Montaro Caine A Novel

20





THE RECEPTION SALON OF HELMONT ZURBER’S OFFICE, ON THE uppermost floor of the UBS’s main headquarters, offered a grand view of the city, Lake Geneva, and the mountains beyond. But Cordiss had little interest in sightseeing as she was promptly ushered along a stately hall toward Herman Freich, who stood waiting just inside the doorway of Zurber’s private chambers.

“Miss Krinkle, you’ve had a pleasant flight, I hope?” Freich greeted her.

“I did.”

“This is Mr. Helmont Zurber. He represents Mr. Fritzbrauner’s interest in this matter.”

Standing before her, Helmont Zurber seemed younger than Freich, but not by much. Cordiss had not been able to scare up much information about him on the Internet, but she had learned that, in financial matters, he was a member of the six-person watchdog committee made up of European bankers who kept Fritzbrauner’s worldwide holdings under constant review. To Cordiss, Zurber’s skinny body, broad chin, bull-like neck, overscrubbed complexion, thick spectacles, fat hands, and concave chest seemed a mixture of contradictions.

“Pleasure meeting you, Mr. Zurber,” she almost purred as she took his hand.

“No, mine, my dear lady, mine indeed,” he charmed back, bowing slightly from the waist.

“Please have a seat, Miss Krinkle,” Zurber offered, gesturing Cordiss toward a chair at the table near the window. Standing politely behind her, Freich assisted Cordiss as she sat. “I do hope you’ve been enjoying our city.”

“I have,” she said, smiling warmly, sensing that this was neither the time nor the place to mention the fact that she preferred Paris. To her, Geneva seemed to be a place where you gathered wealth; Paris, on the other hand, was where you spent it.

“Geneva is especially beautiful this time of year,” Zurber said, turning to the window for a glance at the view he had never grown tired of.

“Yes, especially the mountains,” said Freich, with a sly smile.

Zurber and Freich joined Cordiss at the table where Zurber turned his attention to the paperwork in front of him, all of which bore directly on the coin. He thumbed through one page and then another. Then, without warning, he looked up at her with a hardened expression.

“We’re not prepared to offer you ten million dollars. I’ve been instructed to offer you one price and only one price. You will give me a yes or no answer. The price is three million.”

Cordiss was taken aback by the abrupt, harsh tone. What is he up to? she wondered. Then she heard herself say coolly, “That’s not quite what I had in mind.”

“I take it that is a no?” Zurber said.

Cordiss tried to return the man’s intense stare while she searched for a way to respond. Was there to be no discussion at all? Cordiss glanced at Freich, who glanced back for only the barest moment. This is Zurber’s show, not mine, he seemed to say to her before he turned to look out the window at the mountains, which he did loathe up close but did not mind admiring from this distance.

Cordiss’s eyes returned to Zurber. He had her and knew it. He had pushed the right button when she least expected it and he could see the doubt on her face. Shaken, Cordiss leaned back in the chair while Zurber abruptly stood and extended his hand. “Sorry you have refused our offer. We wish you the best of luck. Good day, Miss Krinkle.”

Cordiss felt herself thrown off balance with no possible way to recover. She smiled at Zurber as if admitting defeat. “I accept your offer, Mr. Zurber,” she said humbly.

Seconds after the words had passed her lips, Cordiss saw the corners of Zurber’s mouth curl into a faint smile before he shot a triumphant glance at Freich. When he turned back to face her, he seemed almost to be gloating. You sneaky son of a bitch, you tricked me, she thought. It had dawned on her too late that Zurber’s instructions must have been to pay the full price—only if he had to.

Cordiss struggled to calm herself, to remind herself that either way, she stood to collect more money than she had ever seen in her life, that she would never have to go home to the States or work as a receptionist ever again. Nevertheless, she felt blood racing through her veins and she knew that her cheeks had reddened. If it is the last thing I ever do, I will teach myself to piss ice water, she thought.

“There is of course a caveat, Miss Krinkle,” Zurber said.

“Oh? A caveat?” Cordiss muttered, still lost in her own thoughts.

“Yes. Our price is dependent upon your giving us the name of the person or persons who now hold the first coin.”

Cordiss tried to think of a way to hold the line. She and Victor had planned that such information would play an important role later and should therefore be held in reserve. It was a bargaining chip of considerable power and could not be squandered now, she thought.

But Cordiss was too close to a done deal to play brinksmanship with this barracuda banker. She took comfort in the thought that, when this deal was successfully put to bed, the way would be cleared for the third and most lucrative act of her scheme, one in which Whitney Carson and Franklyn Walker, currently living in a safe house in Alcala de Henarés, Spain, and generating useless spreadsheets for imaginary health clinics, would play a key role.

“You may have that information,” she told the banker.

“Good,” said Zurber.

“However, I have my own caveat.”

“Oh?” Zurber said. “And what may that be?”

“You may have it at the moment your check clears my bank.”

“I’m sorry, that is not satisfactory,” he said.

Cordiss suppressed an explosive urge to lash out. You prick, she fumed inwardly. Sexist bastard. Then, remembering the costly lesson she had only just learned, she decided there could never be a better time to piss ice water. “I’m sorry, too, Mr. Zurber. Good day, sir.” She turned to Freich. “May I have the merchandise back, please?” She stood, extending her palm.

Freich was not quick enough. She had knocked him off his cool. “I’m afraid I don’t have it here at the moment,” he said.

“Where is it?” she asked. “I no longer want to do business here. I must have it back this afternoon. I have a flight at five-thirty.”

“It can be arranged.” He started across the room. “Let me make a phone call. Excuse me a moment.” He disappeared into an adjacent office.

Cordiss sensed that Freich was calling Fritzbrauner for instructions. Zurber, in the meantime, stared at her disdainfully. But the uncertainty in his eyes told her she had him by the balls. She liked pissing ice water. And hell, if she turned out to be wrong and the deal fell through, there were still eight other names from The Ten on her list of potential customers.

“Heading back to New York, are you, Miss Krinkle?” inquired the barracuda banker, apparently hoping to signal that she should not mislead herself into thinking she had scored some kind of victory.

“Not yet. We have meetings in London and Paris,” she said.

When Freich returned from his phone call in the next room, he nodded to Zurber, who responded with a displeased look at Cordiss before he walked to his desk and pulled open a drawer. He hesitated, then shot Cordiss another cold look before fishing in the drawer for a folder.

“We accept your condition, Miss Krinkle,” Freich told Cordiss.

“But you have not heard my condition, Mr. Freich. My price is once again ten million. That is my condition if we are to do business. Otherwise I will return for the merchandise this afternoon.”

Freich smiled, but for a long time he said nothing. Then, turning to Zurber, his smile disappeared. He gave the banker a curt nod before his stern eyes shifted back to Cordiss. “When our check clears, you will tell us what we want to know,” he said. Taking her by the arm he led her over to Zurber’s desk. From his folder, Zurber reluctantly removed the paperwork needed to complete the deal. Cordiss read the pages carefully, then signed. When she finished, Zurber gave her a glare and an envelope. She lifted its flap and pulled out a check made out to her for ten million dollars. In light of the wild exhilaration that had just been let loose inside her, she was proud of her cool, controlled appearance.

“My bank in Liechtenstein has a branch here in Geneva,” she began before Freich interrupted her.

“Therefore, your check should clear by tomorrow at noon,” he said.

“Then you should hear from me no later than two.” With that, Cordiss Krinkle, now a multimillionaire, turned and walked out of Helmont Zurber’s office. She had made quite a payday for herself with only two little coins, plus a lifetime’s worth of preparation. In addition, she now knew how to piss ice water.