The flurry in the kitchen resembled a fast forward video. Breakfast at the Dennis household on a weekday morning, normally a very controlled and civilized event, was vastly different that morning. Kerri, Miles and Andrea, all victims of extraordinary and exhausting weekends, had slept late. Kerri, the first to arrive, proceeded to the refrigerator and removed her beloved orange juice. Andrea, still dressed in her pajamas and nightgown, arrived seconds later. Her eyes showed the affects of consecutive late nights. “Kerri, darling!” she said, delighted to see her. “I’m sorry we missed you last night. How was your weekend?”
Kerri grinned, gulping her juice and measuring ground coffee into a filter. “First tell me about Chicago,” she replied.
“I asked you first,” Andrea countered.
The kitchen door burst open and Miles rushed in. “Good morning, Kerri,” he sang, hugging her with one arm and sticking the other in the sleeve of his blue suit jacket. He took a sip of her orange juice, then grinned at her. “How was your weekend?”
Kerri was about to reply when Miles glanced at his watch. “Sorry. You’ll have to tell me later. We’re late.” He turned to Andrea. “Would you get the car, please, dear?”
Andrea stuck her tongue out at Miles, then reluctantly headed for the garage.
Miles and Kerri filled styrene cups with coffee, then hurried to meet Andrea in the driveway. They climbed into the van while struggling to hold their cups in a perpendicular position.
“Now speak to me, Kerri,” Andrea demanded, then placed the gear shift in reverse and turned her head to look out the rear window. “I’m dying to know about your weekend.”
“The first part was horrible. The second part was fantastic.”
“Tell us about the horrible part,” Andrea demanded.
To the horror of both Miles and Andrea, Kerri proceeded to disclose the story of her ugly confrontation with Brian.
Andrea frowned at Miles. “I told you something like that would happen,” she scolded.
“Did he hurt you in any way?” Miles asked.
“No, but I’m sure he would have if…” Kerri paused to wipe tears from her eyes.
“If what?” Miles asked, his eyes bulging, his mouth open in anticipation.
“He made me take him to your bedroom. Then he forced off my clothes and…” Again Kerri wiped tears from her eyes. “He grabbed my hair and threw me on the bed… At that point I knew I was going to have to let him rape me.”
Andrea slammed the brakes and brought the car to an abrupt stop in the train station parking lot. “My God!” she declared. “What…”
“We’ve got to run, dear,” Miles interrupted. “Kerri will call you the minute she gets to the office. She’ll tell you the whole story.” He climbed out of the van and started walking toward the station.
“Just tell me fast, Kerri,” Andrea insisted. “It’ll only take a second.”
“It had a happy ending. I’ll call you as soon as I get to the office,” Kerri promised, then hurried to catch up with Miles.
“I’ll kill you if you don’t!” Andrea shouted, cursing her decision to remain in pajamas.
“What did happen?” Miles asked as Kerri took a seat on the train beside him.
Kerri grinned. “I was rescued.”
“By whom?”
“You’ll never guess in a million years.”
“Give me a clue.”
“He’s your biggest client.”
“Louis Visconti?”
Kerri nodded. “Honestly, Miles, I’ve never been so happy to see anyone in my life.”
“Well I’ll be damned! How did Louis know?”
“He said he just decided to come to the house and see how I was. When he saw Brian’s car in the driveway, he went in and followed the noise.”
“How did he handle Brian?”
“He told him the police were on the way.”
“What did Brian do?”
“He left.”
“Incredible.! I’m going to thank Louis as soon as I can.”
“I’ve already done that,” Kerri said, smiling like the proverbial cat.
“How?”
“We spent the rest of the weekend together, in his apartment.”
“Out of gratitude, or did you really want to do it?”
“I resent that, Miles,” Kerri said with a scowl of indignation. “I would never do anything I didn’t really want to do.”
“I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t.”
Kerri was now compelled to complete her story. She saw it as necessary to set the stage, or in some way to justify her decision to live with Louis Visconti. Her heart beat faster. She moved forward in her seat, then turned to face Miles. “It was more than gratitude, Miles.”
“What are you telling me?”
“I love him.”
“You love him! How could you? You barely know him.”
“I know him better than I’ve ever known anyone in my entire life and I love him from the bottom of my heart.”
Miles grinned. “I’m shocked, relieved, flabbergasted, and happy as hell for you… I suppose you’re going to tell me you want to live with him.”
“How could you possibly know?” Kerri asked, feeling an avalanche of relief. The one thing she had thought would be the most difficult had suddenly become a nonevent.
“I didn’t have to be a rocket scientist. I brought up three kids in the seventies and eighties.”
“Do I have your blessings?”
“You have my blessings, and only one piece of advice.”
“I’ve learned to respect your advice. What is it?”
“However strongly you feel about this relationship, move slowly and keep your eyes wide open. Remember, Louis is a lot older than you and he’s lived in the fast lane for a long time.”
Kerri kissed Miles on his cheek. “I will, and thank you for being so understanding.”
“What are you going to do about your husband?”
