True Read Online Free PDF

crenellated towers and a band played on a floating island in the lake. Etched against the blue sky, white banners proclaimed: Kappel Privatbank -- 200 Jahre Jubildum.
    He had invited every major client, the legitimate who brought respectability, and the criminal who brought profit -- although in his experience the only real distinction between them lay in how long each had possessed their wealth. A few were famous. His third wife, Eva, was talking to the fashion designer Odin. The flamboyant Norwegian's distinctive strawberry-blond hair hung down to his shoulders and he wore the trademark furs and leathers that had made his Viking style so popular. Helmut had once thought his wife decorative, but she no longer pleased him. She hadn't borne him an heir -- both his first and second wives had managed that.
    Behind them a minor member of the Monegasque royal family was deep in conversation with a Swiss investor. Don Marco Trapani, one of Kappel Privatbank's long-standing clients, was speaking with Joachim, Helmut's younger son, and a large man he didn't recognize. He remembered then that Trapani had wanted to introduce his cousin, a scientist, to the bank. Helmut looked at the man's ill-fitting suit and frowned. By the lake, his elder son, Max, was holding court. He looked tanned and confident after his productive Caribbean vacation, Delphine Chevalier at his side. They made a pleasing couple.
    Helmut shifted focus to his reflection in the window and brushed back his white hair till every strand was in place. He never tired of admiring himself: he looked good for a sixty-five-year-old. He was over six feet tall and lean, with an erect Prussian bearing. He wore a dark suit, a pale blue shirt, which matched his eyes, and a bright silk cravat that covered the purple scar tissue where a tumour had been removed from his throat. The disease had reminded him that time wouldn't wait for him to fulfil his destiny. Despite the doctors' advice, though, he had made only one concession to the cancer: he occasionally substituted cigars for his beloved handmade cigarettes.
    Today he took another black Sobranie cigarette from the silver box in the top drawer of his desk, placed the gold filter in his mouth and lit it.
    His brother cleared his throat. T told you it was pointless holding such an extravagant celebration. Not only does it draw attention to us, it costs us money we can ill afford.'
    Helmut didn't respond. His brother's caution had its place but Klaus had no sense of occasion. T can't believe that not one of them is coming,' he said. The surgery made it impossible for him to speak in anything louder than a rasping whisper.
    His brother tugged at his beard. 'Hudsucker, Corbasson, Lysenko and Nadolny have all declined the invitation.-'
    'You think they really will close their accounts?'
    Klaus shrugged. 'Apparently we're no longer respectable enough for their aspirations.'
    Helmut ground his teeth.
    Klaus continued, 'They are our biggest clients, Helmut. Not one is worth less than a billion dollars. This won't be like losing the others. If they all leave at the same time and withdraw their funds, it could be critical. Particularly with Comvec draining our resources.'
    Comvec was Kappel Privatbank's wholly owned biotech consultancy, set up by Joachim to service the swell of small genetic-engineering and gene-therapy start-ups seeking technical, regulatory, legal and commercial advice before launching on the market.
    Comvec's potential for reducing the Kappels' dependence on its banking interests was huge, but so far the venture had cost the bank money. 'How critical would it be if all four clients pulled out?'
    'We should survive. Just.'
    Helmut looked up at the past leaders of the Kappel dynasty, whose portraits lined the walls of his study and the hall outside. All were male and sported the family's trademark pale blue eyes and shock of white-blond hair. All had expanded the business during their leadership, leaving it stronger.