THE BRIDGE TO CARACAS (Volume 1 of The King Trilogy)

CHAPTER 72

Mike and Karen stepped from the hot sunlight and opened one of the heavy glass and bronze front doors of the Banco International Venezolano. More than a hundred people had preceded them and were already lined up at the tellers' windows. Mike grasped Karen's hand and stared into her eyes. "I'm serious about this, babe!" he said with a warning expression.

"But what if—"

"There are no 'what if's! That money nearly cost us our lives! We're going to keep it and the feds can go straight to hell! They didn't give a damn whether we were guilty so long as they had someone to blame. They knew they couldn't touch your husband, so they took the scraps of proof he provided...just enough to hang us with. I'm not greedy, Karen. But I'm sure as hell not interested in funding those bastards."

Karen saw the same determined expression she remembered from when Mike had convinced her to fly to Venezuela. In spite of her concerns for the implications, the thought of keeping her husband's millions had an extremely large measure of appeal. Her frown gradually melted to a grin. "What the hell!" she said, shrugging her shoulders. "It isn't as if we stole it."

Mike scanned the vast interior of the modern structure and saw a diminutive Venezuelan hurrying toward them. He was dressed in an over-sized, olive green suit and walked with a perceptible limp. When he came within ten feet, he stumbled to his knees on the polished marble floor. "Is very much bad way to meet you," he said, righting himself with Mike's assistance and looking very embarrassed. He smiled and extended his hand. "You are Mr. King?"

Mike nodded.

"My name is Manuel Blanco. I am Mr. Schnieder's assistant. He is waiting for you. Please come." He led Mike and Karen to the opened doorway to Schnieder's office.

Schnieder sprang to his feet and moved around his beautiful, handmade desk to welcome his new clients. He smiled, displaying his glittering array of gold teeth. He shook Mike's hand vigorously, and then Karen's. "Welcome, my friends. Please come in and have a drink." He turned to Blanco and nodded, indicating that his presence was no longer required. Blanco left, closing the door behind him.

Schnieder hurried to the bar in the far corner of his office and poured four brandies. After chugging one, he returned to his desk with the remaining three. He gave one to each of his guests, and then returned to his chair with the third. Mike and Karen seated themselves in the comfortable, tan leather chairs facing Schnieder's desk. "Now my friends, we have much to talk about," he said, flashing another golden smile.

"Before we start, Alfred, Karen and I need to clarify an extremely important point," Mike said.

"Yes?" Schnieder's golden smile vanished.

"How much secrecy can we attach to this meeting?" Mike asked, focusing on Schnieder's beady green eyes.

Schnieder stared at his swirling brandy while spinning the stem of his glass between his index finger and thumb. He looked up at Mike. "The utmost. Many years ago, when I came to Venezuela from Germany, I learned very quickly that secrecy is of paramount importance in the banking business. I learned that if one wants to survive in it, one must be discrete with his clients and their holdings."

Relieved by Schnieder's answer, Mike took a large gulp of his brandy. "How much do you know about the methods Jim Servito employed to acquire his fortune?"

Schnieder squinted at Mike and shook his head. "It is neither my duty nor my intention to discuss with you or anyone the activities of a former client. That is privileged information."

"Then you wouldn't be prepared to act as a witness for us?" Mike asked. Although he was already certain of the answer, he felt deeply disappointed to see his expectation come true.