Finally, he moved to the chest of drawers near the bed. The top drawer was filled with socks and underwear, the second drawer with T-shirts and a couple of sweaters. Nothing was hidden in the corners or taped to its underside. The bottom drawer held a few more sweaters, a pair of ski gloves, and two baseball caps. His hands delved under the caps and came to rest upon a heavy leather object. Aha! He removed a well-oiled holster and stared at it for a few seconds. It held a Colt Commander.45-caliber pistol. He took the weapon out of the holster and saw that the gun was loaded and that a round was chambered, the safety on. He drew aim on an invisible adversary, then, ashamed of himself, holstered the pistol and slipped it back into its hiding place.

A glass of water and a few magazines sat on the nightstand. Der Spiegel, Sports Illustrated- the swimsuit edition- and Institutional Investor, which had a mean-looking fellow with a brushy mustache on the cover. He probed the mattress, then lay on the floor and looked under it. Nothing. The flat was clean except for the pistol. That was hardly unusual. Every man in the Swiss Army kept a service revolver at his home. Of course, they probably didn't keep it next to their bed with nine bullets in the butt and a round chambered. Still, he didn't think it strange for the mark to have a gun. After all, Al-Makdisi had called him "the marine."

Wolfgang Kaiser slammed his hand onto the conference table. "It's in his blood to be loyal. Did you hear him?"

Next to him stood Rudolf Ott and Armin Schweitzer. All three focused their attention on a beige speakerphone marooned in the mahogany sea.

"Knew it all along," said Ott. "I could have told you five minutes into our first interview."

Schweitzer muttered that he had heard him, too, but the tone of his voice said he didn't believe a word.

Kaiser had reason to be content. He had kept an eye on Nicholas Neumann for years. Followed the boy's difficult childhood, the mother's peregrinations from one town to another, his stint in the Marine Corps. But only from a safe distance. Then three years ago, he'd lost Stefan, his only child; his beautiful, doomed dreamer. And soon afterward, he had found himself thinking of Nicholas more and more. He suggested that the boy enroll at Harvard Business School, and when Nicholas agreed, he said aloud what he'd been thinking for over a year: "Why not bring him to the bank?" He'd been disappointed when Nicholas chose a post on Wall Street. He hadn't been surprised, though, when he called six months later, informing him he hated the place. Nicholas had too much European blood in his veins to fall into that go-go lifestyle. And hadn't he just said it? It was in his blood to be loyal to the bank.

Yet, despite his contacts over the years, Kaiser had had no idea what Neumann would really be like until just this moment. And by that he meant very specifically that he'd had no idea whether or not he would be like his father. Now he had his answer. And it pleased him enormously.

The speakerphone squawked.

"I hope you were able to follow our conversation," said Martin Maeder. "I had the windows closed and the blinds lowered. It was like the tomb of Ramses. We scared the shit out of the kid."

"He didn't sound too scared, Marty," said Armin Schweitzer, standing closest to the speakerphone, arms crossed over his barrel chest. "His math skills certainly didn't suffer."

"The kid's a wizard," gushed Maeder. "Arrogant as all hell, but a goddamned Einstein!"

"You're right," said Kaiser. "His father was the same way. Worked as my assistant for ten years. We practically grew up together. He was a bright man. Terrible end."

"Gunned down in Los Angeles," added Schweitzer, unable to disguise his glee in the misfortune of others. "The place is a war zone."

"I won't hear your ignorant accusations," shouted Kaiser, his exuberant mood soured. "Alex Neumann was a good man. Maybe too good. We're damned lucky to have his kid."

"He's one of us," said Maeder. "Didn't fidget once in that chair. A natural."

"So it seems," said Kaiser. "That's all for now, Marty. Thank you." He terminated the connection, then looked at Ott and Schweitzer. "He acquitted himself well, wouldn't you say?"

"I would caution against reading too much into Neumann's actions," said Schweitzer. "I'm sure he was motivated more by fear than by any loyalty to the bank."

"Really?" asked Kaiser. "I disagree. I can't think of a better way in which we could have tested his executive mettle, or his loyalty to the bank. It takes balls for a trainee to make that type of decision in the absence of any guidance. Rudy, call Dr. Schon. Have her join us. Sofort!"

Ott scrambled to the telephone.

Kaiser took two measured paces toward Schweitzer so that the men were an arm's length apart. His countenance darkened. "It's you with whom I should be concerned, Armin. Isn't it your duty to monitor the surveillance list given us by Mr. Studer and this Thorne character? Of all our numbered accounts, certainly this one should have caught your eye."

The director of compliance met the Chairman's gaze. "Franz Studer gave us no warning. I was indisposed Wednesday evening when the list was submitted to us. I didn't have a chance to review the list until yesterday afternoon. When I saw it, naturally I was appalled."

"Naturally," said Kaiser, unconvinced. Schweitzer had two excuses for every missed step, but never an apology. Indisposed? Probably something that could only be cured by a few generous shots of schnapps. He put his hand on the man's shoulder and squeezed. "Don't ever forget at whose behest you serve, Armin."

Rudolf Ott hung up the phone. "Neumann's papers will be here right away," he announced, then glared at Schweitzer. "I can't get over the coincidence of this account number appearing on the list while both Herr Kaiser and I were absent in London. And you, Armin," Ott let the final word dangle, "indisposed."

Schweitzer rolled forward onto the balls of his feet. His cheeks colored. Ott took a step backward, cowering. Schweitzer looked at the Chairman, and his stance relaxed. "You've confirmed that Franz Studer did not accidentally allow the account past his desk?" he asked.

"If the account is on the list, it is because Studer put it there," said Kaiser calmly. "Hard to believe even he's joined the Americans. At least we know where he stands." He shook his head and for the first time realized the hairbreadth nature of their escape. He exhaled noisily. "We were damned lucky."

Ott raised his hand shyly as if afraid to be called upon. "Another piece of unfortunate news. Dr. Schon has just informed me that Peter Sprecher is leaving us."

"Not another one," said Kaiser. He didn't have to ask where Sprecher was going.

"To the Adler Bank," said Ott. "Another lion for Konig's menagerie."

"One more reason not to trust Neumann," said Schweitzer, suddenly heartened. "The two are fast friends. Where one goes, the other will follow."

"I think we can rule out Neumann's leaving," Kaiser stated. "He stuck out his neck for all of us. He didn't do it without a reason." He walked slowly over the maroon carpet, his feet traveling from one canton to the next. From the blue and white shield of Lucerne to the bear of Bern to the bull of Uri. "Regardless of Mr. Neumann's motivations, it is clear that we can no longer handle our special accounts as before."

Schweitzer spoke immediately. "Why not have members of my staff, of compliance, handle our special accounts? We can keep perfect track of our clients' commands."

Kaiser said nothing. He had his own notions about who should keep track of the special accounts.

"Why not bring Mr. Neumann into our offices?" suggested Ott. "He's shown a flair for handling this account, and you do require a new assistant. Mr. Feller isn't coping well with the increased workload. Konig's bid is making matters unmanageable."