End It With A Lie

by Peter M. Atkins

Simon was new to international travel, so he had taken the advice given by the girl in the travel agency and bought a connecting flight to Rome. She’d advised him that a connecting flight would allow him to just change planes in London and save the hassle of custom checks at Heathrow.

  He left the Qantas plane at Heathrow, where he boarded a British Airways flight to Rome, then flew Swissair to overnight in Zurich.

  He was weary from the flight when he caught an early morning train from Zurich Central to Sargans, then rode a bus to Vaduz. It was through tired eyes that he first saw the fairy tale landscape of Liechtenstein.

  Simon booked into the first hotel he came to and would have slept, but for the church bells which rang out at half hour and hourly intervals.

  He’d never had jet lag before, so he presumed it was why he felt like he did now as he stepped from the hotel. He’d buried his head under the hotel beds pillows as long as he could. A vain attempt to dampen the sound of church bells and after a light breakfast he’d set out in search of a bank.

  There were plenty of them about. Though many of the doors he tried were bolted, and at first he thought that maybe they had unusual business hours. He found out as time passed, that these banks with bolted doors operated on an appointment only basis.

  He had expected old style facade buildings, but found as he went that they all in the end just looked like banks.

  Not knowing where to start, and after walking past several, he decided to just enter the bank which was the closest to hand.

  The heavy door opened easily and he immediately caught the attention of the woman behind the counter. She spoke English quite well, but she was either having a bad day or she just couldn’t give a rat’s rear end if the whole place just disappeared. She suggested that Simon should wait, rather than ask him to wait and Simon did. A few minutes later a big man in a suit which looked very expensive stepped gracefully down the stairs and escorted Simon into a large and very ornate office.

  The big man didn’t talk unless there was something to say and Simon didn’t really know where to start. So he removed the letters he’d typed in Sydney and laid them out in front of him. He put them in order and then turned them about so the big man could run his eyes over them. Simon remembered his business cards and pulled one from his wallet. It described him as a company director of the firm detailed on the letterhead.

  He was nervous and for a moment he wished he was far away on the Darling River until he put the thought aside and instead, said, “I’m here as a representative of my firm. My colleagues in that firm wish to open a business account for the deposit of the funds owed to us by this government.” Simon pointed to the bill for services rendered. He felt his own voice in his ears and thought it sounded strained, so decided he should try to soften it. He took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly, but still felt a lump in his throat.

  The big man finally spoke and Simon found the mild voice easy to listen to, his English was good so Simon understood him without effort.

  “I understand that this particular government is at the moment fighting to survive a rebellion. Do you feel the government will pay this account before it realizes its own success?”

  Simon thought a moment as his mind searched for an answer.

  “My company has made arrangements with their Government officials.” He tried to made it sound like he’d made the below the counter payments necessary for smooth transition without actually saying so. “All the paper work is in order as you can see.”

  The big man looked back at the papers.

  “It seems to me that you are not in a position to spend much time in search of a bank which will carry out this transfer of funds?” Simon looked back at the big man with the thought he was about to be squeezed and then his heart began to sink as the big man spoke further, “My bank would not be prepared to expose itself, but as my bank cannot help you, I do know of a person, a lawyer, who may be available to give you satisfaction.”

  Simon nodded and the big man picked up his phone and dialed a number. He spoke for a short time, listened to the reply for a moment and finished the conversation with a Danke.

  He placed the phone back on its cradle before looking at Simon.

  “My friend is in a meeting at the moment, but he is certain he can be here within the next hour. If you would care to wait, then you will be welcome to do so here. My secretary will bring you coffee.”

  “Yes, that would be alright. Thank you.”

  The big man smiled.

  “Please make yourself comfortable. If you would like to freshen up, then behind that door are facilities.” He pointed to a door in the far wall before turning to leave the room, closing the main door quietly behind him.

  Simon could feel the silence.

  He walked to the window which overlooked the Aulestrasse and gauged the drop if he needed to get out. Leaning out the window he checked the way he would go if it came to that. He pulled a chair to the window where he sat down and gazed out towards the distant Alps. They were certainly impressive, and brought to mind a trip he’d done to New Zealand twenty odd years earlier.

