Marian eventually managed to arrange their stay in Montreux through a travel agent, which she found on the Internet. She and Robin had decided that probably five days there would be enough, not only to set up their bank accounts, but also to have some spare time for a bit of sightseeing. They booked half-board at the five-star Royal Plaza Hotel, overlooking Lake Geneva.
Marian wasn’t at all sure where the money was coming from when Robin had agreed so readily to this luxury trip, but he argued that they owed it to themselves, since they had cut short their tour of Africa. Robin had insisted that they would return there as well, and soon, but probably not for as long as they had originally planned when they graduated. And anyway, since neither of them had been to Switzerland before, they wanted some spare time to look around.
It was on the flight from Heathrow to Geneva that Robin decided to tell Marian about his Aunt Gladys, and the fact that he was to be her sole heir.
“The old dear is said to be quite well off,” he told her, “although I’ve no idea about the size of her estate. Until recently, she looked after her own financial affairs, and enjoyed buying and selling shares. Dad’s got power of attorney over her affairs now, since she moved into a home some months ago, and he seems to think that she will soon have to go into a hospice.”
“That must mean,” said Marian, “that the poor thing probably hasn’t got long to go.”
“That’s what Dad thinks, as well. But she is very old. Anyway, the point is that we shall be reasonably well off, too, one day - perhaps quite soon, whether we make much money or not out of the computer work.”
“It’s nice to have that sort of security,” agreed Marian, “but we mustn’t just sit back and do nothing. I was always brought up to believe that I had to work for my living, in spite of the fact that my parents are quite well off.”
“Me too,” said Robin. “Apart from anything else, life would be very boring with nothing to do, and no targets to aim for. I like to feel that I am achieving something in life. But it will give us a good cushion if things should ever go badly wrong, and that’s a comfort.”
They fastened their seat belts and put their tables in the upright position, as instructed, ready for landing.
“I’m actually going to use Aunt Gladys’s bank account as soon as I can while we’re here,” said Robin, and explained what he intended to do to check out his security system. “If there’s a couple of million quid in her account that I can move around, that should end any question in the Swiss banks’ minds about whether or not we’re money laundering. Some banks demand quite high deposits before they agree to open an account. I’ve talked it over with Dad, and he agrees.”
“I gather it’s not as easy as it seems to open bank accounts here,” said Marian, “especially as we are not residents.”
“So I believe,” agreed Robin. “But I’ve gone to the trouble of bringing with me various references and letters of introduction, so I hope we shall be all right. I’d like you to come with me when we have our meetings at the banks, in case I miss anything. Apart from anything else, they are sure to be impressed that your parents are Sir Richard and Lady FitzWalter!”
They completed the formalities at Geneva airport, and headed for the tourist information desk, where they collected maps, train timetables and information about a few places that looked worth a visit.
“We could have gone from here by coach, y’know,” announced Robin. “But it’s probably a lot quicker by train, and going direct from the airport means we don’t have to change in Geneva.”
“We’re not in any hurry, my dear,” replied Marian.
It wasn’t the most scenic of routes, as they travelled along the north shore of the lake, skirting the foothills, but there were occasional spectacular views of the snow-capped mountains across the water. They also passed vineyards on the south-facing slopes.
“I hadn’t realised they made wine in this country,” said Robin. “You never see it at home.”
A fellow passenger sitting opposite them overheard the remark. “Some will tell you,” she said, conspiratorially, “that not enough is produced to export. Others, though, maintain it simply isn’t good enough. You will have to judge for yourselves which is right!”
As it happened, they did not have long to wait before they were able to make up their own minds - a ‘welcome’ glass of it was awaiting them in the hotel bar when they arrived. As the web site had promised, there were glorious views across the lake, and their room, on the second floor, had a balcony with a similar scenic outlook.
“I think I’m going to like it here,” said Marian.
