Page 36 of Echoes of Betrayal

Ernst and his partner Franz Hauser convened weekly meetings to discuss bank business and anything needing particular attention.

The secretary served a tray of coffee and pastries, and after checking her two bosses needed nothing else, she left the room, and the heavy door closed quietly behind her.

Ernst looked at Franz. He had decided it was time to try again to make him see sense. Of course, he wouldn’t tell him what he had done, but he intended to assess his reaction to the fluctuating war climate.

Franz sipped his coffee and ate a pastry before turning his attention to his pad in front of him. They were in the boardroom even though it was just the two of them. It was a habit they’d established, and it kept things formal in the weekly meeting, rather than falling into their usual habits of casual conversations in each other’s offices.

Ernst cleared his throat, and his neck was hot beneath his starched collar. There was no easy way to say this, so he had better get on with it. He could see Franz was uncomfortable, as if he sensed something in the air.

‘Something’s on your mind, Ernst, spit it out,’ said Franz, brushing an imaginary crumb off his jacket and then leaning back against his chair as he contemplated Ernst with a slightly superior gaze.

Ernst cleared his throat again and took a drink of his coffee. There was nothing to be nervous about, he told himself. They didn’t take official minutes for these weekly meetings so nothing would be recorded and used against them in the event they were investigated by the Swiss authorities. Even so, a film of perspiration glistened on his brow, and he wished he were pursuing his favourite pastime: skiing on the Alps, the sun on his face and the wind in his hair.

‘This must be bad,’ remarked Franz, raising one bushy eyebrow as he contemplated Ernst. ‘I have a lunch meeting and need to be out of here within the hour.’

‘Very well. I’m concerned about the volume of Reichsbank transactions and the paper trail we won’t be able to deny when this war is over.’

‘Not this again,’ Franz sighed. ‘What is troubling you, partner? Surely not the ever-increasing profits our bank is registering. The war has been good to us, so good in fact, you could retire when it’s over and pass the reins to your son, your family legacy secure.’

Ernst fixed his gaze on Franz. He had known he would say something similar, as their weekly meetings always revolved around the increasing profits that the gold transactions afforded the bank. The wartime prosperity they had experienced excited Franz, and he still expressed no concerns about the source of the gold, or the Nazis’ plundering of European reserves. Ernst had been aware of it since the early days, but he’d avoided thinking about it. Until recently. ‘I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that, Franz.’

‘Oh, why, what’s happened now?’

‘You know as well as I do, the Allies are winning the war. Since their January declaration putting neutral countries on notice, we are heading for a difficult time when this war ends if we don’t make some effort to clean up our operations.’

Franz plonked his coffee cup down, and some of the black coffee spilt onto the saucer. ‘What is it you suggest we do exactly?’

‘It’s more about what we must stop doing. If we continue down this path, we will have no deniability after the war. Lord help us if the Allies throw open our vault and study our wartime ledgers.’

Franz released a dismissive pfff sound. ‘Now is exactly the time to speed transactions up, not slow them down. Make hay whilst the sun shines! Surely you can see that. I thought you wanted to pass on a financial legacy that is so powerful it can never be weakened.’

Ernst could feel his blood pressure rising and took several deep breaths to calm himself. His doctor said he must keep calm or endanger his physical wellbeing. The last few weeks had done nothing good for his health, and he feared the stress of worrying about the bank’s dubious actions and his copying of top-secret financial information to pass to Miss Gale would give him ulcers or a heart attack. Perhaps both. His wife had questioned him several times about his restless manner and inability to sleep properly, and it was becoming more difficult to pretend all was well, both at work and at home.

Franz continued, warming to his theme. ‘The Allies won’t win. I already told you that after Stalingrad. It’s just a temporary setback. You mark my words. Hitler will win this war and crown himself king of his Third Reich through sheer bloody-mindedness. I’ve never seen a man so thoroughly determined to win at all costs.’

‘That may be so, but I still think we should slow down a little. If we process sporadically rather than at the current rate, we will be in a much better position if the Allies overthrow Hitler.’ Ernst had no love for the Nazi despot, which was clear in his tone.

Franz poured some more coffee. ‘I’ve noted your concerns several times now, but be reasonable, man. Are you really advocating our bank turn away lucrative gold deposits at exactly the moment when Germany most needs Swiss francs to fund its war? This is the time to establish Brunner & Cie as a private bank of the future Switzerland. The war is just a blip on the horizon, but our profits will stay on the balance sheet for years to come.’

Ernst brushed his fingers across the faint stubble on his face. ‘That’s what I’m worried about. I don’t have a good feeling about this, Franz. We could find ourselves hauled before a post-war tribunal and even lose the bank if things don’t go Germany’s way. All the will in the world won’t win them the war if the Allies outwit them strategically, which is what they appear to be doing since Stalingrad.’

‘But Switzerland is neutral. Everyone knows that. They can’t touch us even if they do win the war,’ Franz said, biting into another pastry and glancing at the clock on the wall.

Ernst couldn’t bring himself to eat a delicious pastry.

Franz’s reaction was even more dismissive than he had imagined when he played the meeting out in his mind, planning what he would say so he didn’t reveal how far he had gone in contacting the British Legation. He had thought if he laid out the cold facts for him it might jolt his partner into considering the implications for the bank after the war, but was still unmoved.

Ernst lowered his voice and moved closer to Franz. ‘You’ve seen how many Jewish accounts we hold that have gone dormant?’

Franz looked genuinely surprised by the question. ‘We have some, but what of it?’

‘We can no longer pretend we don’t know they are murdering Jews in death camps, and by quietly maintaining these accounts without raising concerns about the missing owners, we look complicit. They are melting down the gold from their dental fillings, for God’s sake! It’s my name on the door and my family who will bear the brunt of the shame if the world learns what we have done.’

Franz pushed his coffee cup away and stood up in one exasperated movement. ‘What we have done! Since when are you so bothered about the blasted Jews? If you ask me, they had it coming. Anyway, the solution to the problem is in your statement. No one else knows about these accounts or the dental fillings, and if, as you say, the signatories on the bank accounts have gone missing, then we have nothing to worry about. They can’t come back and check on them, and if they do, then fine. My conscience is clear. We are a Swiss bank, Brunner, or have you forgotten the purpose of our financial establishment’s existence? This is what we do, and it’s no good being all emotional in business. The figures speak for themselves.’

Ernst knew when he was beaten and didn’t attempt to sway his partner’s mind any further. He had said all he could say for now, and Franz was even more deeply entrenched in continuing on the same path to hell than he had been during their previous conversation.

‘Now, if that’s all, I must be going,’ Franz said, still standing.