The rain splattered off the windows of the office building towering over Stephanplatz, as Hans Roth bounced money in and out of the accounts all over Europe. Most of the senior staff was away on vacation and no one questioned any of these transactions, still sweat wet his forehead and stained his shirt, as the fevered tension built within his body like floodwaters ready to burst through a dam.
Both Cali and Willi's kidnappers had called him last night. Hans had lied to the former and begged the latter not to hurt young hustler. The gruff voice on the phone had warned that as long as he took care of his end, Hans would see his boyfriend this afternoon. If he spoke to anyone else, meaning Cali, then he could bid his lover good-bye forever.
Hans had no guarantee that the caller would come through with his share of the money or Willi.
Hans swiftly calculated that his nights with Willi cost him about $400US per night and divided that amount into the total of the wire transfer. If he stole it all, he could have fifteen thousand nights with many men for approximately twenty years
Maybe he should have gone to his supervisors. They would bring him to the police. The police meant arrest and Willi's death. Informing Cali was even more dangerous than the police. He had no other choice than to follow the kidnapper's commands.
An account payable to an Indonesian oil company appeared on the screen. Hans scrutinized his fellow workers. Nobody was watching him. His fingers tapped out the receiving bank's routing numbers, then the account numbers the caller had given him. He sent the money in a Swift single-day transfer and routed the wire through a bank in Liechtenstein, then to the Jersey Islands, and bounced it over the Atlantic Ocean to a private account in the Cayman Islands. Each bank filtered off the momentary float of interest. It would take the auditors a few hours to trace the routing on Monday, but the trail would fade out after four transfers
An hour later he had accomplished exactly what he had been told, except that he had also siphoned off a million marks to a special account in the Bahamas. These gangsters might think him a sucker, but he had become involved in this mess because of love, not stupidity.
He sat back to relax his knotted muscles. His hands shook with an overdose of adrenalin and his nerves jolted, when a voice asked, "Herr Roth?"
The assistant office manager had crept up behind him and might have witnessed his every move. Hans wiped his face with a handkerchief and turned in his chair.
"Yes, sir?"
"Are you all right?"
Several other staff glanced up from their work.
Hans coughed and said, "It's just a summer cold, that is all."
"You should take better care of yourself. It is noon. Close out your accounts and call it a day," the manager suggested, then asked, "You're starting your vacation next week, yes?"
"Yes, sir. I am going to Bangkok."<
"Ah, Thailand. I have heard it is a very nice place." The bank manager wished Hans a good trip and returned to his enclosed office. "But watch out for those ladyboys. I hear they are very beautiful."
The assistant office manager walked away and Hans melted into his chair with relief.
Step one was complete.
Three hours of the banking day remained, then an entire weekend would pass before anyone might discover the theft of $6,506,788.65.
He cleaned up his desk and picked up his umbrella from the rack at the office entrance. He waved to his fellow employees and they told him to have a good holiday. He smiled inwardly, because he knew this would be the vacation of his life and he was never coming back. By Monday he would be talking to the doctors in Rio and no disguise would work better than the one with which he should have been born.
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