The Banker's Dilemma: She promised him Paris in the spring

by Roman Klee

  “That was where we traced the email account.”

  “I know she visited Thailand in the past.”

  Nathan thought Carla seemed curiously unconcerned about where her stepsister might be. Maybe she had grown used to their way of communicating and was confident of hearing from her sister soon. Or maybe she had already heard from Liz and that was why she didn’t appear to be over anxious.

  Then to Nathan’s surprise she added, “I’m happy to help you if you want. Liz is a sensitive type. She doesn’t really speak to strangers much these days.”

  Nathan was about to contradict Carla, recalling what Chet told him in Thailand. But he stopped himself in time and asked instead, “When did she get interested in all this Eastern and alternative stuff?”

  Carla stayed silent before answering. There was never just one day when she could say definitely Liz had adopted an alternative lifestyle. It was more like a gradual progression, until her gap year when a lot of things changed and she realized Liz was not going to follow a conventional pathway.

  “She was always a curious girl. I think one of her qualities was openness. She mixed easily with other people and cultures. The day we noticed something had changed was when she came down ready for high school, her head shaved and dressed in a saffron colored kashaya robe.”

  “I can imagine. That would be enough to shock anyone.”

  Carla carried on, appearing to ignore Nathan’s comment.

  “Budd had plans to bring her into the business. He thought she could add a female perspective on things, you know, understanding stuff about women’s buying habits.”

  All this made perfect sense thought Nathan; it was a great pity it didn’t work out.

  “It came as a big shock. She totally rejected anything to do with profit making and capitalism. Once Jade compared it to rearing a cuckoo child.”

  Nathan understood the sentiment. Strange as it was, at times it was difficult to believe that children had their own separate identities, often baring no relationship to how their parents thought they should be.

  “You know there is something we could do. How good are you at water sports?”

  Carla’s question caught Nathan off guard. He didn’t immediately see the connection. He replied that they were not his favorite activity, but he was willing to give most things a try.

  “I think I’m losing her. Maybe she was lost from the start.”

  Nathan assumed Carla was still talking about Liz, when in fact she was thinking about Sophia. Clearly their most recent falling out was affecting her.

  “I spoke with my therapy group the other day,” Carla had suddenly brightened up and she began to talk more quickly. “And you’ll never guess what they suggested?”

  “Okay, you got me, I give up.”

  “White-water rafting!”

  Nathan admitted he would never have guessed.

  “It’s based on the idea of bonding. You put a group of people in a challenging situation, and everyone has to pull together. No excuses, no time for arguments. There is an element of danger, but it’s not life threatening.”

  Well, that was good to hear. To Nathan it sounded similar to the team bonding weekend sessions some of the partners at Solomon favored. He had always managed to avoid them. Returning to the office on a Monday morning, he was left out of the post-mortem discussions, as the guys went over the highlights of the previous two days and who had won the bet. The winner being the guy who provided video proof he’d had sex with all the hottest female instructors.

  “So what do you say? Are you up for it?”

  Nathan never imagined it would turn out to be this easy. Here he was with a personal invite to a family event, organized by one of the Wrights. There was surely no better way to get closer to Carla as Cunningham wanted, though Nathan still could not see how it would help them find Liz.

  “Why not?” he replied hoping he came across as brimming with enthusiasm. “Who else would you like to come along?”

  “I checked with this company that does white-water rafting events. The ideal number is six.”

  “Okay, I could ask someone. And then we need one more.”

  “Leave the details to me, I’ll get the dates firmed up and we can take it from there.”

  They finished their coffees and headed back to the yacht club, just as Dirk was making the final adjustments and securing Miramar’s mooring lines.

  He looked up, “Ah, there you two are.”

  “How did the new furling system work?” asked Nathan.

  Dirk smiled, “She did better than expected for a first attempt.” He seemed surprised that Nathan had obviously been listening to what he was saying earlier.

  “Actually Nathan, if you’re interested, there’s something else I’d like to show you.”

  Dirk looked at Carla and she didn’t seem entirely pleased. “You know Nathan’s given up so much of his time today and …”

  “No it’s okay, I really enjoyed it,” said Nathan quickly, just as he sensed an argument was coming.

  Dirk ignored his wife’s objection.

  “I figured Nathan would like to look around Liz’s old yacht, right?”

  Nathan tried to suppress his eagerness at the mention of Liz’s name. He replied casually, “Sure, I’d like nothing better.”

  “So then … how about tomorrow?”

  It was another invite Nathan could not refuse.

  Δ = T –24,767,640

  When Nathan arrived at the Arlen Yacht Club, he understood why Walt Baruch had spent most of their lunch talking about Anastasia. She occupied one of the largest births, with fantastic views across Brenton Cove.

  And there was no doubt about it, Anastasia was pure elegance on water; she represented the spirit of a bygone age. She was designed as a classic clipper style motor yacht, with a timber bowsprit and two masts, which served as supports for navigation and communication equipment instead of rigging for sails.

