Numbered Account

"Do you know her name?" Kaiser asked.

"Fraulein Schon."

"By all means, please check." How had she found him here? He had told no one of his trip except Rita.

"Sir, the count is waiting," said Feller.

Kaiser could imagine the little weasel's impure thoughts. "Then go keep him company," he ordered. "I'll be up in two minutes."

The hotelier returned to the desk. "The lady is still on the line. I'll have the call transferred to one of our private cabins. Directly behind you, Herr Kaiser. Booth number one, the first glass door on the left."

Kaiser thanked the hotelier and walked rapidly to the booth. He closed the glass door and sat down on a stool facing the telephone. The phone jangled in an instant. "Kaiser."

"Wolfgang, is it you?" asked Sylvia Schon.

"What's going on? What's so important that you demean the good name of the bank by calling this hotel in a frenzy? Word will certainly get back to the count."

"Listen to me," Sylvia commanded. "You must leave the hotel immediately."

"Don't be ridiculous. I've only just arrived."

"It's Nicholas Neuma

What nonsense was this? wondered Kaiser. "Nicholas is with an important client of mine," he said sternly.

Sylvia's voice grew frantic. "Nick thinks that your friend, Mr. Mevlevi, killed his father. He said you knew all about it. He told me he has proof, but he wouldn't say any more. Now listen to me and get out of that hotel this second."

"Who has proof?" demanded Kaiser. The girl was rattling on at a hundred kilometers an hour, and he didn't care for the gist of her argument.

"Just leave the hotel," she pleaded. "They're going to arrest you and Mr. Mevlevi."

Kaiser took a deep breath, unable to decide if her ranting had merit. "I have an appointment with one of our bank's most important shareholders. His votes could be crucial to our long-term ability to keep Konig from enacting his plans. I can't just come back."

"Haven't you heard?"

Suddenly Kaiser felt very alone. The concern had fallen from her voice. Pity had replaced it. "What?"

"The Adler Bank has offered five hundred francs a share for the bank. Konig a

"No, I hadn't heard," Kaiser managed to whisper after a few seconds. Reto Feller had insisted on listening to the Brandenburg Concerto on his new car's hi-fi. He would kill him.

Sylvia said, "Konig is going to ask for a vote of confidence from the executive board at tomorrow's general assembly."

"Oh," said Kaiser halfheartedly. He was no longer listening. A commotion was brewing in front of the hotel. He could hear car doors slamming and instructions being issued in a flat military tone. Several members of the hotel staff hastened toward the revolving door at the front entry. He brought the phone closer to his ear. "Sylvia, be quiet for a few moments. Stay on the line."

He pushed open the cabin's glass door a crack. Outside the hotel, a heavy motor rumbled closer, then quit. Commands were given in excited Italian. A parade of jackbooted feet hit the ground. A bellboy ran into the lobby and disappeared behind the front desk. A moment later the hotel's general manager appeared, senatorial in dress and demeanor. He nearly jogged to the revolving door and went outside. Seconds later, he returned accompanied by two gentlemen, one of whom Kaiser recognized as Sterling Thorne. The other man, identifiable from countless photos in the daily papers, was Luca Merolli, the Tessin's crusading prosecuting attorney.

Thorne stopped in the center of the hotel lobby. He bent over the hotel manager and a

Luca Merolli repeated Thorne's words and gave them his own authority.

The general manager bobbed excitedly on his toes. "Si. We have the elevator and the interior stairwell. Come, I show them to you."

Thorne turned to Merolli. "Bring in your men right away. Kaiser's up there this very second with Mevlevi. My two rats are sitting in a gilded cage. Hurry up, goddammit. I want both of them."

"Si, si," shouted Merolli as he ran out of the lobby.

"Wolfgang?" came a faraway voice. "Are you there? Hello?"

Kaiser stared dumbfounded at the receiver in his hand. She was telling me the truth, he whispered. I'm to be arrested with Ali Mevlevi. Curiously, his concerns were not for himself, but for the bank. What will become of USB? Who'll protect my beloved institution from that bastard Konig?

"Wolfgang, are you there?" asked Rita Sutter. "Listen to Fraulein Schon's warnings. You must come home immediately. For the good of the bank, get out of there now."

Rita's calm voice awoke in him a rational sense of self-protection. He took stock of just where he was and what was happening. He realized that not only did he have a full and unimpeded view of Sterling Thorne, but that the odious American had an equally unobscured view of him. One glance in his direction and Thorne would spot him. Kaiser removed his foot from the sill of the door, letting it close. He shifted on the velvet stool so that his body faced the interior wall.

"Rita, it appears you were correct. I'll try and get back as soon as possible. If anyone calls for me, press, television, simply say that I am out of the office and ca

"Yes, but where will you go? When can we expect-"

Kaiser replaced the receiver and shielded his face as best as possible with his right arm. He didn't dare look toward the lobby. He focused his gaze on a patch of carpeting near his left foot, where the embers of another guest's cigarette had burned a neat round hole. Staring at this petty ingratitude, he cringed in expectation of the sharp knock against the transparent door. He imagined the leering visage of Mr. Sterling Thorne staring at him through the window, beckoning him with a crooked finger to give himself up. Wolfgang Kaiser's life would end at that moment.

But no sharp knock came at the cabin window. No American voice demanded that he vacate the booth. He heard only the orderly procession of a large number of men crossing the marble floor. Tic tac, tic tac, tic tac. Thorne yelled more instructions. Then, thankfully, there was quiet.

Ali Mevlevi looked up from his bleeding leg and said, "I'm afraid I must go immediately."

Yves-Andre Wenker pointed at the pool of blood. "You can't go anywhere bleeding like that. Take a seat. Let me get you medical attention. You need to see a doctor."

Mevlevi limped across the room. He was in terrible pain. "Not today, Mr. Wenker. I haven't the time." The leg was the least of his worries. Khan, while frantic, had been every bit justified in his worry. If Joseph was in fact an informant of the DEA, there was no end to what he might have told Thorne. Mevlevi must assume the worst. All his operations in Switzerland had been compromised. His relationship with Gino Makdisi. His control over Wolfgang Kaiser. And most important, his funding of the Adler Bank's takeover of USB.

Khamsin was in jeopardy.

"I'm not asking you," said a visibly agitated Wenker. "I'm telling you. Take a seat. I'll call down to reception. The hotel is very discreet."

Mevlevi ignored him. He stopped beside the coffee table and threw his phone into the briefcase. He looked back at the trail of bloody footprints he had left on the carpet. He was losing a great deal of blood. Damn you, Neuma

"At least take the time to sign this last document." Wenker waved a form in the air. He looked nervous. Sweat was forming on his brow. "Civil service is obligatory. I must have a waiver."