Disorderly Elements by Bob Cook

specimens of your signature, and details of your place of residence. And of course, we need to know certain details about the beneficial owner of the account.”
    â€œYes,” Wyman said. “I think you will find all you need here.”
    He produced a typewritten document and placed it on Piaget’s desk.
    â€œThis,” he explained, “gives the gentleman’s full name, and his place and country of residence. There is also a letter of introduction from a reputable European bank. As you can see, it confirms the gentleman’s address and certifies the specimens of his signature given below.”
    â€œExcellent,” said Piaget.
    He studied the documents carefully, and if any of it surprised him, his face did not show it.
    â€œThis is more than sufficient,” he added. “There are one or two standard documents we must request you to sign, and I will introduce you to the official who will be responsible for this account. You will appreciate, of course, that once the agreements have been signed, we will require a period of forty-eight hours to complete our own formalities.”
    â€œOf course,” Wyman said. Piaget was really saying that the bank would need two days to make its own private inquiries about the bona fides of the beneficial owner of the new account.
    â€œAs a matter of fact,” Wyman said, “I expect this account to remain unused for a week or two yet.”
    â€œIndeed,” Piaget said.
    â€œYes. We then expect a very large lump sum to be paid into the account, and we expect it to remain there for a minimum of eight months.”
    â€œI see,” said Piaget. “What sort of figure should we expect to receive, if the question is not an indelicate one?”
    â€œYou will find it written on the back of the page giving details of my client.”
    Piaget glanced at the sheet and slowly looked up at Wyman. Years of experience had taught Piaget to avoid expressions of pure greed, but there was a remote hint of it in his voice.
    â€œThis is quite a sum,” he said.
    â€œIt is,” Wyman agreed. “But I am sure you are perfectly capable of dealing with it.”
    â€œQuite so,” Piaget said. “Perhaps your client would like us to manage his account for him. The Bank provides an excellent service—”
    â€œThe possibility has occurred to my client,” Wyman said, “and we shall probably discuss it at a later date. For the time being I am simply interested in establishing the account.”
    â€œI entirely understand,” said Piaget, picking up his telephone. “Perhaps I can introduce you to M. Barthes. He will be responsible for your client’s account.”
    Three minutes later Wyman was shaking hands with a pin striped suit inhabited by M. Barthes and M. Barthes’ last dozen meals.
    The three men sat down and the remainder of the formalities were completed. Wyman signed the standard Form A of the Swiss Bankers’ Association, entitled “Declaration for Opening an Account or Depositing Securities”. In doing so, Wyman was declaring that he, Edmund Ryle, was merely the contracting party, and that the beneficial owner was someone else.
    He then signed the formal agreement establishing the account, giving the name of Ryle and that of the beneficial owner. Appended to the agreement was a long list of general conditions.
    Finally, because Wyman was opening a numbered account, he had to sign yet another document which was ponderously entitled “Special Agreement Completing the Contract for Opening an Ordinary Account and Deposit”. This was supposed to indemnify the bank against any risks arising from using a code-number instead of a name in the account. The code G2H-17-493 was entered on the agreement, and that was that.
    It was explained to Wyman that deposits and withdrawals would be made exclusively by means of this number. Despite the elaborate secrecy of this procedure, Swiss