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long while.
So off to Zurich we went, at least for a day or two. I didn't expect to find
the Wolf there. But you never know. And I'd never been to Switzerland. Jannie
begged me to bring back chocolate, a suitcase full of the stuff, and I
promised I would.A whole suitcase full of Swiss chocolate, sweetheart. Least I
can do for missing most of your ninth year.
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Chapter 103
If I werethe Wolf, this would be a good place to live. Zurich is a beautiful,
amazingly clean city on the lake the Zürichsee with lovely fragrant shade
trees and wide, winding sidewalks along the water, and fresh mountain air
meant to be breathed in deeply. When I arrived, a storm was imminent and the
air smelled like brass. The exterior of a majority of the buildings were in
light shades, sand and white, and several were adorned with Swiss flags
twisting in the blustery wind off the lake.
As I drove into the city I noticed trolley tracks everywhere with
heavy-looking wires hanging overhead. The power of the old. Also several
life-size fiberglass cows painted with Alpine scenes, which reminded me of
Little Alex's favorite toy, Moo. What was I going to do about Alex? What could
I do?
The Zurich Bank was a sixties-looking building, glass-and-steel front,
situated very close to the lake. Sandy Greenberg met me outside. She was
wearing a gray suit, had a black handbag slung over her shoulder, and looked
as though maybe she worked inside the bank instead of for Interpol.
"You ever been to Zurich, Alex?" Sandy asked as she gave me a hug and kiss on
both cheeks.
"Never. Had one of their multipurpose knives once when I was ten or eleven."
"Alex, we have to eat a meal here. Promise me. Let's go inside now. They're
waiting for us, and they don't like to wait in Zurich. Especially the
bankers."
The inside of the Zurich Bank was expensive-looking, highly polished, wood
paneling everywhere, as spotless as a hospital operating room. The teller area
was natural stone, with more wood paneling. The tellers were efficient and
professional-looking, and theywhispered to one another. The bank's branding
was understated, but there was a great deal of modern art on the wall. I
thought that I understood: the artwas the bank's branding.
"Zurich has always been a haven for avant-garde intellectuals, cultured
types," Sandy said, anddidn't whisper. "The Dada movement was born here.
Wagner, Strauss, Jung all lived here."
"James Joyce wroteUlysses in Zurich," I said, and winked at her.
Sandy laughed. "I forgot, you're a closet intellectual."
We were escorted to the bank president's office, which had a serious look.
Neat as a pin, too. Only one transaction on the desk blotter, everything else
filed away.
Sandy handed Mr. Delmar Pomeroy an envelope. "A signed warrant," she said.
"The account number is 616479Q."
"Everything has been promptly arranged," Herr Pomeroy said to us. That was
all. Then his warrant officer took us to look at the transactions in and out
of account number 616479Q. So much for the secrecy and security of Swiss
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banks.Everything has been promptly arranged.
Chapter 104
This was feelingmore like an efficient, orderly police investigation now.
Even though I knew it really wasn't. Sandy, two of her agents from Interpol,
and I got to look through all of Corky Hancock's transactions in a small,
windowless room somewhere deep in the basement of the Zurich Bank. The former
CIA agent's account had grown from two hundred thousand U.S. dollars to
slightly over six million. Youza.
The latest, and largest, deposits totaled three and a half million and had
come in four installments this year.
The source of the payment was an account in the name of Y. Jikhomirov. It
took us a couple of hours to track down all of the records. There were more
than a hundred pages going all the way back to '91. The year the Wolf had been
brought out of Russia. Coincidence? I didn't believe in them. Not anymore.
We carefully examined withdrawals from the Jikhomirov account. They included
payments to a company that leased private jets; regular air travel with
British Airways and Air France; hotels: Claridge's, the Bel-Air in L.A., the
Sherry-Netherland in New York, the Four Seasons in Chicago and Maui. There
were wire transfers to America, South Africa, Australia, Paris, Tel Aviv.The
trail of a Wolf?
And an entry that particularly caught my interest the purchase of four
expensive sports cars in France, all from a dealership in Nice, Riviera
Motors. A Lotus, a special-edition Jaguar, and two Aston Martins.
"The Wolf is supposed to be a sports car enthusiast," I said to Sandy. "Maybe
the cars mean something. Maybe we're closer than we suspect. What do you
think?"
She nodded agreement. "Yes, I think we should visit Riviera Motors in Nice.
Nice isnice. But first, Alex, lunch in Zurich. I made you a promise."
"No, I think you made me promise. After my bad Swiss Army knife joke."
I was hungry anyway, so it seemed a good idea. Sandy chose the Veltliner
Keller, one of her favorites a restaurant she thought I would appreciate.
As we entered, she explained that Veltliner Keller had been a restaurant
since 1551, a long time for any business to survive. So we forgot about police
work for an hour and a half. We dined on barley soup,zuppe engadinese; a
casserole,veltliner topf; and very good wine. Everything was just so: crisp
white linens and napkins, roses in sterling vases, crystal salt and pepper
shakers.
"This is one of your better ideas," I told Sandy near the end of the meal. "A
nice break in the action."
"It's called lunch, Alex. You have to try it more. You should come to Europe
with yourfriend, Jamilla. You're working too hard."
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"It shows, I guess."
"No, actually you look as good as ever. You're holding up better than
Denzel in his latest movies, anyway. Somehow you persevere. I don't knowhow,
but you do. But I can tell that you're twisted up inside. Eat, relax, then
we'll go to Nice and check out some sports cars. It will be like a holiday.
Maybe we'll even catch a killer. Finish your wine, Alex."
"Right," I said, "and then I have to buy some chocolate for Jannie. A
suitcase full. I made another promise."
"Didn't you promise to catch the Wolf?" Sandy asked.
"Yeah, that too."
Chapter 105
Next stop,a luxury-car dealership in Nice. I felt as if I were in an Alfred
Hitchcock movie.
The owner of Riviera Motors, the "concessionnaire exclusif Jaguar, Aston
Martin, Lotus," appeared to like drama, too, at least in a design sense. To
that effect, a long row of gleaming black cars was displayed in the showroom. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]