‘Do you have any idea what my grandfather is storing in your bank?’
‘None whatsoever. That is the definition of a Geldschrank bank.’

Much has been said about the historical truth in the Da Vinci Code. Here, we limit ourselves to the depiction of the fictive Swiss bank in the book and movie, a rather narrow perspective.

The plot is known. The curator of the Louvre museum in Paris is found murdered just before meeting with Robert Langdon, the hero. A European-wide treasure hunt ensues that will unlock the mysteries of Christianity. At some point, Langdon and Sophie Neveu enter a Swiss bank in Paris to retrieve mysterious items locked in a safe deposit box.

In the novel, the 'Depository bank of Zurich' operates a sort of automated 24 hours anonymous safe deposit box facility at '24 rue Haxo' in the suburbs of Paris.

The Depository Bank of Zurich was a twenty-four-hour Geldschrank bank offering the full modern array of anonymous services in the tradition of the Swiss numbered account. Maintaining offices in Zurich, Kuala Lumpur, New York and Paris, the bank had expanded its services in recent years to offer anonymous computer source code escrow services and faceless digitised backup.

The bread and butter of its operation was by far its oldest and simplest offering – the anonyme Lager – blind drop services, otherwise known as anonymous safe-deposit boxes. Clients wishing to store anything from stock certificates to valuable paintings could deposit their belongings anonymously, through a series of high-tech veils of privacy, withdrawing items at any time, also in total anonymity. [...]

Switzerland’s reputation for secrecy in banking had become one of the country’s most lucrative exports. Facilities like this had become controversial in the art community because they provided a perfect place for art thieves to hide stolen goods, for years if necessary, until the heat was off. Because deposits were protected from police inspection by privacy laws and were attached to numbered accounts rather than people’s names, thieves could rest easily knowing their stolen goods were safe and could never be traced to them.

We have never heard of such a thing as a 'Geldschrankbank' , and even a regular Swiss bank with a branch in Paris would have to apply French law to its Paris operations. There could be no Swiss bank secrecy in a bank operated in Paris under a French banking license. It is just not possible.

There is a basic confusion between account number, anonymity and passwords. Each account in a Swiss bank comes with an account number, just like at any other bank. If you have a numbered account, your name will not appear on any document save for the opening contract so as to limit the number of people who know whom the account belongs to. But the account is not anonymous - the bank knows who the client is. And if the client needs a password to access a banking facility - online banking or a safe deposit box, it will not be his account number. Everybody at the bank can see his account number, and any incoming or outgoing bank transfer includes the account number, even for numbered accounts. It would be like using your telephone number as your password for your voicemail.

As for 'thieves' who could 'rest easily knowing their stolen goods were safe and could never be traced to them' this is a sack of baloney. Swiss bank secrecy never protected criminals and it is promptly lifted if somebody is proven beyond reasonable doubt guilty of a criminal offence.

The man [bankhuissier] gave a perceptive smile. ‘I sense this is your first visit to us?’

Sophie hesitated and then nodded.

‘Understood. Keys are often passed on as inheritance, and our first-time users are invariably uncertain of the protocol.’ He motioned to the table of drinks. ‘This room is yours as long a you care to use it.’

‘You say keys are sometimes inherited?’ Sophie asked.

‘Indeed. Your key is like a Swiss numbered account, which are often willed through generations. On our gold accounts, the shortest safety-deposit box lease is fifty-years. Paid in advance. So we see plenty of family turnover.’

Langdon stared. ‘Did you say fifty years?’

‘At a minimum, ‘their host replied. ‘Of course, you can purchase much longer leases, but barring further arrangements, if there is no activity on an account for fifty years, the contents of that safe-deposit box are automatically destroyed.

The assets kept by Swiss banks (cash, investments or precious objects) are often passed on to the next generation. It is however very uncommon that the account itself or the safe deposit box would be passed on, if only because usually there are several heirs. Why would they want to share the same deposit box or use one account?

As for 'fifty year leases' and the contents of the deposit box being 'automatically destroyed' at the expiration it is pure nonsense. Boxes are rent out for an unlimited amount of time and the quarterly rent charged to the account. If the client forget about his boxes and there is no more money on the account to pay for the rent, the bank will first try to contact the client, then his heirs, then call in a Swiss notary public to inventory the box contents. How could one think that an institution paid to safekeep valuables would destroy them when the rent is due?

He walked them to the far wall where a wide conveyor belt entered the room in a graceful curve, vaguely resembling a baggage claim carousel, ‘You insert your key in that slot there….’ The man pointed to a large electronic podium facing the conveyor belt. The podium had a familiar triangular hole. ‘Once the computer confirms the markings on your key, your enter your account number, and your safe-deposit box will be retrieved robotically from the vault below for your inspection. When you are finished with your box, you place it back on the conveyor belt, insert your key again, and the process is reversed. Because everything is automated, your privacy is guaranteed, even from the staff of this bank. If you need anything at all, simply press the call button on the table in the centre of the room.’[...]

‘Excuse me, ‘Sophie called. ‘Could you clarify something before you go? You mentioned that we enter an account number?’

The man [bank huissier] paused at the door, looking pale. ‘But of course. Like most Swiss banks, our safe-deposit boxes are attached to a number, not a name. You have a key and a personal account number known only to you. Your key is only half of your identification. Your personal account number is the other half. Otherwise, if you lost your key, anyone could use it.’

Such an automated safe deposit vault has never been seen in Switzerland, but why not. We wonder whether clients would trust such an automated system though. The confusion between account number and password has been discussed above but there is some value in what the huissier says. All Swiss banks have a system to prevent somebody from using a stolen key, usually by checking the client's identity. The safe deposit boxes can never be opened without the bank huissier turning the bank key at the same time.

Random House, the publishing house of author Dan Brown, even set up a joke website for the fictional Swiss bank. There we learn the bank was created in 1967 and has offices in Zurich, Paris, Kuala-Lumpur and New York. The clients can deposit and withdraw items from their safe deposit boxes 'anonymously', and even better, each client can monitor the contents of his deposit box remotely. Apart from the nonsense, the website contains a number of typos 'Votre confiance est notre plus grand tresor' ('Your trust is our greatest treasure' with a missing accent on the 'e' in trésor), the bank now is a 'GeldshrankeBanke', two typos for a made-up word ('Geldschrankbank') and the stupefying use of an uppercase letter in the middle of a word in 'LagernAnonymen'. Not very impressive but here the author is not to blame.

We regret to say that if there is some historical truth in the Da Vinci Code, it is not to be found in the Swiss bank scene.