“Why don’t you leave your bags inside the front door and join Father out on the deck while I prepare lunch?” Claudine suggested. “We’re lucky—it’s a beautiful, warm spring day.”
Henri chose to keep the conversation light, although he could see that the two travelers were anxious to learn what was so important. Jacques and Mike took turns telling him about their work with gold transfers and currency exchanges. Before they could ask Henri any questions, Claudine announced that lunch was being served. “If we don’t eat immediately, the trout that Father caught this morning will cool.”
The trout was accompanied by fresh bread, fresh green vegetables, pommes frites, and an ample serving of wine. As they ate, the four discussed the recent events of the war. Rumors were starting to circulate about the increasing likelihood that Axis forces in North Africa were facing surrender or annihilation.
“A toast to the British and the Americans,” Henri said, raising his glass. “A victory in North Africa could mark the first time the Allied forces will have achieved a victory after three years of battle with the Germans.
“Let’s not ignore the Russians,” Mike said. “The newspapers are picking up on the trouble they’re giving the Nazis at Stalingrad. If the German army fails to reach Moscow before winter, Hitler’s worst nightmare could be realized.”
Claudine said, “Maybe that’s it. The prospect of a turning tide could be the reason why the Germans are trying to get their money out of Germany.”
Mike and Jacques gave each other a confused look.
“Before we get into all that,” Henri said hurriedly, “I would appreciate it, Jacques and Mike, if you would allow me to ask you a couple of questions. For years, Claudine has been talking about The Power Cycle concept you worked on in California. When she returned from school, I don’t believe I had ever seen her so enthusiastic about anything. In fact, this is the reason we asked you to come here.”
“Excuse me, sir, but why, after all this time, are you so interested in our graduate research?” Mike asked.
“I’ve just concluded a series of communications with an old friend whose clients want to move some two billion dollars out of Germany while they still can. These Germans are high-ranking members of the industrial elite. His request raises other questions that I would like to discuss.
“When this war is over, public opinion will place the blame for it on Hitler and the Nazi party,” Henri continued. “We will forget that it was conservative industrialists on both sides of the Atlantic—aided by the international financial community, and supported by right-wing sympathizers within various governments—that were the real force behind this war.”
“Yes, sir,” Jacques said, “that’s exactly what we were trying to tell people five years ago.”
“The problem goes a lot deeper, though,” Henri said. “Perhaps I should explain. Even after the outbreak of war, many companies in Allied countries continued to do business with the Germans. Titus American Oil sold fuel to the German government. They routed the petroleum through Spain and moved the money through Switzerland. There are other examples, as well. These practices demonstrate how the influence of these international oligopolies is so powerful that even after the American Justice Department found out about these illegal oil sales, it was forced to withhold any lawsuits. Otherwise, Titus threatened to restrict its supply of oil to the Allied war effort.”
Jacques couldn’t contain his shock. “Are you telling us that the power and influence of these companies is so pervasive that they can override national priorities and blackmail the American government?”
“That’s exactly what I mean,” Henri replied. “And Germany’s defeat will not eliminate the problem. These sources of corruption are like the roots of some evil weed. You can cut them down, but you can’t kill them. In fact, these roots are capable of remaining in a dormant state, waiting for the right conditions to reappear.”
“So, if you help them move their money, they’re liable to use it to establish another self-serving system of tyranny,” Jacques said.
“Yes,” Henri said. “As I understand it, your presentation mentioned the need for a watchdog organization outside the influence of national and private interests. It’s this subject that I would like to learn more about.”
Jacques and Mike looked at each other for a moment, and Mike nodded for his friend to begin.
“The purpose of such an organization would be to identify sources of potential corruption in its early stages, when peaceful means can still be used to eradicate them. Had such an organization existed in 1938, the Second World War might have been averted.”
“Well, what stopped you from putting this idea into effect?” Henri asked.
“Money,” Jacques said. “Not only could we never figure out how much funding was needed, we couldn’t identify any sources that would support us and still allow us to remain independent of national and business self-interest.”
“Tell me, what would you do if a hundred million dollars were made available, under the proper circumstances, to fund such an organization?” Henri asked.
Jacques seemed confused. “Why talk to us about this, sir? Why not make this proposition to someone more experienced?”
“There is a second issue we need to address,” Henri said. “Although my friend thinks that the loss of sixteen billion dollars’ worth of purchasing power could seriously affect the outcome of the war, my daughter seems to think that the transaction still doesn’t pass her ‘higher purpose’ test. She is convinced that by helping the German industrialists remove their money, we are simply making it possible for them to finance the next Power Cycle. This concern represents the second and far-more-complicated part of the problem. Somehow, you’d need to come up with a plan that prevents their capital from being used to re-create history.”
There was a long silence.
“Well, I think I’ve given you young people something to think about for awhile,” Henri said. “I need to return to Geneva. Claudine, why don’t you and your friends get some rest and give some thought to what we have been discussing? We can pick things up when you come back to the office.”
