“Global Vision Investments is entirely legitimate now. Which is to say I’m only mildly corrupt. Indeed, by Swiss standards, I am a paragon of virtue.”
“You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?”
He smiled over the rim of his coffee cup. “Believe what you will, Gabriel.”
“I think I liked the old Martin better. The one who tried his very best to have me killed.”
“I thought we’d put that behind us.”
“It rankles from time to time.”
“Did we not steal several billion dollars from the Russian president together?”
“It was great fun, wasn’t it?”
“And do I not allow you to use my airplanes and my apartment in Paris whenever you need them?”
“You’ve been very generous.”
“And what about all that cash and jewelry I lent you? Monique is still miffed about that one.”
“She’s not terribly fond of me either.”
Martin laughed. The ice was well and truly broken. “What brings you back to Geneva this time?” he asked. “Business or pleasure?”
“Business, I’m afraid.”
Martin sighed. “How much do you need now?”
“I don’t need your money. Only some information.”
“How refreshing. And the topic?”
“SBL PrivatBank of Lugano.”
Martin’s expression turned serious. “I know it well.”
“And?”
“Definitely not a paragon of virtue. Quite the other thing, in fact.”
***
Among the far-flung constellation of enterprises controlled by Martin Landesmann was a small but wildly profitable financial services company located in the principality of Liechtenstein. This unethical house of finance, which was known as Meisner PrivatBank, had once served as the portal of a sophisticated laundromat that turned dirty money into clean cash and then buried it in the legitimate economy. His clientele was a rogues’ gallery of tax evaders, kleptocrats, and criminals of every stripe—including a sprawling organization based in the southern Italian region of Campania that derived most of its income through the sale and distribution of narcotics, especially South American cocaine.
“The Camorra,” said Gabriel.
“They generally refer to themselves as theSistema. Still, a rose by any other name...”
“Stinks to high heaven, Martin.”
He made no reply.
“How much do you suppose you made looking after their money?”
“If the truth be told, I made much more from the Colombians. But they were ill-mannered hotheads. The Camorra were all business.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
