Hello, my friend, I said to myself. I thought of a verse from the Bible my father had liked to quote: “Do two walk together, unless they have agreed?” We would soon see how these men had conspired.
I checked the FBI report again-nothing about Switzerland. Same went for the bank examiners. I double- checked with their agencies. Nothing in the file. I went to see McHanna again, unannounced. If he was happy to see me, he was doing a good job of hiding it. Instead, he looked concerned.
“Mr. McHanna, I forgot to ask you one other question,” I said. “In the end, did your savings bank in South Dakota finally launch the idea, offering your customers some foreign-currency investment opportunities?”
He was stunned. After he recovered, he said slowly, “Well, actually, we didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“If I remember correctly, the board didn’t think the product fit the needs of our customers. They were mostly farmers and small-business owners.”
“So the program was abandoned?”
“Yes. And right after that we discovered the fraud, and I tendered my resignation.”
Hmm. Brian DiLorenzo of the OTS told me that the savings bank had fired McHanna. What else might he have embellished?
“Have you seen or heard of Mr. Harrington T. Whitney-Davis since?”
McHanna turned his eyes to the window on his right and scratched his nose. “No.”
My friend, I thought, your mouth says no, but your body says yes.
I remembered the course about body language taught by the Mossad psychologist. Research has shown that many, but not all, people tell the truth when they look to the left trying to remember events. When they look to the right they rely more on their imagination, and therefore they’re either intentionally lying or their answers cannot be relied upon. If a person questioned touches any part of his or her body, that indicates stress and the likelihood of a lie. Look at the person’s pupils. They dilate when someone is lying. Same goes for a dry mouth that a person tries to moisten by licking his or her lips.
“And what about Tempelhof Bank? Do you still have any relationship with them?” I asked.
McHanna’s smile disappeared. “I’m not sure. I would need to check on that. Anyway, I don’t think it’s relevant to your investigation, Mr. Gordon. This information is a trade secret of my company, and has nothing to do with my former employment.”
He had a point, I thought, but I had plenty of them as well. He had just given me a reason to follow that lead and go to Switzerland.
CHAPTER SIX
David Stone refused outright when I reported my findings and asked for his authorization to go to Zurich. “You know the Swiss sensitivity when it comes to investigations by foreign agents,” he said.
“Of course I know. Article 273,” I said. The Swiss criminal code made it a criminal offense for anyone besides a Swiss official to question a witness within Switzerland, whether the case was criminal or civil.
“Right,” said David. He then reminded me, though we both knew I needed no reminding, that this law includes agents of foreign governments who attempt to obtain information about a client of a Swiss bank. Even if a client authorizes the Swiss bank to disclose information to a foreign government, the bank cannot divulge any information on that basis.
“So?” I said when he had finished.
“I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.”
I knew David. Although he was content to hear me recite the Swiss law he had often suspected I overlooked, he also wanted to make sure I remembered Swiss law special restrictions regarding foreign governments. The Swiss legislature included that restriction to protect Swiss banks from pressure by foreign governments, which could make their life difficult if a Swiss bank also operated in that foreign country. We saw that when the Swiss refused for fifty years to give up any information on the bank accounts owned by Jewish victims of the Nazis. But, in that case, Congress and the U.S. courts made them finally talk and pay.
I waited for him to say more, but he did not. It was my turn. “It so happens that I have plans for a private visit to Switzerland,” I said wickedly. “And I need to be on assignment in Germany. So I request your authorization to issue a round-trip ticket to Berlin, with a stopover at my own expense in Zurich.”
“You’re on your own,” said David.
“I know that.” It’s the same old gambit: official refusal and a silent nod. It had worked fine thus far, because I’d been careful not to break Swiss law, laid low, and limited my activities to brain power. And I never broke the eleventh commandment of the trade: Though Shalt Not Get Caught.
The flight to Zurich was uneventful, except for the nosy and noisy lady beside me who insisted I meet her niece, who she swore had lost weight since the photo she flashed had been taken.
I checked into the Canton Park hotel, a cozy three-star hotel in the center of town. On the following morning I went to Tempelhof Bank near Bahnhofplatz in the heart of Zurich. The street-level entrance was palatial, framed by marble columns and lions. The inside was just as majestic, laid with Persian rugs, antique furniture, and a seven-foot flower arrangement. A uniformed blonde lady approached me.
“Gruezi,” she said. She switched to English, seeing the puzzled look on my face. “Welcome, how can I help?”
“I need some information concerning investment in foreign currencies.”
“Certainly,” she said. “Please be seated. I’ll have a specialist help you.”
A moment later, we were joined by a slim young man with rimless glasses.
“Hello, I’m Manfred von Wilhelm,” he said, and we shook hands.
“I’m Peter Wooten, an attorney from the United States,” I told him. Two out of three accurate pieces of information wasn’t bad. Peter Wooten was my frequent alias. The name, though, is an alias I use when I need to hide my identity from the opposition, and sometimes even from a foreign government as well.
“I’m exploring for my client-a major private U.S. investor-the option of investing in foreign currencies.”
“You came to the right place,” said Wilhelm. “Currency transactions have been our forte for many years. Swiss integrity, professionalism, and absolute discretion in protecting our customers are our bywords. May I ask who recommended us?”
“My client talked about Harrington T. Whitney-Davis, a consultant who had assisted a friend of his with satisfactory results.”
“Many consultants recommend our services, and I’m sure Mr. Harrington T. Whitney-Davis did the right thing when he mentioned our name.”
“Good, I hope to be associated with Mr. Whitney-Davis as well. Can you arrange that?”
He hesitated. “I’m not sure.”
“Maybe I came to the wrong bank,” I said cautiously. “I want to make sure about Mr. Harrington T. Whitney-Davis; I don’t think it should be confidential. I’m asking about a business association, not about your bank’s clients.”
Slightly annoyed, he picked up his phone and dialed a three-digit number. He exchanged a few sentences in Swiss German, which I found difficult to follow, but the name Harrington T. Whitney-Davis was mentioned twice.
He hung up. “Well, my colleague just told me that years ago, Mr. Harrington T. Whitney-Davis was suggesting our services to his clients, as an outside consultant. I’m sorry I wasn’t aware of it, since I came to work for the bank only last year. What is your client interested in? Speculative trading? Hedging against currency fluctuations to guarantee proceeds from an export transaction, or to safeguard against currency-exchange-rate hikes if he’s importing goods?”
Forget about the transactions, I wanted to say, let’s talk about Whitney-Davis. But recognizing that any additional reference to him would arouse suspicion, I reluctantly moved on. I could revisit the issue after Wilhelm invested more time and effort in trying to sell me on the bank’s services. The more time he invested, the more effort he’d make not to alienate me.
“He wants to speculate,” I said. “$10 to $20 million, for starters.”