Chapter 8
A CHANGE OF PLANS
After Henri left, Jacques and Mike showered, changed into fresh clothing, and joined Claudine downstairs. “I bet you could use a cocktail,” she said, handing them their glasses.
“It’s as if you could read my mind,” Jacques said.
“Amen,” Mike said. “That is, unless you’ve got something stronger.”
“Well, Jacques, it’s obvious you can’t read my mind or you’d see I wasn’t suggesting that we unwind just yet,” Claudine said.
“Then what’s the purpose of these?” Jacques asked, sniffing the strong drink.
“To brace you,” she said.
“For what?”
“My part of the plan.”
Claudine walked over to the sofa and sat down, crossing her legs. Jacques immediately realized how difficult it was going to be to force himself to focus on German industrialists and gold bearer bonds.
“Ever since I called you two,” Claudine said, “I’ve been developing an idea. Now, I know it’s bizarre, but I would appreciate it if you would hear me out before responding.”
“That’s quite an opening,” Mike said, after quickly downing half his drink.
“Don’t worry, Mike. It’s no more dangerous than, say, flying in a fighter plane over occupied France.”
“Then where’s the fun in it?”
“I’ll tell you,” she said. “The first step in this scheme involves the German families delivering their gold to Switzerland without being discovered. That would be their problem. The second step involves the transformation of the gold bullion into gold bearer bonds. That would be the responsibility of the participating Swiss banking group. The third step requires our obtaining the U.S. Federal Reserve’s and the gold center banks’ approval of the terms and conditions of this transaction. Finally, we must print the
bonds and deliver them to the Germans. That would be our job.”
“With you so far,” Mike said.
“Then there’s the fifth step, where the fun comes in. It’s the part where we siphon off one hundred million dollars of the ownership of the gold.”
Mike immediately choked on his drink.
“Ah, Claudine—” Jacques began.
She held up a hand. “Let me explain. Stealing the gold physically would be impossible. Stealing a portion of their ownership is possible.” She was speaking slowly and clearly; Claudine had obviously given this a great deal of thought. “I know from the fraud prevention difficulties we’ve had within our own bank that properly forged bonds can be very difficult to detect. I am proposing that we find a way to duplicate one hundred million dollars of the gold bearer bonds.”
Mike and Jacques took turns staring at each other, then at Claudine. Jacques was the first to speak. “Claudine, do I understand that you are proposing we steal one hundred million dollars of the Germans’ money?”
“I told you it was a bizarre idea.”
“Yes, but… Maybe your plan is not so strange after all,” Jacques said after some thought. “I mean, would we really be committing a crime by stealing money someone else has illegally smuggled out of Germany?”
“Ah, excuse me, you two? The last thing we have to worry about with this deal is law enforcement,” Mike said. “We’re talking about stealing from some of the most powerful people in Europe. The real question is, can we cover our tracks well enough to keep from getting killed?”
“That’s the beauty of my idea,” Claudine said. “They wouldn’t be able to expose us without exposing themselves. When our bonds show up at a gold center bank with the same serial numbers and denominations as the originals, all hell will break loose. The banks will refuse to honor any additional bonds of that particular series—ours or theirs—until the problem can be cleared up. So even if the industrialists had to absorb a five-percent loss, wouldn’t that be preferable to the risk of having their capital tied up indefinitely, or, worse, being exposed to the reprisals of Hitler and his High Command?”
“I don’t know,” Mike said, shaking his head. “I think we have to assume that the German families will have both the will and the means to find out who is responsible. And if they are already willing to take such a risk to remove their money from Germany, I can’t even imagine what they might resort to in order to remove any cloud that we might place on the liquidity of their bonds.”
“That’s why, for this scheme to work,” Claudine said, “the forged bonds must be of such quality that not only will the most expert bank authenticator be unable to distinguish them from the originals, but no one would even think to trace them back to a bunch of young professionals, barely out of graduate school and with such good family backgrounds.”
“Then maybe it would be prudent to discuss how we’d go about producing these duplicate bonds,” Jacques suggested.
“Shouldn’t we wait to include Ian Meyer in that conversation?” Claudine asked. “After all, I seem to recall that his company’s restoration of first-edition books involves operations quite similar to what we’d need.”
“I still can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” Mike said. “Forging a million dollars’ worth of bonds still seems to be a preposterous idea!”
______
Not much later, Mike excused himself and went to bed with a lot on his mind. Something was also weighing heavily on Jacques—something more precious to him than gold. He watched as his friend went toward the stairway leading to the bedrooms, then walked over to the sofa and sat down beside Claudine.
“I’ve got to say that you seem to have it all figured out,” Jacques said, looking at her with admiration. “You always do.”
“Not all of it. That’s why I need you.”
I need you. She hadn’t actually meant to say it. Her words hung in the air between them. Embarrassed, she tried changing the subject. “Jacques, you must be exhausted. Why don’t you go to bed? I’ll clean up the rest of the dishes.”
Their eyes met and held; a silent question was asked and answered. Jacques leaned in and their lips met. He could feel her body pressing into his until suddenly she pulled away.
