“I assumed that you knew he was ill,” Krueger said, “since the two of you often did business together. In fact, I originally thought this was why you had sent your attorney to conclude our dealings.”

“No, that was a separate matter.”

“I trust you weren’t displeased with my performance.”

“No, not at all. But you said you were trying to contact me. Why?”

“Soon after Monsieur Grossman’s passing I was contacted by his legal firm.” Krueger paused, seemingly puzzled. “Did you know him well—personally, I mean?”

“Not really. Our relationship was strictly business. I know he was Swiss, from Basel as you say, and I remember that he spent a fair amount of time in Central Africa.”

“Were you aware that he had no family?”

“No, it never really came up.”

“Monsieur Grossman never married.” Krueger leaned in conspiratorially. “Between the two of us, I think he may have preferred men.” The banker let one hand fall limp at the wrist.

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Slaton lied. In truth, Mossad had solid proof of Grossman’s homosexuality, including a number of telling photographs. It was the kind of thing intelligence agencies loved to mine, although in an increasingly tolerant world, garden variety homosexuality was of little use outside politicians and the clergy.

“His parents died years ago,” the financier continued, “and he had no long-term partner, no brothers or sisters. As he neared his end, however, Grossman had the presence of mind to make plans. You impressed him, monsieur. More to the point, he said you were closely tied to a worthy cause, one that he supported wholeheartedly.”

The waiter interrupted with two well-presented plates. Krueger wasted no time, ripping into his duck with gusto. Slaton took a more reserved approach, savoring the best meal he’d had in weeks.

Krueger pulled a bone from his mouth with a plop, and said, “I should put it to you clearly. In his last days, Grossman met with his attorneys. He made a new will, Mr. Mendelsohn, one that designates you as the receiver of his estate.”

Slaton diverted from his own meal. “He left me something to distribute?”

“Practically speaking—he left you everything. In legal terms it is not a personal bequest, but rather a trust, the kind of thing lawyers are paid great sums to create. As a practical matter, however, there are no restrictions regarding the management of the estate. I’ve already seen to it that all tax matters are satisfied—we Swiss can be very unforgiving about such things. You are the lone trustee, effectively in control of Grossman’s legacy. He was convinced that you would find good use for it.”