by Stuart Woods
“Then you must try to forget that you know what you know,” Stone said. “If I can be of any assistance to you in this matter, please do not hesitate to call me. I’m a partner in Woodman & Weld, and you can reach me through the firm.”
“Thank you, Mr. Barrington,” she said, “but I don’t think we’ll speak again.”
“As you wish. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
They both hung up and Stone breathed a sigh of relief.
He called Mary Ann.
“Yes, Stone?”
“I’ve spoken to Heather Thomas, and I believe she now understands the seriousness of the situation. More than anything, she’s concerned about her stepson’s political standing.”
“Would you like me to speak to her again?” she asked.
“I would like you to avoid doing so, unless she contacts you. In that case, let her know that you can’t discuss it further.”
“All right.”
“I’m going to work on the Swiss and Italian bank accounts now. I spoke to Ben last night.”
“Thank you, Stone, and goodbye.”
He thought that he would hear from Mary Ann again only if it were very, very important.
Shortly after he hung up, Joan buzzed him. “Mary Ann Bacchetti on one.”
Stone picked up the phone. “Yes, Mary Ann?”
“I am going to tell you something, and then I’m not going to discuss it further. I’m just going to hang up.”
“What?”
“Heather had already told Jack Thomas about the file before you spoke to her, perhaps immediately after my conversation with her. I’m hanging up now.” And she did so.
Stone was left staring at the phone in his hand.
10
Stone considered what to do next, but he didn’t have a clue. He tried to think of what Jack Thomas would do next and found he didn’t want to think about that.
So, he busied himself with details. He googled the Berg Bank and found an e-mail address for the managing director, one Friedrich Hampel, and sent him an introductory note. In it he identified himself, the estate he represented, and the terms of Eduardo’s will. He also found an address for the State Bank of Italy and its managing director, Alfredo Dante, and sent him a similar e-mail.
He called Joan in, took her to the Excelsior safe, opened it, and showed her the eleven files on the bottom shelf. “Please copy each of these twice, bind them, and return them to this safe. Pack the original files and have them hand-delivered to the district attorney, Ken Burrows, and get his signature on the delivery receipt.” Joan went to work.
By this time, Stone had received a reply from the Swiss bank, though he had not expected one until the following morning because it was much later there. The e-mail read as follows:
Dear Mr. Barrington,
I can neither confirm nor deny that Mr. Eduardo Bianchi owns or has owned accounts at this bank. Before I can discuss the matter further, you must appear in person in our offices and bring with you the following documents:
1. The birth and death certificates of Mr. Bianchi.
2. A certified copy of his will, naming you as executor, and any codicils.
3. The originals of any passports held by Mr. Bianchi.
4. The most recent of any account statements in Mr. Bianchi’s name from this bank.
5. Your professional credentials, including your law license, and a letter from your law firm’s managing director confirming your employment there.
6. At least three letters from credible persons attesting to your professional qualifications and good character.
7. Your personal identity documents.
Yours truly,
Friedrich Hampel
Managing Director
Stone responded to the e-mail, saying that he would appear at the bank’s offices in two days at ten AM. Then he went to work gathering the documents he needed.
He called Bill Eggers, the managing partner of Woodman & Weld, and explained what he needed from the firm.
“The Swiss are nothing if not meticulous,” Eggers said, chuckling. “I’ll messenger the letter over to you. You may require local legal advice, as well, so I’m e-mailing the managing director of our associate firm there, Heinrich Kraft, and I’ll include his card with your letter.”
Stone thanked him, hung up, and called Holly Barker at the State Department and was sent to her voice mail.
“Holly,” he said, after the beep, “I need a letter from you attesting to my professional qualifications and my good character, addressed to the Berg Bank of Zurich, Switzerland, and I need it sent by courier to New York.” He explained about the Swiss bank’s demands, then hung up and called Dino.
“Bacchetti.”
“It’s Stone. How would you like to be closer to your newfound fortune?”
“I’d like that very much,” Dino said.
“Unfortunately, to do that, you will have to fly to Switzerland with me and visit Eduardo’s bank.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning. We should be back the day after tomorrow, late afternoon.”
“I’m in,” Dino replied.
“You can bring Viv, if you like.”
“She’s off to Hong Kong, I think.”
“Have you told her about your new wealth?”
“Kind of.”
“I don’t even want to know what that means. Wheels up, Jet Aviation, Teterboro, ten AM tomorrow.”
“Gotcha.”
Stone hung up and buzzed Joan. “Please call Faith Barnacle and tell her we’re flying to Zurich tomorrow morning, wheels up at ten AM. Ask her to make all the flight arrangements, including a copilot for the flight, returning the day after tomorrow. She should book hotel rooms for crew for one night.”
“Okeydokey.”
“Also, please book a two-bedroom suite for me at the Dolder Grand Hotel, Zurich.”