“Louis is going to arrange an appointment for me with a lawyer he knows. Hopefully, she’ll remove Brian from my life.”
As promised, Kerri called Andrea the minute she arrived at her desk and completed the story of her incredible weekend.
“I’m disappointed to lose you and I’m insanely jealous,” Andrea declared. “I’m prepared to bless this union on one condition.”
“What?”
“I insist that you call me at least once a week and tell me everything that happens in your relationship with that hunk.”
“That’s the least I can do. I can’t thank you enough for all you and Miles have done for me.”
CHAPTER 68
Zurich. Monday, April 16.
The tranquillity and serenity of a warm April afternoon on the balcony of Alfred Schnieder’s lavish Zurich condominium was broken by the shrill sound of his telephone. Before he could extract himself from the comfort of his chair, his wife appeared in the opened sliding glass doorway. “It’s for you, Alfred,” she said, frowning to show her displeasure at the intrusion.
“Who is it?”
“He said his name is Mike King. He’s calling from Toronto.”
“I’ll take it in the den,” Schnieder said. He hoisted himself to a standing position, then shuffled to the den and lifted his ivory handled, gold trimmed receiver. “It’s about time you called,” he said with a raspy voice. “One of the simple pleasures an old man holds sacred is to hear from his friends occasionally. An interval of a decade is quite unacceptable.”
“How are you, Alfred?”
“My cup runneth over. Were it not for this infernal arthritis, I would be as spry as you remember me… And how did you know where to reach me?”
“I called the Banco International Venezolano. Manuel Blanco gave me your number.”
“That little snot could never keep a secret,” Schnieder quipped. “He’ll never be a successful banker… Manuel is well?”
“I don’t know. There was no small talk.”
“Tell me abou
t Karen. She is well and has given you many children?”
“She is well and gave me a son, nine years ago.”
“Only one. Such a tragedy… And Phillip? He is well?”
“Yes. He’s a young man now. He’ll be twenty next month,” Mike said, rolling his eyes. “Actually, he’s the reason I called. As you will no doubt recall, we placed all of the funds in his father’s estate in a trust. Simultaneously, we…”
“Yes, I remember it well. We transferred ownership of the trust to an anstalt, to hide it from prying eyes. Did we achieve our objective?”
“The paperwork has stood the test of time.”
“The arrangement with Louis Visconti has worked well?”
“It, too has stood the test of time. You might be interested to know the trust’s value has grown to over six hundred million.”
“A satisfactory performance, but not exactly what I would have expected from a man of his considerable talents.”
“In fairness to him, our instructions to Louis were to be conservative and to preserve the capital.”
“Good, then what can I do for you?”
“Karen and I have decided to dispose of the money. We need your help, Alfred.”
In addition to shocking Schnieder, Mike’s announcement succeeded in offending his European and South American banking values. “Please be more specific. Perhaps I misunderstood. Maybe you want the funds moved to another country, or disguised in some more obscure fashion. You might consider moving the money to Switzerland. You should know that tax evasion is not a crime in this country and there is no restriction on currency movements. Banking secrecy here is protected by both civil and criminal law.”
“Let me be very specific, Alfred. Karen and I want to give all of the money to charity, and we want to do it anonymously.”
“Completely aside from the fact that I think what you are proposing to do is absurd and tantamount to insanity, I fail to understand why are you telling me?”
“We need your help in the disposition. We want you to be an intermediary. We think your role in the creation of the trust and your extensive banking experience makes you uniquely qualified for the job. Most importantly, we don’t want anyone else to know we have the money.”
“Thank you for the compliment. Is there more to the job than simply acting as an intermediary?”
“No, but the transaction has to clean. It’s absolutely imperative that there is no possibility of tracing the source.”
“If I were to accomplish your objectives, what compensation did you have in mind?”
“Would one percent be satisfactory?”
Schnieder smiled as he calculated an opportunity to make the easiest six million he had ever made. Still well connected in European banking circles, he could achieve Mike’s goal without leaving the comfort of his condominium. “Extremely generous… May I expect your offer in writing?” he asked.
“Nothing in writing, Alfred. Nothing. You do have my word, however. It’s as good as a written contract. I’ve never screwed anyone in my life and I have no intention of starting now.”
“Then I will be pleased to accept your assignment. When do you wish to proceed?”
“Very soon. I’ll call and let you know.”
“Splendid. How may I contact you?”
“You can’t. I’ll call you.”
“As you wish. Please convey my kindest regards to Karen.”
“I’ll do that,” Mike said, then hung up the receiver of his car telephone. He rubbed his face with his hands and smiled. “Yes!” he shouted, clenching his fist, closing his eyes, and experiencing an enormous surge of relief. Soon he would, once and for all time, remove the tainted trust which had tormented his conscience for too long.
CHAPTER 69
New York.
Miles entered Visconti’s office and marched to his desk. The menacing scowl he had feigned transformed into a broad smile. “Thank you, Louis,” he said, extending his right hand.
Visconti leaned forward and accepted Dennis’s hand. “What for?” he asked, puzzled by Dennis’s bizarre and uncharacteristic behavior.