“But not the wine!” commented Robin, leaning over the balcony rail, as one of the old paddle steamers glided past. “I wouldn’t mind a trip on one of those before we leave,” he said. “We must try to find a timetable in reception. They probably also have leaflets about tours we can get from here, too, although I must say I would rather make my own arrangements if possible. It’s often a lot cheaper, and you can come and go when you like without waiting for a whole busload of other people.”
They had time to phone home before they changed for a leisurely dinner. Robin decided that he had some urgent work to do using his laptop computer afterwards, so Marian sat on the balcony, watching the setting sun turn the snow-capped peaks across the lake a brilliant orange colour.
“Since our first appointment isn’t until late tomorrow afternoon,” she said, “why don’t we take to the hills in the morning?”
“What had you in mind, exactly?” asked Robin.
Marian had been busy going through the leaflets they had collected at the airport. “From the station, we can get a cog railway which climbs that mountain over there” - she waved vaguely towards the hills behind the hotel - “to a place called Rocher de Naye. It looks as if there should still be quite a bit of snow on the peak, when we get there.”
“Sounds good,” said Robin, gazing at his computer screen.
“There’s a train at 10.30, and we should be back in good time for our meeting, even if we have a snack lunch when we get there. Do let’s go!”
They went. Eventually the little train stopped after its steep climb, and they got out into the swirling mist, with still-deep snow all around. While they were admiring the view, and watching boys tobogganing down one of the slopes across the valley, Robin’s mobile phone rang. It was his father.
“I’m in the office,” he announced. “Where are you?”
“Freezing to death in the snow on the top of some Swiss alp or other!” replied Robin. “We’ve just come up on the mountain railway.”
“Well, I thought you should know that I’ve had a very excitable bank manager on the phone, asking if I knew anything about a large sum of money - very large indeed, he said - that had been paid in to Gladys’s account.”
“At least they noticed,” laughed Robin. “I put it there last night, sitting in our hotel room in Montreux.”
“I don’t begin to understand how you managed to do it,” replied his father, “but I did as you suggested, and asked them to find out where it came from. I explained that Gladys had her fingers in all sorts of pies, so I had no idea whether the deposit was expected or not, and couldn’t ask her because of her mental state.”
“Good - what did the man say?” asked Robin.
“Well,” replied his father, “at first he actually seemed more interested in selling me investments rather than anything else, but eventually agreed to pay interest on it until he found out where it had come from, and I had decided what to do with it.”
“I’m sorry you’ve been bothered at the office,” said Robin, “but do let me know what, if anything, he discovers about its source.”
“No problem,” replied his father. “I’ll ring you as soon as I hear anything.”
“Thanks, Dad. We’ve got our first meeting with a Swiss bank manager this afternoon, and I suspect your chap will soon be getting even more excited.”
“Why’s that?” asked Mr. Hood.
“Because I shall soon start taking money out the account, having just put it in, to open a couple of accounts over here.”
“The poor fellow simply won’t know what’s going on!”
“When he rings to tell you that some of the cash has been taken out again, ask him how and where it’s gone,” suggested Robin.
“He won’t have a clue,” laughed Robin’s father.
“Let’s hope he won’t be able to find out, either,” responded Robin. “This is to test my security system, don’t forget. None of the money will be spent.”
“Understood,” replied his father. “Just so long as you can keep track of it and return it eventually to its rightful owner, I shan’t mind. Enjoy your day, and give our love to Marian.”
He rang off.
“Good reception up here!” Robin said to Marian, as they headed for the warmth of the little cafe. “Dad sends his love,” he added, and went on to explain everything that had happened.
“At least now we have sufficient capital to open our accounts over here,” he said.
“Will you use all the money from your Aunt’s bank?” asked Marian.
“No,” replied Robin. “I shall leave half of it where it is, and move half of it in to today’s bank.”
“Then what?”
“When we come to set up the second of our deposits, I shall use three quarters of the money from the first account which we shall open this afternoon, and then move a quarter of that back again later. That will prove that we can easily move money about between banks.”
“That all sounds a bit complicated,” commented Marian.
“That’s what I want,” replied Robin. “It will make tracing it all back to us even more difficult. With any luck, it won’t be long before we start moving money about seriously, to help people who have been swindled out of what is rightly theirs, and I want to make sure that we have a secure system in place before we do that.”
