NationStates Jolt Archive

Kleinbasel, Basel Switzerland

It was a gloomy day in the Swiss city of Basel. The weather reoprts, read by a shaply young woman with dirty blond hair told of possible rain and wind, not the kind of weather anyone cares to hear. Despite such notions the city continued it's drive towards another day of life. Basel sits astrode the river Rhine, bordering France and Germany and is the third largest city in Switzerland. People walked upa dn down the sidewalks and cars clogged the roads, streets, and alleyways. Kleinbasel is a suburb of the city and is noted for it's old yet well kept and decorated houses and apartment buildings. The Central Bridge spans across the river and is the oldest bridge in the city. One such home belonged to Karl Levy, current manager of the Union Bank of Basel, a prostigious and well known banking institution. He was in his mid fifties, pleasently plump and always a smile on his face. He lived a good life, and honest hard working life. His greatest achivement was not being the manager of a respected bank but his two daughters and loving wife of thirty years. He was a studious and methodical man, no detail escaped his gaze. A bit of a book worm, his library was filled with literature. Mr.Levy was a modest man, despite being rich he rarely let it go to his head.

His wife was away at work and he decided to take the day off and brush up on some well deserved rest and relaxation. He arose late from his bed and shuffled into the bathroom for a quick shower. He was now warm, clean, and wore comfortable clothes and moved downstairs slowly and carefree. It was quite, all except the steady sound of the grandfather clock in the living room, ticking away the time as it had for generations. Levy settled into the kitchen and began to cook up some eggs. The delicious smell of scrambled eggs filled the air and he was suprised to see them not burned. He began to eat them and nodded in satisfaction at his culinary conquest. All of a sudden, his heart rate became irregular and he began to breath heavily. It happed so quickly, a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. Was he having a heart attack? Within seconds he collapsed onto the wooden floor, sprawled out dead.

The authorities determined from the autopsy that Karl Levy, age 54 died of a heart attack. Quite natural and not too suprising. Though, this didn't stop his family from wailing at his loss. A good man, dead. His funeral was attended to by many people, many prominent. Employees also attended. One of them being William Strauss, a bank representative and studious worker for the past ten years at the bank. He knew Karl and was saddened by his demise. The pleasant man will be sorely missed by all who knew him, except for one man.

Union Bank of Basel

The mood at the bank remained somber even a week after Levy's death. He was sorely missed by the eomployees who reminiced about his cheerful demeanor and corny jokes. The shaply weatherwoman foretold of possible showers that day. William Strauss weaved in an out of the Marktplatz, the city's traditional marketplace where one could find just about any comodity of item desired. Also, the bank was a mere two blocks away. Strauss wore a trenchcoat under which was a black suit with dark blue shirt and a blue tie with yellow stripes. He carried a briefcase and an umbrella just incase the weather reports were tre, which they rarely were. He had some time to kill so Strauss ehaded for a familiar cafe nestled next to the end corner of the Marktplatz. He settled down to a newspaper which read familiar world stories. Fascist rallies were becoming more frequent and occuring in more and more cities in Germany and Austria, with a few in France. The authorities watched closely at the hate-monguring organizations but that's all they did. He pushed his narrow blue framed glasses up the bridge of his nose. Suddenly, from across the cafe a beautiful creature graced over the purses of an eager vendor. He looked up and took in her beauty. She wore a black skirt with a black dress shirt. her pure blonde hair in a ponytail, skin soft in appearence. There was no mistake that she had a well taken care of body. Strauss sheepishly soaked it in. Then, she turned around, her radiant beauty facing him to which he looked downwards, embarassed. When his gaze returned, she was gone, like a phantom. He smirked, paid for his coffee and left for work.

The Union Bank of Basel was a structure originating from the seventeenth century, with exsquisic taste and architecture. The inside was finely furnished with good taste, with a hint of modernism. Strauss settled into his office, thoughts concentrated on the pure blonde angel which escaped him. Leonard Dahn, the office playboy bursted into Strauss's office, his trademark wide smile painted on his face.
"William, have you heard the news?" Dahn asked, welcoming himself into Strauss's office which was modest and plain.
"Heard what?" Strauss gave a half-assed attempt at interest.
"The board has recently chosen a new manager for the bank. He begins work tomorrow." Dahn sat into a chair opposite Strauss he took off his glasses. They began to make small talk and discuss this ''new guy''. The mane's named was Johann Rhinehart, a man of German origin and priveleged backround. They agreed that he was no Karl Levy but of course there could never be another Karl Levy.

