The Zurich Conspiracy

seemed somewhat amused. “That’s a job I’d like our company to get.”
    “What job?”
    “How Loyn can best sell this to the public. I bet Walther’s losing a lot of sleep these nights. Who’s doing the media work when the marketing head’s been done in? Bugs in the party tent—what a scandal!”
    Josefa was at a loss. “There’s really nothing that can shock you, Paul. Schulmann was murdered . And Salzinger’s voice is on the tape. And he’s dead too. And anyway…I mean, look at all what’s happened! To Thüring and Feller-Stähli. That’s just not normal. That’s…” She struggled to find the words.
    “So it’s dawned on you at last. Congratulations, Josefa.”
    “It all feels so creepy. And maybe they even suspect me . They might think that I could have planted the bugs myself.”
    “And did you?” He reached for a piece of zwieback.
    “You can’t be serious…Schulmann certainly had the know-how. He was very savvy about technical things.”
    “You know, given the kinds of questions the police asked you, and if I’ve figured it correctly, then they know much more than you could ever dream of. They know what’s on the tapes, and maybe even who killed Schulmann.”
    “You think so?” she asked, stirring her tea.
    “Sure. I’m curious to see what’s going to be on TV. And in the papers. Our Francis will no doubt pull every string to get himself in the limelight.”

The evening news confirmed Josefa’s worst suspicions. The tapes and the cause of death were already public knowledge. But the police were not about to say by what means the “poisonous substance” had been administered to Schulmann. There was no mention on the television of what the poison was either.
    The accompanying commentary created the impression that all the guests in the tent had been illegally taped. Josefa suspected it wouldn’t be long before the invitation list fell into the media’s hands.
    The media—and not only the press—speculated on the motives for what was already taken as murder. Did Schulmann have dynamite information, and was he blackmailing someone? Did Werner Schulmann have any enemies? Was it someone in his family? But the reporters were as undecided as the police—or as the police purported to be—about the answers to these questions.
    Loyn made a statement to the media the next morning: Eavesdropping on guests of the house was the despicable act of a misguided person. The company condemns most severely…We are as outraged as much as…and apologize to…
    Josefa knew the clichés all too well.
    This time Hans-Rudolf Walther kept out of sight, and Bourdin gave no explanation himself, which struck Josefa as mighty peculiar. He was, after all, Loyn’s poster boy.
    Even her opinion was sought; reporters called her at home time and again, but she was careful to give them only miniscule bits of information. She thought of Paul’s warning. We keep our nose out of it. All she told her questioners was that she left Loyn some time ago. No, not because of Schulmann. She remained as polite as possible while playing the ignorance card.
    Besides, she was up to her eyeballs in work: She had to organize three big company Christmas banquets, and the first one was on for today—in an old jail that some imaginative entrepreneur had converted into a dance hall, bar, and restaurant. Her client, an ambitious software firm, had been looking for an unusual location for the company party and was very much taken with her suggestion.
    When she arrived at the former jail, the delivery vans were already there with the tables, chairs, tablecloths, and decorations; the men were standing around waiting. Josefa saw immediately that these were not the tables she’d ordered. She made straight for Sepp Kohler, the foreman she worked with so frequently at Loyn and who had helped her with her move to Feltenstrasse.
    “Herr Kohler, what’s happened to the tables?”
    “Frau Rehmer, it’s not my mistake, but the boss didn’t want to let the other tables go,” he admitted, obviously embarrassed by the position this decision had put him in.
    “ Whatever for?” she asked incredulously.
    Kohler grimaced. “They were the tables we used for Loyn at Lake Geneva, remember? At the golf tournament on Lake Geneva.”
    “So what?” Josefa didn’t understand.
    “The boss wants to hold those tables until the affair is cleared up.”
    “What affair?”
    “That thing with the bugs and eavesdropping.”
    “Good