Her cheeks were bright pink, and she was obviously flustered. “I—I’m tired,” she said. “I’d better get some sleep before…” Without finishing her sentence, she quickly got up and left the room.
______
Watching her leave the room, Jacques thought, It’s been only twenty-four hours since I left London, yet I’m totally absorbed by a different woman. What’s happening to me?
______
The next morning, the three friends convened in the kitchen. While Mike was preoccupied pouring juice, Jacques stole a quick look at Claudine’s freshly scrubbed face. She turned away. Today, she was all business.
After a good night’s sleep, Mike was feeling better, more assured about their prospects. Chewing on a piece of toast, he said, “As I see it, this is a risk-opportunity problem. It’s not all that different from what bankers do every day.”
Claudine looked at Jacques, then away. She busied herself with pouring juice into her glass. “I’ll tell you how it’s different,” she said. “In business, we are betting only money, generally someone else’s. If we proceed with this, we will be betting our lives. We damned well better know what we are doing. That’s why you two are the only ones I’ve told about my part of the plan.”
“The way I look at this whole thing is, when will we ever have a better opportunity to realize our dreams?” Jacques said. “If all we wanted in life was to play it safe and follow in our parents’ footsteps, we already have that option. We wouldn’t have gone to Cal Berkeley in the first place. What we worked on all those years wasn’t just theory, was it? Here’s our chance to do something. We just have to develop the right plan.”
They exchanged looks of understanding. “Well, our research determined that there needed to be some kind of watchdog group,” Mike said. “I guess we’re it.” He looked at Claudine and Jacques. “So, the two of you, me, and Ian… the world’s four guardians against the abuse of power.”
“Don’t forget about Tony and Cecelia,” Claudine said. “I’ve got a feeling that before this is all over, we’ll be needing their help as well.”
Jacques raised a glass of orange juice. “Friends, a toast: to the Six Sentinels.”
With a wry smile, Claudine raised her glass. Mike grabbed his coffee cup and hoisted it. “The Six Sentinels,” he echoed. “I hope to God we can figure out what we’re supposed to do next.”
The drive back to Geneva certainly is different, thought Jacques. On the short trip to the chalet, it was all I could do to contain my curiosity. Now, I couldn’t be more amazed by what we are considering.
It was nine o’clock sharp when they were shown into Henri’s office. After a few minutes of small talk, Henri noticed that the three of them looked worried. Before he could comment, Jacques spoke. “We’ve given your suggestion some thought, sir, and I believe I speak for—”
Henri stopped him midway through the speech he had been rehearsing. “I can see by the look on your faces that you have weighed your choices carefully. That’s all I could ask. If you’ve concluded that the risks are too great, please don’t worry. I’ll find another way—”
“No, sir,” Jacques interrupted, “that’s not what I meant. Your daughter, Mike, and I are very excited about the opportunity to make such an important contribution.”
Henri smiled.
“We are prepared to proceed, as soon as we come up with a satisfactory plan to manage the risk,” Mike added.
“What he means,” Claudine said, smiling at Mike, “is a plan that we can all live with.”
Or live through, Mike thought.
Chapter 9
THOUGHTS OF TONY
No one spoke during the drive from Henri’s office to the airport; Claudine was deep in her own thoughts, and
she assumed Mike and Jacques were as well. For her part, Claudine could not get her mind off last night’s kiss. Did she really not want to get involved with Jacques, or was she simply not prepared and didn’t know how to respond?
Damn it, do you have to control everything, Claudine? Do you really want to go through life as the “Nordic Ice Princess”? You may have the blond hair, blue eyes, and high cheek bones of a Scandinavian, but inside you’re still an affectionate girl from Switzerland.
She drove slowly onto the tarmac and parked next to the bank’s plane, which, to Jacques and Mike’s great relief, was warmed up and ready to take off. “I wasn’t relishing another literal game of dodge the bullet in a British Spitfire,” Mike said. Jacques laughed and agreed. Claudine smiled, but she had to admit that her heart was sinking at the thought of their departure. Or was it the thought of Jacques’ departure?
The funny thing is, he thinks I’ve got it all figured out, but I can’t even figure out what I’m afraid of in our relationship.
She made sure to say good-bye to Mike first. Then, turning toward Jacques, she looked directly into his eyes before embracing him in the kind of hug that left no room for interpretation.
“Claudine…”
“I’ll see you soon,” she whispered, not wanting to let go.
On her drive back to the bank, Claudine thought about the first night she’d ever met Jacques. Dr. Tom had hosted a get-together for his grad students and Jacques, naturally, was the center of attention. She, along with the rest of them, had been asking him questions, which had triggered his telling a story, which had triggered even more questions and more stories.
For reasons she couldn’t fathom, she had hoped Jacques would not have been so self-centered and would have been more interested in her.
Though he had been charming and charismatic, Claudine grew tired of the routine. As her attention had begun to fade, she’d shifted her gaze toward Tony Garibaldi, the quiet, olive-skinned gentleman sitting across from her.
The Sentinels: Fortunes of War Page 6
