A Twist in the Tale Read online

  “My Head of State has requested that I visit your bank with a rather unusual request,” he began. Not a flicker of surprise appeared on the face of the chairman or his young assistant. “He has honored me with the task of discovering which Nigerian citizens hold numbered accounts with your bank.”

  On learning this piece of information only the chairman’s lips moved. “I am not at liberty to disclose—”

  “Allow me to put my case,” said the Minister, raising a white palm. “First, let me assure you that I come with the absolute authority of my government.” Without another word, Ignatius extracted an envelope from his inside pocket with a flourish. He handed it to the chairman who removed the letter inside and read it slowly.

  Once he had finished reading, the banker cleared his throat. “This document, I fear, sir, carries no validity in my country.” He replaced it in the envelope and handed it back to Ignatius. “I am, of course,” continued the chairman, “not for one moment doubting that you have the full backing of your Head of State, as both a Minister and an Ambassador, but that does not change the bank’s rule of confidentiality in such matters. There are no circumstances in which we would release the names of any of our account holders without their authority. I’m sorry to be of so little help, but those are, and will always remain, the bank rules.” The chairman rose to his feet, as he considered the meeting was now at an end; but he had not bargained for Clean Sweep Ignatius.

  “My Head of State,” said Ignatius, softening his tone perceptibly, “has authorized me to approach your bank as the intermediary for all future transactions between my country and Switzerland.”

  “We are flattered by your confidence in us, Minister,” replied the chairman, who remained standing. “However, I feel sure that you will understand that it cannot alter our attitude to our customers’ confidentiality.”

  Ignatius remained unperturbed.

  “Then I am sorry to inform you, Mr. Gerber, that our Ambassador in Bern will be instructed to make an official communiqué to the Swiss Foreign Office about the lack of cooperation your bank has shown concerning requests for information about our nationals.” He waited for his words to sink in. “You could avoid such embarrassment, of course, by simply letting me know the names of my countrymen who hold accounts with Gerber et Cie and the amounts involved. I can assure you we would not reveal the source of our information.”

  “You are most welcome to lodge such a communiqué, sir, and I feel sure that our Minister will explain to your Ambassador in the most courteous of diplomatic language that the Foreign Ministry does not have the authority under Swiss law to demand such disclosures.”

  “If that is the case, I shall instruct my own Ministry of Trade to halt all future dealings in Nigeria with any Swiss nationals until these names are revealed.”

  “That is your privilege, Minister,” replied the chairman, unmoved.

  “And we may also have to reconsider every contract currently being negotiated by your countrymen in Nigeria. And in addition I shall personally see to it that no penalty clauses are honored.”

  “Would you not consider such action a little precipitate?”

  “Let me assure you, Mr. Gerber, that I would not lose one moment of sleep over such a decision,” said Ignatius. “Even if my efforts to discover those names were to bring your country to its knees I would not be moved.”

  “So be it, Minister,” replied the chairman. “However, it still does not alter the policy or the attitude of this bank to confidentiality.”

  “If that remains the case, sir, this very day I shall give instructions to our Ambassador to close our Embassy in Bern and I shall declare your Ambassador in Lagos persona non grata.”

  For the first time the chairman raised his eyebrows.

  “Furthermore,” continued Ignatius, “I will hold a conference in London which will leave the world’s press in no doubt of my Head of State’s displeasure with the conduct of this bank. After such publicity I feel confident you will find that many of your customers would prefer to close their accounts, while others who have in the past considered you a safe haven may find it necessary to look elsewhere.”

  The Minister waited but still the chairman did not respond.

  “Then you leave me no choice,” said Ignatius, rising from his seat.

  The chairman stretched out his hand, assuming that at last the Minister was leaving, only to watch with horror as Ignatius placed a hand in his jacket pocket and removed a small pistol. The two Swiss bankers froze as the Nigerian Minister of Finance stepped forward and pressed the muzzle against the chairman’s temple.

  “I need those names, Mr. Gerber, and by now you must realize I will stop at nothing. If you don’t supply them immediately I’m going to blow your brains out. Do you understand?”

  The chairman gave a slight nod, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. “And he will be next,” said Ignatius, gesturing toward the young assistant, who stood speechless and paralyzed a few paces away.

  “Get me the names of every Nigerian who holds an account in this bank,” Ignatius said quietly, looking toward the young man, “or I’ll blow your chairman’s brains all over his soft pile carpet. Immediately, do you hear me?” Ignatius added sharply.

  The young man looked toward the chairman, who was now trembling but said quite clearly, “Non, Pierre, jamais.”

  “D’accord,” replied the assistant in a whisper.

  “You can’t say I didn’t give you every chance.” Ignatius pulled back the hammer. The sweat was now pouring down the chairman’s face and the young man had to turn his eyes away as he waited in terror for the pistol shot.

  “Excellent,” said Ignatius, as he removed the gun from the chairman’s head and returned to his seat. Both the bankers were still trembling and quite unable to speak.

  The Minister picked up the battered briefcase by the side of his chair and placed it on the glass table in front of him. He pressed back the clasps and the lid flicked up.

  The two bankers stared down at the neatly packed rows of hundred-dollar bills. Every inch of the briefcase had been taken up. The chairman quickly estimated that it probably amounted to around five million dollars.

  “I wonder, sir,” said Ignatius, “how I go about opening an account with your bank?”

  A LA CARTE

  ARTHUR HAPGOOD WAS demobbed on November 3, 1946. Within a month he was back at his old workplace on the shop floor of the Triumph factory on the outskirts of Coventry.

  The five years spent in the Sherwood Foresters, four of them as a quartermaster seconded to a tank regiment, only underlined Arthur’s likely postwar fate, despite having hoped to find more rewarding work once the skirmishes were over. However, on returning to England he quickly discovered that in a “land fit for heroes” jobs were not that easy to come by, and although he did not want to go back to the work he had done for five years before war had been declared, that of fitting wheels on cars, he reluctantly, after six weeks on the dole, went to see his former works’ manager at Triumph.

  “The job’s yours if you want it, Arthur,” the works’ manager assured him.

  “And the future?”

  “The car’s no longer a toy for the eccentric rich or even just a necessity for the businessman,” the works’ manager replied. “In fact,” he continued, “management are preparing for the ‘two-car family.’”

  “So they’ll need even more wheels to be put on cars,” said Arthur forlornly.

  “That’s the ticket.”

  Arthur signed on within the hour and it was only a matter of days before he was back into his old routine. After all, he often reminded his wife, it didn’t take a degree in engineering to screw four knobs onto a wheel a hundred times a shift.

  Arthur soon accepted the fact that he would have to settle for second best However, second best was not what he planned for his son.

  * * *

  Mark had celebrated his fifth birthday before his father had even set eyes on him, but from the mo