The rain over Mayfair turned into a torrential downpour as darkness fell over the capital.The clouds were pregnant with rain and they dropped massively as water droplets bombarded each and every nook and cranny of the capital.The capital was bathed in so much water although it wasn't the kind to cause a massive flood that could ruin things. The drainage systems were regularly cleaned and were managed properly.Grosvenor Square was bathed in the harsh amber glow of streetlamps, the wet asphalt reflecting the imposing facades of eighteenth-century stone mansions that had housed dukes, ambassadors, and bankers for three centuries.At Number 14—the ancestral headquarters of the St. Claire Trust—the heavy wrought-iron gates were shut and padlocked with heavy steel chains.Behind the high brick wall, the private gardens were dark, save for the tall sash windows of the second-floor library, where Lord Alistair St. Claire stood by the fireplace, an untasted glass of vintage Armagnac resting

The tarmac at Zurich Airport was swept clean by a biting Alpine wind.Unlike London, where Arthur had arrived with an escort of private security and legal aides, he stepped out of the Gulfstream G700 into a reception line that had cleared three commercial runways for his arrival.Standing at the base of the airstair was Director Jean-Paul Meyer, vice-president of the Swiss Financial Market Supervisory Authority (FINMA), accompanied by six plainclothes federal marshals in dark wool trench coats.Meyer was a man accustomed to addressing prime ministers with cool, bureaucratic indifference, but as he watched Arthur descend the metal steps, he held his brimmed hat against his chest with both hands."Chairman Vance," Meyer said in immaculate, accented English, bowing his head slightly. "The Federal Council has prepared the executive suite at the Baur au Lac as requested. The emergency charter for Vance Sovereign Europe has already been entered into the federal register."Arthur wore a char