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.

Sylvia picked up the blue slips bearing Nick's extension and tossed them into the trash can behind her desk- where she had tossed all the other messages he'd left since Monday. She tried to tell herself that his promotion didn't feel like a slap in the face. That it was just another petty injustice she had to swallow. But she couldn't.

The phone rang. Sylvia craned her neck to see if her assistant was at his desk. The phone rang a second time. Obviously, he wasn't. She picked up on the third ring. "Schon."

"Good morning, Sylvia. It's Nick Neumann. Hi."

Sylvia closed her eyes. This was not what she needed right now. "Hello, Mr. Neumann."

"I thought we had settled on Nick."

She swiveled in her chair, hating herself for hiding in her "Miss Professional" routine. "Yes, Nick. How can I help you?"

"You can probably guess. I'm calling to apologize about the files. I should never have asked for your help. It was selfish of me. I was wrong."

"Apology accepted." She had hardly thought about the files since Saturday. It was his sudden promotion that merited punishment. "How are things with the Chairman?"

"Exciting. Busy. In fact, I'd love to talk to you about it. Are you free for dinner tomorrow night?"

Sylvia took a breath. She'd guessed he'd been calling to set up a date. Hearing his strong voice, she knew her anger was misdirected. She had no right to blame Nick. Still, she needed time to figure out how she felt about him. "I don't think so. In fact, I think it's better if we left this as it was."

"Oh? And how was it?"

"It wasn't," she replied testily. His insistence rankled her. "Do you understand now? Look, I really have quite a bit of work to do. I'll stop by when I have some free time. Let's leave it at that."

Sylvia hung up the phone before he could protest. Yet, even as her hand left the receiver, she began criticizing herself for being unspeakably rude- not an easy task given her own demanding standards. I apologize, Nick, she said silently, staring at the phone. Call me back. I'll say I didn't know what got into me. I'll tell you that yes, we had a wonderful time Saturday and that I am still trying to figure out that lovely kiss.

But the phone did not ring.

Sylvia spun her chair and stared into the wastepaper bin. She picked up one of the crumpled message slips, flattened it on her desk, and reread the number.

Nick unsettled her. He was handsome and confident. He had lovely eyes. Eyes whose unimpeded stare could be frightening one minute and heartbreaking the next. He had no family and she thanked God for that- wished she could be so lucky. Her father was a boorish man, a red-faced tyrant who had never given up trying to run his home as he ran the railway station at Sargans. When her mother died, Sylvia had taken the care of her younger brothers, Rolf and Eric, onto herself, preparing their breakfasts, cleaning their rooms, doing their laundry. Instead of being grateful, the boys had mimicked their father's behavior, ordering her around the house as if she were a maid and not their older sister.

Sylvia thought back on her dinner with Nick. "Independent" was how he'd described himself and she'd jumped on the word. Loved it. Because she was independent, too. Her life was her own. She could make of it what she wanted. She recalled the touch of his lips when they said good night, their cool pressure hiding the warmth close behind. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to imagine what would come next. His hand brushing her cheek, her body pushing hard against him. She would open her mouth and taste him. She felt a sharp stirring pass through her body, and its stark carnality woke her from her reverie.

Sylvia checked her watch. Seeing that it was already nine o'clock, she set to work updating a list of interviewing requirements for Swiss university graduates. It was a monotonous chore, and to relieve it she reminded herself of the goals that she had set herself earlier in the year.

First, in the spring she would travel to the States to supervise the bank's recruitment of American M.B.A.s. Second, by December 31, the finance department would boast the highest employee retention rate in the bank. The first goal was as good as accomplished. Wolfgang Kaiser had personally assigned her the task. She could thank Nick for that, at least partially, for it was his presence that had allowed her to shine in the Chairman's eyes. The second goal- seeing to it that her department kept its employees- would require her constant attention. The finance department was lagging behind commercial banking but was ahead of trading. If Nick stayed longer than the usual arrogant recruits Rudolf Ott hired, she would be very happy.

You want him to stay for more reasons than that, whispered a naughty voice.

Sylvia tapped her nails on the message slip and picked up the phone. She wasn't seeing anyone at the moment, why not call him back? She reminded herself that he was independent like her, that she could date him without too big a risk of involvement. She preferred her relationships to have a maximum of passion and a minimum of commitment. Special treats she allowed herself once or twice a year. She'd worked too hard for her own freedom to give it up by getting stuck in a relationship- any relationship. She expected that someday she'd want something more secure, something for the rest of her life, but for now she was happy with things as they were. Then why, dammit, couldn't she ignore the sentiment tickling deep inside her stomach that he might be the one?