Mevlevi paused long enough to allow him to catch up. "You decided to join me."

"The Chairman asked that I accompany you," said Nick evenly, though to his own ear he lent his words a combative ring. In his heart he had given up the amoral preserves of banking for the riskier estates of law enforcement. If he couldn't intervene directly, then he would bear witness, he would record, he would make himself a living testament to this man's crimes. And if that meant he had to become an accomplice, and later pay the necessary price, then so be it.

"Ordered you was more like it," said Mevlevi as he set off at a leisurely pace. "Still, he thinks highly of you. He told me your father was at the bank before you. You respect your heritage, following in his footsteps like a good son. My father always wished for as much, but I could never be a derv. The spinning, the chanting. I was only interested in this world."

Nick walked alongside the Pasha, barely hearing his words. His mind was filled only with plans and plots and schemes to end the man's reign.

Mevlevi said, "Family is important. I've come to think of Wolfgang as a brother. Without my help I doubt the bank would have grown at such a rapid pace. Not because of my money. What I gave him was the spark to succeed. Without the proper encouragement it's surprising what an intelligent man cannot do. All of us are capable of great acts. It's the motivation we so often lack, don't you agree?"

Nick suppressed a caustic grin and managed to say yes, though he was certain his definition of "great acts" differed wildly from the Pasha's. What spark had Mevlevi provided Kaiser to succeed? What did he have in store for Nick?

Mevlevi said, "Soon it will be time for the next generation to see to the bank. It's a pleasure to know that some of that responsibility may fall on your shoulders, Mr. Neumann. Or may I call you Nicholas?"

"Mr. Neumann is fine."

"I see." The Pasha waved a finger at Nick as if scolding him. "More Swiss than the Swiss themselves. A good strategy. I know it well. I've lived in other men's countries my entire adult life. Thailand, Argentina, the States, now Lebanon."

Nick asked where he had lived in the States.

"Here and there," said Mevlevi, as if it were the title of a catchy tune. "New York, California." Suddenly, he walked faster. "Ah, my colleagues have arrived."

Ahead, on a park bench facing the river Limmat sat two heavily dressed men. Shadows cast by the boughs of an overhanging pine masked their faces. One was short and stocky, the other larger, plain obese.

"This shouldn't take long," said Mevlevi. "Feel free to join me. In fact, I insist. Kaiser expects me to provide you with a bit of a business education. Consider this the first lesson: How to maintain a proper relationship between supplier and distributor."

Nick steeled himself. Be silent, he told himself. Be vigilant. And above all, remember every goddamned word spoken.

"Albert, Gino, I am thrilled to see you again. Salaam Aleikhum." Ali Mevlevi kissed each man three times- left cheek, right cheek, left cheek- all the while pumping their hands.

"Salaam Aleikhum, Al-Mevlevi," each said in turn.

Albert was the smaller of the two men, a tired accountant one audit past his prime with wiry gray hair and mottled yellow skin. "You must tell us the latest news of our homeland," he said. "We have heard encouraging reports."

Next to him, Gino, a lumbering giant going three hundred pounds easy, nodded his head as if he had also wanted to ask the question.

"Most is true," said Mevlevi. "Skyscrapers going up everywhere. A new freeway nearing completion. And still the traffic is absolutely terrible."

"Always," laughed Albert, too loudly.

"Perhaps the nicest development has been the reopening of the St. Georges. Better than before the war."

"Tea dancing?" Gino asked in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

"Speak up," exhorted Albert. He averted his gaze from his brother and spoke to an invisible gallery in the sky. "The size of an elephant and he talks like a mouse."

"I asked if tea dances were still held at the St. Georges?"

"More splendid than ever," said Mevlevi. "Thursdays and Sundays at four on the esplanade. A wonderful string quartet."

Gino smiled wistfully.

"There, you've made my brother happy," said Albert. He put a hand on the Pasha's shoulder and whispered in his ear.

"Yes, of course," replied Mevlevi. He took a step backward and placed his hand in the lee of Nick's back, nudging him forward. "This is a new member of my staff. Mr. Nicholas Neumann. In charge of financing for our operations. Neumann, meet Albert and Gino Makdisi, brethren long absent from Lebanon."

Nick stepped forward and shook each man's hand. He knew who they were. A corner of the local papers was practically reserved for their portraits. And it wasn't the society column.

Albert Makdisi guided the group toward the river. "We spoke this morning with our colleagues in Milan. All is well. Monday at this time the shipment will be in Zurich."

"Joseph tells me your men appeared nervous. 'Skittish,' he said. Why?"

"Who is this Joseph?" asked Albert. "Why do you send a man to accompany your shipment? Look at me, Al-Mevlevi. We are not nervous. We are thrilled to see you once again. It's been too long. Nervous? No. Surprised? Happily!"

The Pasha lost his easy banter. "Not as surprised as I, when I learned that you had sent the lovely Lina to Max Rothstein. You knew I had an eye for her sort, didn't you? You always were a clever one, Albert."

Nick could feel the tension between the two men ratchet up a notch.

Albert Makdisi dabbed at the corner of his eyes with a white hankie. Both lower eyelids sagged horribly, revealing vitreous crescents. "What are you talking about? Lina? I don't know a woman named Lina. Tell me about her."

"With pleasure," said Mevlevi. "A spirited girl from Jounieh. A Christian. She came to live with me these last nine months. Alas, she has recently departed. I understand you spoke together every Sunday."

Albert Makdisi grew red in the face. "Utter nonsense. Who is Lina? Really, this is beyond any of my imaginings. Let us talk sense. We have a shipment due in. Business to discuss."

Gino huffed his agreement, keeping his eyes locked on his brother.

Mevlevi adopted a conciliatory tone of voice. "You're right, Albert. Very important business. It is to that end that we must dedicate ourselves. Personal differences? Let's put them in the waste bin. I'm willing to give you an opportunity to apologize for your past actions. I want us to restart our business relationship on its former solid ground."

Albert spoke to Gino as if no one else were present. "Here is a real gentleman. He proposes to return to us that which we have not yet lost." He gave a dyspeptic grunt. "Go on, Al-Mevlevi. We await your proposition with open assholes."

Mevlevi pretended not to have heard the insult. "I am asking you for a prepayment of forty million dollars for the shipment that is due to arrive Monday. The full amount must be transferred to my account at the United Swiss Bank before the end of business today."

"Do you expect me to run to my bankers and sit with them while they rush to make this payment?"

"If necessary."

Gino prodded Albert. "Perhaps, older brother, we should take a moment and discuss the proposition. We do have the cash. It's only a question of two or three days."

"Nonsense," Albert Makdisi spat out. "With such sound advice we would be bankrupt three times over." He took a step forward and addressed himself directly to Mevlevi. "We will never prepay for a shipment of merchandise. This is forty million dollars we are discussing. If anything should happen to the cargo, then what? Once it is in our warehouse, properly weighed, its quality assayed, payment shall be made. Until then, I am sorry."