"Ludlum, Robert - Bourne 01 - The Bourne Identity" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ludlum Robert)

The lift did. From four different angles. If you had been armed, the machinery would have stopped between the first and second floors.' 'You're all cautious.'

'We try to be of service.! The telephone rang. Apfel answered. 'Yes? ... Come in.' The banker glanced at his client 'Your account file's here.' That was quick.'

'Heir Koenig signed for it several minutes ago; he was merely waiting for the scanner release.' Apfel opened a drawer and took out a ring of keys. 'I'm sure he's disappointed. He was quite certain something was amiss.'

The steel door opened and the receptionist entered carrying a black metal container, which he placed on the desk next to a tray that held a bottle of Pettier and two glasses.

'Are you enjoying your stay in Zurich?' asked the banker, obviously to fill in the silence.

'Very much so. My room overlooks the lake. It's a nice view, very peaceful, quiet.'

'Splendid,' said Apfel, pouring a glass of Perrier for his client Herr Koenig left; the door was closed and the banker returned to business

'Your account, sir,' he said, selecting a key from the ring. 'May I unlock the case, or would you prefer to do so yourself?'

'Go ahead. Open it!

The banker looked up. 'I said unlock, not open. That's not my privilege, nor would I care for the responsibility.'

'Why not?'

'In the event your identity is listed, it's not my position to be aware of it' 'Suppose I wanted business transacted? Money transferred, sent to someone else?' 'It could be accomplished with your numerical signature on a withdrawal-form.'

'Or sent to another bank - outside Switzerland? For me.' Then a name would be required. Under those circumstances an identity would be both my responsibility and my privilege.'

'Open it!

The officer did so. Dr Washburn's patient held his breath, a sharp pain forming in the pit of his stomach. Apfel took out a sheaf of statements held together by an outsized paper clip. His banker's eyes strayed to the right-hand column of the top pages, his banker's expression unchanged, but not totally. His lower lip stretched ever so slightly, creasing the corner of his mouth; he leaned forward and handed the pages to their owner.

Beneath the Gemeinschaft letterhead the typewritten words were in English, the obvious language of the client:

Account: Zero-Seven-Seventeen-Twelve-Zero-

Fourteen-Twenty-six-Zero Name: Restricted to Legal Instructions and Owner

Access: Sealed Under Separate Cover. Current Funds on Deposit... IIг50,000 Francs

The patient exhaled slowly, staring at the figure. Whatever he thought he was prepared for, nothing prepared him for this. It was as frightening as anything he had experienced during the past five months. Roughly calculated the amount was over four million American dollars.

$4,000,000.00!

How? Why?

Controlling the start of a tremble in his hand, he leafed through the statements of entry. They were numerous, the sums extraordinary, none less than 300,000 francs, the deposits spaced every five to eight weeks apart, going back twenty-three months. He reached the bottom statement, the first It was a transfer from a bank in Singapore and the largest single entry. Two million, seven hundred thousand Malaysian dollars converted into 5,175,000 Swiss francs.

Beneath the statement he could feel the outline of a separate envelope, far shorter than the page itself. He lifted up the paper; the envelope was rimmed with a black border, typewritten words on the front.

Identity: