Chapter 35 Wang Chen - 6

At ten o'clock sharp, a man and a woman walked into the bank.The bank is located on Zurich Bahnhofstrasse. This is a luxurious and solemn building.There are many expensive oil paintings on the walls, white marble everywhere and red geraniums planted in boxes. The open vault is like a shrine, displaying various gold coins and colorful foreign banknotes minted in unknown ages, some of which are quite rare.When people are in it, they will involuntarily lower their voices.Even the sound of a lighter falling on the ground can cause panic, or at least make everyone jump. This pair of men and women is very eye-catching.

But the two don't coordinate. … The woman was wearing a white Christian Dior (Note: Famous French fashion designer) suit, with a very precious emerald and diamond necklace hanging around her neck.She was the prettiest woman to have set foot in this Swiss bank in Charles Jourdain shoes.Tadoiz Tepfleur, then twenty-six years old and serving as assistant minister, took one look at her and became fascinated. More puzzlingly, the young woman's companions were equally haunting to Tepfleur.The man was tall and thin, and his demeanor gave the impression of self-control.He had amazing eyes, very colored, but very deep.But mostly, he seemed out of place with this surprisingly beautiful young woman.He wore a faded blue cloth shirt of the sort with shoulder loops and buttoned pockets, trousers of the same color and material, and a pair of black loafers, carefully polished but very worn.He also carried a yellow cloth bag on his shoulders.

It was the young woman who first went to a teller's window, Tepfuler recalled.She put her elbows on the edge of the counter and smiled sweetly at the man in the window. "Do you speak Shamatari?" "No, ma'am," he replied, "I'm so sorry," Wolfgang Müller had never heard of such a language. "Not a word?" "Not at all. Sorry, too big," Miller said. The woman smiled contemptuously again, even more charming than the smile just now, it seems impossible to say it. "It's okay," she said, "I just wanted to know."

At this time, the man also came over and raised his eyebrows, as if asking what was going on. "Not a word," said the woman. "Strange, but that's what it is." The man also rested his elbows on the edge of the counter, put the cloth bag beside him, and asked, "But maybe you can speak English?" The following conversation is conducted in English. "Yes, sir." Miller began to look a little nervous. "What about German?" "I speak German too," Miller replied. "French?" "Yes, sir, also in French." "Probably speaks Italian too?"

"A little while, sir." "But not Spanish? Or Yiddish? Hebrew? Portuguese? Arabic? Polish?" "It doesn't look like he can speak Polish," said the woman. "That's obvious." She smiled for the third time. "Please don't be offended. Actually, I find you attractive. It's just that I'd be very surprised if you could speak Polish." "No, sir," said Miller, "I don't know any of those languages. I'm terribly sorry about that." Tadoiz Tepfleur noticed the anxious look of his subordinate and thought it was time for him to intervene.He came to Teller Miller's window just as the man was saying in a mild tone, "Despite these little difficulties, I still believe we can do business."

"Can I help you, Ma'am, and you, sir?" asked Topfull. "What is your surname, sir...?" "Slim Zapata," the man said deadpan but politely.Then he stretched out his slender index finger again, beckoning Tepfleur to come closer, and whispered in his ear: "To be honest, that's not my real name. I'm using an alias here. If you can keep it secret for me, I'll Thank you so much." "He must be a madman," thought Topperfler. "Or a Cuban. Now Batista is gone and a man named Fidel Castro has replaced him. In recent months there have been a lot of Cubans in Switzerland with money that is exactly A coveted target for the new establishment in Havana."

"I just wanted to cash a check," the man said. "You can also say, draw a sum of money." "That was as simple as it could be, sir," said Topperfler, with an air of air which he would later recall when he could not sleep at night. "As long as you don't give up, open an account transfer in our bank..." "I have an account," the man said, "but I don't have any checks with me. Could you please give me a blank cashier's check?" Tepfler mentioned a number of necessary formalities.As long as the formalities are in order, he and all the employees of the bank, not to mention the entire Swiss Confederation, will be at the disposal of Mr. Zapata.If he opened a password account, it's even more of a problem.Yes or no?

