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“I’m Albert Foreman,” Teddy said, seating himself beside the address. “I’d like to open an account.”
“Certainly, Mr. Foreman,” the woman said, then began producing an application and signature cards. “Are you new in town?”
“Yes, I just arrived last night, from Chicago. I’ve sold my business and retired, and I thought I might live in New York for a while. I’ve always loved the city.”
“Welcome to town,” she said. “How much would you like to deposit?”
Teddy handed her an envelope. “Five thousand dollars,” he said. “I’ll be wire-transferring a larger sum as soon as I have an account number.”
“Here are some counter checks with your account number,” she said, handing him a packet. “Where are you living?”
“At the moment, I’m at the Algonquin, but I’m on my way to do some apartment hunting right now. I’ll call you with the address when I’ve found something.”
“Fine. Everything is in order. You may begin using your account immediately.”
Teddy thanked her and left the bank. Outside, he used his cell phone to call a number he had memorized.
“This is Mr. Allen,” a voice said.
Teddy gave him his account number.
“Password?”
“Cayuse.” He spelled it.
“Yes, sir, how may I help you?”
“I’d like to wire two hundred thousand dollars to the following account number at the Bank of New York.” He read the number and the routing number, and Allen repeated it.
“And your transfer password?”
“Old Paint.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll wire the funds immediately; they’ll be in New York within the hour.”
Teddy thanked him and hung up. He walked along Madison for a few blocks and went into a real estate office where he had made an appointment earlier, by phone.
“Good morning, Mr. Foreman,” the agent said. “I’ve arranged viewings of three apartments that would seem to meet your requirements. The first is just around the corner.”
He followed her to 610 Park Avenue. “This was formerly the Mayfair Hotel,” the agent said, “and it was converted to condos a few years ago.”
Teddy had requested a condominium building, since he did not want to wait weeks for the board of a co-op building to investigate him. A condo board would only want a credit report.
“It’s a full-service building; the restaurant, Daniel, is on the ground floor and provides room service.” They got onto an elevator and emerged on a high floor. “I sold this apartment three years ago, and my clients have gone on a round-the-world tour for a year, so the apartment is available for that time.” She unlocked a door.
Teddy walked quickly through the place. It was really a two-bedroom hotel suite, beautifully furnished. “How much?”
“Six thousand a month.”
“I’ll take it,” he said.
“You don’t want to see the other two?”
“No, this is fine.”
“They’ll want a credit check, of course.”
“Of course, but I’ll pay the year’s rent in advance.” He took a check from the bank packet and wrote it out.
