Feller's voice interrupted his reverie. "One question. After we defeat the Adler Bank, don't we risk losing many of our clients if we're unable to show a gain in the value of their portfolio?"
Maeder, Ott, and then even Kaiser broke into a hearty laugh. Feller looked to Nick, who returned his mystified gaze.
Maeder answered the question. "True, we're expected to report modest gains, but preservation of capital is our real goal. Growth beyond the rate of inflation of each portfolio's base currency is… well, let's say growth is an afterthought. After we defeat Konig, our shares may suffer a temporary decline. I'll grant Armin that much. Consequently, we may be forced to report a minor loss in the value of our clients' portfolios. Not to worry. We'll assure them that next year promises to be much better."
"We may lose a few clients," said Kaiser. "But it's a damn sight better than losing them all."
"Well said," chipped in Ott.
"And if the Adler Bank wins control of the bank?" demanded Schweitzer, unappeased. "Then what?"
"Win or lose, we'll set the portfolios back to how they stand today," explained Maeder flippantly, to everyone but Schweitzer. "If Konig wins, the share price will remain high. He can take credit for the gains his takeover provided his newest clients. For him, it will be icing on the cake!"
Kaiser slammed his hand ferociously upon the table. "Konig will not win!"
For a few moments, everyone was silent.
Ott lifted his scholarly head, speaking as if to remind his assembled colleagues of a minor inconvenience. "Should word of our activities leak, I need not mention the consequences."
Schweitzer laughed rudely. Down but not defeated.
"Three square meals a day, a few hours of exercise, and a well-heated room, all at government expense," joked Maeder.
"Nothing could be worse than being owned by the Adler Bank!" exclaimed Feller, gleeful in his role as coconspirator.
"You idiots," Schweitzer spat out. "A two-year stint in the St. Gallen penitentiary is hardly the vacation Marty describes. We'd be ruined. Disgraced."
Kaiser paid no attention to his director of compliance. "Rudy has brought up an important point. Word of our plan can never leave this room. All buy and sell transactions will be routed through the Medusa system. Our eyes only. Can I rely on every man here to guard his silence?"
Nick watched each man nod, even Schweitzer. The sum of their surroundings- the cavernous room occupied by so few men, the haunting echo of their voices, the imposing table at which they sat bunched up in a tight arc- cast a mantle of evil on their planning that far exceeded the first whispers of fiscal larceny, no matter how sophisticated. Suddenly, he found the full bore of their eyes upon him. He clenched his jaw to mask the doubt lurking so close behind his eyes. He nodded his head once.
"Good." Kaiser's eyes remained fixed upon Nick. "This is a time of war. Keep in mind the punishment for treason. Believe me, it stands."
Nick felt the man's cold eyes drilling into him. As the newest member of Kaiser's inner circle, he knew that the words were directed at him.
The Chairman expelled a heavy sigh, then continued in a lighter tone. "As I mentioned, I'm in touch with an investor who may be willing to purchase some shares on the bank's behalf. He's an old friend and I feel confident he can be convinced to take a five percent stake. The cost, however, will be high. I'm proposing we guarantee him a ten percent gain over ninety days."
"Forty percent per annum," shouted Schweitzer, again at odds with his Chairman. "That's extortion!"
"That is business," said Kaiser. He turned to Maeder. "Call Sepp Zwicki on the trading floor. Begin a program of share accumulation. Hold the shares for two-day settlement."
"Will two hundred million francs' worth do the trick?" asked Maeder.
"It's a start."
Maeder grinned at Nick and Feller, clearly excited by the challenge before them. "We'll have to sell off one shitload of stocks and bonds to reach that amount."
"We have no alternative," said Kaiser. He shot up from his chair, beaming like a man given a last-minute reprieve. "And Marty, tell Zwicki to short Adler shares. A hundred million worth. That ought to give Konig a minute to think. If he loses this battle, his investors will crucify him!"
CHAPTER 34
How did I get drawn in so deep?
Nick stood on the rotting planks of an abandoned jetty, asking himself the same question over and over again. The green waters of the river Limmat swirled below him. Across the river, the twin spires of the Grossmunster cathedral rose into the mist. It was five o'clock and he knew he shouldn't have left the office. Martin Maeder had wanted to begin instructing his "boys"- as he now called Nick and Reto Feller- on the intricacies of the new Medusa computer network.
"Medusa tells it all," Maeder had gushed, as if describing the bells and whistles of a high-end stereo. "Direct access to every account." And then, like a drunk whose loose tongue had revealed one secret too many, he had grown surly and defensive. "And I'll remind you of the promise you made to the Chairman. You'll guard these secrets with your life."
Maeder was probably looking for Nick even now, anxious to begin issuing sell orders and generate the cash that would keep Wolfgang Kaiser's hand firmly on the bank's tiller. Nick wished he could tell Maeder the truth. "Sorry, Marty, I needed some fresh air to help me figure out what in the hell I'm doing to my life" or "Gee, Marty, give me a few minutes and let me figure if there's a way off of this bucket of bolts. What did you say her name was? The Titanic?" He had a dozen pithy excuses to explain his flight from the constricting corridors of the bank. In the end, he had simply told Rita Sutter that he was running out for a quick errand.
He hadn't mentioned that it was his soul he'd be searching for.
Looking out over the snow-covered roofs of the old town, Nick felt the realization creep over him that he had gone too far, that in his quest to locate information that might shed light on his father's murder he'd strayed from the boundaries of decent behavior. When he'd first taken Peter Sprecher's place, he had justified his actions by saying he was just doing as others before him had done. Shielding the Pasha from the DEA had simply been an extension of that philosophy, though secretly he had hoped that such an act would gain him the confidence of his superiors. He had rationalized his behavior by arguing that he had had no idea as to the true identity of the man who held numbered account 549.617 RR and that his disobeying of the instructions spelled out on the account surveillance sheet was a reaction to his bitter experience with Jack Keely.
But he could no longer permit himself such moral leeway. The scope of the larceny proposed at this afternoon's meeting obliterated any remaining doubt. Nicholas A. Neumann was standing on the dark side of the legal fence. He couldn't lie to himself anymore. He had willingly abetted a criminal wanted by the drug enforcement authorities of several Western nations. He had lied to an agent of the United States government working to bring that man to justice. And now he stood on the brink of helping a bank commit an act of financial fraud unparalleled in recent history.
No more, Nick swore to himself. Like a bowstring drawn too far, he would spring reflexively in the opposite direction. He would make up for what he had done wrong. He thought for a minute about resigning his post, about running to the Swiss authorities. He imagined himself arriving at police headquarters brimming with good intentions, so eager to expose the corruption that was at this moment, Officer, devouring the United Swiss Bank. Nick laughed at himself. Some ploy! The word of an employee at the bank all of seven weeks, a foreigner in spite of his Swiss passport, pitted against that of Wolfgang Kaiser, the nearest thing to a folk hero this land of gold and chocolate had to offer.