The Zurich Conspiracy

opportunity to take his revenge on her, she was convinced of that. He would keep important information from her, cut her bonuses, force her to work with whomever he chose. Who’d give her any support against Schulmann? She couldn’t count on Walther or Bourdin, and not on Auer certainly. Now she was fighting mad.
    But she realized she had to choose her words carefully. Claire had the tendency to overreact to criticism. Josefa cleared her throat, propped her elbows on the desktop, and clenched her hands into fists.
    “I wouldn’t have gotten as far as I have if I didn’t know what this company needs. You must believe me, Claire. You don’t get very far by just being nice or making eyes at somebody; you need different artillery. It’s important to know who’s on your side, who’s got your back when you need it.” Josefa stood up and adjusted the cuffs on her silk blouse.
    Claire rose from her seat as well and half turned to the door. “As for Werner Schulmann, I know where I stand in spite of everything, Josefa,” she said, before walking out.

“I’m standing in the middle of the woods.”
    Josefa heard birds chirping, children’s voices, some snapping and rustling.
    “Are you stalking something?” she asked, getting a cup of tea from the kitchen. She had called Helene’s cell phone because her friend was always off somewhere, as an ornithologist or a hunter. In the fall she’d go to the mountains in the Canton of Graubünden to shoot game. In winter she was often in Borneo, Madagascar, or some other tropical bird paradise. When it turned warmer in Switzerland, Helene would climb fire ladders, venturing into the attics and chimneys of condemned houses and buildings to relocate bird colonies.
    “I’m taking some schoolchildren through the woods,” Helene shouted.
    “I absolutely must talk with you, can you hear?” Josefa yelled back.
    “Today?”
    “Any way we can.”
    The background crackling grew louder, sounding like a herd of wild boars crashing through the underbrush.
    “You know what, come up to the Dolder,” Helene suggested. “It’s nearby.”
    Josefa hesitated. The famous Dolder Grand, renowned for its sublime site on a slope above the city, was the most expensive hotel for miles around.
    Helene took her silence as a sign of agreement, adding, “Four o’clock in the bar,” before hanging up. Helene didn’t waste time on small talk.
    Josefa finished her tea and dialed Stefan’s number. The sun’s feeble rays shimmered in the early summer air outside her window, its pale beams reflecting into Josefa’s room. His voice mail picked up.
    “It’s me. I’ve been trying to get you since yesterday,” Josefa chattered away. “Today’s the first day of my vacation, but I’ve got a big hassle at the office. Nothing to do with St. Moritz, that all went well, very well, as a matter of fact. I’d just like to hear your voice again. I’m home this evening. Ciao.”
    Stefan was seldom in when she phoned, which usually didn’t bother her. She’d decided to have this affair because Stefan was married, and a father, and didn’t want anything more from her than she was prepared to give. She was on safe ground with him; it was a passing relationship free of any anxiety over impending loss.
    Before Josefa left for the Dolder, she glanced into the laundry room. Somebody was monopolizing both washing machines once again. She met a woman of indeterminate age on the staircase wearing a kaftan and a headscarf. Josefa had never seen her before, but that was not unusual as the tenants changed frequently on the lower floors. The city administration had been putting up asylum seekers on the second and third floors; some of the long-time tenants had protested to no avail. Josefa really couldn’t care less; she was traveling most of the time anyway.
    “Are you just doing the washing?” she inquired. The woman raised her hands and said something Josefa didn’t understand.
    “Washing?” she repeated, feeling rather stupid. The woman laughed in embarrassment, a bit intimidated. She was missing a few teeth, which made her look older than she probably was.
    Josefa gave a shrug of resignation. The woman rushed ahead of her and disappeared behind a door. The aroma of exotic food poured from the apartment, filling the entire stairwell.
    Josefa took the streetcar through the downtown and then the mountain line up to the Dolder. The silhouette of the luxury hotel with its picturesque little towers