Numbered Account

The sommelier's eyes shifted to the door of the kitchen, seeking the approval of the restaurant's owner and chef, Herr Petermann, and when he received it said, "Right away, sir."

"Shameless bastard," said Kaiser to the sommelier's retreating back, though in his heart he directed the comment at the man seated across the table.

"Bad news, Ali. Friday afternoon Klaus Konig secured a large packet of our shares. He's standing at the portal of the bank with his boarding party. I can hear their swords being drawn even now." He attempted a light hearted chuckle, but his thick tongue managed only a nervous titter.

The Pasha dabbed at the corners of his mouth. He was his usual elegant self, dressed in a double-breasted navy blazer, a silver ascot adorning his throat. Not a worry in the world. "Mr. Konig cannot be as bad as all that," he said, as if referring to a pesky neighbor.

"He's worse," Kaiser grunted. "The man is an insolent raider. Well-financed, but a pirate all the same."

Mevlevi raised an eyebrow. "Surely you have the resources to repel his advance?"

"You'd think that controlling sixty percent of the bank's shares would guarantee me a healthy margin of comfort. Not in democratic Switzerland. We never expected to be bested by one of our own countrymen. Our laws were written to keep the barbarians beyond the pale. As for ourselves, we Swiss are saints, one and all. Today it's the enemy within we have to defend against."

"What exactly do you need, Wolfgang? Is this about your loan?"

What the hell else did he think it was about?

"The terms stand," said Kaiser in his politest voice. "Ninety days is all we require. You'll have your cash back with a ten percent kicker. Come, Ali, that's not just reasonable, it's damned generous."

"Generous it is." Mevlevi reached a hand across the table to pat the Chairman's arm. "Generous you have always been, my friend."

Kaiser pushed his shoulders back and offered a humble smile. What charade was this he must play? The utter pretense of it made him ill. Acting as if all these years he had sheltered the Pasha's income of his own volition.

"You must understand," Mevlevi continued, "that if I had such a bountiful reserve of cash at this time, it would be yours. Damn the interest, I'm no shylock. Unfortunately my cash flow is dreadful at this time of year."

"What about the forty million that passed through your accounts on Friday afternoon?"

"Already spoken for. My business does not allow for credit."

"The full two hundred million isn't necessary. Half of that amount would be sufficient. We must have an order to buy on the floor tomorrow morning when the exchange opens. I cannot risk the Adler Bank's purchasing any more shares. They have their thirty-three percent as it is. More, and it will appear a mandate on my tenure at the bank."

"The world is changing, Wolfgang. Perhaps it's time for younger men to have a go at it."

"Change is anathema in the world of private banking. Tradition is what our clients seek; security is what we at USB offer best. The Adler Bank is just another hustler on the street."

Mevlevi smiled as if amused. "The free market is a dangerous place."

"It shouldn't be the floor of the Colosseum," Kaiser argued. "A loan of seventy million francs is the least we could accept. Don't tell me that with your substantial investments, you can't commit to such a small sum."

"Small sum, indeed. I should ask you the same question." Again the amused grin. "If you recall, a good deal of my assets are already in your hands. Two percent of your outstanding shares, no?"

Kaiser leaned closer to the table, wondering what Mevlevi found so damned funny. "Our back is to the wall. It's time for old friends to come to the fore. Ali," he pleaded, "a personal favor."

"My poor cash flow dictates that I say no. I'm sorry, Wolfgang."

Kaiser smiled wistfully. Sorry, was he? Then why was he so fucking delighted by USB's imminent demise? Kaiser reached for his glass of wine but stopped halfway there. He had one last chip. Why not burn it with the rest of them? He lifted his eyes to his companion's and said, "I'll throw in young Neumann."

Mevlevi tucked in his chin. "Will you? I didn't realize he was yours to throw anywhere."

"I've come across some interesting information. Our young friend is quite the investigator. It seems he has some questions about his father's past." In his mind, Kaiser apologized to Nicholas, saying he was sorry but that he'd been left no choice, that he'd done everything he could to make a place for him by his side but that unfortunately he had no room for traitors. He'd told his father practically the same thing nearly twenty years before.

"That should concern you more than me," said Mevlevi.

"I don't think so. Neumann believes that a Mr. Allen Soufi was involved in his father's death. That is not my name."

"Nor mine." Mevlevi sipped his wine. "Not any longer."

"Neumann's learned about Goldluxe as well."