One individual sat in the last pew of the church, blending with the tour groups that shuffled through a large open area just behind him. He couldn’t hear the cleric’s eulogy, but he watched the four attendees, an older woman and three people in their thirties, obviously Nicu’s grandchildren. The woman was respectful, but the deceased man’s relatives were clearly uninterested in the service. It looked as though all they wanted was to get this over with.
The trio sat impassively as the cleric droned words about a man he’d never met, thoughts designed to make the family more comfortable that their loved one was one with Christ as they spoke. The grandchildren knew differently. If Nicu Lepescu was in Heaven today, then nothing in the Bible could be believed. According to the Bible, many men committed sins and Jesus Christ forgave them. But few men had systematically sent other human beings to their deaths without compunction and without a hint of remorse.
Soon organ music filled the sanctuary. As the priest began speaking, a beautiful young woman slipped into a pew on the other side of the aisle a few rows behind the grandchildren. Mrs. Radu saw her come in. Her face a mask of rage, she turned and exploded, “Get out, you whore! You have no place here!”
The woman stared at Mrs. Radu for a moment and then looked away as if she hadn’t heard.
“Get out, I say!” She was louder, her demeanor forceful and angry.
The priest stopped talking as Milosh confronted the housekeeper. “Mrs. Radu! What are you doing? Who is she?”
“It’s Adriana Creed!” The woman literally spat her name. “Call the police!”
Philippe remained seated as Milosh and Christina leapt to their feet in unison. They looked around the cavernous old church: the pew where Adriana had sat was now empty. They ran to the back of the sanctuary, where a hundred tourists milled about, but she was nowhere in sight.
Christina and Milosh pushed through a group of tourists leaving the church and looked around the courtyard.
Adriana had vanished once again.
As the confused priest waited for the two to return, Mrs. Radu whispered to Philippe, “She should never have been here.” He shrugged, saying nothing but thinking, what hypocrisy for any of us to be here.
Paul Silver, the man who sat in the back row, wasn’t a mourner. He’d come for one reason – to get a look at one of the grandchildren. Once he saw the profile, Paul knew this was the right Philippe Lepescu. He slipped out of the pew, his mission accomplished.
Seeing a burst of activity toward the front, he sat back down to watch. Who’s the attractive girl? he wondered as she took a seat across the aisle and behind the family. The woman who was sitting with the grandchildren had glanced back at her, then turned and yelled at the girl to get out. The cleric paused as two of the grandchildren stepped into the aisle. Paul watched the girl race to the back of the church, quickly lost amidst throngs of tourists exiting the building. Within a moment the funeral continued, but Paul was gone too. The only one of Nicu’s grandchildren who’d ever known Paul didn’t see him. He wouldn’t have recognized Paul if he had. Paul had spent a fortune changing his appearance since the days when Philippe had been his partner.
Soon the cleric began intoning a closing prayer. Mrs. Radu bowed her head in reverence. Milosh, Philippe and Christina Lepescu stared straight ahead, eyes wide open, as their grandfather was fervently prayed into his eternal home.
May the Lord God bless and keep you …
“Rot in hell,” Christina muttered as the three left their grandfather’s funeral service.
CHAPTER TWENTY
A few weeks after Nicu’s death, the Lepescu grandchildren sat around a table at La Bonne Bouche, a cozy bistro in Bucharest’s historic old town. They spoke about Adriana and how she’d simply vanished. The storefront where she’d worked and the living quarters behind it were locked tight. That day at the funeral when Mrs. Radu shouted at her was the last contact they’d had. And that hadn’t been contact at all. Even though Milosh and his sister ran after her, they didn’t see the girl run across the street outside. Neither had gotten a look at her face, so they wouldn’t know her if she walked in right now. Philippe was a different story. He knew her well, but his siblings knew nothing about that part of Adriana’s past.
The oldest of the three, Milosh had taken responsibility to dispose of Nicu’s local assets, since he was the only one who lived in Bucharest. The three had agreed to periodic meetings and today’s was the first of those. Christina had come from Vienna and Philippe from Lucerne for an update.
Milosh was thirty-eight. He played piano at bars here and there in Bucharest while he dreamed of performing with the symphony. He had sufficient desire but not enough drive or ambition to get it done. Financially he’d gotten by, but only barely. Nicu Lepescu’s death couldn’t have come at a better time. He was broke and tired of working.
It was the same for Christina. She aspired to be an actress and had attended university, but she never seemed to get the breaks that would land her an acting role. Once she turned thirty, she had effectively given up trying. Now she waited tables at one of Vienna’s nicest restaurants. Like Milosh she survived, but she wanted more. Nicu’s death made life easier for her too. With this inheritance the pressure of bills, rent and daily expenses would be over.
Philippe could use the money too, but he was far better off than his siblings, thanks to his criminal activities. He still lived in Lucerne, where he’d once run a vast investment company owned by Roberto Maas. Maas was a shadowy figure with a past – a man you wanted on your side. Philippe had come into Maas’s life poor, but now he had significant assets. As they became good friends, Roberto had entrusted his associate with more and more responsibility, at last giving him passwords, transfer information, and allowing him full access to everything. As Roberto grew to appreciate Philippe’s friendship, he had made him a partner in a variety of investments that reaped tremendous rewards for both of them.
