Numbered Account

Kaiser leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his abundant hair. He fussed with each horn of his mustache. " 'L'audace,' Neumann. "Toujours l'audace!' You know who said that?" He didn't wait for a response. "We don't want to end up like him, do we? Marooned on an island in the middle of nowhere. Our play must be more subtle. No whiff of grapeshot for the United Swiss Bank. Not if we wish to put an end to this revolution quickly and effectively."

Nick knew better than to correct the Chairman, but in fact, Frederick the Great, not Napoleon, had uttered that famous battle cry.

"Get out some paper. Take down what I say and don't become a frantic rat like Mr. Feller. A general must remain his calmest when a battle reaches its most intense."

Nick grabbed a block of paper that lay on the desk in front of him.

"Feller was right," said the Chairman. "It is a war. Konig wants to take us over, always has, if I read things clearly. He's holding shares worth just over five percent of our outstanding capital and has open orders to buy fifteen percent more. Who knows how many shares his backers are holding, but if he's able to put together a block carrying thirty-three percent of our votes, then two seats on the board are his. With two seats he can influence other board members and forge a blocking position on matters of importance.

"His war cry is that we are stuck in the Middle Ages. Private banking is going the way of the buggy whip, says Konig. Trading is the way of the future. Using your firm's capital to bet on and influence the direction of markets, currencies, interest rates. Anything that he and his cohorts can securitize, they will. Oil futures, home mortgages, Argentinean beef contracts. Any investment that doesn't post gains of twenty percent per year is ready for the slaughterhouse. Not us, by God. Not the United Swiss Bank. Private banking is what made this bank what it is today. I have no intention of abandoning it, or risking our solvency by joining Konig's band of riverboat gamblers."

Kaiser walked around his desk and stood by Nick's chair, placing a strong hand on his shoulder. "I want you to map out which individuals and institutions own major blocks of shares. Find out who we can count on and who will back Konig. We'll have to write up something snappy about our plans to improve our return on assets and increase our shareholders' returns."

Nick saw the pattern of his days developing even as Kaiser spoke. He was in for a long and difficult ride. Any plans he had about using his newly won position to conduct an investigation into his father's death would have to be put on hold- at least until Konig's bid was defeated. Still, he was where he needed to be, "at the right hand of God."

"Where is that son of a bitch getting his financing?" demanded Kaiser. "Over the past seven months the Adler Bank has declared increases in capital three times without ever going to market. That means a number of private groups must secretly be backing Konig. I want you to find out who. Your friend Sprecher is beginning work there today. Use him. And don't be surprised if he tries to use you, especially once he discovers you're working for me."

Kaiser lifted his hand from Nick's shoulder and turned toward the entryway. Nick stood and walked with him toward the massive doors. What about the Pasha? Nick wanted to ask. Who was going to take care of him now? One thing was for certain. If Cerruti knew the Pasha, then Kaiser knew him better.

"We have four weeks until the general assembly, Neumann. That's not a very long time for the work we have before us. Mrs. Sutter will show you your office. And keep an eye on Feller. Don't let him get too flustered. Remember, Neumann: four weeks."

CHAPTER 25

Sylvia Schon stared at the blue slips on her desk and wondered when he would stop calling. The first note was dated Tuesday evening and read, Mr. Nicholas Neumann phoned at 6:45, requests that you call back. The second was taken early this morning. More of the same. She read them both again, recognizing the extension given as belonging to the Fourth Floor, to the Emperor's Lair.

Sylvia laid the messages on her desk and urged herself not to be jealous of his good fortune. In nine years at the bank, she had never seen, or even heard of, an employee moving from the position of management trainee to assistant vice president in the space of five weeks. It had taken her six years to gain that rank! Unsure of her chances to rise beyond it, she'd enrolled at the University of Zurich and taken classes three nights a week and on Saturdays toward a doctorate in management. Three years later she received her degree and only this past winter a promotion to full vice president. If Nick excelled at his post alongside Wolfgang Kaiser, there was no reason he shouldn't be elevated to full vice president in nine months' time, in late November when the bank posted its annual list of promotions. Such things happened often to men in the center of power.