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Chapter Two

The elevator doors opened and a man stood there, six-foot-six, fit, fair and blond, with long arms, broad shoulders, and no neck. Adelbrecht Wagner, bank president, looked like a billboard advertising the Aryan Nations.

Two guards stood behind him.

Samuel didn’t know what purpose they accomplished. He wasn’t going to attack Wagner. The guy looked like he could crush Samuel with one fist.

Wagner extended his hand. In precise, German-accented English, he said, “Mr. Faa, how good to meet you. I’m Adelbrecht Wagner. We haven’t seen anyone from the Gypsy Travel Agency for several years. In fact, we had heard reports that an explosion at their headquarters had killed everyone on their board.”

Samuel shook hands, did the male dominance thing by squeezing too hard and making sure his hand remained on top, and put on his solemn face. “Did you? The explosion was a tragedy that deeply affected our organization.” It was a nonanswer, one worked out ahead of time and given Irving’s nod of approval.

Samuel had learned a few things about one-upmanship, and he understood Irving’s position about this operation.

Just in case he didn’t remember, Dina repeated the instructions. Say as little as possible. Don’t explain yourself. Don’t defend yourself. Make it clear from the beginning you are the man in charge.

Yeah, thanks.

Samuel strode beside Wagner down the short corridor to his office and was ushered inside. The place was immense, luxurious, and windowless.

The guards took up their positions at the sides of the entrance. Wagner closed the doors, and they gave a thunk that all too clearly proved they were reinforced with metal.

Wagner’s office was a vault, protecting the bank president, everything he represented and everything he knew.

Samuel would either succeed here or die in prison.

No pressure.

Samuel didn’t even know who thought it first.

Pulling a two-by-two slip of yellow paper out of his inside pocket, he placed it on the desk in front of Wagner. “I need you to transfer control of the Gypsy Travel Agency accounts to this address.”

Wagner didn’t bother to glance down. “Without the necessary legal documents, I’m afraid that’s impossible.”

Which was exactly what Samuel expected him to say. So he removed the formidable set of papers from his manila envelope and placed them beside the slip with the address for Wagner’s perusal. “The originals of the documents we sent ahead.”

“Without the signatures of at least three of the Gypsy Travel Agency board members, I’m afraid this is impossible.”

“As you know, the whole board is deceased. As a former board member and former CEO, Irving Shea—”

“Has been declared incompetent and is therefore not a legal signer.”

Crap. Wagner knew it all.

They were getting nowhere.

So Samuel used his mind to take control of Wagner’s thoughts.

To his surprise, his intention skidded off as if Wagner’s mind were Teflon protected.

Crap.

What’s wrong? Dina asked.

I can’t reach him. In a reasonable tone of voice, Samuel said, “But surely you’re not saying you intend to keep these not-inconsiderable accounts in your bank forever?” He reached out again, this time with more force.

Wagner appeared to be oblivious. “Perhaps you’re not aware, but we have hundreds of unclaimed accounts which will never be opened because the owners have lost their minds, forgotten their passwords, or died. There are fortunes that haven’t been touched for over a hundred years.”

Samuel took a breath, looked straight into Wagner’s eyes, and concentrated.

Wagner stared at him. “Will there be anything else?”

Samuel couldn’t believe it. This had never happened before. He had never failed.

Dina snapped, What is this? Mind-control dysfunction?

Is he one of you? Samuel snapped back.

Sarcastically: I don’t know. I’m not personally acquainted with every miscreant in the organization.

He knew it. He knew Dina would betray them.

But I don’t think so. Samuel could almost hear her tapping her fingers on the table. He could be an undiscovered talent, hired for exactly this capacity.

“Mr. Faa?” Wagner stood. “I believe we’ve concluded our business.”

Samuel sent another shot at Wagner’s mind.

The mind was locked tight as a vacuum cylinder.

Wagner said, “In fact, I believe the Swiss police are waiting for you in the lobby below. They want to question you about your knowledge of and intentions for these particular accounts.”

A cold sweat trickled down Samuel’s spine.

Urgently, Dina said, I can distract him. Touch him. Touch him!

Samuel stood, extended his hand, and when his flesh touched Wagner’s, he heard Dina’s voice say, Look out!

Somehow the contact of their hands opened Wagner’s brain to Dina, and Wagner heard her voice, too.

His surprise gave Samuel his chance.

Samuel slammed a command into Wagner’s head. Do what I tell you.

Wagner blinked at him. “I apologize. I thought I heard a woman’s voice.”

“A woman?” Samuel raised his eyebrows as if amazed.

“A deep woman’s voice, hoarse, a smoker’s voice . . .”

“You’ve been working too hard,” Samuel said sympathetically.

“Yes. A temporary distraction.” Wagner blinked again, his defenses broken, his mind bending to Samuel’s will. “What was it you wanted?”

Samuel instructed him without words. Transfer control of the Gypsy Travel Agency funds to the account on that paper.

“I remember. You wanted me to transfer the Gypsy Travel Agency funds to this account.” Wagner indicated the yellow paper and sat down at his desk.

Samuel stood, barely breathing, as Wagner typed on his computer, checked the numbers on the paper, then pushed SEND.

Wagner looked up. “That’s that. Is there anything else you require?”

“Call off the police downstairs.”

Samuel heard Dina say, It is done.

Control of the funds had been transferred into the control of John Powell, the trustworthy leader of the Chosen Ones.

Samuel wanted to laugh in triumph. How he had enjoyed this!

Instead he spoke with cool composure. “There’s nothing more I require.”

Maybe a good stiff drink, Dina suggested.

“Very good. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.” Wagner stood again.

Samuel walked toward the door. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, also.”

“I trust now that your business is concluded, you’ll have a chance to experience our magnificent skiing. It has been a record year for snow.” Wagner pressed the button on the wall. The doors swung open. “I’ve lived here twenty years, and I’ve never seen powder this deep.”

They walked into the corridor and toward the elevator. The guards fell in behind them.

“Tonight I’m going to Monastère for the party benefitting the World Children’s Literacy Foundation; then, alas, tomorrow I must return to New York,” Samuel said.

“Probably just as well. There’s a storm coming in. Just wind, they’re saying, but that always makes the slopes dangerous. Avalanche weather, you know.”

Samuel didn’t know, but he smiled and nodded, wanting nothing more than to clear out of here before Wagner realized what had been done and why. “That’s it, then.”

They shook hands.

The guard punched the elevator button.

The doors opened and Samuel stepped in.

The doors started to close—and right before they snapped shut, Wagner stuck his arm in.

The doors reopened.

“We should probably clarify one matter.” Wagner frowned.

Samuel’s heart stopped.

Wagner asked, “Will someone else return to claim the contents of the safety-deposit box?”

Samuel stepped back out of the elevator. “The safety-deposit box?”