The Zurich Conspiracy

that they had to do with a declaration of intent, involving the Loyn Corporation in Zurich and Kerikko International Investments based in the Bahamas. But how did these preliminary contracts fall into Thüring’s hands? Not even Schulmann had gotten his paws on documents like these.
    She started to examine the pages more closely. It was instantly obvious what she had in front of her: a preliminary contract for the sale of the Loyn Corporation to Kerikko International. She felt hot all of a sudden, her heart was pounding. That couldn’t be! That simply wasn’t true—but there it was, in black and white: Hans-Rudolf Walther was flogging his tradition-rich company to an ominous investment company in the Bahamas.
    Walther must have been planning this for a long time! He must have been negotiating for weeks with this company, maybe months. Walther had led all his employees to believe something else was in the wind.
    And she guessed who was behind Kerikko: none other than Beat Thüring. He had put his straw men up front until he felt he was safe. Karl Westek was one of them—that was perfectly clear to her now. His Trojan horse. Thüring wouldn’t come out of the woodwork until the sale was in the bag—maybe not for several years—and he’d pop up as the owner of Loyn. Thüring was one sly fox. He bet on the fading memory of the public, the courts, the shareholders. And with good reason. What did she once say to Josefa? People forget so fast; nobody will care a fig for it in a few years.
    But maybe he wanted to break up Loyn without ever revealing his identity. Maybe he wanted to milk the company for everything he could, sell off the brand to the highest bidder to make a lot of money. And Walther was going to let all this happen.
    She hadn’t picked up on any of this. She hadn’t seen through Walther, and he had deceived her along with all the rest.
    She was so close to reaching her goal, and now it seemed it would burst like a soap bubble. Nothing could stop Walther, she knew that now. He wanted to sell, that filthy toad! She crumpled up the paper in a rage.
    There was only one thing she could do.
    She shifted the car into first and stepped on the gas. She looked back instinctively in the rearview mirror. There was a car. Getting closer. She was stunned. She’d never seen anybody here before Thüring.
    Did he have an accomplice? She hit the gas and fishtailed around the curve. When she got near her own car, she saw some movement. Two men on skis, with radios and armbands. Police!
    Claire gunned it again, crossing to a smooth, white clearing in the fading daylight. The car bucked and rocked, but Claire kept her eyes firmly focused on the open path ahead. A mad hope had seized her. If she could just make it to the other side before they did, where she knew the terrain, then she could gain a few precious minutes. Nobody would know who’d taken off in the SUV. Maybe the ice would hold, maybe—

Josefa was staring out the car window. Desolate patches of countryside and industrial buildings bordered the heavily traveled autobahn between Bern and Zurich. She hadn’t uttered a word since hearing Helene’s incredible account. The truth was hard to grasp. Two people she trusted, two people she knew well, were murder suspects.
    Helene saw no point in keeping these dramatic events from Josefa. She’d find them out sooner or later anyhow, she said. It’s better to hear about them from a friend.
    Then Josefa broke her silence. “That must be awful. The ice-cold water, the darkness down there, the fear. She must have been terribly afraid.”
    Helene didn’t answer right away.
    “The police risked their lives to get her out of the water. Claire wouldn’t be alive without them. They could easily have fallen through the ice themselves.”
    But Josefa wasn’t listening. “She must have been very desperate to drive out there. She didn’t see any other way out so she just drove out onto the ice,” she added in a weary monotone.
    “Josefa.” Helene spoke in an unusually gentle manner. “Claire probably killed two people. Yes, they were bad guys, but people nonetheless. And on the face of it, she did it without any scruples, maybe even planned it all. You mustn’t forget that.”
    Josefa sat up straight in the passenger’s seat. “But what drove her to it? What was going on inside? Where did she get this…this decisiveness? What was she trying to achieve?”
    She didn’t dare ask the question Helene was