by Morris West
“Alternately, he may decide he doesn’t like me at all and decline to have me as a client.”
“Believe me, he will do that with great reluctance. So let’s work on the interview itself. Hand me your passport and the copy of your life story. Let’s see how good you are at telling lies. After that, we’ll get you wired up.”
Simonetta Travel maintained an expensive storefront and offices in one of the most expensive locations in Milan, the Galleria. It was designed to catch the eye of the shoppers and the promenaders and all the other actors in the daily drama of the glass palace.
Inside there were three young women in well-tailored suits, each with the Simonetta monogram embroidered on the breast pocket: an S imposed on a V, for Simonetta Viaggi. They were not only pleasant to look at; they were well trained. I was greeted cordially, and when I stated my business my welcome was effusive. Signor Falco was, indeed, waiting for me. If I would come this way, please.
The man who greeted me was a surprise. The mind-picture I made of him was a stereotype from film fiction: a swarthy, sinister-looking gangster with a hoarse and threatening voice. Instead, I found myself shaking hands with a tall white-haired gentleman with classic aquiline features who carried himself with all the dignity of a Noble Guard. His voice was soft, his gestures restrained, his handshake firm and dry. He sat me down, offered me coffee and mineral water, and began the interview.
“I have to tell you, Mr. Benson, that silly little magazine piece has brought us more inquiries than any single piece of paid advertising. It’s quite extraordinary how many people read the magazines in hotel rooms. Where, for example, did you see it?”
“If memory serves—and my memory is never the best—it was in Switzerland at the Baur au Lac.”
“What was it in particular that interested you?”
“I can tell you that exactly. It was the idea of a carefully organized retreat from the unpleasant realities of normal existence: things that can’t be cured but which one is unwilling to endure. Then, of course, I was impressed that you yourself seemed to be doing research on the locations. You were not simply selling travel packages, sight unseen.”
“This is very interesting. Please go on.”
“Well, it seems to me that everyone comes to a moment of crisis from which one needs a place of retreat and the means to maintain oneself there. I find myself at such a moment now.”
“My English is not perfect. I am not sure that I understand what you mean by maintain.”
“Forgive me. I’m expressing myself rather badly. I am thinking of two separate issues. The first, I could not contemplate living in a hotel for any extended period. I should need a house and a well-trained staff to run it.”
“That, generally speaking, can be arranged. The standard of residence and staff depends, of course, on what you are prepared to pay.”
“I am prepared to pay for the best, Mr. Falco—which is not necessarily the most extravagant.”
“Your point is well taken. Your second requirement?”
“It’s the matter of money management. The comfortable existence I desire depends on a regular and safe transmission of funds across national borders with a minimal tax obligation, either in my home place, Canada, or the place of my new residence.”
He rose to the bait, as I had hoped he would. Yet he did it with considerable caution.
“Surely your present bankers can provide all the services you need?”
“My present bankers—that is to say my bankers in Europe—are Morgan Guaranty in Paris. I maintain funds in Canada but I use them only when I am at home in that country. So far, I have been able to introduce an acceptable hiatus into the money trail.”
Falco said nothing. He smiled and nodded approval of my cleverness. I went on with my explanation.
“However, there are problems for any client of any bank who lives in an exotic location. You must be aware of them. Indeed, if I remember the article rightly, it suggested you had developed a means of dealing with such problems.”
“What problems, Mr. Benson?”
“My bankers, Morgan Guaranty, transmit funds to me wherever I require them by bank-to-bank electronic transfer.”
“We use the same system.”
“However, in certain places, even in Europe, it takes a week or more to verify that the funds have arrived. That suits the receiving bank, which is using them for overnight transactions. Meanwhile, the client is embarrassed. I do not wish to be embarrassed in any circumstances! Suppose I fall sick and need immediate medical attention. I don’t want to die because I can’t touch my own funds to charter an aircraft. Do I make myself clear?”
“Very clear, Mr. Benson, and you are right; these are situations against which we provide very carefully for our special clients. We find that, as far as major institutions are concerned, they are inclined to fail in small but important matters of detail.”
“And how do you address such details?”
“We run our own banking system. It is private. It is small but financially secure, founded, chartered, and directed from the home of banking, Switzerland. If you should wish to use the system, Mr. Benson, we can certainly assist you with the necessary introductions.”
“Before making any such arrangements, I should require to meet the principal.”
“Nothing could be simpler. He is in Geneva, which is only a short flight from Milan.”
“Good! Now let’s see what kind of new world you can offer me.”
Falco smiled tolerantly and held up a hand in admonition.
“Please, let’s do this properly. We have a method which we use with all our special clients. I’ll call in one of our young ladies, who will take you through a questionnaire. With that information we can save you and ourselves a great deal of unnecessary labor. It’s called client profiling. We find it works very well. Do you agree?”