Philippe repaid his employer’s trust and generosity with fraud and deceit. Cocky and confident that he wouldn’t be discovered, he began to embezzle money. A mistake revealed his crimes and Roberto fired his former friend and partner. Fearful for his life but at the same time seething with hatred for his former boss, Philippe disappeared. Despite his being the criminal, he blamed Roberto for making it easy. Rejected, he vowed to extract revenge on his former benefactor.
When Roberto Maas died in a mysterious fire in London, Philippe came out of hiding and resumed the good life in Lucerne with his four hundred thousand stolen dollars. He was free from the man he had gone into hiding to avoid.
His brother and sister were aware that Philippe was a thief. He’d been that way his entire life, always choosing to cheat and steal rather than use his wits, education and charm to earn a living. They didn’t know exactly what he’d done in Lucerne, but they saw that he went from working-class comfortable, to being in hiding, to being suddenly wealthy, all in a matter of months.
Philippe had used his university degree and banking background to run Roberto’s huge financial conglomerate, and ultimately he had sole oversight over more than a hundred million dollars. Thanks to his crimes he was suddenly unemployed, but he was also very well off. Although they didn’t know specifics, both Milosh and Christina assumed he’d done something illegal because they knew what he was. He was a liar, a thief, a crook, and this time he had stolen four hundred thousand dollars from a man who had trusted him as a friend and partner.
Despite knowing what he was, his siblings were in a dilemma. He was the only one of them with any financial acumen whatsoever. As much as they wished it were different, they needed Philippe to untangle Nicu Lepescu’s affairs. So they gritted their teeth and worked with him while vowing to keep him under a tight rein.
At today’s lunch Milosh explained where things stood. In the two months since Nicu’s death he had arranged for the furniture to be hauled out of the flat, and with Philippe’s help, he’d put the seven-story building on the market. It was close to t
he city center – a desirable part of town – and the estate agent believed it would bring four million lei, almost a million dollars.
Nicu’s savings account had been closed. The proceeds, nearly two hundred thousand dollars apiece, had been distributed to them. At last Milosh and Christina had money. Philippe got his portion too. When it was added to what he’d stolen from his partner, he was doing just fine.
Christina asked, “What about Adriana? Have you learned anything about what she took out of his safety deposit box?”
Milosh shook his head. “No. Since she left there’s been nothing. She hasn’t paid utilities or rent. In a couple of weeks the landlord will break into her place and remove everything. He promised to call me if there’s anything I should see.”
“Keep me informed,” Philippe ordered. “Of the three of us, I’m the only one who’s got the balls to make her return what’s ours.”
“What you mean is you’re the only one who’s an asshole,” the usually reserved Milosh replied flatly.
Christina snickered. “I can’t agree more. But Philippe’s right. He’s a villain, but he’s our villain.” She turned to Philippe. “I’m not interested in your balls, brother dear. I’m interested in your larcenous mind. I have no doubt you can force Adriana to hand over whatever she took from the box. I’m just afraid once she does, Milosh and I will never see our share.”
He shrugged. “You’ll get what you deserve.”
“I don’t want what you think I deserve. I want one third, which reminds me of something. Remember the box in Grandfather’s closet? It had the deed, his papers, all that. I rifled through it and found the will. But something keeps bothering me. Weren’t there two safety deposit keys? You had the box, Philippe. We handed it over to you and you went through it. Weren’t there two?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied smoothly. “I only saw the one.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
In the office of a vice president of Stadt Privatbank in Vienna Philippe waited as the banker thumbed through Nicu’s will, flipping pages to locate the section he wanted.
At last he stopped. “May I see your identification card?”
He tossed his card across a massive desk completely devoid of paperwork except for what Philippe had handed over when the meeting began.
“Swiss? I expected…”
“Romanian? Like my grandfather? I’m Romanian by birth, but I lived in Switzerland for several years.”
“Lived? And now?”
“With all due respect,” Philippe replied curtly, “why are you asking all these questions?” He held up the index card with the word “Stadt” written on it. “This key is for a safety deposit box in this bank – am I correct?”
As if he hadn’t heard, the banker replied, “Mr. Lepescu, if you had an account with Stadt Privatbank, you would appreciate the lengths to which we go in order to protect our clients. Let me have a few more minutes and perhaps we can get on with your request.” He walked out of his office.
That day he and his siblings had gone through Nicu’s belongings, Philippe had surreptitiously slipped the key in his pocket. When he was alone that evening he did a quick web search and found one “Stadt” – the Stadt Privatbank in Vienna. He made a call, learned what he must bring with him, and made an appointment. A week later he sat here in the bank officer’s sumptuous, overstated office.
“All right then,” the man said at last. “The will shows there are three heirs, all grandchildren of Nicu Lepescu. You are one of those three. Am I correct?” He leaned back and arched his fingers together.
Restraining himself from a sharp retort, Philippe said, “You are correct.”
“Where are your siblings, then?”
“I am the family’s representative. They sent me…”
“Excellent. May I see the power of attorney giving you that authority?”
