“So where does that leave us?” Juan asked, slightly irritated that Murphy seemed to be leading him along.
“The guy who set up the companies.”
“Wait. Guy? You said guy?”
“Yup.”
“They screwed up,” Cabrillo exclaimed, irritation turning to excitement as he grasped what Murph had just said.
“Sure did, boss.” Mark agreed, a smile in his voice. “Every one of the dummy companies had two things in common. They all own part of the Maus, actually on the documents it’s called Mice, but I think it’s a translation problem. And the other thing is they were all set up by the same lawyer in Zurich. Guy by the name of Rudolph Isphording.”
“Never heard of him.”
“No reason you should have, at least not until a few months ago.”
“What happened a few months ago?” Juan had suddenly become wary.
“Isphording was named as a star witness in the biggest financial scandal to hit Switzerland since it was discovered they had hoarded gold for the Nazis. He was caught up in a money laundering net, quickly saw the writing on the wall, and made a sweetheart deal with Swiss prosecutors. The scope of the investigation is expanding every day. A few bank presidents are under indictment, a couple of government ministers have tendered resignations, and now the investigators are looking into the Swiss representatives at the United Nations for potential bribe-taking. And there might be a link to the billions of dollars the late PLO chief Yasir Arafat hid away in Swiss banks that has yet to surface. It seems there’s no limit to how high or far the scandal goes.”
“All because of this Isphording character?”
“He had a very long reach into some very dirty pockets.”
“If the PLO is involved, I’m surprised he hasn’t been killed by now.”
Max Hanley spoke up with a low chuckle. “He’ll get a grateful hug by a suicide bomber only after the Palestinians find their money.”
“So where’s Isphording now?”
“Under protective custody at Regensdorf prison outside Zurich. The only times he’s been seen in the past five months is at special prosecutorial court sessions. He’s driven to the courthouse in an armored van. The media aren’t allowed anywhere near him, but one telephoto shot that might be him shows a figure in a flak vest with his face covered in what looks like bandages. Rumor circulating in the Swiss press is that he’s undergoing plastic surgery during the proceedings and will be given a new identity after he’s finished testifying.”
“An armored van?” Cabrillo asked, just to be sure.
“With a police escort. I said this was an alternative to tracking down forty Russians who may or may not know anything,” Mark replied. “I didn’t say it was an easier one.”
“Is he allowed visitors?” Juan asked, already thinking about what he could use as leverage over the attorney. Isphording was getting a great deal from the Swiss authorities. Why would he jeopardize that by talking to the Corporation about a handful of dummy companies he’d helped establish? Juan would have to get creative.
“Just one. His wife.”
That shot down his idea of trying to intimidate him in the prison’s interview room. If they couldn’t talk to him in jail, and he doubted Isphording would be allowed to speak to anyone in the courthouse, Juan saw his options as severely limited. He played a hundred different scenarios in his head and came up with nothing. Well, not nothing — but what sprang into his mind was one hell of a long shot.
“How sure are they about a PLO connection?” he asked.
“Reports are sketchy,” Mark said, “but it fits with his pattern of corruption.”
“That’ll have to be good enough. Even rumor can work to our advantage.”
“What’s happening in that scheming mind of yours?” Hanley asked.
“I’m too embarrassed to tell you yet. It’s that nuts. Are there any pictures of Isphording’s wife?”
“Shouldn’t be too hard to dig one up in newspaper archives.”
“Okay, get on it. I’m going to Zurich, get the lay of the land to see if my idea could even work. Where are you guys now?”
“We’re in the East China Sea about two hundred miles north of Taiwan,” Max said.
“And the Maus?”