69, Ex-Swiss Banker, Cyril Foley. Now spends his life as a personal account manager for wealthy, curious clients. Doesn't care much for birds and cats but loves children and bananas.
Lives a comfortable life, but every now and then, he wakes up from his naps, sweating, panting, terrified of who or what might come and find him in the middle of the night.
A long time ago, when he was still a young man working on an old Swiss bank account, a mysterious man came in who wanted to deposit only three gold coins with the Nazi insignia scripted onto them. He didn't know why or how, but he was drawn to the three gold coins so much, it was almost as if he had been hypnotized by them. And so, one afternoon, he stole them and replaced them with some very convincing counterfeits he had asked one of his buddies to make.
A year later, though no one had seemed to mind his small theft, he fled fro, Switzerland and came to London with nothing but the clothes on his back and the three gold coins.
Sometimes he thinks the gold coins can talk to him, and sometimes he thinks he's just going insane; but to this day, Cyril Foley KNOWS someone or something is out there, looking for his coins, and someday, Cyril Foley KNOWS it will find him. And when they do, Cyril plans on being too old and too dead to have anything done to him by then.