“It sounds like a good idea.”
“Now, before the young lady comes in, there are certain questions I have to ask you personally. It may be less embarrassing if we do it here and now.”
“Go ahead.”
“You mentioned, in our telephone conversation, ‘domestic arrangements.’ Are you married, Mr. Benson?”
“No.”
“So, when you refer to domestic arrangements…”
“It means that I have a taste for exotic women. I am not promiscuous. The dangers are too great these days. I would accept no woman into my household unless she were thoroughly examined by a competent physician. So far as domestic staff is concerned, I need a majordomo to run the household and maintain good relations with local merchants.”
“The woman should not be hard to find, Mr. Benson. The majordomo may be more difficult. Still, so far we have been successful with other clients. Next question. Do you have any chronic illnesses requiring medical supervision?”
“None. I’m an A-grade insurance risk.”
“Do you have any venereal diseases?”
“No.”
“Will you carry your own health and accident insurance, or will you ask us to find an insurer?”
“I’ll provide my own.”
“Are you an absconding debtor?”
“No.”
“Do you have a police record in any country?”
“No.”
“Are you subject to any court orders for the payment of alimony or child support?”
“No.”
“How long would you wish to maintain a secluded lifestyle?”
“If I found the right place, I might be tempted to maintain it forever.”
“You understand, Mr. Benson, that in the case of an extended stay, we should require an adequate credit reference.”
“What would you call adequate?”
“That would depend on the location and the lifestyle you chose. From our point of view, we should look to a sum that could maintain you in your chosen style for not less than three years.”
“A question, Mr. Falco.”
“Pl
ease!”
“Once having established me in paradise, why should you care whether I live or die, whether I am rich as Croesus or a beggar on the beach?”
“Because we are not just a travel agency, though we function very well doing just that. Our special clients are, in effect, asking us to provide them with their own private paradise. To do that effectively, we send them to places which we ourselves own or which we lease and manage. We provide them with the best that is available in their style of living. We have to be sure that they can pay the bills. You asked a few moments ago about transmission of money. I told you we had a private banking system. We do. Under that system we are able to supply local credit to our clients, saving them a great deal of tax while we collect the money from an approved source—in your case, from Morgan Guaranty. There is another advantage. Our people in Geneva will accept to act under powers of attorney while the client maintains what he or she sought in the first place: a secret existence with no intrusion from outside.”
“You have still to tell me the name of your banking principal in Geneva.”
“Do you wish to meet him?”
“Not at the moment. I’d like to run his name past Morgan Guaranty, who, after all, would be the people instructed to deal with him.”
“A wise precaution, Mr. Benson. It’s a pleasure to deal with someone who knows his own mind. The name of the person is Dr. Hubert Rubens. When you leave here, I’ll give you his card attached to your other papers. One more point: When we have finished our conversation and explored the possibilities, you will take whatever time you need to consider them. However, any further work we do on your project will be subject to contract and, of course, a deposit of working funds.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Mr. Benson.” His tone was very patient. “You are not asking us to arrange a vacation. You are not even asking us to build you a house. You are asking us to build you a new life. That takes time, money, and travel—on your part and on the part of our personnel. I did warn you this could be costly.”
“You did. And I shall pay willingly if you come up with an attractive proposal. I assume you’ll give me a copy of your contract, so that I can study it along with your suggestions?”
“Certainly! That’s a normal part of our paperwork. It is, however, a confidential document, and we ask you to treat it as such. Now, why don’t I call in our young lady and complete the rest of the questionnaire. We’d like your passport, driver’s license, credit cards, and the name of your contact at Morgan Guaranty.”
He pressed a buzzer on his desk, and a few moments later Liliane Prévost walked into the room with a notepad and clipboard under her arm. For one instant I was panic-stricken. My polite smile of welcome seemed frozen into a rictus of fear. Then I remembered. I had seen her at Céline’s gallery, but she had never seen me. There was no way in the world she could identify me. Francesco Falco introduced us calmly.
“Mr. Benson, this is Mlle. Prévost. Mr. Benson is a candidate for our special client list, Liliane.”
“Welcome to Simonetta, Mr. Benson.”
“Thank you.”
“Mlle. Prévost has just joined us from our Paris office, where she dealt with several special clients. I leave you with her to complete the questionnaire. After that, we can take a first look at possible destinations for you.”
He got up from his desk and Liliane took his place behind it. He gave her an approving smile.
“We encourage ambition here, Mr. Benson. Our senior personnel move from country to country. Who knows? One day Mlle. Prévost may well be occupying my place. By the way, Liliane, Mr. Benson is Canadian, so if your English lapses at any moment, you should be able to get along in French.”
