“Is your job to come here to intimidate me or what?” asked Rosen.
“That’s a fair question,” replied Bernoulli, “and it brings us directly to the purpose of our meeting this morning.”
“And that is?”
“I am here to offer you a deal, as you Americans so nicely phrase it, Mr. Rosen.”
“I read once that the Swiss authorities never make deals,” replied Rosen.
“I’m sure you read correctly. This is an exception.”
For the first time in many hours Stanley grinned.
“All right, let’s hear it.”
“I am prepared to withdraw my charges against you and Dr. Weckerlin is prepared to release you—immediately—subject to a few conditions.”
“They are?”
“First, that you leave this country immediately. Second, that the fact of your short stay with us, and all circumstances surrounding it, are kept secret not only now but forever. That’s all.”
“Just as simple as that, is it? No hookers, no strings attached?”
“Not exactly.”
“Well, perhaps you could be a bit more exact.”
“Fine. All the cash margin you have paid into the General Bank of Switzerland during this past week will remain frozen for ninety days.”
“And what about the gold I am supposed to have bought?”
“All those purchases have been cancelled. Also the foreign exchange contracts have been nullified.”
“On whose authority?”
“Dr. Walter Hofer, the head of that bank, has been informed of most of the circumstances involving your person and he took this step yesterday. Our department agrees that he is fully within his legal rights, since the orders you gave his bank were a direct result of serious criminal activity, of espionage directed against Switzerland.”
“And the cash margin?”
“As I said, under our order it will be blocked for ninety days. Thereafter, if you have shown good faith, the entire $150 million will be returned to you or transferred to any bank of your choice anywhere in the world.”
“Fair enough. But what is to prevent me from telling this sordid story after I leave your wonderful country?”
“A number of things,” replied Bernoulli.
“Like?”
“Like the fact that under U.S. federal law, any American citizen who buys gold bullion is subject to a fine equal to three times the amount of bullion contracted for. In your case, that would be around $600 million. There is also the possibility of prison for up to five years in hard cases. I would judge that they might regard this as rather hard, wouldn’t you?”
Stanley said nothing.
“Then there’s the entire record of your activities at the Basel branch of the General Bank of Switzerland during the past ten years. I am told that the use of numbered accounts in Switzerland to avoid American taxes is regarded as fraud in the United States. I also hear that the penalties in cases where the government has been swindled out of millions of dollars of taxes over a period of many years are rather severe.”
“I see. And your famous bank secrecy laws?”
“Where criminal offences like economic espionage are concerned, these laws do not apply. In cases like yours, where obviously an international conspiracy is involved, there is nothing to preclude us from sharing information, pertinent to such a case, with foreign authorities. In your case, the U.S. Department of Justice.”
“I hear that doesn’t happen too often.”
“As I said once before, Mr. Rosen, there are exceptions.”
“I would call this blackmail.”
“That is your privilege.”
“How much time do I have to think this over?” asked Rosen.
Now Weckerlin interrupted. “As far as we are concerned, months—even years.”
“Yeah,” said Rosen, “I forgot. You fellows have never heard of habeas corpus.”
“Well?” said Bernoulli a few seconds later.
“It’s a deal.”
“Fine,” interjected Weckerlin. He picked up a piece of paper from his desk. “I have your release papers right here. I’d appreciate it if you would sign, right beside the pencilled X on the bottom.”
Stanley signed.
“And now?”
“I will take you to the airport,” said Bernoulli.
“What airport?”
“The Basel airport. We have booked you on an Air-Inter flight to Paris. It leaves just after noon.” Bernoulli looked at his watch. “It’s now quarter after ten. If we get moving, we should make it quite easily.”
“You fellows were rather confident, weren’t you?”
This time Rosen received no answer.
Rosen had already disappeared ahead of him through the door when Bernoulli turned and put a last question to Weckerlin. “What about Bechot?”
“Don’t worry, even with this thing dropped, we have enough on him otherwise to guarantee that he stays inside for at least three years.”
“Poor bastard.”
Weckerlin just shrugged.
Rosen checked out of that Swiss prison in what must have been record time. He did not look back once after he had passed through the heavy doors. He just threw his suitcase into the open trunk of Bernoulli’s waiting car and climbed into the front seat.
“How long to the airport?” he asked as they wheeled out of the courtyard into the narrow street, full of housewives with their baskets doing their Saturday shopping.
“Fifteen minutes,” answered Bernoulli. He handed Rosen a newspaper. “Here’s the morning Herald Tribune. I thought some of the stuff in there might interest you.”
Rosen gave Bernoulli a peculiar glance. Then he unfolded the paper. The garish headline leaped out at him.
“My God!”
“What’s wrong?”
“For Christ’s sake, they’ve actually done it.”
“What?”
“The U.S. has put the official gold price to $125 an ounce!”
“So what’s new about that?”
“Well, I thought it had to come. I knew it had to be underway. But just like that. Bingo. For Christ’s sake!” he repeated.
“Come now, Rosen—”
Rosen put his paper down, and his face suddenly took on an almost enraptured look.
“Now I get it. Now I get it. Why, you dirty son of a bitch. You stupid son of a bitch. You dumb jerks have got the wrong guy. Somebody did the frameup job of the century, and you bastards fell for it like a ton of bricks. You stupid bastards. You pricks have just robbed me of a fucking fortune.”
Bernoulli didn’t say a word. They were now on the straight stretch of express highway that had them to the airport just a few minutes later.
It was a peculiar airport, probably unique, in that it was shared by both Switzerland and France. The border ran right through the middle of the terminal, and it was to this invisible line that Bernoulli led Rosen. Bernoulli carried the suitcase.
“Mr. Rosen,” he said. “This is where we part. I don’t expect we’ll ever meet again.” He offered his hand. Rosen ignored it and instead retrieved his suitcase.
“One minute,” said Bernoulli. Rosen’s heart missed a beat, and he suddenly had a terrible pain in his gut.
“What now?” he rasped.
“Your ticket,” said Bernoulli, as he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. “And your passport.” After handing them over, he abruptly turned on his heel and strode out of sight.
Rosen passed through French immigration without a question being asked. Then he went to the men’s room and vomited.
19
“WALTER, these caviar canapés are delicious,” said Sir Robert Winthrop.