The Banker Who Died by Matthew A Carter

Author:Matthew A Carter [Carter, Matthew A]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781733050005
Publisher: Garin Ray Publishing House
Published: 2019-06-01T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 29

Stanley looked out the window groggily to see that they must have passed the border into Switzerland some time ago. When he woke again, it was evening, and they were entering Geneva.

Biryuza was waiting for them at the entrance to the bank vault. He got out of a black Mercedes and shook Stanley’s hand.

“Everything okay?” Biryuza asked in Russian. “How was the drive?”

“Everything’s great, Anton!” Stanley answered, also in Russian. “It’s been a while since I slept for so long in such an uncomfortable position.”

“Well, we’ve got something here worth a little discomfort,” Biryuza said with a nod to the armored truck. The bank guards were climbing out, rubbing their stiff legs.

Alexey was listening to their conversation, staring at Stanley in open astonishment.

“Excuse me, Anton,” said Stanley, enjoying the expression on the guard’s face, “we need to get this unloaded as fast as we can. I’ll call Lagrange!”

But Lagrange appeared in person, without any advance notice. He exuded an air of deep satisfaction. He was literally beaming. Instead of their usual handshake, he embraced Stanley, slapping him on the back.

“I’m proud of you, McKnight! Excellent work!” Lagrange exclaimed. “I couldn’t have handled it—fifteen hours in a truck! You’re a hero! Right, Anton?”

“Yes, indeed!” agreed Biryuza.

The transport driver in charge asked Stanley to sign a special form. Stanley’s hands shook a little.

“Do you still need me for anything?” Stanley asked him. “If not, I’d like to get going.”

“No, we’ve got it from here,” the other man replied.

“Stanley, I’m eating at Brasserie Lipp tonight. I hope you’ll join me. Anton, what about you?”

Biryuza shook his head, explaining that he was flying back to Moscow that night, in about two and a half hours. Stanley also declined—what he wanted more than anything in the word was to take a bath, and then have a real sleep, in a good bed and clean sheets.

“Which hotel did you put me in?” he asked Lagrange.

“The Beau-Rivage,” Lagrange said, clearly disappointed to lose his dining companion. “It’s at 13 Quai du Mont-Blanc. It’s not far from here, but I’ll call a car for you.”

“Thank you, Pierre! That’s all right, I’ll walk.” Stanley shook hands with both men. “I feel like I’ve forgotten how to. See you, Alexey! Don’t be cheap. Get something nice for your girl!” Pulling his hat further down on his head, Stanley headed toward the exit.

The façade of the hotel was extraordinary, richly decorated with graceful columns and elaborate fluting, miniature balconies, delicately crafted bay windows, and numerous other adornments.

The tall doors opened as Stanley approached, and he found himself in the cozy interior of the lobby. Water burbled in a fountain, and a fire blazed in a fireplace at the far end, despite the warm summer evening. Stanley went over to the desk.

“I believe you have a room for…”

“For Mr. McKnight, sir?” The clerk was lean and dark-skinned, with brilliant white teeth.

“How did you guess? I had no idea I was so famous,” Stanley joked.

“I received a call from a Mr. Lagrange just before you arrived,” the clerk answered with a smile.

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