The Zurich Conspiracy

you still in mourning for Thüring?” He spotted the picture on top of the pile.
    “Thüring? Actually I never had any dealings with him,” Josefa said, drinking her coffee slowly and with relish. Suddenly Ingrid popped into her mind. What was the connection between that beautiful stranger and Thüring?
    Pius bit into a croissant. “A lot of people won’t be unhappy that Thüring drowned. He led a fine life on other people’s money.”
    Josefa looked at her watch. “I’ve got to get moving before the place gets busy. Are you going to help?”
    But Pius was still going on about Thüring. “Maybe he simply absconded. You know his body hasn’t been found yet.”
    Josefa took the picture out of his hand. “But there were witnesses who claim they saw him drown. Sharks probably feasted on his body—come on, let’s get to work.”
    Pius and Josefa were waiting for the elevator, their arms laden with boxes, when the door opened and Hans-Rudolf Walther emerged. He nodded briefly in Josefa’s direction and then gave Pius a look of obvious displeasure.
    “I hope you won’t be taken off the payroll for helping a defector,” she whispered to Pius once they were inside the elevator.
    Pius put down the boxes and wiped a few crumbs off his lips. “He knows better than that,” he replied with total aplomb.
    The photographer’s last remark was still going through Josefa’s head that afternoon on a Lake Zurich steamboat. Whatever did Pius mean, and why was his voice so…so cold ? Sali was beside her, feeding pieces of bread to the gulls and chattering to himself in Albanian. She was surprised by how unusually warmly she felt toward the little guy. Strange, but she’d never thought she’d find it fun to spend time with a kid, and a foreigner to boot. She wondered if Stefan ever took his kids on boat rides. She realized she’d been thinking less and less about the man who’d so quickly exited her life. They’d never talked about how Agnes got her phone number or how long she’d known about their affair. Actually they hadn’t had a proper talk at all since that day—Stefan was preoccupied with his son’s accident and his impending move to the US—but it wasn’t even necessary. It was obvious to both of them that there could be no thought of continuing their affair. And there were moments when Josefa felt liberated. No more waiting. No more guilt.
    Her cell phone rang, though she barely heard it over the roar of the ship’s engines.
    “Where are you?” Paul Klingler asked.
    “On a steamer with Sali,” Josefa shouted. “We’re just getting off at the Zürichhorn landing.”
    Sali ran down the gangplank to see Jean Tinguely’s cacophonous sound sculpture. Tourists and other onlookers were following the rise and fall of its wheels, spheres, levers, and listening to the clanking, ringing, and rattling of the huge perpetual motion machine. The boy was completely spellbound, walking around and around it.
    “You rang?” Paul said.
    They were business partners now—she had to get used to the idea. Josefa had expressed her willingness to carry out assignments and projects for him, but she stressed she would be working independently. She didn’t want any new relationships with employers.
    “Tell me, what was it between you and Schulmann at Harckmüller, Sinclair and Partners?” She’d waited a long time to get up the courage to ask him that question.
    “Hmm,” Paul hummed. “Did a little birdie chirp something in your ear?”
    “Not a birdie. Richard Auer did me the favor. It was sooo nice not know anything about it.”
    “Yesssss…” Long pause.
    “Schulmann and I worked together for a short time at Harckmüller six years ago. Schulmann, the scheming little shit, got half the company riled up against me. And so I left and have never regretted it.” He cleared his throat. “Be glad you quit Loyn, Josefa.”
    It suddenly went remarkably still. Tinguely’s sculpture had gone quiet, the show was over. Sali immediately pulled her by the hand; he’d spied an ice-cream cart.
    “Paul, I’ve got to run…”
    “Sure, we’ll talk later.” He sounded relieved.
    While Sali was savoring his ice-cream cone, Josefa impatiently checked her watch, again and again. She made a quick decision to hail a cab, dragging a reluctant Sali along behind her. When the car pulled onto Feltenstrasse and stopped, Josefa noticed a second taxi stopping at almost the same time in front of the restaurant across the