By late afternoon, Stone had assembled the requested documents and placed them in a file, which he put into his briefcase. Joan entered with an envelope from the State Department. “I opened it. It’s your references.”
Stone stuffed the envelope into the file. “Please type the account number and wiring instructions for the Bianchi estate account on a sheet of paper, and put it into the file.” She did so.
* * *
• • •
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Stone found an e-mail from the Italian bank in his inbox, requesting pretty much the same documents the Swiss bank had, but not his personal appearance. He asked Joan to copy the Swiss file and e-mail it to the Italian bank.
He was about to leave for the airport when Joan buzzed him.
“The D.A. for you on one.”
Stone pressed the button. “Good morning, Ken.”
“Good morning, Stone. I received the files yesterday, and I’ve leafed through them.”
“What did you think?”
“I think some of them are dangerous, but none so much as the Tommassini file.”
“I can’t bring myself to disagree with you. May I ask: What are your intentions?”
“I intend to go into this very thoroughly. But I’m going to appoint two of my best people to examine all the files very carefully before I do anything.”
“I think that’s wise,” Stone replied.
“I don’t need to tell you that all of this must be held in the closest confidence,” Burrows said. “It would be dangerous if this leaked.”
“Ken,” Stone said. “I’m sorry to tell you that the existence of the files—or at least the Tommassini file—has already been leaked to Jack Thomas.”
There was a long silence at the other end before Burrows spoke. “How is that possible?” he asked.
Stone explained the path through Mary Ann Bianchi and Heather Thomas.
&
nbsp; “That is catastrophic news,” the D.A. said finally.
“Jack Thomas knows that the file exists and that I have it,” Stone said. “There is no reason to believe he knows you have it—unless there’s a leak in your office.”
“That’s good news of a sort,” Burrows replied. “I think the best thing for me to do, then, is to place all the files in my vault and keep my mouth shut.”
“That’s a good plan,” Stone said.
“What are you doing to protect yourself?”
“Well, I’m leaving the country today, though not for that purpose.”
“When are you returning?”
“The day after tomorrow.”
“I would like to know if Jack Thomas or anyone representing him attempts to contact you while you’re gone.”
“I’ll let my secretary know,” Stone said.
“Check in with me on your return.”
“I’ll do that.” Stone hung up, grabbed his briefcase, and ran for his car.
11
Stone sat at the end of Runway One at Teterboro, with Faith in the right seat and the hired copilot in the cabin with Dino. Stone set the auto-throttles, then pushed the throttles forward for full power. Twenty minutes later they were at cruising altitude, 45,000 feet, and pointed toward their refueling stop on Santa Maria, in the Azores, a mid-Atlantic Portuguese island group.
* * *
• • •
FOUR HOURS LATER he set the airplane down on the Santa Maria runway. While they refueled, Faith took their passports and cleared customs and immigration. Less than an hour passed before they were on their way to Zurich, with Faith and the new pilot, a woman named Chrissie, at the controls.
Stone settled into a seat across from Dino.
“So,” Dino said. “What are we doing at this Zurich bank?”
“Hopefully, we’re wresting from their greedy hands all the funds deposited there by Eduardo over many years.”
“And how do they feel about this?”
“They’re accustomed to dealing in large sums,” Stone said, “but perhaps unaccustomed to paying them out. If I were the bank’s CEO, I would certainly resist their departure.”
“What if they refuse?”
“Then I’ll call my attorney,” Stone said.
“You have a lawyer in Zurich?”
“Woodman & Weld knows lawyers everywhere.”
* * *
• • •
THEY ARRIVED in the late evening, cleared the airport, and Stone and Dino were met and driven to their hotel, a grande dame of Zurich.
“What do you know about this Hampel guy?” Dino asked.
“He’s the managing director of the Berg Bank, that’s it.”
Dino unearthed his cell phone and took it into his bedroom, returning after a few minutes.
“Who do you know in Zurich?” Stone asked.
“Why do you think I was calling Zurich?” Dino asked back.
“Oh, never mind.”
* * *
• • •
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, at the crack of ten AM, Stone presented his card to a receptionist, then sat down to wait. Forty minutes later they were ushered into a large office, and a very tall man rose from his desk to greet them—icily, Stone thought.
Friedrich Hampel regarded them calmly from behind his desk. “How may I help you?” he asked.
“Perhaps you recall the e-mail I sent you regarding the estate of Eduardo Bianchi?” Stone said.
“Perhaps,” Hampel replied.
Stone handed him a copy of his own response. “This is the list of documents you require,” he said. “First of all, my personal credentials.” He handed over his passport and Bill Eggers’s letter.
Hampel gazed at the passport, then read the letter slowly. “And your legal credentials?”
“Copies of my university and law school diplomas and my law license in the state of New York,” Stone replied, handing them over.
Hampel again read slowly. Then he began building a pile of paper before him.
