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'Survival isn't good enough.'
    'But we have to face facts, Helmut. In the last decade the number of independent private banks in Switzerland has fallen by forty per cent. The country's secrecy laws may still be strong, but the new anti-terrorism measures mean that the Federal Banking Commission's regulations are tighter than ever. It's become increasingly perilous for us to launder suspect money, and banks in the Caymans can provide those services cheaper. More and more clients are turning to the bigger banks. Our reserves are at an all-time low and the economy is in recession. If we lose our four biggest clients we'll be forced to liquefy investments at the bottom of the market. We'll be fortunate to survive.'
    Helmut paced the room. 'Do you think I don't know that, Klaus? We made the bastards rich. When they came to us they had nothing. How dare they tell us they need a more respectable bank? They were grateful for our skills when we pushed them up the greasy pole. So what if Warren Hudsucker's become a US senator. I don't care if he's the Queen of England. We made him.'
    'I know,' Klaus said soothingly. 'We could wind up Comvec. You know what Max thinks of Joachim's brainchild, and he's got a point. It's haemorrhaging millions of Swiss francs each year with no realistic prospect of a return for at least five years.'
    Helmut shook his head. 'Now isn't the time to kill Comvec, not when Joachim's just had a breakthrough.' Klaus was loyal and he managed the bank's administrative affairs with meticulous care, but he had no courage or vision. 'As for our errant clients, in the old days I'd have ordered Stein and his men to punish them, but until we find a way to shore up the bank we need their business. Look at the figures, Klaus. Offer them the most favourable rates we can afford. Call it a loyalty bonus. Just make sure they understand it's more attractive to stay than to leave -- at least in the short term.'
    Again he looked up at the portraits lining the wall and wondered what they would have done. Inevitably his eyes settled on the painting opposite his desk of Dieter Kappel, who had saved the family two hundred years ago.
    The four original Kappel brothers had been mercenaries who had taken their name from the Swiss village of Ebnat-Kappel in the German-speaking canton of Graubiinden. In the mid-seventeenth century, after moving south to fight for the warring Italian states, they had settled in Florence where they embarked on a more lucrative career as paid assassins. Specializing in 'natural' kills, using discreet poisons, they passed down their skills to the only people they could trust: their family. As the Kappel family's reputation grew, so did their fees and influence. Their descendants had served popes and kings.
    At the dawn of the nineteenth century, though, a powerful Florentine count had avoided paying for their services by attempting to have them arrested for the assassination he had authorized. The Kappels' poison had made him convulse so violently that his spine broke before he died -- and they had to flee Italy. Dieter Kappel had led the family back to Switzerland when it was becoming the world centre for private banking.
    With the family's accumulated funds, the Kappel Privatbank was established in Zurich in 1804. It found a profitable niche safeguarding the ill-gotten gains of those wary of the scrutiny of conventional banks. The bank paid them low interest rates for this privilege, then lent their money to smaller clients at much higher interest.
    Dieter Kappel ensured the family never forgot its core skills: he believed it was far easier to make a financial killing if you could make a real one. The bank began to invest in clients whose businesses had only one or two key rivals. Then, without the clients'
    knowledge, the Kappels would ensure that the rivals met with unfortunate accidents. Some clients suspected that the Kappels were responsible for their subsequent good fortune, but Dieter Kappel made it