Numbered Account

Alone in the corridor, Nick breathed a sigh of relief. He began the short walk back to his office confused at what exactly he had just witnessed. He needed to decide who had been telling the truth and who had been lying. Most of what Thorne had said made perfect sense. If Ali Mevlevi had been a big shot in Beirut, Kaiser would at the least have known of him. More likely, he would have actively solicited his business. It was a branch manager's job to circulate among the city's better crowds, insinuate himself in its loftier circles, and at the appropriate time, normally, Nick imagined, after a second martini, suggest that they trust him with a good portion of their assets. Similarly, if Ali Mevlevi was the Pasha- which certainly seemed the case- then Kaiser would also know him. No man became chairman of a major bank by ignoring his most important clients. Certainly not Wolfgang Kaiser.

Hell, Nick thought, everything Thorne said made sense. The Pasha being Ali Mevlevi; his using numbered account 549.617 RR at the United Swiss Bank to launder his profits; that Kaiser must not only know him, but must know him pretty damn well. All of it.

Nick turned a corner and entered a smaller corridor. The ceiling was lower and the hall narrower. He had advanced a few steps when he heard the distinct thud and rattle of a drawer being violently shut. The sound came from an office ahead and to the right. Its door was slightly ajar, and a sliver of light curled from under it onto the carpeted floor. Coming closer, he saw that someone was inside the room searching through a raft of papers that lay on top of the desk. At the same instant, he realized he was peering into his own office.

"I thought you waited until after banking hours to root through an individual's private affairs," Nick said, slamming the door behind him.

Armin Schweitzer continued to rummage through the papers, unfazed. "Simply checking for the list of clients you're to phone. The bank can ill afford for you to alienate its major shareholders."

"I have that list right here." Nick withdrew a folded sheet from his jacket pocket.

Schweitzer put forward his meaty hand. "If you please…"

Nick held the copy as if assaying its value, then slid it back into his pocket. "If you'd like a copy, see the Chairman."

"A moment of the Chairman's time would indeed be welcome; alas between you and your close friend Mr. Thorne, it seems that he hasn't a moment to spare." Schweitzer carelessly dropped the papers he held onto the desk. "Coincidental your arriving just when Thorne needs you. You and the American gestapo."

"You think I'm working with the DEA? Is that why you're here?" Nick laughed grimly at the suggestion. "If I were you, I'd spend more time looking after my own affairs. I understand you're the man on the tightrope, not me."

Schweitzer flinched as if he'd been slapped. "You understand nothing." He rounded the desk, gathering steam like a runaway locomotive, stopping only when he came within an inch of Nick's chest. "I walk no tightrope here, Mr. Neumann. My blood runs in this bank as deeply as the Chairman's. Thirty-five years of my life, I've given it. Can you even begin to understand such a commitment? You, an American, who flits from one job to another, hoping only for a bigger paycheck and a fatter bonus. Herr Kaiser has never questioned my loyalty to him or my service to the bank. Never!"

Nick stared into Schweitzer's bulging eyes. "Right now, I understand only one thing. This is my office and you should have at least asked my permission before coming in and messing up the place."

"Your permission?" Schweitzer put his head back and laughed. "I'll remind you, Neumann, it's my job to ensure that the bank complies with all legal requirements and that our employees do the same. Anyone who I believe might have reason to do the bank harm warrants my total concern. And any actions I may wish to take are so justified. That includes having a look at your office and your papers whenever I please."

"Do the bank harm?" said Nick, retreating a step. "What have I done to give you that impression? My actions have spoken loudly enough."

"Too loudly, perhaps." Schweitzer placed a hand on Nick's shoulder and spoke softly into his ear. "Tell me, Neumann, whose sins are you atoning for anyway?"

"What are you talking about?"

A bemused expression played across Schweitzer's face. "I told you I've been with the bank thirty-five years. Long enough to remember your father. In fact, I knew him well. We all did. And I can assure that no one on the Fourth Floor has forgotten his embarrassing behavior."

"My father was an honorable man," Nick said instinctively.

"Of course he was. But then again, you wouldn't really know, would you?" Schweitzer offered a malevolent smile and walked to the door. Opening it, he said, "And Neumann? If you think I'm walking on a tightrope, perhaps you haven't looked down lately. It's a long fall from the Fourth Floor. I'll be watching you."

"Take a number!"