Marian nodded. “I think I fancy a sandwich,” she said, “but you’re not to have one, after all you had for breakfast!”
***
Their meeting at the bank was a very formal affair, as Robin had expected. They had returned to their hotel in time to change into smart ‘business’ clothes, and arrived some minutes before they were due.
They were taken to a reception room on the second floor, and asked to wait. They refused an offer of coffee. In a few moments, a secretary arrived to take them to the office of Monsieur Gilbert, the manager with whom they had arranged their appointment. He was a tall, elegant man, in a well-cut suit complete with waistcoat and gold watch chain. After they had introduced themselves, and refused another offer of coffee, Robin and Marian sat in front of a large, polished oak desk in the man’s spacious office, decorated with portraits and framed certificates.
“I gather you wish to open an account here,” he began.
“Quite correct,” replied Robin.
“May I enquire why here, and not in England?” he asked politely.
“Two reasons,” explained Robin. “First of all because of your world famous reputation for providing banking services of the highest quality and with the utmost secrecy, and secondly because of Switzerland’s much envied reputation for neutrality.”
“And why should that be important to you?” asked the manager.
“Perhaps I can explain that best by explaining exactly what it is we seek to achieve,” said Robin. “You will have read, no doubt, about the plight of some 4,000 or so white farmers in Zimbabwe, who have been evicted from their farms, often violently, and left without any compensation, to start a new life for themselves.”
The man nodded.
“There has been considerable international criticism of the Zimbabwean authorities for having adopted such a policy, as I’m sure you will also be aware.”
Again, the man nodded.
“To cut a long story short,” said Robin, “most of the victims of that policy will shortly receive compensation after all. For reasons that will be obvious, the authorities in Zimbabwe are keen to avoid the publicity that would otherwise surround the making of such a u-turn, and are therefore using third parties to put the plan into operation. This is where I seek your help. I wish the compensation to flow through this bank.”
Monsieur Gilbert was clearly taken aback, and looked closely at Robin for what seemed ages. For a moment, Marian thought that their scheme was about to founder. Eventually, he asked, “Are you suggesting that you wish to open up to 4,000 accounts here, one for each of the farmers involved?”
“I hope that will not be necessary,” replied Robin. “There is an organisation based in Bulawayo called Justice for Farmers and my hope is that we shall be able to channel payments to individuals through that organisation, since it is in contact with many of the disposed farmers. However, I have yet to approach them, and they therefore know nothing of the compensation plans at this stage.”
“And how will money be paid into this account, should it be agreed that we can offer you our services?”
“It will be paid in from several different sources,” replied Robin, “rather than from the Treasury through the Federal Reserve Bank, again for obvious reasons relating to the need for secrecy.”
“And for the same reason, the settlements cannot be paid direct to the organisation you have named?”
“Precisely,” agreed Robin. “They must pass through a third party to maintain the anonymity of their source.”
Once again, Monsieur Gilbert sat back in his swivel chair and looked intently, first at Robin and then at Marian.
“If we should agree to take part in this venture,” he eventually asked, “would you be the principal with whom we dealt?”
“Yes, I would,” said Robin. “Initially, at least. Let me say that I am aware of the fact that banks in this country will not normally deal with third parties, and that only Swiss attorneys may open an account on behalf of another person. I am also aware of your natural reservations about dealing with foreign nationals, in your efforts to avoid being caught up in money laundering operations. However, I hope in this case, having explained the circumstances and in view of the fact that you will be dealing with me and no-one else, that these strict and understandable rules will not apply.”
The man looked at the notes he had been taking during their meeting.
“It is also normally the case that accounts will only be opened for clients who are sufficiently well known to us for us to be certain that the funds being deposited are not coming from illegal activities,” explained M. Gilbert. “Indeed, it is requirement in law.”
“I am aware of the fact,” responded Robin, “and for that reason I have brought with me letters of introduction and references.” He handed them across the desk.
