"I'm pleased that we have this opportunity to meet." Karl was a large man with an aristocratic bearing. Round head, silver hair and cold blue eyes.
Simon looked out the wall-to-ceiling window. He could see the Piz Bernina, the Eastern Alps, south of the town; St. Moritz.
Jean Pierre did some research after "Mr. Smith" set up this meeting. Karl Terenz Engelond, Sr. was a German industrialist with fingers in a great many pies.
"I've been looking forward to this myself." Simon's smile had no warmth to it whatsoever.
"Well, I want you to know that all of your terms are quite suitable, almost. I have one small question. I believe that I understand, but if you would be so kind as to clarify." Engelond spoke perfect English wish a precise, clipped accent. "Explain what you mean by 'contingency contract'."
Last week, Simon flew home to spend some time with Elisabeth and Connor. His entire career had been built around living a double life. It had never been a problem before. A new development had complicated matters beyond his comfort zone. Emily was pregnant.
"Quite simple, really. I'm committed to completing this project. However, everything relies on two principle players; the artist and the inside man. If, for any reason whatsoever, one of them becomes unavailable; we stop. Any monies remaining from your initial investment are returned. And hopefully, we part on good terms."
Simon took in the entire room. Jean Pierre's dossier on Engelond listed information about his family; a wife and young son. Apparently they were still together. But from what he could see, there was no evidence of them at the chalet. Karl was alone here; no family, no associates and most important, no bodyguards. The only precaution taken was a cursory pat down when he arrived.
"Hypothetically, what if I found that unacceptable?"
Simon removed a cigar from his pocket; rolled it in his mouth and looked directly into this man's eyes. "Mr. Engelond, you hired me for a reason. I offered your Mr. Smith the names of other men fully capable of performing this job. If I'm not mistaken, you chose me for one simple reason — my jobs are undetectable. There is no such thing as a perfect crime; however, if the parties involved do not know one has been committed, well, then there is no crime to investigate. If the original players have to be replaced, the risk of detection rises to unacceptable levels."
The living area was large; perhaps 25' x 40', decorated with glass, chrome and leather. The walls were covered in expensive art from different periods. Engelond taste was obviously eclectic. The object that most interested Simon was the large crystal ashtray on the coffee table before him.
"You're referring to Mr. Koch specifically?"
Simon's brain went into high speed. Engelond was monitoring the operation. Was this a good thing or a bad thing? The answer arrived in a millisecond. Good thing. He didn't miss a beat… "Absolutely. If anything happens to Mr. Koch; if he has an accident, a stroke or even changes his mind… it doesn't matter. Too much exposure."
"And if he goes to the authorities?"
"We'll know about it. His office and home are tapped; plus he's under twenty four hour surveillance."
Engelond passed Simon a slim leather attache. "Twenty million in bearer bonds. Your thinking is sound and I accept your terms."
Bearer bonds are unregistered securities. There are no records kept of either ownership or eventual transactions. The practical application here is that whoever physically has possession of the bonds owns the instrument. Particularly helpful in instances where one wishes anonymity.
"Then we're in business." Simon stood and they shook hands. "The next time we meet, I'll have your painting."
Simon returned to the London the following morning.