"Yes," said the man. They walked into an unobtrusive office nearby.The formalities are done.Slim Zapata politely pressed his thumbprint, revealed his secret account number, his three initials RMK, and even agreed to show his passport. Reb Michel Klimrod. Tepfeller had never heard the name.After a quick consult with his superiors, he went to get a blank check. "The formalities are complete," he felt compelled to say when he returned. "You just write down the amount you want to withdraw." "I don't have a pen with me," said Zapata-Klimerodes politely.

It was only then that Tepfleur noticed again with astonishment that the young woman had sat down on a soft low sofa, evidently about to doze off.She has taken off her shoes and socks and is now taking off her Dior suit. Now all she has on is a bra and a pair of lacy shorts. "Is there anything inappropriate?" the man asked. Tepfeller swallowed and focused all his attention on the desk. "Nothing," he said. "Nothing at all, sir." The check is on the table.What he saw was an inverted image, but naturally the numbers on it could not be mistaken.I saw a small "1" written by that big black hand, and then a not so big "0".

"I wrote it a little smaller," Zapata-Klimrod explained seriously, "I think it can save a little money and leave room." The second "〇", followed by the third... "I'd like a blanket," said the young woman, "I'm a little cold." Tupfeller looked up automatically, but immediately wanted to kill himself.She was completely naked now, with her neck resting on the palms of her hands, her right heel resting on her left ankle. "This gentleman will take and cash our check. And he's sure to be willing to—" "Exactly," said Topperfler, "exactly, exactly."

He began to feel distracted and refocused on the check. The fifth "0", the sixth, the seventh... "My God!" exclaimed Tepfleur, "I'm dealing with madmen indeed." Eighth "0", then a "3", then a comma, then "45". "Okay," Zapata said, turning the check ninety degrees. His gray eyes were fixed on Tepfleur, expressionless.Topful coughed. "I'm sorry," said Topperfler, "you left out capital letters, and you forgot to add commas." Zapata-Klimrod seemed surprised, and he took back the check. "Nothing," he said, "the comma is right here. '3,45' is the proper European way of writing. There's no doubt about it. Here it is. Can you come here, dear?" Topfleur lowered his head and studied his knee with relish. "That's a very cute comma," said the young woman's voice. "I don't see what's wrong here. These bankers are so hard to find fault. It's unbelievable. They're all alike. Take your money." When you go in, you smile, but when you want to take it back..." Still looking down at his knees, Tepfleur said in a slightly muffled voice, "I'm sorry, sir. But if you left the comma in that place, the amount would be over a billion Swiss francs." "Not Swiss francs, but dollars," Zapata-Klimrod replied. "The exact amount is one billion and three dollars and forty-five cents. I'm absolutely sure I have three dollars and forty-five cents in my account. I'm not sure about the rest. You'd better find out, sir. When you get back Don't forget the blanket." And so some strange things happened to Tadoiz Tepfler. He is Swiss, and his father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and great-great-grandfather were all bankers.The Tepfler family has been in the banking industry for more than three hundred years. "When my grandfather talked about banks," he used to say, "we usually had a moment of silence. However, as soon as he walked out of the office, he burst into uncontrollable laughter.Obviously, it was a nervous laugh, but I couldn't help it. The second strange thing he did that day: walk into the office of the man he hated the most, Otmar Brockman, the director of the credit department, without knocking on the door. "A man with a surname in flats and no coat, handing us a check for a billion dollars." Speaking of this, he couldn't help laughing again, and almost fell down.His hysteria had been caused by his own description of the man's attire. "You're drunk, Topperfler," Brockman said. At last Tepfleur put the check on the table.He wanted to say, "See for yourself," but he couldn't even hold back his smile just for the sake of saying such a sentence. Brockman glanced at the check and shrugged. "A madman. Quietly call the police." Then, he suddenly remembered something, so he picked up the check again and examined it carefully.Then, he stood up, walked over to