Strauss was a studious worker, pouring over documents, contact info, and statistics brought to him by the accountants who kept him up to date. He was one of the bank financiers and helped in securing future investments from clients who wised to deposit their funds and savings into the trusted bank. It was a tough job but with the weight of the banks reputation and his skill, investors were quick to come and use the bank. Mr.Rhinehart made an appearence at the bank later in the day, after lunch. Strauss only saw him for a second, a brief glimpse. What he saw was a man in his late forties, with thick peppered hair, but few wrinkles and bright teeth, which one rarely saw. He was an all work, no play kind of manager, some feared that the office enviroment would become more strict. People like Leonard Dahn wailed at the prospect of not being able to hit on the secretaries anymore without fear of a law suit. Mr.Rhinehart wore fine, but plain suits with a stoic expression to match. There were to be some changes come to Union Bank, many dramatic changes, some driving straight at William Strauss, an honest hard worker financier with few aspirations in life other tthan relaxing and catching up on a novel.

Strauss found himself summoned by the new manager late in the afternoon. A knot tightened up in his stomach. A quick rap on the door was answered with a deep "Enter" from Mr.Rhinehart who settled into Levy's old chair, he wore the expression of someone who felt like he belonged in that chair, Strauss sneered a tad but wuickly let his composure recover.
"Herr Strauss, I am the new bank manager, I am Johann Rhinehart" the man said and extended a hand outwards.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Herr Rhinehart" Strauss replied, matching his move, Streauss gave a firm and authoritive handshake, one which should let Rhinehart know that he was a confident and independent man. But Rhinehart's hand crushed Strauss's, despite Strauss being a strong man, this man was stronger. He recovered and settled back to a comfortable distance.
"William" Rhinehart began "I have read your file, listened to others opinions and from seeing you in action, it's come to my attention that you're not getting the respect you deserve." Strauss was startled and caught off guard.
"Sir?" he managed to choke out.
"I have recently recieved a file from a very important and rich man who is currently searching for a new bank to deposit his funds and savings for his company. He is of upmost prominence and I want him to be the newest investor for this bank, and I want you to convince him, I have the file here to give you and I want you to work on it right away. If you pull this one off, I will make you head finan cier for this branch" Rhinehart's proposal was an elated breath of fresh air for Strauss who was stuffed away in the airless vaccum of his office. It seemed so sudden, but in his mind, a well deserved break. He bolted from his seat and hurridley accepted and shaked his hand vigorously. They talked a bit more about this potential client. He scooped up the file which was quite thin but perhaps a career maker.

The news spread like a wildfire across the offices, William Strauss recieved a huge ticket, and the other financiers were jealous. Strauss poured over the rather thin file back in his office, door locked. The client was quite interesting, a German industrialist by the name of Gustav Yodel. He was in his early sixties, with a somewhat scattered backround. Strauss continued to read, this man's history was a bit of a mystery. Son of a high class German family, well educated, methodical, made a fortune in iron works when Germany was divided. Something just seemed, off about the file, nothing sticking out but his history seemed too good despite the time period of which he grew up. Strauss threw away his concern and leaned back in the chair, this was going to be interesting.

William lived just a few blocks away from the bank. It was convenient so he didn't need a vehicle. Whenever the financier had to go anywhere, the metro system would suffice. With briefcase in tow he walked down the cobblestone streets with an air of new found confidence surrounding him, lifting his feet from the ancient stones. The clouds darkened and soon the familiar patter of raindrops hit the roofs and pavement. It was a cursed sight, but one he had no control over. He fumbled for his umbrella and opened it, shielding himself from the rain. The rain began to pour down now, people scattered for cover as cars hit puddles of water while they struggled to manuever through traffic. Across the distance, a young woman with pure blonde air waited, her slender body leaning up against a wall, nonchalantly looking off at the pedestrians, or so it seemed. She wore sunglasses which hid her eyes from others. William was too concerned with not getting wet that she didn't see her, but she saw him. And as soon as she made eye contact, she dropped back. A painter's van lumbered through traffic, the passenger's gaze lingering too long on her and then to William.

In his apartment, William shed his suit and tie for some casual wear. He made a simple dinner of broiled chicken and noodles, nothing special. As he ate, the documents lay around the table, in order of course. He read the documents as if they were a novel, trapped by the words. The painter's van parked a block away and turned off the engine.