defend his actions. "I filled out a funds transfer form, as usual, but I specified the transaction time as today at three-thirty. I sent the form to payments traffic by internal mail. If the Friday logjam is as bad as usual, the funds should be transferred sometime Monday morning."

"Is that right? Do you know who this client is?"

"No, sir. The account was opened by International Fiduciary Trust of Zug in 1985, prior to the current Form B regulations, which demand proof of an account holder's identity. Of course, we treat all clients with the same respect, whether we know their names or not. They're all equally important."

"Though some more than others, eh?" Maeder suggested, sotto voce.

Nick shrugged. "Naturally."

"I've been given to understand that yesterday was particularly calm in your neck of the woods. No one around to consult with. Sprecher ill, Cerruti out of commission."

"Yes, it was very calm."

"Tell me, Nick, if one of your superiors had been with you, would you have consulted him? Better yet, if this Pasha fellow, if he were your own client- say you were Cerruti- would you have acted in a similar manner? I mean given the extraordinary circumstances and all." Maeder held up a sheet of paper and gave it a shake: the Internal Account Surveillance sheet.

Nick looked his interrogator in the eye. Don't waver. Show them you're a true believer. Become one of them. "If anyone else were there, I would never have been presented with this dilemma. But to answer your question, yes, I would have acted in a similar manner. Our job is to ensure the safekeeping of our clients' investments."

"What about following your clients' instructions?"

"Our job is also to faithfully execute instructions given by our clients. But…"

"But what?"

"But in this instance, execution of this particular set of instructions would have endangered the client's assets and brought unwanted "- Nick paused, searching for the right word to tap-dance around the ugly facts -" 'attention' to the bank. I don't feel qualified to make decisions that may have a damaging effect, not only on the client, but also on the bank."

"But you do feel qualified enough to disobey the bank and ignore the commands of your section's biggest client. Remarkable."

Nick didn't know whether this was a compliment or a condemnation. Probably a little of both.

Maeder stood up and strolled around the side of his desk. "Go home. Don't go back to your office. Don't speak with anyone in your department, including your buddy Sprecher- wherever the hell he is. Understood? The court shall deliver its verdict on Monday." He patted Nick on the shoulder and grinned. "One last question. Why such an urge to protect our bank?"

Nick rose from his chair and reflected before answering. He had always known that his father's past employ offered him a mantle of legitimacy. No matter his private suspicions, he was the bank's kin. Not quite the dauphin returning to claim his throne, but not a wandering contract laborer- an auslander, to wit- either. Tradition. Heritage. Succession. These were the bank's most hallowed grounds. And it was on these grounds that he would stake his claim.