CHAPTER 33

A war council had convened in the executive boardroom. Four men in progressive states of unease were scattered around the immense chamber. Reto Feller stood against the far wall. His arms were folded across his chest, and the heel of his foot was rapidly wearing a hole in the carpet. Rudolf Ott and Martin Maeder sat at the prodigious conference table, the very picture of conspiracy. Each faced the other with hunched back and lowered head, whispering. Armin Schweitzer paced the length of the room. A sheen of perspiration matted his heavy features. Every few steps, he withdrew a handkerchief from his hip pocket and with an unashamed stroke dried his forehead. They all awaited the arrival of their master. On this ship, there was only one captain.

At precisely two P.M., Wolfgang Kaiser threw open the tall mahogany doors and entered the boardroom. He walked briskly to his usual chair. Nick followed him and took an adjoining seat. Ott and Maeder straightened their backs. Feller dove into the nearest chair. Schweitzer alone remained standing.

Kaiser dispensed with all formalities. "Mr. Feller, what is the status of the Adler Bank's share purchases?" His voice was dry and grim, as if assessing the damage of an artillery barrage.

Feller answered in a shrill voice. "Twenty-eight percent of shares outstanding. Another five percent and Konig will automatically be granted two seats on the executive board."

"Scheisse!" came an unattributed response.

"Rumor has it the Adler Bank will make a fully funded takeover bid," said Schweitzer. "Bastards don't want two seats, they want the whole damned show."

"Quatsch," said Maeder. "Nonsense. Look at their balance sheet. No way they can take on that much debt. Their assets are fully leveraged to cover their trading positions."

"Who needs debt when cash will suffice?" squealed Feller.

"Mr. Feller is correct," said Wolfgang Kaiser. "Klaus Konig's buying power has hardly dwindled. Where in God's name is that son of a bitch getting his cash? Doesn't anybody know?"

No one spoke. Maeder and Ott bowed their heads, as if shame were ample excuse for their ignorance. Schweitzer shrugged. Nick couldn't remember when he had ever felt more ill at ease. He was profoundly aware of his inexperience. I don't belong in this room, he kept telling himself. I shouldn't be sitting here with the bank's top brass. What the hell do they want with me?

"More disturbing news," said Ott. "I've learned that Konig is wooing Hubert Senn, the count's grandson, to accept a seat on Adler's executive board. I don't need to remind anyone here that Senn Industries has long been an ardent supporter of current management."

"And that they control shares worth six percent of outstanding votes," said Kaiser. "Votes we have counted as our own until now."

Nick recalled the pale young man dressed in his baggy navy suit. Hubert Senn's name was indeed on the count's primary account. The boy's signature would be required to vote their shares for USB. One more obstacle.

Feller raised his hand as if in elementary school. "I'll be happy to phone the count and explain the bank's restructuring plan. I'm sure-"

"I think the Chairman should speak with the count," Nick said brusquely, cutting off his ass-kissing associate. "Senn is at an age when tradition means everything. We should arrange a personal meeting with him."

"The count will remain loyal," stammered Schweitzer as he mopped his brow. "Right now let's concentrate on buying up our own shares."

"With what, Armin, your life savings?" Kaiser shook his head. "Neumann's right. I should see the count personally." He turned to Nick and said, "Set it up. Just tell me where to be."

Nodding his head, Nick felt something inside him relax. He'd been blooded. He'd made a suggestion and it had been accepted. From the corner of his eye, he could see Reto Feller reddening.

Kaiser drummed his fingertips upon the table. "At this juncture, there aren't many options left to us. First and foremost, Neumann and Feller must continue contacting our most important shareholders. Marty, I want you to join in. Talk to everyone holding more than five hundred shares."

"The list is endless," complained Maeder.

"Do it!" ordered Kaiser.

"Jawohl." Maeder lowered his head.

Kaiser went on. "Still, I feel that our efforts in that regard may come up short. What we need is cash and we need it now."

There was a collective nodding of heads. Nick noted that all present were only too aware of the bank's lack of liquidity.

"I have two ideas in mind. The first involves the participation of a private investor- an old friend of mine; the second, the creative use of our own customers' accounts. It's a plan a few of us have been batting around these last days. Daring, perhaps, but we have no other choice."

Nick glanced around the table. Maeder and Ott appeared relaxed enough, hardly curious about what was to come. Schweitzer, though, had stopped pacing and stood at attention, as rigid as a statue. So, the big boys have left you out of the loop. Poor Armin, what have you done to lose your place at the top table?

"Our only way out," said Martin Maeder, standing and gripping his seat back with both hands. "Our managed portfolios."

Schweitzer bent forward as if he hadn't properly heard. He muttered a single word over and over again: "Nein, nein, nein."

"We have over three thousand accounts under our discretionary management," continued Maeder, ignoring his colleague's fretful mumbling. "Over six billion Swiss francs of cash, securities, and precious metals under our direct control. We can buy and sell on the client's behalf as we please. Simply stated, we must reconfigure the portfolios of our discretionary clients. Sell off some underperforming stocks, get rid of some bonds, and use the proceeds to buy every last share we can find of our own stock. Pump those portfolios full of United Swiss Bank class A equity."

"We can never do such a thing!" protested Schweitzer.

Maeder granted Schweitzer a single sidelong glance, then went on as before. "Most of our discretionary clients ask that all mail be held at the bank. If they visit the bank, it's once, maybe twice a year. They'll have no idea what we've done with their accounts. By the time they check their portfolios, we'll have defeated the Adler Bank, sold off our own shares, and reconfigured their portfolios just as they were before. If one of them does find out, we'll just say it was a mistake. An administrative error. It's not as if they can contact another account holder. They're anonymous- to the outside world and to one another."

Nick shuddered involuntarily. What Maeder was proposing was grossly illegal, fraud on a gargantuan scale. They were taking all their clients' chips and betting them on black.

Schweitzer removed his jacket. His shirt was soaked through and clung to the crook of his back. "I am this bank's director of compliance and I forbid it. Such actions constitute a violation of the most fundamental of banking laws. The funds in a discretionary account are not ours to do with as we please. They belong to our clients. Our duty is to invest their money as if it were our own."

"Why, that's exactly what I'm proposing," said Maeder. "We're investing their money as if it's our own. And right now, we need to buy shares of USB. Thank you, Armin."

Ott pulled an oily grin at his cohort's sarcasm.

Schweitzer appealed directly to Kaiser. "To appropriate their funds to buy up our own shares is madness. They're trading at an all-time high. Their value is grossly inflated. When we defeat Konig, the share price will plummet. We must follow the strategic investment guidelines promised our clients. It's the law."

No one paid Schweitzer's argument an ounce of attention. Least of all Kaiser. The Chairman averted his gaze from the offending party. He didn't say a word. Nick imagined Sylvia sitting at the table with them. What would she say? Would she be in favor of going this far? Several times he'd caught a glint of steel in her eye- something unmerciful, cruel even- and he thought that maybe she might. Another image of Sylvia provoked in him a sudden, intense flush of sexual excitement, and because of his surroundings, it both thrilled and annoyed him. Sylvia sat astride him, slowly moving up and down. He saw his hands on her breasts. He caressed them gently and felt her nipples harden under his touch. He was deep inside her. She drew his hand to her mouth and longingly licked his fingertips. She moaned again, louder this time, and he was lost in her pleasures.