“That is thoughtful of you, monsieur,” said the manager. “Would you wish the account to be opened in your name, Mr. Hood?” he asked. “Should we agree, of course,” he added.
“I would wish for the account to be numbered, for obvious reasons, as I would prefer that the normal account records omit reference to my name or any other identifying information,” replied Robin. “I understand, however, that my identity will be known to yourself and your secretary and to a limited number of other senior staff within the bank. As I have said before, it will be me and only me with whom you will deal in relation to the account. I shall personally arrange for all deposits to be made, and authorise any payments from the account. It would be helpful, since I am not resident in Montreux, to have email access, subject to the usual encryption and codeword arrangements being in place.”
M. Gilbert again looked at his notes.
“In the event that this organisation, Justice for Farmers’, is unable or unwilling to act on behalf of the farmers involved in this exercise, how would you propose to operate the account,” he asked.
“Once all the money has been deposited that can be made available,” replied Robin, “I would envisage a lump sum payment being made to the individuals identified, and an annuity fund being set up which would then pay each of them a regular income. I would hope that your bank would also be able to manage that and to take care of the investment portfolio.”
“In view of the circumstances,” commented the bank manager, “what you have just proposed may well be the best solution in any case, rather than pass the responsibility to another organisation which is based in Zimbabwe. We would certainly be able to set up the fund you suggested, and if we can be provided with the names and addresses of the beneficiaries, make regular payments to them from here.”
“Justice for Farmers should be able to provide that, but I thought you were averse to opening 4,000 separate accounts,” said Robin.
“So I would be,” replied M. Gilbert. “But in this case, we would only have to operate one account plus an annuity fund, from which 4000 regular payments would be made.”
“And for which you would make hefty charges, no doubt,” countered Robin.
“Not necessarily,” replied the man, “although that would obviously be a matter of negotiation.”
“Are you saying that you are prepared to open an account along the lines I have suggested?” asked Robin.
“From what you have said, and bearing in mind on whose behalf you will be acting, I am prepared to recommend that to my Board,” replied Monsieur Gilbert. “Let me ask you one final question,” he added, leaning forward.
“Please do,” replied Robin.
“It is normal practice to require a large minimum deposit when opening accounts for non-residents,” he said. “Perhaps as much as 5,000 Swiss francs. In view of the complexity of the account you seek, however, this may not be sufficient. Had you any sum in mind as an opening deposit, Mr. Hood?”
“I could deposit £1 million sterling tomorrow,” replied Robin.
Monsieur Gilbert sat back in his chair, looking hard at both Marian and Robin.
“I am sure that will be more than adequate,” he said eventually, with a grin. “Can you tell me the final balance we might expect?”
“Not at this stage, I’m afraid,” replied Robin. “But I can tell you that money will be deposited in varying amounts over what I hope will be a short period of time, and should be held here until we are ready to start making payments.”
“Quite so,” replied M. Gilbert. “I shall recommend acceptance of your proposals to my Board, and I anticipate no difficulty whatsoever.”
“And how long shall I have to wait for a decision?” asked Robin.
“I will put forward the proposal by email to each of them when you leave, and would anticipate a decision by close of play today,” he replied.
“Excellent,” replied Robin. “In that case I should tell you that I may well need to move some £750,000 out of the account within a day or so. I have other business to conduct while I am here. However, soon after that I will be able to return some £250,000, leaving you with a total initial deposit of half a million pounds.”
“That will be quite satisfactory,” said the manager. “Thank you for telling me. Now, if I may suggest it, perhaps we should have a glass of champagne to mark the occasion.”
“That would be very nice indeed,” said Marian, speaking for the first time.
“And I can assure you, young lady,” said M. Gilbert, pressing the intercom to summon his secretary and a bottle, “that it will not be made in this country, but will be the real thing, from across the other side of the lake, in France.”
For the first time, Robin felt relaxed, and the formal atmosphere melted away as the cork popped.
“Here’s to a long and happy relationship,” proposed Monsieur Gilbert, raising his glass. “You must tell me of course, before you leave, how I can get hold of you to give you my Board’s formal decision.”
