Christopher Reich - Numbered Account

“No, Mr. Thorne, I am not a criminal,” he declared aloud to the silent walls, and then quietly to himself, “I don’t want to go to prison.”

Cerruti sat upright in his bed, proud of his decision. Slowly, though, the faint smile faded. He couldn’t make such a momentous decision alone. Discussion was required. But whom could he share his feelings with at this late hour? He had no relatives, none at least who would understand such complex issues. Friends? None. Colleagues? He wouldn’t consider it.

Cerruti lay in his bed thinking, and soon a damp sweat bathed his entire body. There was only one man with whom he could talk about this. The man who had helped him make so many of the major decisions in his life. Only he could help Marco rid himself of the nightmare.

For the second time in a quarter of an hour, Cerruti turned back the sheets and rose from his bed. He padded to the closet and pulled out a terry-cloth robe. He walked through the apartment turning on all the lights, stopping last in his small study, where he sat himself down behind his desk. He opened the drawer and removed a slim gray book—his personal phone directory—which he laid on his desk beside the telephone. His hand shook only a little as he found the proper page and located the number. He stared at the book, and though the apartment was heated to a mild seventy degrees, he began to shiver. For while he recognized the first number listed on the page, and had in fact called it on a hundred occasions during his long career, he had never called the second number. For emergencies, Marco, he heard the stentorian baritone tell him. For the closest of friends in the direst of times.

Cerruti pondered his decision—whether this was an emergency, whether it was in fact the direst of times—and when after a few minutes of this he found himself unable to fight back an onslaught of tears, he knew he had his answer.

At 1:37 A.M., he picked up the telephone and dialed his savior.

Wolfgang Kaiser picked up the phone on the second ring.

“Now what is it?” he asked, keeping his head on the pillow and his eyes closed. A dial tone answered noncommittally. Nearby, a phone rang again.

Kaiser dashed off the bedcovers and swung his feet to the floor. Kneeling, he grasped the handle of the bedside cabinet and flung open the door. A black telephone sat on a sliding drawer. His hand found the receiver as the phone rang once more.

“Kaiser,” he announced in a gruff tone.

“Please engage now.” A command.

Kaiser pressed a transparent cube on the base of the special phone, engaging the Motorola Viscom III Scrambler. Static tickled his ear. The line bulged with white noise. A moment passed and the line regained its clarity.

“Kaiser.” This time he spoke quietly, deferentially.

“I will be arriving in two days,” said Ali Mevlevi. “Make the usual arrangements. Eleven A.M. Zurich Airport.”

Kaiser placed the phone on his left shoulder, using his right hand to cover the mouthpiece. “Out,” he hissed to the lump on the far side of his bed. “Go to the bathroom, shut the door, and turn on the bathwater. Now!” He removed his hand from the phone. “Eleven A.M.,” he repeated. “Unfortunately, I cannot be there to welcome you.”

“I would not dream of disturbing the day of such an influential man. I hope I am not disturbing your night.” A hoarse laugh.

Kaiser pressed the phone against his chest and grunted at the form next to him, “Hurry up. Raus!”

A woman rose from the bed and walked unclothed to the bathroom. He watched her go. After all this time, he still enjoyed her lush figure. The woman closed the door without a backward glance.

Kaiser said, “Ali, this is a crazy time to come to Zurich. Thorne and his team are sure to be maintaining surveillance on the bank.”

“Thorne is a nuisance easily disposed of. Surely you don’t view him as a threat?”

“The man is a representative of the United States government. Any other time, we could shoo him away. Today?” Kaiser sighed. “You know too well the situation we are in.”

“No matter. He must be neutralized.”

“You don’t mean…”

“Growing squeamish, are we?” Mevlevi asked. “Don’t lose the qualities I used to admire in you. Ruthless. Relentless. Remorseless. You were unstoppable.”

Kaiser wanted to say that he still possessed these qualities. But such a response would be construed as defensive and thus weak. So he said nothing.

“Get this man off of my back,” said Mevlevi. “I don’t care how you choose to do it. If you prefer a more genteel method, so be it. But make no mistake, he is your responsibility.”

Kaiser could imagine the Pasha sitting in his study at five in the morning, smoking his filthy Turkish cigarettes, musing about the future. “Understood. And regarding your arrival, I’ll have Armin Schweitzer meet you at the airport.”

“No. Send Mr. Neumann. I’m anxious to meet the young firebrand. Did you know that he has been seeing Thorne? Or, Thorne has been seeing him. I haven’t yet decided how to interpret the meetings.”

“He’s been seeing Thorne?” asked Kaiser, unable to mask his surprise.

“Three times by my count. But he is resisting. Nothing to worry about. Not yet, anyway. Send Neumann. I simply wish to ensure that he’s one of us.”

“I still need him,” said Kaiser firmly. “See that no harm comes to him.”

“That will be my decision. You must have plenty of other stallions in your stables.”

“I said I require Neumann. He’s instrumental in our drive to win over undecided shareholders.”

Mevlevi coughed. He said distractedly, “I repeat, that will be my decision.”

Kaiser responded angrily. “Sometimes you lead me to believe you welcome the bid from Adler Bank.”

“Be content that I’m concerned. Consider it a display of my respect for our long relationship.” Mevlevi cleared his throat and asked, “Other news?”

Kaiser rubbed his eyelids. How did the man know? How could he have learned so quickly—in the space of only minutes? “We have a problem. Cerruti has broken. You scared him witless. It seems that Thorne has been pressuring him.”

“Cerruti is weak,” said Mevlevi.

“True. But he is a trusted colleague. He has given his life to the bank.”

“And now? Does he wish to clear his conscience? Is he seeking absolution at the hands of the United States Drug Enforcement Administration?”

Kaiser said reasonably, “I thought we would send the poor fellow to Grand Canary. I have an apartment there. It is far away and my staff can keep an eye on him.”

“A short-term solution to a long-term problem. Not at all like you, friend.”

Kaiser looked toward the bathroom, listening for the muted gurgle of water running in the tub. What would she think of all this if she knew? After so long together, would she be surprised that he was beholden to another?

“What is the status of this renegade bank?” Mevlevi asked.

“Very tight. Adler has a limitless source of cash. Every dollar they receive goes toward buying USB shares. Have you considered my proposition?”

“Two hundred million Swiss francs certainly ranks as greater than a proposition.”

“A loan. We’d repay the full amount in ninety days. Interest at forty percent per annum. A ten percent gain on your outlay in three months.”

“I’m hardly the Federal Reserve.”

Kaiser had difficulty guarding an objective tone. “It is crucial we repel the Adler Bank.”

“Why?” asked Mevlevi playfully. “Isn’t that the natural scheme of affairs in your financial world? Engulf and devour? It’s hardly more civilized than mine.”

Kaiser exploded, the strain of the past days quivering in his voice. “This is my life’s work, dammit.”