open the small safe on the wall, took out a notebook and began to look it up. On the same day, at 10:25 in the morning, Alois Knapp was attending the monthly meeting of the Swiss Bankers Federation.When he heard that he was asked to answer the phone, Vice President Knapp felt unhappy.But he didn't show it: as a banker, as a human being, he never showed any emotion, like a cold skeleton.In 1960, he had just turned fifty. "What is it, Brockman?" He listened, then asked, "Have you checked everything out?" Then he said, "I'm coming." At eleven o'clock, he rushed to the bank.Brockman and the young Topperfler were there to greet them discreetly. "where is he?" They led him to the office on the ground floor. "Better knock on the door before you go in," advises Tepfuler.Although he still wanted to laugh very much, he was able to restrain himself in front of Knapp, and he did not lose his composure, because in his eyes Knapp was no different from a god descending from Mount Olympus. Knapp knocked on the door, only went in after hearing "Come in" inside, and closed the door behind him.He stays in the house for ten to fifteen minutes.When he came out, his face was a little pale, and the marks of a woman's vermilion lips were clearly visible on his right cheek.He looked at Tepfleur. "He wants to deal with you. Just you. You're Tepfleur, aren't you? All right, then, come in." As Tefler walked into the office, he heard the following question and answer: "A billion dollars! This is madness. What are we going to do?" Brockman asked. "As you pay," Knapp replied. Entering the office, Topperfler found the young woman standing on the couch wrapped in a blanket he had sent.The man's shirt had been taken off, and his face had been painted over with paint, like an Indian preparing for war.He smiled happily. "What's your name?" "Tadoise Tepfler." "I like Tadoiz very much," said the young woman. "He's so cute." "May I call you Tadoiz?" the man asked. "Call me Reb, please. Ah, one more thing, Tadoiz. I want a hundred-dollar bill for the billion dollars. Please don't give me anything bigger than a hundred dollars. You just pile them up somewhere." "As for the three dollars and forty-five cents," said the young woman, "it depends; either a three dollar and forty-five cent bill, or all change. No, wait a minute. Change Well, those toilets are disgusting. We women have to have change before we go in, but men don't, if you know what I mean." Tepfler realized that something was wrong, and the feeling grew stronger over the next few hours.It was a strange thing, an anomaly in itself, that someone should come and hand over such a check.Not to mention, but Knapp's reaction shows that this gray-eyed man is indeed qualified to walk into this one of the largest banks in Switzerland and demand to withdraw a huge sum of one billion U.S. dollars.very good.This proves that he owns a very considerable property.But there are indeed a few people in the world who are so rich. Such people may be very few, but they exist after all.It seems there are other reasons here. Let's just talk about that man, I don't know who he is.Tepfler, who had been taught sternly by his grandfather, often read the newspapers of the financial world.People like Hornid Hughes, Hunter, Getty, Gulbenkian, Onassis, and the billionaire Niahos who are slightly lower than them, Tepfler not only knows Their names, also seen their appearance.He also knew of a man named Daniel Ludwig, though less famous.However, the person in front of him was Klimrod.God knows who has heard the name Klimrod! "Is there anything else I can do?" he asked. "A big martini with more ice," said the woman, "and more champagne and caviar. For caviar you call the Shah of Iran in my name; he has some of the best cans. Tell him, You're calling for Aestivation Page, and he'll do everything." "What kind of champagne do you want?" asked Topfleur. "Perignon Rosé, 1945, please. Three or four two-liter bottles first. Not too big, six-liter bottles or anything bigger, please. Too big a bottle and less foam. Reber!" "What's the matter, dear?" "You should give this young man ten or fifteen million dollars. He's lovely." "I'll definitely think about it," said the man very gently. "As long as they cash my check. Looks like it'll be a while. Tadoiz!" "What are your orders, sir?" "I'd like a hamburger, if that's not too much trouble. There's an excellent hamburger in Frankfurt for American soldiers stationed in Germany. Can you do it, Tadoiz?" "That's right, sir," said