Philippe had had enough. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he shouted. “I’ve flown here from Bucharest, given you everything you requested, and I have a safety deposit box key. I demand access to my grandfather’s box.”
“I haven’t yet confirmed there is in fact a box,” the banker said with a smile. “We have rules here, Mr. Lepescu. Rules designed to address the privacy of our clients. I’m merely protecting…”
“You’re protecting nothing at this point but your own ass! Who’s your supervisor? Bring him here!”
“Sir, if you’ll calm down, I think we can accomplish your goal without further incident. Excuse me again for a moment.”
While the man was out, Philippe walked around his office, looking at university degrees and pictures of dignitaries hung on the wall. Shortly, the banker returned with a slip of paper.
“Here’s what I am authorized to tell you. I can confirm that your grandfather does have a safe deposit box in this bank.” He looked at the paper. “No one has accessed it since the week it was rented. That was in 1946.”
“Who’s been paying the fee all these years?”
“In those days the bank had a provision for perpetual leasing. The person who rented the box – presumably your grandfather – paid nearly ten thousand marks for that privilege.”
Philippe waved dismissively. “All right then. Let’s get on with it. I want to see the box.”
The banker replied sharply, “I see you have the same motives as so many other heirs I’ve dealt with. You want to know what’s in the box. You are waiting for the Christmas present, so to speak. Very well, Mr. Lepescu. Here is what’s going to happen. Ordinarily I would allow you private access to the box, but you have not provided permission from the other heirs for you to inspect it alone.
“I will therefore accompany you to the vault, open the box and give you privacy while you look. You may see what’s there, even though you may remove nothing. If you bring me a power of attorney signed by your siblings, then you may have full rights to the box.”
That was sufficient for Philippe. That was all he wanted.
Two hours later he sat at the airport, waiting to board his flight back to Bucharest. He had remained calm in front of the banker although what he saw in the safety deposit box made his heart flutter. He was still stunned.
The box had been larger than he expected. And it was crammed full. It was stuffed to the top with one-kilo Reichsbank gold bars. There had been no way to count them with the banker standing ten feet away. There were far more than a hundred. There could be twice that many.
Millions and millions of dollars of gold.
Damn, Grandfather. Where the hell did you get all that?
Philippe faced a challenge. He had to get Milosh and Christina to sign a power of attorney without knowing why they were doing it. Milosh would be easy, but Christina – she would be the problem. Regardless, he’d get it done. He didn’t intend to split this treasure with anyone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The Lepescu grandchildren were at the law firm that had represented Nicu. Philippe had called them here, saying there was paperwork to sign. Since they didn’t trust him, he intended to avoid the issue by having an attorney explain what was needed.
“Mr. Philippe has told me there are possible bank accounts in Germany,” the young lawyer began. “There may be other assets as well; I have looked through my firm’s records and it appears that we set up a trust for Mr. Nicu a few years ago. I don’t know the status of that, and without a power of attorney from the two of you, I’m unable to provide Philippe information about it.”
Always wary, Christina said, “Why don’t we look into his affairs together, the three of us? Why does it have to be only you, my dear cunning brother?” She smiled wickedly at the lawyer. “We have a lot of history with our brother, you must understand. He’s not everything you might think. And some of the things he is might surprise you.”
Philippe replied flippantly. “With all respect, Christina, this is business. This isn’t really your forte – it’s a little different than making sure yo
ur customer gets the sandwich he ordered. I’m the only one of us who has the background to understand this. And I’m following the direction of our attorney.” He gestured to the other side of the desk. “Tell her why you suggested me to handle this, Mr. Lawyer. Use small words so she can understand.”
“It’s both cumbersome and expensive for three people to travel around Europe, searching for assets that may not exist,” he explained. “Mr. Philippe is willing to spend his time…”
Christina had had enough. “Oh really? Philippe, you’re such a generous man. You’re willing to spend your time looking for assets that might or might not ever be revealed to your two uninformed siblings. This is bullshit. I’m not signing anything. I don’t trust you, and I can only imagine what you’re already up to.”
She whirled around to the attorney, who sat impassively on the other side of his desk. “How are you involved in all this? What has he promised you to ensure we capitulate to what he wants?”
“Now wait just a moment,” the solicitor blurted with a nervous hiccup. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Milosh hadn’t said a word since they arrived. “Christina, lighten up,” he ordered. “Give Philippe a chance to figure this all out. He’s right – he’s the only one of us who ought to be handling the financial side. He helped me liquidate Grandfather’s savings account, and I’m going to have him review the real estate papers when we sell the building. Everything will be fine.”
Christina stood and walked to the door. “You’re an idiot, Milosh. You’ve always been simple, lazy and worthless. In a way you’re worse than he is. He’s always manipulated you, and today he’s doing it again. If you want to trust him, then go right ahead. But you two will be doing it without me. It’s two against one, Philippe, and as dumb as you think I am, I know one thing. Your cozy little lawyer can’t give you a power of attorney unless my signature’s on it. So you’re fucked. I’ll be watching you, Philippe. If I catch you cheating me, you’re going back to prison.”
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