  Nathan noticed there was a great deal of activity going on all around her. He had assumed they were just going to see an old boat, partially covered in a green tarpaulin, that needed a good clean inside and out.

  From what he could see, several crew members were getting a table on the main aft deck ready for lunch.

  Dirk Bruening explained the yacht was commissioned in 1929 and began to retell her history.

  At this point, Nathan smiled and felt like he would mentally switch off. It was just like listening to Baruch at his yacht club all over again. If nothing else, Anastasia was a favorite topic of conversation.

  “Enough of the past,” said Dirk after a while, sensing that Nathan was not really listening. “Let’s have a look around.”

  They boarded the yacht from the stern, walking along the passerelle (which Dirk pointed out telescoped neatly away when not in use) and straight onto the main deck, where a curved teak table with chairs for at least ten people, made an ideal place for al fresco eating.

  “Carla said you’re staying for lunch. I hope you have nothing else planned for this afternoon.”

  “No, I’m free until the evening,” replied Nathan, who was fast getting to like the Wright-Bruening’s lifestyle.

  “Carla will be here within the hour. She’s busy at a Guggenheim trustee meeting.”

  Nathan hoped he could keep up his enthusiasm for the nautical way of life. In truth he was afraid of the water, but certainly didn’t want either of his hosts to find out.

  “You like things mechanical, let’s go look at the engine room.”

  And Dirk led the way through to the main deck salon. Nathan had another chance to be surprised, this time by Anastasia’s interior. The overall effect was like a country house on water. The wood-paneled walls and ceilings were painted white, creating a light and welcoming feel. The dark internal teak decking was splashed with color, from valuable orienta
l rugs.

  Teak louvred shutters with brass hinges and latches, provided privacy and just the right amount of light. Gilt framed paintings, some of them original Dutch masters, were skillfully arranged in the best viewing positions, with a brass canopy light above each one.

  Because Anastasia belonged in another age and no doubt because her current owner had inherited an understated sense of style, gaudy ostentation and extravagance were absent.

  Dirk crossed over to the port side, Nathan followed and they moved on through to the library and office. The shelves were stacked with a selection of antiquarian titles, each with a nautical theme. There were also bound back copies of National Geographic, Yachting, Vogue and Architectural Digest.

  Then it was out through a small, highly polished teak door to the side deck. A few more strides and when Nathan least expected it, Dirk stopped and opened another door.

  They went inside and it was then that Nathan knew they had reached their destination, because he could smell the distinctive odor of marine diesel and engine oil. They were now looking at the immaculately restored engine room.

  Dirk led the way over a steel grille floor and down a narrow white metal staircase to the heart of the yacht.

  The sight of the massive six-cylinder twin Krupp diesels immediately made Nathan’s heart beat a little faster. He’d seen nothing like them before. They were true pieces of vintage engineering, solid looking with an incomprehensible arrangement of pipes, wiring, handwheels, brass rimmed gauges with roman numerals and arrow headed pointers.

  “These were among the first diesel engines ever built and now they’re the last of the line. The engines in the sister ship packed up a while back. Only Anastasia survives.”

  Dirk explained how a company called Sud Moteurs de Marseille had rebuilt the engines, when it was surely a better idea to replace them completely.

  Once again the story sounded familiar to Nathan.

  Obviously the yachting fraternity was very close knit, and even the most inconsequential piece of information seemed to go around and around the exclusive circuit.

  Nathan was hoping that at some point this circuit would throw him a few pieces of information, so he had something of value to report back to his boss.

  “We use open gravity feeds, the oil drips onto moving parts.”

  Nathan was surprised to see that many of the parts were uncovered, and imagined the place could quickly become caked in a thick layer of oil. It would be like walking through an oil slick and potentially pretty hazardous.

  Dirk seemed to detect Nathan’s surprise.

  “When Anastasia gets going, we have three engineers on watch. One guy wipes down each engine for as long as the trip lasts. And then two engineers stand over each unit when we do close quarter manoeuvring.”

  This was certainly a very different way of doing things. It had nothing in common with the modern day approach, where an engineer sat in his own sound proofed room overlooking the engine bay, and relied on banks of flashing screens, video cameras and every type of electronic sensor imaginable.

  “How many crew do you have?” asked Nathan, assuming they needed extra hands to keep the engines running sweetly.

  “Sixteen in total—in the old days they squeezed in up to twenty-five. It can’t have been any fun in the forecastle. Especially when it was stormy. Look, check this out.”

  And Dirk guided Nathan over to the telegraph system. The original brass housing was gleaming, as if it had been installed yesterday.

  “This is how we transmit commands between the bridge and engine room.”

  Dirk pointed to a dial, which displayed the words, ahead: Full, Half, Slow, Standby, Stop, Finished with engine, astern Full, Half, Slow.

  “See, it works on old fashioned mechanical principles. The captain has exactly the same telegraph on the bridge. So when he moves one of the handles to say full ahead, that shifts a pointer here in the engine room. The engineer then moves his telegraph handle around to the right position and back on the bridge a pointer indicates the command was received and carried out.”

