Chapter 18 - The Bank of Shadows
Geneva greeted us with a cold, unrelenting downpour. The city was a masterpiece of pristine architecture and quiet, wealthy discretion, wrapped in a blanket of gray fog. We moved through the city like ghosts, utilizing forged passports Marcus had acquired through his less-than-legal contacts.
The Banque de L'Ombre was located in a nondescript, brutalist concrete building near the financial district. There were no grand signs, no smiling tellers. Just a heavy steel door guarded by two massive, unsmiling men in tailored suits.
"Remember the protocol," Marcus whispered as we approached the entrance. "We act like we own the building. Confidence is the only currency they respect up front."
We stepped inside into a sterile, marble-lined lobby. A concierge behind a bulletproof glass counter looked up, his expression entirely devoid of emotion.
"Do you have an appointment, gentlemen?" he asked in flawless, clipped English.
"I am here to access Box 814," I said, my voice steady. Box 814 was the account number Marcus had traced from the Cayman transfer.
The concierge typed something into a concealed terminal. He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Box 814 requires a secondary verbal authorization phrase. It is a legacy account."
My blood ran cold. Marcus hadn't been able to find a verbal password in the digital logs. The Swiss bank relied entirely on analog security for this exact reason. I had mere seconds before the concierge pressed the silent alarm.
I closed my eyes, desperately searching my memories. A legacy account. The Chairman's register. Charles had once told me that the true power of the Collins family wasn't in their money, but in their secrets. He used to repeat a specific Latin phrase to me when I was a child, telling me it was the true motto of our bloodline, long before the corruption took hold.
I opened my eyes and looked directly at the concierge.
"Custos veritatis, in umbra stamus," I said, my voice echoing slightly in the quiet marble hall. Guardians of truth, we stand in the shadows.
The concierge held my gaze for a terrifying moment. Then, he offered a stiff, formal bow.
May you like
"Right this way, sir," he said, pressing a button that released a heavy secondary steel door.
Marcus let out a breath he had clearly been holding for a minute. We had breached the outer wall, but the true danger lay deep underground.