“I’m sure we shall arrange ourselves very well,” said Liliane Prévost primly. “Now, Mr. Benson, I need first your passport.”
From documents we passed to interrogation. The questions she put to me were less intimate than Falco’s but they covered a lot of private ground: religious affiliation, dietary needs, next of kin, diplomatic connections if any, the kind of guests I might wish to welcome, my blood group.
I could afford to be good-humored about what was, in effect, a pack of lies but I felt some token protest should be made about such an intrusive document. She acknowledged my protest serenely.
“Yes, it is intrusive, Mr. Benson. It is also intended to protect you and to protect us. We are, after all, considering a very intimate relationship with you. We are assuming a large responsibility for your well-being. Let me show you what I mean. The religious question, for instance. If you are Christian or Jewish, you may be disinclined to reside in a predominantly Muslim area, say in Indonesia or in certain Philippine islands where we have established accommodation. You may be totally against surgical intervention, even in emergency. We have to know that. Visitors? You may decline any contact with relatives. You may wish to be protected from reporters and photographers. To serve you properly, we must be aware of these things. We cannot construct a life overnight and without a plan. Quite recently, I was appointed to travel with a client—a very important client—whom we were about to settle in the Seychelles. I looked after him in Paris and then set him on his way to Rome. Unfortunately, he became ill and had to be flown to Switzerland for hospitalization. He wanted no contact with his family, so our people managed the whole operation. We flew in a doctor to treat him and take him to the hospital.”
“What was the matter with him?”
“Oh, he had mental problems. He was a nice man, quite young, quite brilliant. I enjoyed his company.”
“I am sure he enjoyed yours. Where is he now?”
“In the best clinic in Switzerland.”
“That’s comforting to know. It says much for your care of your clients.”
“Thank you. Now let’s get back to our list.”
“What happens to this list?”
“First, your name is changed to a case name. The information is then coded and stored in our computer system. The original paperwork, which I am doing now, is destroyed immediately after encoding. If you decide not to go ahead with your plans, your file is erased from the computer.”
“Do you circulate the file to your other offices?”
“Of course. Each office is asked to offer its own suggestions for this particular client. The resources of each one are different. Vacancies occur in one area. New developments occur in another. As I pointed out, the process is time-consuming. It took us several months to find a satisfactory proposal for the client I mentioned. With some, it has taken even longer. People are very—what is the word?—inconstant?”
“Fickle, changeable?”
“Thank you. Now the next question.” She gave a small laugh. “Mr. Falco usually asks this himself.”
“What does he ask?”
“Sexual orientation, health, pattern of domestic life—”
“He has asked me. I wondered why he placed so much emphasis on them.”
“The health question is very important. Not all our resorts are able to offer a full range of medical services.”
“And the sexual questions?”
“Some places are permissive. Others are very strict—for example, in matters of sex with children.”
“Why is all this information filed in each of your offices?”
“Because each office is asked to discuss the client’s dossier and make recommendations on it. Of course, that occurs only after the information has been checked.”
“Especially the financial information.”
“That, yes, but the rest of it also.”
“And if it doesn’t check out?”
“Mr. Falco himself contacts the client to discuss the situation. He’s very good with people, very sympathetic to their problems. Now, we really should finish this…”
When the interrogation was finished, she pressed the buzzer and got up. Falco came back and resumed his seat at the desk; Liliane Prévost left, carrying her papers. I offered
a comment and a compliment.
“That’s a very intelligent young woman.”
“Intelligent, efficient, and quite beautiful, yes?”
“Yes indeed.”
“I had the impression when she came in that you recognized her from some other occasion.”
“I thought so too. I couldn’t place her. I still can’t.”
“And she had no memory of such an occasion?”
“I didn’t ask. Quite frankly, I’m too busy simplifying my life to risk complicating it with any other woman, however beautiful or interesting.”
“Which brings me,” said Francesco Falco in his quiet fashion, “to the very last question, the one which is not on the list. It comes in two parts. What are you running away from and what are you hoping to find?”
“I should have thought that was my business, Mr. Falco.”
“It was. It is no longer.” He pointed across the room to a large display screen suspended on the wall. “In a moment, I shall switch on an illustration, a map of the world. It will show you the locations we can offer you. Following that, we will show you in simple graphic form the attractions of each one, its merits and its demerits, and what it will cost you to establish yourself there and, as you put it, maintain yourself. A problem will then arise. The moment you step outside the door, you will forget what you have seen. Then you will have to refer to the large folder of illustrated material which we shall give you to take away and study. After all that, you will still find yourself faced with the two-part question I have just put to you: What are you running from and what do you hope to find?”