Christopher Reich - Numbered Account

“We don’t talk about the past very often here,” she said. “I felt, though, I had to tell you how much I admired your father. He had a very positive influence on my life. He was a strong believer. To him anything was possible. Sometimes I ask myself if I wouldn’t be working for Alex instead of Wolfgang, if your father were still…” She let her words drift off, then smiling suddenly, brought her attention to Nick. “He was the one who pushed me into getting my degree at HSG—the Hochschule St. Gallen. I’ll always be grateful to him for that. Though I don’t think he would have liked how I used it.”

Nick was impressed. HSG was Switzerland’s most respected business school. “You practically run the bank,” he said, meaning it. “That’s pretty good, isn’t it?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Nicholas. I haven’t seen Rudolf Ott fetching the Chairman coffee and biscuits.” She stood up and patted her skirt into place.

Nick circled the desk, accompanying her to the door. He had wanted to work the conversation around to his father’s duties at the bank. Now it seemed there wouldn’t be time. “Can I ask you something about my father?” he said awkwardly, hating to broach this subject out of the blue. “Did you ever hear of him doing anything that might have harmed the bank? Something that might have hurt USB’s reputation?”

Rita Sutter stopped abruptly. “Who told you that? No, don’t tell me. I can imagine.” She turned so her body brushed against Nick and looked him in the eye. “Your father never did anything to tarnish this bank’s good name. He was an honorable man.”

“Thanks, I had just heard that—”

“Shhh.” She brought a finger up to her lips. “Don’t believe everything you hear on this floor. Oh, and about that letter you’re drafting for the Chairman, he asked that you keep the proposed staff cuts to a minimum. Here are his ideas.”

She handed him the sheaf of papers and left the office. He glanced down at the topmost sheet. It was entirely in her writing.

An hour later, Nick arrived at a final draft of the Chairman’s letter—including Rita Sutter’s suggestions on how to minimize any proposed staff cuts. He was rereading the document, deciding if it was satisfactory, when the phone rang.

“Neumann speaking.”

“What, no secretary, young Nick? One would expect better for the king’s equerry.”

Nick threw down his pencil and tipped back his chair. A broad smile creased his face. “I work for an emperor. You, my friend, work for a lowly king.”

“Touche.”

“Hello, Peter. How are things on the other side?”

“The other side?” Sprecher chuckled. “Of what? The Maginot Line? Damned busy, actually. A sight too much activity for these weary bones. And you, no fear of heights? My, my, the Fourth Floor. All this time I thought you were a worker bee.”

Nick missed his colleague’s lazy patter and his dry sense of humor. “I’ll tell you about it over a beer. You’ll have no trouble affording one now.”

“Agreed. Keller Stubli at seven o’clock.”

Nick scanned the pile of work on his desk. “Make it eight, and I’ll see you there. Now, what can I do for you?”

“You mean you can’t guess?” Sprecher sounded genuinely surprised. “I’m looking to buy a packet of your bank’s shares. Wouldn’t happen to have a couple thousand lying around your desk?”

Nick played along with his friend’s joke. “Sorry to disappoint you, Peter, but we’re fresh out. Saving for a rainy day, you might say. As a matter of fact, we’re shorting Adler shares.”

“Give me a few weeks and I’ll be happy to personally cover them for you. I’ve been looking for the means to buy a new Ferrari.”

“Good luck but…”

“Can you hold one second?” Sprecher interrupted. “I have another call.”

Before Nick could answer, Peter cut the line. Nick picked up a pen and tapped it on the desk. He wondered what Sylvia was up to right now. No doubt fretting over her all-important employee retention rate. Or better yet, dreaming about her trip to the States after the general assembly.

A faint squawk and Sprecher returned. “Sorry, Nick, an emergency. Always is, eh?”

“Since when are you on the trading desk? I thought you were hired to help start a private banking department.”

“Things change quickly around this place. You might say I’m following the Neumann plan. I’ve been jacked upstairs onto Konig’s acquisition team.”

“Jesus Christ,” said Nick. “So you’re not joking. You’re a point man on the USB deal? Scouring the market for our shares.”

“Don’t take it personally. Konig thought I might know where I could dig some up. You might say he’s making the best use of the tools at his disposal. As a matter of fact, we hustled a few thousand shares from your own boys yesterday.”

“So I heard,” said Nick. “I wouldn’t count on it happening again.”

The story was that several United Swiss Bank portfolio managers more eager to lock in a double-digit return on their clients’ investments than see to the security of the bank had sold shares of USB, which were trading at an all-time high. Word of their behavior quickly reached the Fourth Floor, enraging the Chairman. Kaiser stormed their offices, personally firing each on the spot.

Sprecher adopted a serious tone. “Listen, chum, some of our guys want to talk to you… privately.” He let the last word hang in the air. “They’d like to suggest some sort of an arrangement.”

“What for?” Suddenly, Nick recalled the Chairman’s warning that Sprecher would be quick to exploit their friendship. At the time, he’d found the idea ridiculous.

“Must I be so obtuse? Guess.”

“No,” said Nick, his disbelief turning to fury. “You tell me.”

“What I asked you about earlier. Blocks of shares. Preferably, big blocks. We want to put this deal on ice before the general assembly. You know who’s holding the largest stakes. Tell us their names and we’ll make it worth your while.”

Nick could feel the nape of his neck flush. First Schweitzer pawing about his desk for the list of shareholders, and now Sprecher. “You’re serious?”

“Deadly.”

“Then I’ll say this once, Peter, and please, don’t take it the wrong way. Go fuck yourself.”

“Easy, Nick. Easy.”

“How low do you think I’d stoop?” Nick asked.

“There is no honor in loyalty,” said Sprecher earnestly, as if disabusing a child of a foolish notion. “Not anymore. At least not to corporations. I’m in this game for a paycheck and a pension. You should be too.”

“You worked at this bank for twelve years. Why are you so eager to see her go down?”

“It is not a question of one bank dying so the other can live. This will be a merger in the truest sense: United Swiss Bank’s strength in private banking combined with the Adler Bank’s proven trading skills. Together, we can control the entire Swiss market.”

Nick didn’t find the prospect so thrilling. “I’m afraid the answer is no.”

“Do yourself a favor, Nick. If you help us, I can promise you a position here after USB’s been swallowed. Otherwise your head will be on the chopping block with everyone else on the Fourth Floor. Get with the winner!”

“If the Adler Bank is so awash in cash,” Nick demanded, “why don’t you just make a bid for the whole company?”

“I wouldn’t believe every rumor you hear. Hold on a second, chum.” He cupped a hand over the mouthpiece, but Nick could still make out the muffled words. “Hassan, throw me that price sheet. No, the pink one, you bloody wog. Yes, yes, that’s it.” Sprecher released his hand from the mouthpiece. “Anyway, Nick, think about our proposition. I’ll tell you more tonight. See you at eight, right?”