  “And all this happens with just a few rods and cogs?”

  “Yep, hard to believe it was state of the art at the time.”

  Nathan thought it best not to sound critical, but as far as he could see, using this old system must surely make the boat really difficult to handle in and out of confined spaces, like modern day marinas.

  Then again, what did that matter? It was nothing for him to be concerned about.

  The two men exited the engine room, and walked up to the sundeck to take in the spectacular view.

  “Ever been cruising before?”

  Nathan hadn’t expected that question. Why was Dirk asking?

  “I think my longest ride on a boat was the Hoboken ferry.”

  It was an unwritten rule among the yachting fraternity that they never used the word boat. They always talked about their yachts, even when there wasn’t a sail in sight.

  But on this occasion, Nathan could be forgiven, because he was using the word boat to refer to a commercial vessel.

  And then he noticed a sudden change in Dirk’s manner. It was as if the guy had been sizing him up all along and had now finally got his number.

  “See, the thing is, my wife is a very generous woman, and I don’t like anyone taking advantage of her.”

  “No, of course not, I understand,” said Nathan quickly, the color rising in his cheeks. He had wondered how long it would take for the jealous husband routine to kick in.

  “I keep a look out for guys like you who …”

  But before Dirk could continue, they heard a couple of female voices shouting from the dock side.

  “Hello! … anyone on board?”

  The two women were standing side by side, waving frantically in the direction of Anastasia.

  Carla had turned up with her younger sister.

  Δ = T –24,764,040

  Carla and Mary Beth were born seven years apart, but they shared a strong family resemblance and were more or less the same height. Many people thought they were twins.

  Nathan and Dirk made their way down from the sundeck just in time to greet the two sisters who had successfully navigated the passerelle. This was Nathan’s first meeting with Mary Beth, and he wondered whether she would know who he was.

  “Hi, it’s nice to meet you Nathan,” and she extended a hand. They were not on hugging terms, but she at least knew his name, probably because Carla had prompted her.

  Carla didn’t hold back, she kissed Nathan on both cheeks, betraying her European experience.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I thought a quick lunch together would be fun. You can get to know Mary Beth.”

  Nathan replied that he could think of few better ways to spend an afternoon, sensing he had been ambushed by two of Budd Wright’s children plus son-in-law. He wondered what they wanted to talk to him about.

  Had they come to relay a message from Jade, preferring to get his view on how the hunt for Budd was progressing instead of going to Cunningham direct? Did they want to prise him away from the Trust and get him to act as an informer, telling them what it was up to? Or were they trying to find out how much the Trust really knew about Liz and where she might be?

  The table on the main deck was now set and one of the yacht’s stewards came over to Dirk and asked if they wanted to have anything to drink before their meal.

  They ordered a couple of root beers and iced teas. The first course was fresh shrimp cocktail followed by T-bone steaks, hash browns and fries, with side-salads and a choice of dressings; French, Thousand Island or Poppy seed. And to finish, chocolate chip and nut sundaes, made with Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food ice cream, which was Mary Beth’s favorite.

  Nathan wasn’t sure how the conversation would go, but he’d had enough of all the small talk and decided to get t
hings going by asking about Liz.

  “Is it true, she doesn’t speak to any of you these days?”

  “I know, it’s kinda sad, I think in so many ways it’s tragic,” replied Carla. “Mom tells me how it cuts Dad up. He doesn’t like us talking about it. But then you know how persistent Mom is. She never gives up.”

  “Where do you think Liz went to?”

  Dirk expected Nathan to ask that question, because he had a good idea what the guy got up to at the Banderbilt Trust.

  “It’s a tough one to call,” he replied, giving nothing away. Then he turned the question back on Nathan, “Doesn’t she contact you and leave her forwarding address?”

  “To be honest I’m not sure. Before his accident, our senior partner handled her account personally. I think all her U.S. correspondence gets sent to our Park Avenue address. But I have to check it out to be sure.”

  Nathan could have added that he needed to check with the Trust’s Swiss office, to see if it was receiving international mail on Liz’s behalf, only he thought it better not to reveal his ignorance.

  “If only life was more simple. We tried all the conventional routes. At the beginning of her experiment, Liz moved around a lot. Often we contacted her in hotels. One of her favorites was Le Coq d’Or, near Aix. She stayed there when the yacht was being remodeled,” said Carla.

  Nathan realized that his idea of what an alternative lifestyle amounted to, was clearly a lot different from Liz’s. He wondered how she squared staying in fancy hotels with what he’d learned about her from his trip to Thailand.

  “Frankly, I think she’s receiving professional help,” said Dirk.

  “Really … who from?” asked Mary Beth sounding skeptical.

  “Maybe you didn’t hear about people who sell you a bunch of tricks and trusts and offshore companies and they help you disappear. She must have plugged into them.”

  Nathan tried not to look surprised. This was the first time he’d ever heard of people like that. But if what Dirk had just told him was true, it went a long way to explaining why they had experienced so many problems tracing Liz.