his bidding, but decidedly younger than he is." In any variant of a gift-leaseback scheme, Ben knew, it was an undesirable complication to be predeceased by the pseudo beneficiary. And the clandestinity of any scheme depended upon the discretion of the enlisted partner.
"You're talking about Yves-Alain, of course," the professor said.
"Am I?"
"You've just described him. Yves-Alain Taille, the banker's nephew.
A civic leader here of some distinction, thanks to his family's prominence, and a banker of no distinction at all, thanks to his intellectual mediocrity. Weak but well-meaning is the general consensus on him. Used to chair the Zurich Arts Council or some such. He has a sinecure at one of the private banks, a vice president of something or other. Easy enough to find out."
"And if I wanted to find out whether Taille had title to property in the canton besides his primary residence? Aren't there public tax documents in connection to estate transfers?"
"There are municipal records in the Rathaus, just off the Limmat. But if it's a recent title transfer, from the past five years, you can do an online search. The same with the tax documents you seek. They're supposedly public documents, but they're kept on a secure server, honoring one of the two great Swiss passions those being for chocolate and for secrecy. I myself have a user ID and password that will provide access. Not so long ago, you see, the town fathers hired me to write something for a brochure to mark the six hundred and fiftieth anniversary of Zurich's joining the Swiss Confederation. A bit more local than my usual research, but they were openhanded with the francs."
An hour later, Ben had an address, a residence decidedly more modest than Rossignol had formerly inhabited. Two hours later, after immersing himself in a series of tax documents of astounding intricacy, he had satisfied himself that it was Gaston Rossignol's. For one thing, the title was in Taille's name, and yet it was not his primary residence. A country house? No one would have one in Zurich proper. A pied-a-terre for a mistress? But it was too grand for that. And what of the real-estate investment trust that maintained co-management privileges? Taille did not enjoy unilateral control over the property's disposition; he could not sell it or transfer the title without permission of the trust. And where was the trust headquartered? In one of the Channel Islands, Jersey. Ben smiled. Nicely done a tax haven but not one of the truly infamous ones. It wasn't as notorious as Nauru, but its banking establishment was even more tightly knit, more difficult to penetrate.
Ben glanced again at the address he had jotted down. It was incredible to think that a brief car ride would take him to one of Sigma's founders. Peter had tried to hide from Sigma, and it had destroyed him. Ben took a deep breath, and felt his stores of anger burn within him. Well, there's been a change of plans, he thought. Now let Sigma try to hide from me.
Chapter Twenty
Ben found Gaston Rossignol's house in the area of Zurich called Hottingen, a steep, hilly area overlooking the city. The houses here were situated on large lots and hidden by trees: very private, very secluded.
Rossignol's house was on Hauserstrasse, close to the Dolder Grand Hotel, the grande dame of Zurich hotels, generally considered the finest in all of Europe. The house was wide and low-slung, built of brownish stone apparently in the early part of the century.
It didn't look like any kind of safe house, Ben reflected, but perhaps that was what made it so effective. Rossignol had grown up in Zurich, but spent much of his career in Bern. He knew certain Zurichers of power and influence, of course, but it was not a place where he had casual acquaintances. Besides, the residents of the Hauserstrasse were the sort who kept to themselves; this was a neighborhood without neighborliness. An old man who cultivated his own garden would never attract notice. It would be a comfortable life, but an effectively obscure one, too.
Ben parked the Range Rover on an incline down the block and set the emergency brake to keep it from rolling. He opened the glove compartment and took out Liesl's revolver. There were four shells remaining in the chamber. He would have to buy more ammunition somewhere if he wanted to use the weapon for protection. Making sure the safety was engaged, he slipped it into his jacket pocket.