Stone handed him Eduardo’s birth and death certificates, then his three passports, the will, and the codicils.
It took Hampel a good twenty minutes to digest the documents. When he looked up, Stone handed him the folder with his character references. It occurred to him that he had not bothered to read them first.
Hampel read what Stone could tell was Dino’s letter, then the one from Bill Eggers, then from Holly Barker and then, to Stone’s surprise, a fourth one.
Hampel read the fourth letter then looked up at Stone with new interest. “I have never received one of these,” he said, handing it to Stone.
Stone read the letter while keeping a straight face. Apparently, Holly had called Katharine Lee for help, and he was reading a fulsome response from the President of the United States. He looked back at Hampel. “Oh?” he asked.
“This is very impressive,” Hampel said, “but, of course, we must clear you with the federal police.”
Dino produced his badge and NYPD ID. “Will this do?” he asked.
“I’m sorry, no. We will need to speak to the Swiss federal police about this.”
“Excuse me,” Dino said. He went to the door, opened it, beckoned to someone, and a solidly built man in a police uniform entered the room. “Mr. Hampel,” Dino said. “This is Director Schweitzer of the Federal Office of Police,” he said. “Will he do?”
Hampel rose and shook the man’s hand. “Of course,” he muttered.
Schweitzer had an exchange with Hampel in German for a minute or so. The policeman seemed to be annoyed.
The two Swiss men shook hands again, Schweitzer nodded to Dino and then left the room.
“Is there anything else you require?” Stone asked Hampel. “Anything at all?”
“Only the name of your local legal counsel,” Hampel said.
“It wasn’t on your list,” Stone replied, handing him the business card, “but here you are.”
Hampel read the card and blinked rapidly.
“Any questions?” Stone asked.
“No,” Hampel replied. “This gentleman is my personal attorney.”
“Now,” Stone said, “shall we get down to business?”
“Of course,” Hampel said. “What is it you require?”
“First, I would like to see current statements of any and all accounts of Eduardo Bianchi held by this bank.”
Hampel reached into a desk drawer, extracted a single sheet of paper and handed it to Stone. “There is just the one account,” he said. “In dollars, at the current exchange rate, the balance is $237,800,000.”
Stone handed him a sheet of paper. “These are the wiring instructions for the account of the Eduardo Bianchi estate,” he said. “I would like all the funds from your account wired to the estate account.”
Hampel examined the instructions. “When?”
“Immediately,” Stone said. “Now.”
Hampel sighed, picked up his phone, and pressed some buttons; a young man entered the office. Hampel handed him the instructions and the account statement. “Please wire transfer these funds to this account in New York,” he said. “Come back when you are done and bring the confirmation of receipt.”
The young man replied in German and departed.
“It will take only a few minutes,” Hampel said to Stone.
“We’ll wait,” Stone replied.
Hampel cleared his throat. “Perhaps we could discuss the possibility of reinvestment of some of the funds,” he said. “We have an outstanding track record of return on investment.”
“Perhaps later,” Stone said.
There was a long silence, then Hampel spoke again. “I hope your accommodations were satisfactory,” he said.
“More than satisfactory.”
&nb
sp; Nothing else was said until the young man returned and handed a sheet of paper to Hampel. The banker read it carefully, then produced a stamp from a desk drawer and applied it. He then signed the document and handed it to Stone. “I hope this is satisfactory?”
Stone read the receipt. “Quite satisfactory,” he said, rising and offering his hand.
Hampel shook it, then pressed a button. A woman came in and escorted Stone and Dino from the building.
Once on the sidewalk, Dino mopped his brow. “Whew! You really handled that well, Stone.”
“It didn’t hurt that you produced the director of the federal police. How the hell did you do that?”
“I know cops everywhere,” Dino said.
12
Their return flight was uneventful, though longer because of the prevailing winds that had been so helpful on their prior crossing. They were served a catered meal by the copilot, who then returned to her cockpit duties.
“So,” Dino said, over his filet mignon, “when do I get the money?”
“I’ll let you know,” Stone said.
“You mean you’re going to keep me waiting?”
“Did you think you would return from Zurich with a satchelful of money? There are protocols to be followed.”
“I would prefer the cash.”
“If you had it you would be immediately arrested at Teterboro by customs for carrying in excess of ten thousand dollars without having filed the proper documents. Believe me, the way it’s being done is the best way.”
“What happens if we crash and burn on this flight?”
“Then the attorney for your estate will contact my office, and they will handle the transfer.”
“You are the attorney handling my estate,” Dino reminded him.
“Dino, I think I know the reason you’re so nervous about this.”
“And what would that be?”
“You haven’t told Viv about the money, and you’re afraid she’s going to react badly.”
“Define ‘badly,’” Dino said.
“First, she’s going to berate you for not having told her earlier. What will your answer be?”
