Chapter 3: Wealth — Not Easy to Get, Not Easy to Keep

My summers with Jack changed at that point. I was a full-time employee, working with Jack, for the Zeelander Trust Company. More about the Zeelander Trust anon.

We were no longer roaming the world looking for geological finds all the time. Now I was accompanying Uncle Jack to meetings, sometimes with people who were Jack’s fellow spirits, exploring for precious gifts from the earth, but other meetings with people who weren’t as interested in the processes of finding/extracting materials as they were of finding/extracting maximum profits.

Jack would introduce me as his ‘intern’, or his ‘assistant’, and I would take notes and make observations to review with Jack after were returned to the hotel, or house where we were staying. It was a very educational period, and I was beginning to suspect that Uncle Jack was (and had been) hiding a lot from me. He seemed to be a very important man with his fingers in a lot of pots.

I told Jack how much I appreciated his taking me along and educating me in the ways of these critical industrial industries, but I wish that I could go back now and tell him even more strongly. I always thought that he was trying to get me connections who would be business associates over the duration of my career. Little did I suspect the truth.

Until the day he died.

We weren’t together that day. He was at home alone and had a heart attack. The doctors said that he had a massive myocardial infarction — I guess meaning he had blockages in the arteries. It was what they called ‘the widow maker’ (although he had never married, so no widow) of the ‘descending aorta’ that was blocked up. I guess that he almost never saw doctors, and seemed to be in such generally good health, that everyone was surprised at his death.

But while I suppose that this kind of things is an everyday occurrence to EMTs and ER room staff, to our family it was upending, overwhelming event. My father was shocked and in mourning about a brother; my mother seemed as much or more grief stricken about Jack than my father!

Jack didn’t want a memorial service and he wanted to be cremated. Everything was to be low key. Despite that, as word of Jacks passing got around, the offices of the Trust received flowers, boxes of Swiss and Belgian chocolates, bottles of some of Jack’s favorite alcohols, and hundreds of sympathy cards.

It was a week after that when the details of the will and his estate were revealed (at least to me; it seems as if my folks knew about it already.) But it hardly satisfied my curiosity.

A meeting had been arranged at the offices of the Trust (what we called The Zeelander Trust Company.) The lawyers representing Jack’s estate were Swiss and even they seemed rather bemused.

They had a single piece of paper that stated that I was inheriting ¾ and my parents were inheriting ¼ of the estate. That was all it said. Then the lawyers handed me a small envelope that contained a key and the name of a bank. After that, they shook our hands and left the office.

I looked more carefully at the contents of the envelope and realized that the bank where the safety deposit box was located was in Liechtenstein, in the capital city of Vaduz!

My parents told me that I had to get over there immediately and follow up. Jack had set things up to keep the information very secret.

I had been to Vaduz with Jack for business meeting several times. Liechtenstein was a place for holding very quiet meetings. Their banks made the Swiss bankers look loose lipped. The law governing corporations in Liechtenstein allowed for a level of secrecy beyond anywhere else in the world.

And Jack’s lawyer was based there.

The following day, I was on a non-stop flight to Zurich — the closest airport that had direct flights. Zurich is in Switzerland, but only 50 miles from Vaduz, so when I landed, I rented a car and drove to the small boutique hotel that Jack and I had sometimes stayed during our earlier trips together. They were another tight-lipped group that had always welcomed Jack when he was in town, provided a very high degree of luxury, and complete privacy. Jack could live in a tent in the Amazon or the Yukon, but that didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate the finer things in life as well!

I slept there that night to catch up on my jet lag to prepare for the next day. I had appointments, first with the bank, and immediately following that, with Jack’s lawyer.

After a light continental breakfast with coffee at the hotel, at 9:00 I was at the door of the bank, ringing the buzzer. I knew that I was being observed by the cameras, and a voice responded from a speaker above the button.

“Guten Morgan. Kann ich Ihnen vielleicht helfen?

“Yes. I am Kevin Walker and I have an appointment with Herr Schmidt.”

“Of course,” came the reply, “Please come in.”

A buzzer sounded and I opened the door and walked in.

This was not a typical retail bank in the United States. After I entered, there was a vestibule with a man sitting behind a large, very modern looking desk. He looked fit and I suspect that he was armed, just in case.

He told me that someone was coming to get me to take me to Herr Schmitdt’s office. Almost by the time that he finished telling me that, a young woman came through the door.

“Herr Walker?”

“Yes.

“Please come with.” That told me that she had not spent time in an English-speaking country — she had transliterated “Bitte, kommen Sie mit,” into English.

I nodded in agreement and followed her into the bank’s sanctum sanctorum.

“Ah, Herr Walker,” said Herr Schmidt as he approached and shook my hand, “I am so sorry to hear about your uncle’s death. I, on behalf of the bank, extend my sympathies to you.”

Heinrich Schmidt was on the short side — perhaps 5’ 6”, and I suspected that he had lifts in his custom-made shoes with their brilliant shine. He was a bit overweight, with dark brown hair peppered with gray. He had a pleasant smile and an air of someone that a client could trust.

“Thank you, Herr Schmidt, and we appreciated your kind letter and the invitation to dine with you when we were next here. But,” and I showed him the key to the safety deposit box, “My uncle’s last instructions to me were to come here and inspect the contents of his secure box.”

“Of course. I am sorry to impose on you, but even though I know who you are, we will need to formally establish your identity. May I see your passport?”

“Naturally. And I have certified copies of my uncle’s death certificate.”

“That will not be necessary,” he smiled at me, “You and your mother are both listed as individuals entitled to access the box.”

When he said that, I remembered signing some papers, years before, about permission to access banking services. That must have been for this.

Herr Schmidt led me to a small room with an upholstered straight-back chair, in front of a small wooden table. Shortly thereafter, he entered carrying a box that he placed in front of me, then he left the room telling me to push a button by the door when I was finished. He would then return to let me out and put the box back in the vault.

The box wasn’t large, about six by twelve inches and perhaps eighteen inches deep. It was locked at the front, and when I inserted the key and turned it, the top opened.

Inside was a large envelope filled with documents, and a smaller letter sized envelope with my name written on it, taped to the top of the larger envelope.

I opened the letter sized envelope and read the instructions.

“Dear Kevin,

If you are reading this, then I have probably died. Sad, but it happens. I hope that I passed away quietly at home and not in a shoot-out or from some horrible disease in a far-away shithole. But life is what it is, and we are not in control.

Anyway, take these papers to my attorney, Herr Wilhelm Weber and he will take care of the stock transfers, access to bank accounts world-wide, and will provide you with a plethora of information that is critical to your survival — both physical and economic.

Keep the box here. Most of these documents with addendums should be placed back into the box, unless or until you decide to move them. I suspect that it would be difficult to find a more secure location.

If you have not already understood, Kevin, I have loved you like a father and you have always made me proud. I hope that you continue to live a life of achievement and success.