CHAPTER 33
In the centre of his desk lay, as usual, a neat pile of post, sorted by the size of the envelopes. All unopened.
Erik Weissenstein had just returned from a top-level weekend workshop of bankers and politicians in Bern, taking up the Friday evening and most of Saturday. Tomorrow, he had to give a paper at an International congress that began in Zermatt.
Besides his job as chairman of the bank, he revelled in the prominence his social rank and reputation as a leading global banker brought with it. Politicians and statesmen called him their friend. It was good for him. It was also good for the bank.
Sometimes, he wondered if he needed all the attention or if it were a sort of compensation for a private life he desired but no longer had. Not since he and Nathalie ceased to be ma
