The Zurich Conspiracy

then? Maybe me?” Josefa was getting nervous.
    “No, not you. Somebody else.”
    Josefa stared at him inquisitively. Sauter met her gaze. “Don’t you read the papers, Frau Rehmer? About foreign political factions bringing their wars to Switzerland when they come here?”
    “So it’s the people below me? Sali’s parents?”
    “They’re not his parents, they’re his aunt and uncle. Sali’s parents are dead. Murdered.”
    “Good God!” Josefa put down her cup. “Who murdered them? And why?”
    “Do you remember that attack on a restaurant in the Fourth District? Hand grenades were tossed into it? Sali’s parents were in the restaurant. It was a favorite meeting place for Kosovo Albanians.”
    “That’s unbelievable! And who did it?”
    “We have our suspicions, but that’s all I can say. Political factions fight in the Balkans and here too. Sali’s parents and some of their friends were targeted because rival ethnic groups were settling scores.”
    Josefa recalled hearing about the terrible incident. Militant Serbian immigrants were said to have carried out the attack at the time.
    Sauter continued without taking his eyes off her, “We want to know if more people are in danger. The boy’s aunt and uncle, for instance—and maybe Sali too. That’s why we’ve been monitoring the building for a while.”
    “Monitoring? What does that mean?”
    “There’s a hotel across the street. That’s made it easier, but unfortunately I can’t say anything more than that.”
    Josefa took a deep breath. “Then you know all my habits, my visitors—half my life.” She was upset.
    “No, it’s not that bad. We only monitor suspicious persons.”
    “And who’s been following me all this time? They were your people, or weren’t they?”
    “No, they were protecting Sali, people from his uncle’s party. They probably wanted to be sure that the boy isn’t in any danger. They’re just very distrustful.”
    Josefa froze. “Or contract killers,” she said sarcastically.
    Sauter stretched his back. “We do our best to keep Switzerland safe for everybody. Unfortunately our world is no paradise, and we must learn to live with that.” He put a hand on her arm but immediately withdrew it, as if he’d changed his mind about something. Josefa stared off into space.
    Sauter cleared his throat. “Sali’s relatives place an extraordinary amount of trust in you, Frau Rehmer, in spite of everything.”
    “Trust? When I’m being shadowed? That’s a laugh.”
    “They’ve trusted you with their little boy—a person they barely know, a woman from a completely different culture.” Sauter stopped for a moment. “In my book, that’s practically a minor miracle.”
    Josefa raised her eyebrows. “Indeed. Me, of all people, who thinks headscarves are dumb and pashas ridiculous.”
    “We have our pashas too,” Sauter said.
    His words did not miss their mark. “And you…Do you think I’m trustworthy, like Sali’s par—like Sali’s relatives do?” Josefa inquired.
    He looked at her squarely with his narrow, gray eyes. “I trust you not to pass on what I’ve told you.”
    “I’m not able to bear so great an honor,” she exclaimed but did not look away until Sauter got up.
    “I think you can bear a heck of a lot.” He slipped into the sleeves of his ski suit.
    Josefa stayed seated. She took another drink, but the chocolate tasted bitter now. Was he thinking of the maelstrom at Loyn when he said that ? That subject, she knew, was taboo between them. A detective would never talk about an ongoing investigation, even if his colleagues were carrying it out and not him. Besides—the lower her profile in this business, the better. There were things she dearly wanted to know, to be sure, but she kept herself in check. Instead she said, “Sali has never spoken about his parents. I wonder if he knows if they’re dead or how they died.”
    “Better leave that to his relatives. You already know too much as it is, Frau Rehmer.”
    Josefa went right on talking as if she hadn’t heard him. “Sali only talks about his skis. I mean, about the skis he did not get for Christmas. Everybody else in his class got them.”
    “My son’s got two pairs of new skis and never feels like skiing. He only wants to play hockey.”
    “Why two pairs?”
    “A mix-up. One of many between me and my ex, me…and other people.”
    Josefa was afraid he’d tell her a whole divorcé’s tale of woe, but Sauter simply said, “I