Numbered Account

Nick had trouble suppressing a hoot of laughter as he studied the article. If nothing else, the Gotthardo Bank should be applauded for the brazenness of their claims. And as if to prove the sum total of Nick's suspicions, the paper reported that at the time it was frozen, the Uribes' account held seven million dollars. Here, observed Nick, is an account through which two billion dollars has been laundered, invested, transferred, what have you, and on the day it is closed, it holds what in the currency of the drug trade is pocket change. Chance? Luck? Coincidence? Hardly.

The Gotthardo Bank was buying its freedom from continuing inquiry. The price, seven million dollars and the careers of several replaceable flunkies. The Uribes would be upset; less so when the bank made good on their frozen deposits with a quiet deduction from the institution's hidden reserves.

Nick shifted his gaze to the Chairman, who was engrossed in conversation with Sepp Zwicki. So, Kaiser was upset that the Gotthardo Bank had given up the Uribes so early. He had taken a sizable chunk out of Schweitzer's ass for having passed on some faulty information. Twice, Schweitzer had screwed up, said Kaiser. What other error had recently drawn the Chairman's wrath?

What interested Nick most was the reason for Kaiser's rage. He wasn't pissed off that the Gotthardo Bank had worked with the Uribes- a name that for decades had been linked to organized crime. He showed no concern that Gotthardo's admission might damage Switzerland's reputation for secrecy. His anger was fueled solely by the fact that they had done it now. The Chairman was no fool. He knew damn well that the Gotthardo Bank's admission would only increase the pressure on USB to fork over one of its own. In this game, no one was innocent. And no one guilty. But somewhere along the line you had to pay your dues to keep your place at the table. Gotthardo had paid and was now relatively safe from further prosecution. USB could afford no such luxury.

Wolfgang Kaiser hung up the telephone and motioned for Nick to join him. Nick quickly folded the newspaper and walked to the Chairman's desk. On it lay copies of the three Swiss dailies, as well as the Wall Street Journal, the Financial Times, and the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung. Each was opened to an article discussing the Gotthardo Bank investigation.

"A splendid mess, isn't it?" asked Kaiser. "The timing couldn't be worse."

Nick didn't have a chance to respond. Beyond the closed doors, Rita Sutter's normally calm voice rose to a plaintive wail. A chair was overturned and a glass shattered. Nick sprang from his chair. Kaiser rounded his desk and made for the entryway. Before either could take more than three steps, the double doors were flung open.

Sterling Thorne marched into the office of the chairman of the United Swiss Bank. Rita Sutter followed, clutching at the American's long arm and admonishing him to stop, repeating over and over again that no one was allowed into the Chairman's office without an appointment. Hugo Brunner, the chief hall porter, trotted in behind them, head hanging low like a hound who had failed his master.

"Madam, you can let go of my shirtsleeve if you'd be so kind," Thorne said to Rita Sutter.

"It's all right, Rita," soothed Wolfgang Kaiser, though his eyes conveyed a different message. "We mustn't be impolite to our guests, even if they arrive without an appointment. You can go back to your desk. You too, Hugo. Thank you."

"This man is a… a… barbarian," shouted Rita Sutter. She relinquished her grasp on Thorne and, giving him a nasty scowl, stalked from the office. Hugo followed.

Thorne shook loose his sleeve. He walked to Wolfgang Kaiser and introduced himself as if the two had never met.

Kaiser shook his hand, wincing as if to say "Spare me this garbage." "This is a bank, Mr. Thorne. Normally we expect even our most valued clients to schedule appointments. We're not a fast-food establishment where one can simply drive through."

Thorne bowed in apology. "Sorry for not following your precious decorum. In America we are taught to take the bull by the horns, or as my daddy used to say, to grab the goat by the balls."

"How charming. Please take a seat. Or would you prefer the floor?"

Thorne sat on the couch.

Kaiser took up position in a chair opposite. "Neumann, join us."

"This is a private conversation," objected Thorne. "I don't know if you want one of your young pups to listen in."

Nick stood and made it clear he was willing to leave the office. The less time spent in Thorne's company, the better.

"It's all right, Nicholas," said Kaiser. "Sit down. I welcome the input of our younger executives, Mr. Thorne. They are the future of the bank."

"Some future," said Thorne, looking at Nick and shaking his head. He redirected his attention at the Chairman. "Mr. Kaiser, I believe we have a mutual acquaintance. Someone we've both known for a long while."

"I find that extremely doubtful," said Kaiser with a polite smile.