  Forty minutes later he was getting anxious, and started to have visions of Interpol turning up to take him away. With every second that ticked on the big clock which hung on the far wall, Simon’s apprehension grew, until he was on the verge of jumping out of the window and running away. There was no thought of where he might run to if he did jump out of the window. Just get away.

  Who was the man who was coming to meet him? He thought.

  What kind of man?

  One who might do a bit of questionable work obviously, but then again so was he, “Simon the criminal.” He said it out loud to hear what it sounded like, “Simon the crim.”

  Suddenly the door opened and his mouth went dry.

  A shorter, thick set man came into the room, saw him by the window and crossed the room in greeting. He tugged Simon’s hand and introduced himself as Karl, before he suggested they leave the place and go to his own office. Simon returned the chair he’d used, and then followed as they left the bank. He didn’t see the big man again and the woman behind the counters day appeared to have not got any better.

  He was shown to a Mercedes, and after closing his door the driver pulled away from the parking place noiselessly. While Karl drove he talked to Simon, and as Simon listened he tried to remember the route they were taking, just in case.

  Karl’s office showed less expense but more taste than the one at the bank and its warmth more welcoming. The short man offered Simon a chair, poured two drinks and then walked behind his desk, loosening his tie a little as he went.

  Simon noticed that the short man was always moving. Everything about him was quick, even his smile flashed on and off.

  Karl asked for the paperwork and Simon passed it all to him before he studied the man closely as he read carefully until he finally looked to Simon.

  “My colleague tells me there is a revolution brewing in this country. He suggested also, you have made certain arrangements with officials there?”

  “Yes that’s true; the only thing that can stand in the way is the banking system. Once an account is made available then the transaction will move ahead quickly.”

  The short man looked at Simon with one eyebrow lifting, this being the only expression on his face.

  “You sound sure of these people. Many would say that you are very trusting. No?”

  “Shall we say the transaction is also in their best interests?”

  The short man understood. He rubbed his hands together and smiled lightly, then sat back in his chair.

  “I can organize an account for you. The bank I will use is reputable, and it will supply a bank nominee to transfer the funds at the African end. I can have the paper work prepared for you by 10 o’clock tomorrow morning.”

  Simon listened.

  “And the cost?” He asked.

  The short man looked Simon in the eye.

  “My no
rmal rate is two and a half percent. For this particular venture I would ask for 5%.” Simon did some high school arithmetic; it worked out in his mind to around $1.63m.

  “I take it that nothing can go wrong, in a way that the funds might fall into the wrong hands?”

  “If you mean the possibility of the paperwork being written in such a way, that it may all fall into my hands? Do not worry, because the reputation of the whole banking system in Liechtenstein depends on fair dealing, and one spot of tarnish could destroy all our livelihoods.”

  “From where I sit, your credentials seem to be in order. If a situation should arise, then I have been merely employed by your firm to transfer funds. The extra 2.5% commission will be there to cover expenses, if any questions should arise.”

  “You can rest assured my friend that you are in good hands, and 5% is a very good wage for me. Now if we might have a drink on the deal, I will then give you a ride back to your hotel. I assume you have booked in somewhere?”

  Simon told him the name of the hotel, while thinking at the same time that he was beginning to like the man.

  The short man poured two more drinks and he and Simon raised their glasses in salute.

  The deal was made.

  “I will work on the paperwork tonight and pick you up at your hotel at 10 o’clock tomorrow morning. After we have the necessary papers signed, it will be up to you to see that the money is readied at the African end. Here is my card; this phone number will be answered day or night. I will also need to know where to contact you in Australia?”

  Simon wrote his name and address on the back of one of his bogus business cards, then added the electricians fax number before the short man checked it to make sure he understood.

  Simon slept easier that night, secure in the knowledge that the hard part was over and progress was being made. He’d presumed the bank account part of his venture would be a major stumbling block. The fact it hadn’t been, proved once again that worry was based on worst case scenario.

  His dreams, like disjointed motion pictures still persisted, but now they were more like dreams and less like nightmares.

  He smiled once during his sleep when a vision of Sarah passed through his mind. He called her name, then was silent again as was Vaduz, except for the church bells that rung out at regular intervals.

  Simon didn’t hear them.