The Watchers Read Online Free PDF

plans.’
    The guy appeared perplexed as he walked across the room to deliver the bad news. The gentleman with the espresso smiled in Katherine’s direction. A few hushed words later, the guy was back at the bar.
    ‘My boss understands your scheduling conflict, but is anxious to spend the evening with you. He asks if you might reconsider.’
    The guy laid a thin red box on the bar. Katherine opened it; saw a gold necklace with a respectable-sized pearl hanging from it. She snapped it shut and shoved it aside.
    ‘Tell your boss he’s not my type.’
    ‘Excuse me?’
    ‘Tell him I like girls.’
    The guy left the red box on the bar, made the same trip across the room to deliver the even worse news. Another smile, more hushed words, he was back. This time looking fit to faint.
    ‘His Royal Highness asks me to enquire if twenty-five thousand would change your mind regarding his … type.’
    ‘Twenty-five thousand, as in thousands of dollars?’
    ‘Yes, miss.’
    Katherine gave the gentleman in the corner a second glance. Neatly trimmed moustache, pampered complexion, scent of sandalwood.
    ‘Let me get this straight. We’re talking twenty-five thousand dollars, cash, for one evening?’
    ‘Yes.’
    Katherine picked up the red box and opened it for another look.
    ‘This trinket, it’s a bonus, of course?’
    ‘Of course. It would be a token of appreciation. You will be interested to know my prince can be most generous in his appreciations.’
    ‘Is that so?’
    ‘Indeed, miss. May I present His Royal Highness with the happy news?’
    She snapped shut the box, handed it back.
    ‘First, take this back to Prince Boss and ask him what else he’s got.’
    That was the end of UCLA and the beginning of graduate studies in cultivated men of immeasurable means. Elegant men who came recommended to her by ‘a mutual friend’. Probably the last guy she’d balled for cash, she thought, but so what? They came bearing gifts. Four years later she had a beachfront condo in Santa Monica, a convertible Lexus in the garage, a room full of designer clothes and a closet full of to-die-for shoes. And a little over four hundred thousand in undeclared cash to hide from the Internal Revenue Service. Then came the letter from the IRS asking about all that undeclared cash in account number 2087956-2 of First Union Bank of California.
    Lipstick. Understated red. Hint of gloss.
    That very night, she met a Swiss gentleman for dinner at Ivy on the Shore. A private banker on business in Los Angeles, looking for discreet company. He was charming, he offered advice. Protecting one’s cash assets was difficult in the post 9/11 world, he said, especially for Americans. The American security apparatus now tracing every dollar in circulation around the world. And Americans, as everyone knew, somewhat prurient towards ladies of her particular profession, especially those ladies who did well for themselves. However, if mademoiselle might consider relocating to Lausanne things could be arranged. Say, liquidating your property in America, converting your dollars into Swiss francs to be laundered through an offshore account in Cyprus and deposited in the Lausanne branch of a reputable bank. Of course, with your financial assets, Swiss residency wouldn’t be a problem. And most importantly, meeting someone with the right connections to handle your business affairs. He happened to know just the person. A Frenchwoman of excellent reputation now living in Geneva, operating a discreet and exclusive agency. The Two Hundred Club, catering to the rich and powerful of Europe.
    Pearls tonight. Matching earrings.
    The Swiss banker even knew a wonderful place on the market in Lausanne. Top floor, corner flat with a wraparound garden terrace. Lovely views of the French Alps and Lac Léman. He could arrange a mortgage with no money down, of course. Why, the whole thing could be run through the Two Hundred Club. Madame Simone Badeaux was the woman’s name, by the