The Zurich Conspiracy

answer there.
    The technician pressed a few buttons and moved some controls back and forth. “You gotta hear this,” he said, grinning and slowly turning the volume up.
    At first it sounded like scratching and fluttering, then human sounds: whispers, suppressed laughter. Rustling and groaning.
    The two detectives were concentrating so hard that the sound technician didn’t dare grin anymore. Zwicker understood “yes” and “that feels” and “please” and “not yet.” A man and a woman. But it was mostly the woman speaking. He was about to ask a question when the female voice clearly said, “I love you, Dick.” Then slurping, sucking, a gasp, suppressed groans. The man said after a while, “You’ve made me happy, baby.” Sighs, suppressed giggles. Then static and crackling.
    The technician broke the spell. “It goes on for a few minutes before the tape ends.”
    “What, they keep on screwing?” Kündig asked, obviously off track.
    “No, the sex is over, there’s nothing more, only rattling and crackling and static. No identifiable sounds. Must have been an antediluvian device that recorded it.”
    Kündig looked over at Zwicker, who couldn’t help smirking.
    “So it’s all about sex yet again,” Kündig finally said, dryly. “Who and with whom?”
    Zwicker scratched his temple. “Could be the golfer’s wife. No wonder she needs a lawyer. That would explain some things.”
    “And the man?”
    “She said, ‘I love you, Dick.’”
    Dick, Kündig thought, short for Richard in English.
    “Richard.” He pronounced the name in German. “Right now only one man comes to mind.”
    “My mind too. When do we bring him in?”

The cave entrance, hidden behind some bushes and piles of stones, was very narrow; an experienced adult could just force his way through. Josefa stood before it wondering if she’d bitten off more than she could chew. Not until now, dressed in Helene’s climbing equipment, had she fully realized the risks involved in an expedition like this.
    Pius picked up on her hesitation and smiled encouragingly. “When we’ve got the eye of the needle behind us, everything gets much wider, more open. No fear. I’ll crawl through first, pull my rucksack behind, and you just follow. You won’t regret it, believe me.”
    Josefa’s whole body was shivering. “It’s OK, it’s only fear of taking the plunge, Schwellenangst , you know. I can hack it,” she replied, screwing up her courage.
    Pius crept on all fours into the hole. Josefa heard rustling and scraping, then nothing. A little while later the rope to the rucksack started to move.
    Now it was her turn. She ducked down into the tunnel, lay flat on her stomach, and worked her way forward like a seal. It was dark, and she crawled blindly into the unknown. The sound of Pius calling to her from far ahead gave her courage. She slowly felt her way forward. It seemed to take an eternity. Fortunately she didn’t get claustrophobic. Not yet, at least. She felt smooth, damp rock beneath her. A yellowish glimmer of light became visible in the distance—that must be Pius’s carbide lamp. Suddenly she slipped into nothingness, but a second later she felt a pair of strong hands grabbing hold of her.
    “Well done, the worst is over,” Pius enthused.
    Her knees were spongy, and her eyes were slow to adjust to the darkness around the circle of light.
    “Stand over here, you’ll be safe there,” Pius said. Josefa was still holding tightly to his arm. Then she heard him say in a peculiarly echoing voice, “And now the surprise of your life awaits you!”
    They roped themselves together and put on their rucksacks. By the light of their headlamps, they placed their feet carefully on the smooth rock. Pius led, Josefa followed. They ducked under rock ledges and forced their way through narrow cracks. Josefa could only make out sketchy silhouettes, relying on Pius’s instructions. The rope and the helmet gave a false sense of security—she had no illusions about that. A fall wouldn’t only be painful; it could, under certain circumstances, be fatal. But the more headway they made, the more confident she became. If she could make it through this part, she’d be able to make it through the rest.
    They only said what was absolutely necessary; climbing demanded total concentration.
    Josefa was eager to see what Pius had promised to be a revelation—an experience she’d never forget. She couldn’t turn back now anyway. She was at