THE TAINTED TRUST (Volume 2 of The King Trilogy)

CHAPTER 91

         Muskoka. September 19.

It was dark. No moon. Only a vague silhouette of Azimuth Island could be seen from the shore of Lake Muskoka where Mike stood. After lowering himself into the stern seat of George Taylor's canoe, he pushed off and began to paddle into the blackened serenity, each stroke taking him deeper into his self-imposed exile.

Monaco.

Prosperity abounds in Monaco, one of the most opulent tax shelters in the world. Unemployment is almost nonexistent, and there is no income tax. Tax evasion is not a criminal offense, so its perpetrators cannot be extradited. Most residents are hiding themselves, their money, or both. Numerous sports celebrities call it their home, attempting to preserve the huge but short term incomes they generate. Squeezed between sea and mountains, Monaco is a place where land is at a premium, measured by the square meter, or centimeter. Grand old villas have been replaced by towering condominiums. Real estate companies have proliferated. Generous sunshine bathes hundreds of ultra expensive cars, the beaches, the beautiful people, the obscenely expensive yachts in the blue harbor.

Kerri was captivated by the scenery and astounded by the people of Monaco. It seemed outrageous to her that while the rest of the world worked and struggled to survive, the wealthy inhabitants of the idyllic sun-drenched paradise frivolously wasted their days and nights in the extravagant pursuit of happiness. After a breakfast of toast and boiled eggs in accommodations befitting Visconti's new found wealth, she relaxed in the warm sunshine on the balcony. Still in her pink silk nightgown, she rested her bare feet on the wrought iron railing and leaned back in her deck chair.

Visconti, looking resplendent in his red and yellow flowered beach clothing, rainbow shades and brown leather sandals, approached her. "How would you like to go for a walk on the beach?" he asked while still grooming his hair with his hands.

"Would you mind if I didn't? I really want to put my bathing suit on and just relax in the sun."

Visconti feigned a pout. "Guess I'll have to soldier on without you."

"You poor baby," she said, then stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. "How long will you be gone?"

"An hour, maybe two. See you later," he said, then turned and left.

Kerri waited on the balcony until she saw Visconti leave the hotel, then hurried inside and proceeded to overturn furniture, dump the contents of every drawer on the floor, and overturn rugs and mattresses. When she had finished making the suite appear as if it had been burglarized, she changed into her minuscule peach bikini. She covered herself with sun-glasses, faded jeans, white T-shirt and sneakers, then placed her wallet in a large cotton bag and picked up Visconti's briefcase. She left the door to the suite unlocked.

When the elevator doors opened to the lobby, she stepped out and looked around to ensure no one was looking at her, then hurried to the front doors. She took a taxi to the Banque de Monte Carlo, three blocks from the hotel. She paid the driver, then hurried inside.

"May I be of service?" a young expensively dressed clerk asked, speaking perfect English.

"I would like to rent a safety deposit box," Kerri said as she lifted the briefcase to the counter. "Large enough for this."

"Do you have an account with us?" the clerk asked.

"...No. Can't I just pay cash?"

"Certainly," the clerk said, staring at the dark brown leather briefcase. "Please come this way." He led Kerri to the vault in the rear of the bank, then approached one of the hundreds of safety deposit boxes lining the walls. Using his security key, he unlocked the top lock, then turned the key in the bottom lock. "This should be satisfactory," he said, pulling the box out far enough to show her the size.