“Let me give you my card,” said Robin, handing over one of a few he had specially printed before leaving Oxford. “It has my mobile phone number on it, and my email address. The residential address in Surrey is my parents’ home. While I am here in Montreux, we can be contacted at the Royal Plaza.”
“How long will you be here on business?” enquired M. Gilbert.
“Five days or so,” replied Robin.
“And where then?”
“Back to Africa, probably,” replied Marian.
“Ah, yes,” nodded the bank manager. “You obviously have more business to do there.”
***
They were in their room, getting ready for dinner, when Robin’s mobile rang. It was Monsieur Gilbert.
“In the interests of privacy,” he began, “I rang on this number rather than through the hotel switchboard. I hope this is convenient?”
“Yes, of course,” replied Robin.
“I am pleased to say, Mr. Hood, that my Board has agreed to accept your business. Perhaps you would care to pay a further visit to my office soon, so that I can finalise the arrangements with you. It will not take long.”
“I’ll certainly do that,” said Robin, “and thank you for responding so quickly. I shall ring your secretary in the morning.”
Marian emerged from the bathroom.
“That’s one account sorted,” Robin said. “I need to pay a further visit to finalise things - sign papers, agree passwords and that sort of thing, I suppose - and then we’re in business.”
“That’s good news,” said Marian. “I told you the meeting went well, didn’t I!”
“Let’s hope the next one goes well, too,” he replied. “I’ll try to get back to Monsieur Gilbert first thing tomorrow, then we can have the day to ourselves, before going to the second bank.”
“That will be nice. We can plan where to go after dinner. I suppose we should contact Will and Grudge again, too, to see how they’re getting on,” suggested Marian.
“I had thought I would do that this evening, too,” said Robin. “Will is an hour ahead of us here, so I’ll try him first, then Grudge, who’s an hour behind.”
“I wonder how Grudge is getting on with the computer thing,” pondered Marian.
“I wish you wouldn’t keep calling it a ‘thing’,” joked Robin. “I just hope he’s managed to the get names and addresses and bank details of his colleagues. That’s the priority at the moment, now that we’re making progress here.”
“What do we do next, then?” asked Marian.
“We’ll have to get Jim to track down the US computer giant’s accounts, so that we can try to access them. I would guess that they have deposits worldwide, rather than just in the States.”
“Why?”
“Because they have offices in most major countries around the world, so they are bound to have local finances in place.”
“That will make our job more difficult, will it?” she asked.
“It may not,” said Robin. “It might be better to take smaller sums from more dispersed accounts, than a large sum from just a few. We’ll have to see how Jim gets on, and what sums of money Grudge thinks are realistic in terms of the compensation owing to his team.”
“Let’s go and eat,” said Marian.
“I’ll take the phone with me, just in case,” said Robin. “But I do hope nobody rings while we’re in the dining room - it’s so embarrassing.”
They had a quick coffee after their meal, and then went back to the balcony outside their room. Marian looked through the tourist leaflets they had collected, while Robin used his phone to get hold of Will.
He answered almost immediately.
“Hi, Robin,” he greeted his friend. “I was just thinking that if you didn’t ring me, I’d ring you.”
“I hope that means that you’ve got good news, then,” Robin responded.
“You wouldn’t believe how busy me and Bonkers have been since you rang, but we’ve made good progress.”
“That’s good,” said Robin. “Where are you, by the way?”
“We’re back in Bulawayo,” Will replied. “Looking up one or two of our contacts, if you follow me.”
“I’m with you,” said Robin. “Tell me what you’ve discovered.”
“Well, first of all, the Justice for Farmers people have the addresses of about fifteen hundred chaps who have joined. They are nearly all farmers who have been forced out of the country, like my father, or chosen to leave for their own safety. The farmers who haven’t joined are mostly people who still work in Zimbabwe, and who don’t want to be seen to be causing any trouble. Problem is, the guys running the organisation won’t let me have their mailing lists - I suppose you can understand that, really.”
