currency-exchange-rate hikes
if he’s importing goods?”
Forget about the transactions,
I wanted to say,
let’s talk about Whitney-Davis.
But recognizing that any additional reference to him would arouse suspicion, I reluctantly moved on. I could revisit the
issue after Wilhelm invested more time and effort in trying to sell me on the bank’s services. The more time he invested,
the more effort he’d make not to alienate me.
“He wants to speculate,” I said. “$10 to $20 million, for starters.”
This didn’t seem to impress Wilhelm. If he hadn’t dealt with bigger fish, he certainly wanted to give that impression. Perhaps
I should have mentioned a bigger amount.
“Would your client be giving the instructions? Or would he want us to trade for him?”
“Due to time differences, I think he’d prefer your experts to do it. Tell me how’s it done.”
He spent the next fifteen minutes explaining the investment mechanism. I gave him a gracious smile and a nod.
“Earlier you mentioned confidentiality. This is something that my client insists upon.”
“Swiss law and our bank’s rules assure that,” he said.
“What about communication? How does he contact you?”
“On the phone, unless there’s a problem for him in America,” he said smoothly, looking at my face through his rimless glasses.
“Or he could fax or e-mail us. We can also hold his mail until he comes to Switzerland to collect it.”
“Do you have a U.S.-based correspondent bank? My client may want to use that link, rather than go through international communication
lines.”
“I understand, sir. In fact, we can use McHanna Associates in New York. They aren’t a bank, but rather a service company,
and I’m told they’re very experienced.”
“That sounds good,” I said.
“With your client’s written authorization, they could handle all matters for your client without any problem.”
“Including receiving mail, like your monthly statements?” “Of course.”
“By the way,” I said casually. “Where can I find Whitney-Davis? My client was so impressed with his professional abilities.”
He frowned and dialed his phone again and exchanged a few sentences.
“We aren’t sure,” he said. “You may want to contact McHanna Associates in New York. They may know more about him.”
Ah, but McHanna had already told me that he couldn’t remember whether he’d heard from Whitney-Davis since his South Dakota
scam in the mid 1980s.
I returned to my hotel with a briefcase full of glossy brochures and application forms. Discovering a current business relationship
between the former manager of a savings bank victimized by Whitney-Davis and a Swiss bank that appeared to run a legitimate
business was peculiar but not earthshaking. There were, however, two very interesting findings. First, McHanna hadn’t only
lied to me. He didn’t seem to hold a grudge against Whitney-Davis and now, in fact, could be in contact with him. I was puzzled
by that finding. I had just heard that Whitney-Davis continued to use that name years after the scam. But the FBI had told
us that the name had disappeared from all credit-reporting agencies. And now it had surfaced again? It was highly unusual.
Second, McHanna Associates was apparently helping U.S. residents avoid the prying eyes of the U.S. government by accepting
and keeping their Swiss banking correspondence. That could be considered aiding and abetting money laundering, if the proceeds
deposited by the client were the fruit of a crime. But at that moment I was too frustrated, tired, and hungry to follow up
on these promising leads or think about the resurrection of Whitney-Davis’s name. The idea that man could live on bread alone
turned out to be all wet. I was hungry and needed a beer. Unfortunately, the meal I ended up getting consisted ofa tuna sandwich and a local beer that tasted as if it had gone through a horse first.
I hooked up my laptop to my
if he’s importing goods?”
Forget about the transactions,
I wanted to say,
let’s talk about Whitney-Davis.
But recognizing that any additional reference to him would arouse suspicion, I reluctantly moved on. I could revisit the
issue after Wilhelm invested more time and effort in trying to sell me on the bank’s services. The more time he invested,
the more effort he’d make not to alienate me.
“He wants to speculate,” I said. “$10 to $20 million, for starters.”
This didn’t seem to impress Wilhelm. If he hadn’t dealt with bigger fish, he certainly wanted to give that impression. Perhaps
I should have mentioned a bigger amount.
“Would your client be giving the instructions? Or would he want us to trade for him?”
“Due to time differences, I think he’d prefer your experts to do it. Tell me how’s it done.”
He spent the next fifteen minutes explaining the investment mechanism. I gave him a gracious smile and a nod.
“Earlier you mentioned confidentiality. This is something that my client insists upon.”
“Swiss law and our bank’s rules assure that,” he said.
“What about communication? How does he contact you?”
“On the phone, unless there’s a problem for him in America,” he said smoothly, looking at my face through his rimless glasses.
“Or he could fax or e-mail us. We can also hold his mail until he comes to Switzerland to collect it.”
“Do you have a U.S.-based correspondent bank? My client may want to use that link, rather than go through international communication
lines.”
“I understand, sir. In fact, we can use McHanna Associates in New York. They aren’t a bank, but rather a service company,
and I’m told they’re very experienced.”
“That sounds good,” I said.
“With your client’s written authorization, they could handle all matters for your client without any problem.”
“Including receiving mail, like your monthly statements?” “Of course.”
“By the way,” I said casually. “Where can I find Whitney-Davis? My client was so impressed with his professional abilities.”
He frowned and dialed his phone again and exchanged a few sentences.
“We aren’t sure,” he said. “You may want to contact McHanna Associates in New York. They may know more about him.”
Ah, but McHanna had already told me that he couldn’t remember whether he’d heard from Whitney-Davis since his South Dakota
scam in the mid 1980s.
I returned to my hotel with a briefcase full of glossy brochures and application forms. Discovering a current business relationship
between the former manager of a savings bank victimized by Whitney-Davis and a Swiss bank that appeared to run a legitimate
business was peculiar but not earthshaking. There were, however, two very interesting findings. First, McHanna hadn’t only
lied to me. He didn’t seem to hold a grudge against Whitney-Davis and now, in fact, could be in contact with him. I was puzzled
by that finding. I had just heard that Whitney-Davis continued to use that name years after the scam. But the FBI had told
us that the name had disappeared from all credit-reporting agencies. And now it had surfaced again? It was highly unusual.
Second, McHanna Associates was apparently helping U.S. residents avoid the prying eyes of the U.S. government by accepting
and keeping their Swiss banking correspondence. That could be considered aiding and abetting money laundering, if the proceeds
deposited by the client were the fruit of a crime. But at that moment I was too frustrated, tired, and hungry to follow up
on these promising leads or think about the resurrection of Whitney-Davis’s name. The idea that man could live on bread alone
turned out to be all wet. I was hungry and needed a beer. Unfortunately, the meal I ended up getting consisted ofa tuna sandwich and a local beer that tasted as if it had gone through a horse first.
I hooked up my laptop to my
Similar Books