Topperfler, "I'd be happy to oblige." He tried to resist the torchlight of those gray eyes but finally looked away.An idea arises, and it will soon be further confirmed: this man is not crazy, he is not.He may be joking.But that girl is different... For, in spite of her beauty, there was no doubt that she was abnormal.Her gaiety was all nonsense, and her behavior was out of the ordinary.Topperfler sensed a morbid excitement in it. On this day, Tepfler walked into Alois Knapp's office for the first time, and found that the atmosphere there was like a military meeting.All the decision makers were present; what's more, within an hour, even the venerable Jacob Feasley came to reinforce him—he was already seventy-eight years old and retired three years ago. Knapp succeeds him. "Tell us about what's going on there now, Tepfler, but don't mention his name." "They want champagne, but not ordinary champagne, caviar, not ordinary caviar, and hamburgers, which are also not ordinary..." "Please put down your stupidity," said Knapp, "sit down, Tepfler. Listen, our client only wants to deal with you. For this reason, from now on, you have nothing else to do." Never mind. On the one hand, you will have constant contact with this client; on the other hand, you will have to keep in touch with Mr. Faisley or me. Your task is very simple, try to satisfy the client's request, as long as the cost does not exceed one hundred thousand francs .If you exceed that limit, discuss it with Mr. Fasley or me. Are you married?" Tepfleur was only engaged.Knapp nodded, as if at least the situation was good news.He went on. "We need to spend some time raising such a large sum of money..." "He asked for no more than a hundred dollars in face," Trejen Fleur interrupted his superior boss with courage. Knapp closed his eyes, then opened them again. "That would take us two more days. Three days in total. During those three days, Tepfleur, you'll be on call. Before we cash his check, if our client, or Your client, insists on staying in the bank (which it looks like he will), and you try to find out what their intentions are. If they want to sleep here, we can send William Tell A national hero, the bank named the VIP reception room after him) The room is arranged as a bedroom, and a small bed will be provided for you." Tepfuler looked at Knapp inexplicably.A thought flashed in his mind, probably Knapp is also crazy, as well as the venerable Fesley, and all the decision-makers present, except himself, everyone is crazy. "Sleeping here? In the bank?" Knapp's icy gaze shot through Tepfleur like a bullet.Then he announced, "Mr. Feasley and I would like to have a private talk with Topperful." The rest were gone, leaving Tepfull alone to face the two big men in charge. "Tepfler..." The Elder and Knapp spoke at the same time. Then Knapp said in a respectful tone: "Then Mr. Fasley will talk about..." "No, no, no, no, Alois," said the venerable, "you are in charge now." After a few seconds he added: "Thank God." "Terpfler," said Knapp, "you understand that we are faced with a unique situation, which has never happened in the history of Swiss banking..." "Perhaps there is no precedent in the history of the World Bank," said Ningaud's supporter. "We must accept this challenge and meet the requirements of the other party," Knapp said, "to be precise, efficient, fast, secure, and especially secure, Tepfler, this is our honor and pride, our Enterprises need to have today, relying on security.” Tepfer raised an index finger respectfully. "May I ask a question, sir?" "Yes, young man." "Our client really has a billion dollars in his account?" It immediately occurred to him that he should not have asked this question.The two bosses and dignitaries looked directly at him. "Don't make us suspect you're mentally ill, Tepfull. More importantly, we've chosen you as our only contact with him, so don't cause trouble, or we'll have to worry about this." I don't know the consequences of my choice. No one in the world has a billion dollars in a bank account, Tepfler. Here's the thing: This client has a credit limit in excess of that amount, and because of our relationship with him There was a special arrangement in advance between him and we had to accommodate his request." Knapp took a deep breath. * "Tepfler, at three o'clock this Friday afternoon, our bank will be closed to the outside world. The ostensible reason is to tidy up internal affairs. Until then, everything in the bank will go on as