“For being there for Kerri. I can’t thank you enough.”
“I should thank you.”
“Why?”
“For not being there. If you and Andrea hadn’t been in Chicago last weekend, I would still be a lonely man.”
Dennis placed both hands on Visconti’s desk and leveled his eyes on Visconti’s. “I want to talk to you about that, and I want you to understand how damn serious I am… Kerri’s a wonderful trusting naive girl. I care for her a lot. Furthermore, I’m sure you’re aware that she’s just emerging from a terrible marriage. If you hurt her in any way, I’m going to take it very personally.”
Visconti raised his hands in surrender and returned Dennis’s stare. “You have nothing to worry about, Miles. Believe it or not, I’m more worried about her hurting me. You can’t know how excited I am that she would be interested in an old man like me.”
Dennis smirked. “Hurt you? Impossible!” he scoffed, then headed for the door. On his way out, he wheeled and faced Visconti. “I almost forgot. You’ll be happy to know that June crude’s below seventeen and a half. There’s at least another eight million in your margin account.”
Visconti flashed a confident smile. “Just the beginning. There’s going to be a whole hell of lot more in there, real soon.”
Minutes after Dennis left, Visconti’s secretary entered with coffee. “There’s a call for you on three, Louis,” she said, then placed the coffee in front of him. “It’s Alfred Schnieder, from Zurich.”
“Well I’ll be damned! The old fart’s still alive!” Visconti declared, reaching for his receiver with one hand and dismissing Sue with the other. He waited until she left, then pressed three. He leaned back and placed his feet on the desk. “Alfred, great to hear from you again. How are you?”
“Less than twenty-four hours ago, I informed Mike King that I am as healthy as a horse. Nothing has changed since then. And you?”
“Mike King!” Visconti exclaimed, agitated by the mere mention of the name. “What could you possibly be talking to him about?”
“… I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”
“Knew what?”
“He has been smitten by pangs of conscience. He’s asked me to dispose of the money in his trust.”
“He what!” Visconti shouted, jerking his feet from his desk and bolting upright, implications blasting through his brain like rockets.
“He wants to wash his hands of the money and give it to charity.”
“Jesus! This can’t be happening. Did he give you a reason?”
“He expressed fears of being discovered, should word of its disposition be leaked.”
“This is a fucking disaster! Did you make him aware of the alternatives?”
“Yes, but he was adamant. He’s not prepared to consider any other idea. I have difficulty understanding his position. Given the same set of circumstances, I would behave quite differently.”
Visconti’s mind was in overdrive. “So what happens now? I hope he plans to inform me at some point.”
“I’m sure he does. I don’t think he has any problem with you. At least he made no mention of any.”
“So he wants you to be his conduit,” Visconti mused. “Did he specify how or when he wants it done?”
“No. He simply wants the transaction to be clean.”
“That’s just terrific,” Visconti groaned. “All of a sudden the trustees get philanthropic, and I’m sitting here with a horrendous mess.”
“What mess? Please explain.”
“It’s a very long story. Let’s just say there isn’t as much money in the trust as King thinks there is.”
“How much is there?”
“About four hundred and thirty million, in round numbers.”
Schnieder chuckled. “Interesting discrepancy. You have been doing some creative accounting, yes?”
“I won’t have
to do it much longer. I’ve just done a deal that’s going to do a hell of a lot more than clean up the mess.”
“I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”
“How much is King paying you for the job? Do you mind sharing that information with me?”
“One percent.”
“Did he put it in writing?”
“No. He insisted that nothing be written. Normally that would be a problem. But since I am the one who will be arranging the transfer, it will be simple to arrange the removal of my fee.”
Visconti was quick to grasp the equation of the situation. “If he doesn’t want anything in writing, how can he be assured the transfer was ever made? And if it’s not made, what remedies would he have?”
“Your larcenous mind is functioning as well as ever, my friend… King’s request can be satisfied in a variety of ways. One is to provide him with a coded recording of a telephone call from an officer of the relevant bank. Perhaps he could receive a call from you at the same time. You could advise him that all of the money has been removed from the trust and transferred to a certain European bank. In my opinion, verification of the ultimate destination is not nearly so important to him as verification that his hands are clean of hot money.”
“Alfred, are you still reasonably well connected in European banking circles?”
“I’m not communicating with them every day as I did in the past, but I still go to a lot of parties and other functions. We still speak the same language. Why do you ask?”
“Do you think you could find at least one corruptible banking officer?”
Schnieder chuckled. “It would be more difficult to find one who’s not. What is on your mind, my young friend?”
“A fortune for you and me, Alfred. With the cooperation of one corruptible individual banker, we could relieve King of his problem and his money? The three of us, all apparently acting independently, could inform King that the money was dispersed according to his wishes. We could confirm that the transaction was clean, and that there are no traceable records. That should be all the assurance he needs… Is that feasible or am I dreaming in Technicolor?”
“It’s not only feasible, it’s profoundly exquisite. There’s just one aspect of your plan that troubles me. What if our assurances are insufficient to allay the concerns of King?”