The Zurich Conspiracy

me? I feel so stupid, Josefa, I’m so very sorry…I’m honestly sorry.” He shook his head. “But at the same time I’m very glad that you got away. That he wasn’t able to do something really bad to you.”
    Josefa offered no response. She was too stunned, too confused. She didn’t know what to think of the whole business. It was time to go home. She got up, and Paul followed her out. She was glad he didn’t ask her for any explanation, didn’t want to know how she felt about him now, whether she forgave him, because she didn’t know herself.
    When they got to the hallway she remembered what she wanted to ask Paul before he fetched some water.
    “Why didn’t Harckmüller make Schulmann a partner?”
    “I wish I could say because he wasn’t good enough,” Paul remarked. “But things didn’t get to that stage. Schulmann made an incredibly stupid gaffe. At a company party he told a young lady that she looked like a hooker in that dress and bawled her out for daring to appear at a company event in such a getup. Schulmann thought she was a volunteer and his tirade would impress everybody. The young woman turned out to be Harckmüller’s daughter.”
    Well, well , Josefa thought as she went downstairs. Sometimes all it takes is a dumb little mistake to seal your fate .

Nobody could see her cards. Nobody knew her intentions, her true face.
    She walked through everything in her mind once again. An ingenious plan. A brilliant brain. A dazzling façade.
    Suddenly it was all so simple. Even simpler than she’d thought.
    She used a towel to take the kettle off the stove, mixed the water with some snow in a basin, and added liquid soap. Then she carefully dipped her hands. The water changed color.
    I will wash my hands in innocence, she thought. The idea pleased her enormously. She repeated it over and over as she cleaned traces from her hands. Traces no one should ever see.
    How stupid people are. How set in their ways. And how susceptible to—but she’d rather not think about that now.
    Enemies are like a huge buffet. A magnificent, delicious buffet. You can help yourself to them. While politely thanking them with a charming smile and sending a silent promise with your flashing eyes.
    And then turn the knife.
    Later, when the time was ripe.
    Then they’ll see how stupid they were. They’ll tear their hair. Scratch out their eyes.
    If they still have time.
    She stretched out comfortably on the old sofa in front of the fireplace. Her work was accomplished. Victory would soon be hers.

The Gasthaus Trittlibach smelled of cheese and kirschwasser and garlic because the innkeepers made their living off the guests in wintertime who came for the fondue specialties. “Fondue Specialties” was even on the menu. But Josefa had no yen for Vacherin-Gruyere-fondue or Emmental-Raclette-Tomme-fondue with nutmeg. She didn’t have the slightest urge to have melted cheese that evening.
    She ordered a glass of Saint Saphorin even though she knew she’d regret it later when she couldn’t get to sleep.
    “You’re not having anything to eat?” the waitress asked, a stocky, elderly lady with bushy eyebrows.
    “No, not today,” Josefa answered, wracked with guilt.
    “But this table is reserved in one hour,” the waitress said.
    “No problem,” Josefa replied and looked around. The room was just half full, and it was going on nine. Josefa had chosen the Trittlibach only because it was so near her place, and she was rather tired. “Someone’s coming who won’t be eating either,” she called after the waitress, just to bug her.
    “How exactly do you know?” an amused voice behind her said. Josefa turned around in surprise. Sebastian Sauter had caught her once again in a less than edifying moment.
    “It figures—cops always come in the back way,” she remarked.
    “That’s not true today. For one thing, I am off the job sometimes, like now, for instance.” He was standing before her in a pullover of an indeterminate dark color and a rusty-red winter jacket (so Esther was right about the jacket she’d seen him in at the rink), and had a pair of skis in one hand and ski poles in the other.
    “So here they are,” Josefa said, her heart beating faster. “They look great, really high tech. Sali will certainly like them.”
    Sauter leaned the skis and the poles against the wall and took a seat. “My Kevin is happy he got a hockey stick instead.” He looked frozen stiff.
    The waitress reappeared, and Sauter