Read The Clayton Account for Free Online

‘COMPOUND ?’
    He did not know. How was the account set up? Did the Swiss pay interest monthly, quarterly, annually? He took the worst-case situation and punched in ‘A’.
    The cursor moved to: ‘RATE ?’
    That was difficult. Somewhere he would be able to get UCB’s average interest rate for every year from 1944 onwards, but not now.
    ‘RATE ?’
    He felt his hands sweating as he keyed his first figure: ‘3 per cent’.
    ‘$2,718,003’, came the answer.
    He noted the figure and keyed: ‘4 per cent’.
    ‘$4,535,697’.
    He made a note again, took a deep breath and tried 5 per cent.
    ‘$7,531,993’.
    ‘
Jesus
!’ he exclaimed involuntarily. Maybe, just maybe, here was the answer to his prayers.
    ‘Hey, Tom, losing money already?’ jibed Kreutz from his station.
    ‘Making money, sonny boy.
Making
money,’ replied Clayton without looking at him.
    ‘Rub my head, Tommy,’ bantered his neighbour, returning to his own screen with renewed vigour.
    Tom chuckled and exited the software.
    He had to go to Switzerland without delay, and he chose to make the trip official in deference to his own First Rule of Banking:
Never use your own money if you can be spending someone else’s
.
    Tom’s stomach suddenly lurched as it struck him that his present problems stemmed precisely from having broken that same rule. He looked in the direction of Hal Grinholm’s office and could see through the glass that he was alone. Might as well do it now, he decided.
    ‘Hal, mind if I go to Zurich for a day or two?’
    ‘What have you in mind?’
    Tom tried to make it plausible. The Swiss franc was a bargain at 2.45 to the pound. A good time to look at some Swiss equities, maybe a few currency contracts.
    ‘A window of considerable opportunity. And, well, you know me. I like to squeeze the vine
in situ
.’
    ‘Your chum Langland still in Zurich?’ Grinholm asked out of the blue.
    My chum Langland
. Tom’s heart did a somersault. ‘Yeah. Still there,’ he replied, trying to sound casual.
    ‘Okay. When do you want to go?’
    ‘Sooner rather than later. I already missed over a week – better look at this now before I get stuck in again.’
    ‘Fine by me. Go ahead.’
    ‘Thanks.’
    ‘And … Tom …?’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Sorry about your dad.’
    ‘Thanks.’
    Perhaps there was hope after all.
    On Tuesday Clayton went to work as usual.
    He asked his secretary to book him a seat to Zurich on the last flight of the day and get a lake-side room at the Baur au Lac. Like many businessmen, he eschewed the magnificence of the Dolder Grand Hotel in favour of the Baur au Lac’s pole position at the top of Bahnhofstrasse, within walking distance of all the banks.
    Then, seizing a moment when those around him were preoccupied with their own calls, he rang head office at United Credit Bank and made an appointment for the following morning. The receptionist had put him through to a solicitous gentleman in the Private Clients section. Tom explained that he wished to open an account. It would be a personal account, denominated in US dollars. He did point out, however, that his initial deposit would be substantial, a clue that would determine the calibre of bank executive that would receive him. The meeting was confirmed with a Mr Ackermann, fifth floor, 9.30 on Wednesday. He then called his own bank’s Zurich office and arranged to visit late on Wednesday morning. He avoided talking to Langland directly, instead leaving him a message suggesting lunch.
    Tom’s flight left London on time at 19.15 but – with Swiss clocks an hour ahead – by the time he reached his hotel at ten-thirty the restaurants were closing. Nothing much happens in Zurich at night. So he ate a bowl of risotto sent up to his room by the Rive Gauche restaurant, watched the US news on cable, drank two cognacs from the minibar and, trying hard not to think about money, fell asleep by midnight.
    On Wednesday morning Clayton rose early, ate breakfast in the Grill Room