usual-at least, we hope to do business as usual. So The difference is that there are seven or eight men and women working around the clock looking for these bills. We can't come up with a billion-dollar hundred-dollar bill, Tepfler. It's nowhere near that number. We're going to compete with the banks in other European countries, and most likely in the United States. We will have to operate a huge machine on a world scale, mobilize special planes and escorts. If we can reach the The purpose, that would be the result of divine help. You have a share in it too, Tepfer, not to your fault. Your name is Tadoiz, isn't it?" "Yes, sir." "Tadoiz, there is one last point that we—Mr. Faisley and I—want to emphasize. A few minutes ago, besides Mr. Faisley, you and me, there were five other alone in this office. They don't know the name of our client. Only four of us know (the other being Brockman). So, Tadoiz, if by your oversight (for whatever reason, Even if it’s just you talking in your sleep), let other people know about it (whether it’s inside the bank or outside the bank, it’s worse for outsiders), know that this disaster is coming to us, especially in case people Knowing the name of the man who caused this disaster, then, I swear to you by the Bible, I will never let you find any other work in Switzerland, not even as a road repairman. I will take care of this matter myself Thing, Tadoiz, even if it took all of my life. Have I made my meaning clear, Tadoiz?" "Yes, sir. Very clear." "Well, you go, afternoon young man." They did furnish William Tell's room.Borrowed the bedding for two rooms from the Dolder Hotel and arranged them there.They also broke through a wall so that the makeshift guest house could be accessed through an adjoining building and a few rooms at the back of the bank without attracting anyone's attention. In the next few hours, there was a lot to do on all sides, and it was a lot of fun.Of course, a bathroom had to be furnished, and a kitchen was needed to warm up the meals ordered from outside, not to mention that the expert hamburger was picked up from Frankfurt that same day, bringing the ingredients and all the equipment needed. And telephone lines, five in all. "I still need to make a few more calls," the customer explained to Tepfull, "but I don't want to tie up the normal line at the bank. , would you please set up a small screening room. Mrs. Zapata loves movies, especially Humphrey Bowman. Would you bother to set up one, Tadoiz? That would be much appreciated .” Indeed, the man made countless phone calls.On several occasions, Tepfler overheard snippets of these phone conversations, in several languages.The man could speak at least ten different languages, and he switched from one language to another with such agility that it was "bewildering". As to what he said, Tepfleur understood nothing, and soon had the idea that the man might be joking, or, rather, that it was all to please his wife, If that woman is really his wife. The young Swiss didn't want to believe that these calls were about serious business, otherwise he would have to believe that there was a man who ran by telephone hundreds of companies all over the world, whose business included information on human activities. All fields, without exception.Moreover, all the code names and inexplicable numbers were used in the telephone command, and a person's name was never mentioned. To Tepfler, all this was meaningless.Obviously, everything he did was to please this young woman. As it turned out, Tadoise Tepfler's initial instincts about her were correct: she was a madwoman.There was nothing funny about this to Tepfler.Instead, he felt unexpectedly pathetic.It is impossible for anyone not to notice that man's infinite tenderness and tender love for her.And his incomparable patience. It can be seen that this first day was very busy, with many comings and goings. Despite this, it did not attract the attention of the outside world, and even the employees of the bank did not notice any abnormal signs. In the evening, after business hours were over, things finally calmed down.The William Tell room is on the second floor and is usually used for receiving distinguished guests.It was now sealed off from the rest of the building; two more guards were posted, but neither of them saw the couple, nor knew that such a man and woman were there. Knapp's instructions to Tepfler were clear: "Tadois, you stay with them. Even if I personally ask you to do this favor. After the incident, you