Crazy Jazz Girl, Zurich, Switzerland
While laying awake thinking of Gabriella my mind switched over to a memorable stay in Zurich. I had met a dark haired girl in her mid-twenties. She was a jazz buff and had a crazy way about her. Although I can not stand jazz and I prefer women with more substance we spent some time together. For me she was a breath of fresh air; quite different than the financial people I had to deal with all day.
My business was not purely financial. I had been hired by a Swiss investment and banking firm to, discretely, psycho-analyze employees involved in large dollar transactions.
My work was of a covert nature; that is, I worked as a co-employee and would secretly observe the personalities of the other employee’s. I would only take action if I deemed an employee to have a personality prone to embezzlement or be a subject of blackmail from another firm.
Do not get me wrong, I had no idea on how to spot embezzlement. I could only identify a personality disorder that would make an employee prone to embezzlement, fraud or being blackmailed. My action in such a situation was to notify a contact on the board of trustees.
On the surface I was the friend and protégé of the chairman. In this way I was able to mingle in the office and be invited to after-hours gatherings without being subject to specific business questions. Everyone thought I was a hanger-on or a relative of someone important. My posing as a nepotist covered my financial ignorance very well.
Hanging around with a female flake from Zurich who was also a jazz buff put the icing on the cake; it was common knowledge around the office that I was worthless. The image met my needs.
During this stint as a psychological analyst I was able to identify two Americans, one Italian and one German as potential embezzlers. Three Spaniards were identified as easy subjects for being blackmailed. Their obvious egos could be plumbed quite easily.
I was never subject to what was done about potential embezzlers. The potential blackmailed Spaniards were put to the test by high priced escorts that were hired by the firm. The Spaniards all failed.
One day it finally occurred to me that I myself may be undergoing some sort of test. Who would be watching me? Only one or two people inside the company knew who I really was. They would be thwarting their own goals if they exposed my purpose. Well – – – those one or two people thought that they knew who I was.
Possibly exposure was not the goal. Was there some other nefarious plot being waged by others against me? Was my crazy jazz buff girl involved? Obviously not; the firm transferred me to the Bern, Switzerland office to keep an eye on a few people there. If they wanted me out of the way they would have simply fired me.
All of this was a far cry from my rather timid and previous experience at the Panzerkoncern in Boeblingen, West Germany. My occupation there was also as a psychological analyst. My clientele was quite different; they were US military personnel. At times I had been assigned to cases at another military base only a few miles away in Stuttgart. That base was named Patch, Army Headquarters for Europe.
These visits to Patch were typically more interesting.