“But we could contact their members, through them, I suppose,” asked Robin.
“Providing it’s in their best interests, that shouldn’t be a problem, they say.”
“Excellent!” said Robin. “And what about the chums of the bloke who paid your air fare, if you know what I mean?”
“I’m ahead of you!” responded Will. “My little organisation has all the details I think you’ll need relating to about fifty of them - perhaps a few more. But they are the ones with most of the dosh, we think.”
“Don’t risk saying too much over an open phone,” cautioned Robin.
“Understood,” said Will. “But the monkeys have got it spread around - Bermuda, Switzerland, all over, if you follow me.”
“I’m literally ahead of you,” laughed Robin. “I’m in Montreux now, sitting on my hotel balcony, overlooking Lake Geneva.”
“Well I’m damned!” exclaimed Will. “I thought you would be working hard somewhere, not swanning around.”
“We are working hard,” said Robin. “Even as we speak, Marian is looking at the brochures to see where we can go tomorrow!” he joked. “But we are having a series of important meetings here as well, which I’ll tell you all about when next we meet.”
“When will that be?”
“Soon, I hope - three or four days, with any luck.”
“That’s super. We shall look forward to that.”
“I shall want a full de-brief when we meet,” said Robin, “and perhaps you could arrange for me to meet the people who run that farmers’ organisation. Where are they based?”
“Here, in Bulawayo,” replied Will.
“We’ll fly down from Nairobi, and see you there. I think we can get to Nairobi more or less direct from here, but probably not to Harare or Bulawayo. I’ll let you know soon.”
“Great! Meanwhile, we’ll keep working and see what else we can discover.”
“Before you go,” said Robin choosing his words carefully, “have you any idea how many air fares your lot could buy - if you see what I mean?”
“Millions, without a doubt,” replied Will. “A few might need to sell a few bits of jewellery first, that’s all.”
“Got it,” replied Robin. “Be in touch and see you soon. Regards to Bonkers.”
“Love to Marian,” said Will, and rang off.
“Well, that’s very interesting and encouraging, if I understand his code right,” said Robin to Marian.
“Where are they?” asked Marian. “I heard you say that we’d probably fly to Nairobi.”
“They’re in Bulawayo, still meeting members of their contact group, and I’ve said we’d meet them there. I can’t imagine we’ll be able to get a flight from here though, so we’ll probably have to go through Nairobi.”
“I can check that out tomorrow, if you like, while you’re at the bank. You won’t need me there, will you?”
“No; that shouldn’t be necessary,” replied Robin. “But from what Will said, he’s managed to track down plenty of loot, as he called it, and indicated it was worth millions.”
“I hope he meant pounds and not Zimbabwean dollars,” said Marian.
“Me too,” said Robin. “He did say something about a few of them having to sell jewellery, though.”
“That must mean diamonds,” suggested Marian. “Someone mentioned that they’d been plundering them from Sierra Leone,” she reminded him.
“Yes, that must be what he meant,” agreed Robin. “There’s not much we can do about those, I’m afraid, or bonds or stocks and shares. We can only get at cash reserves, more’s the pity. The other thing Will said was that the Justice for Farmers people know the whereabouts of some fifteen hundred deposed farmers, but won’t part up with the names and addresses.”
“That’s a blow,” said Marian. “How do we get round that?”
“I’ve asked to have a meeting with them to discuss it,” replied Robin. “But I have a feeling that Monsieur Gilbert was right after all. It might be best, and certainly easier, if the farmers’ people ran the account on behalf of their members, rather than us getting too involved. Once we’ve raised the cash and got it deposited here, we could transfer the account to them.”
“Otherwise,” said Marian thoughtfully, “we could be stuck running it for ever.”
“I was just thinking the same,” said Robin.
“So what can we do about Grudge and his people, then?” she asked.
“My hope is that the bank will run that for us, if we provide them with the names and addresses and so on. The one we’re visiting the day after tomorrow, to open the second account, has a branch in Moscow. That’s why I picked them,” c