can take any vacation, we will consider Your future at our bank. But you will accompany them. Tadoiz, do what you can for them. If necessary, serve their meals and obey their orders at all times. Tadoiz, you will Trust our client; he does what he does for a reason." At first, Tepfler thought that Klimrod was not the real name of this person, and even suspected that he might be Daniel Ludwig, because Tepfler had never seen a photo of the famous ship tycoon; but he Too young to be Ludwig.Tepfler believed that Knapp knew from the start that the young woman was crazy, and that the three-day farce had been rehearsed purely so that the man named Klimrod could—how should I put it? ——To be able to show such a hand, to show off in front of the woman he loves so fascinated, and maybe want to go crazy with her for a few hours... And this so-called Klimrod always knew what the ending would be... On the second day, the bustle eased, at least in parts.The relevant personnel have all settled down. Anyway, they are spending money like water, and the expenses are not worth it.The entire second floor was closed to everyone except Knapp and Tepfler.On the first night, in response to the young woman's wish, Tepfler called Teheran and, to his great surprise, received the most enthusiastic response when he mentioned the name of Aestivation Page.Then, his surprise turned into shock, because the king actually came to answer the phone himself, asking about her situation with concern. "I think she's very well ... oh, my lord," replied the bewildered Tepfleur, "she just wants some caviar, and wants me to ..." His Majesty the King said that he understood perfectly well what was going on, and would give the necessary orders, and that he would be very obliged if Tepfleur would convey his sincere regards to Miss Peggy. The caviar was flown to Zurich by a special plane.Two dignified, taciturn Iranians—apparently diplomats or secret agents—delivered the caviar to the bank through an internal entrance. "I was daydreaming," recalled Topperfler twenty-two years later. The next night, hysteria broke out.By prior arrangement, a cot was given to Tepfleur in a small office two rooms away from William Tell's.Around nine o'clock, he heard a crash of glass shattering and heavy objects falling, followed by a scream. He hesitated for a moment, then ran over.He knocked on the door and the man told him to go in.He found the man grasping the young woman's wrists, which had been cut backwards.The woman's eyes rolled up, she was panting, drooling, and desperately resisted. "Please help me," the man said. "We carried her to bed." Tepfler asked him if he wanted to call a doctor. The man replied, "No. It's just a nervous attack, which my wife often suffers from. I know what to do." He was uncharacteristically composed.Tepfler helped him lift the young woman to the bed.After one shot, miraculous effects were almost immediately seen. "Now she's going to sleep." There was a sudden expression of infinite sadness in those gray eyes, and Tepfleur thought that the man would not be able to bear such overwhelming sorrow and would burst into tears.So he turned away. "Tadoise!" "What are your orders, sir?" "Thank you." Topful nodded.He didn't know what to say or what to do at this moment. The man said gently, "Tell me about yourself. Do you have any siblings? Are you married?" They talked for about half an hour in this empty, quiet bank, mainly with Topperfler alone.He said many things, but in particular his terribly severe grandfather, Anton Gustave Tepfleur.Klimrod didn't seem to be listening at all, and stared blankly at some place with dazed eyes, but the question he asked showed that he was actually listening carefully, but Tepfler didn't think what was being said was worth it. handle it seriously. At last Tepfleur took his leave and retired to his little bed.But he couldn't sleep.He left the door open on purpose.It was more convenient in case he was needed there; through the crack of the door he could see that the light in William Tell's room was still on.Two hours later, he got up from the bed and went over there again to ask if there was anything he could do. "No, thank you." The man said gently and politely. He sat reading by the bed where the young woman slept, a German translation of Homer by John Bodmer, which he had borrowed from Alois Knapp's private collection. "That's what he did all night; I'm sure. He sat there until early morning," Tepfler recalled afterwards. In the morning, when Tepfleur saw the pair again, he found the young woman—apparently her name was Aestiva Page—almost normal, a little listless at first, but even more charming. , but then gradually her quickness and crude humor returned.It seemed that she was normal, except that there was a frantic light shining in the depths of her two violet-like eyes. Over the past two days, armored trucks have made several trips to the bank, several times from other banks in Zurich, all of which have maxed out their dollar bills, but most have come from the airport.On the third day, there were more traffic coming and going, but because the banks closed earlier than usual, all this was rarely seen. The banknotes shipped were piled up one after another. Exactly how much space a billion-dollar bill would take up is anyone's guess.If you only choose a certain room, it may be too small. For the sake of safety, I decided to return the banknotes and pile them on the ground covered with sheets in the center of the hall. Tepfuler used his spare time to settle accounts. One-hundred-dollar bills, each in a stack of ten, together with the money straps are about 7.5 millimeters thick—the new bills are a little thinner, and the used ones are a little thicker. He took the average.He calculated that by stacking piles of hundred-dollar bills tied together with tape, one million dollars could be piled up to a height of seven and a half meters. He wanted to figure out how many piles had an area equal to one square meter, based on the length of each pile being 16.5 centimeters, the width of 6.6 centimeters, and the height of 7.5 meters. The answer is ninety piles.Ninety million dollars per square meter.Oh my God!How much money should a suite of five rooms hold! ...and there are a thousand million in a billion. Suppose you divide ninety by one thousand... 11.111 sq.m. Of course, the calculation is still based on the height of each pile at 7.5 meters.It's just crazy.Even with the ceilings being that high (and in some places they are), it would be impractical, to say the least, to climb to the top of such a majestic pile. "If our client wants to count," thought Topperfler, "he'll have to use a helicopter and at least an ice ax for mountaineering." In his opinion, instead of building them so high, it is better to reduce the height and increase the number of piles.For example, it is not difficult to calculate by dividing the original pile into five piles. The answer seems to be feasible and reasonable: a stack of about 56 square meters and a height of 1.5 meters is worth one billion U.S. dollars. Anyway, he thought, there should be room in the hall.This is pretty good, except for the lobby, nowhere else. Tadoiz Tepfleur had calculated so finely that it turned out to be wrong.Although the error is not very large, it is not too small. This astonishingly large stack of banknotes covers an area of ​​60 square meters, and in some places it is slightly more than two meters high.The reason is simple: they can't get so many hundred-dollar bills, so they have to use fifty-dollar or even ten-dollar, five-dollar, and one-dollar bills to make up for it. In this way, the volume of the stack of banknotes has increased a lot accordingly.About seven o'clock in the evening of the third day, the telephone in William Tell's room rang.Tepfler picked up the receiver, the call he had been waiting for since the last armored truck drove away. Rick Knapp's voice on the phone said, "All right." So the three of them went downstairs: the couple leading with arms crossed, and the young Swiss following. In the empty hall, apart from the billion-dollar bills, there were only Alois Knapp and the respected old Faisley with a cane.那个自称克立姆罗德的人（至少在特普弗勒心目中这不是他的真名），甚至没有走近那垛巨款。他一动不动地站在那里，眼神表明他的心思不知远在何方，脸上那种幽默或愉快的神情早已影踪全无。 那年轻女人则不然，她绕着那垛钞票慢慢地打转。 “十亿美元？” “十亿零三美元四十五美分，”克纳普答道。“在承兑你们的支票这件事上，让你们久等了，请原谅。” 夏眠消失在钞票后面。但她的话音在反响很大的拱顶下回荡着。 她问道：“这些全是你的，雷伯？” “是的，”那人说，依然一动不动。 “你总共有它的多少倍？” "I have no idea." “两倍，雷伯？五倍？十倍？” "I have no idea." 她重又出现在四个男人的视野里。 “要是我一把火烧了它呢，雷伯？我可以烧光它吗，雷伯？” "Can." “真的可以吗？” "yes." 不过他带着迷人的柔情含笑添上一句：“只是，你会把银行一起烧掉的。” “那就把银行买下来。 “我们要银行干什么，亲爱的，你不觉得这是个挺沉闷的地方吗？” 那女人看着他，眼睛里突然充满泪水。 “你太可爱、太温柔了，雷伯，我爱你。” “我也爱你，夏眠。” 她倚在钞票垒起的墙上，无声地哭了起来。 特普弗勒、克纳普、菲斯利三人先后转过身去，不敢看她或克立姆罗德，这时克立姆罗德的脸跟耶稣被钉在十字架上一样。 “现在带我回那个地方去吧，雷伯。让他们把我再关起来。” 大厅里面有几名荷枪实弹的警卫人员站岗，不过是在门外。克纳普作了个手势，警卫让他们过去。 门关上之后，特普邦勒依然没有动弹。 克纳普对他说：“回去吧，年轻人。一切都过去了。” “这些钞票怎么处理呢？” “那儿来的放回哪儿去。还能有什么别的办法？” 特普弗勒点点头。certainly. 他迈步朝门口走去。 “塔多伊兹！” 特普弗勒连身体也不转过来就说：“我知道，不能把这事说出去。” he's gone.他一句话也不想跟任何人说。其实，他倒是更想哭一场。