The Zurich Conspiracy

Karl Westek had designs on Loyn: They wanted to gobble up the company. They were looking for a way to get Hans-Rudolf Walther to sell. They were even ready to force him to unless he made a deal. They thought it would be a good idea if I joined their group. But…I did not want to have anything to do with it. I thought a lot of Walther, and I suspected that the three were up to no good with Loyn. Thüring dreamed of a comeback as a CEO of a famous corporation. And Salzinger and Westek probably wanted to buy the company in order to cannibalize it and auction it off piecemeal—the Loyn trademark above all—for a big pile of cash.”
    Ashes crumbled onto Van Duisen’s dark blue suit. He brushed them off impatiently. Josefa heard a noise behind her. Probably Kündig shifting position in his chair.
    “I told those men I was not interested. And I told them that their scheme was unwise as well. First, Walther wouldn’t sell, and secondly the company was overpriced, and thirdly nobody would want to do business with them after what happened with Swixan. Gentlemen, I said—this was at lunch in St. Moritz—gentlemen, the public would be against you.”
    Josefa didn’t know if she wanted to hear all this; she thought Van Duisen was laying it on rather thick, and she didn’t want to get sucked into this business any further. The point was that every one of these guys was dead, and the whole gang had died under very strange circumstances. Feeling uneasy, she took a look around. Van Duisen picked up on her lack of enthusiasm.
    “I’m sorry, would you like some water?” Before she could say anything he was at the fridge. “Or fruit juice?”
    Josefa chose the mineral water. The air in the suite was getting muggy, and the smoke was bothering her. She held the cold bottle to her pounding temples for a few seconds. Van Duisen went back to his seat. He drank nothing, as wrapped up in his story as he was.
    “At Lake Geneva, Karl Westek hinted that he had information that could compel Walther to sell. He said his information came from a reliable source, a mole inside the company. I thought he was just showing off. Walther’s not a very close friend of mine, but still, I know him well enough to know that he knows how to guard his secrets. But when I heard the tables had been bugged, I realized I had to take Westek’s words much more seriously than I had thought…Francis Bourdin or Werner Schulmann, or both of them, must have got wind of the business—Schulmann after the golf tournament at the very latest, Bourdin probably earlier, after St. Moritz.” He gave Kündig a brief, sideways glance. “The two of them would certainly have wanted to know what the three men were up to. And the mole inside Loyn probably really does exist.”
    Van Duisen paused, his eyes fixed on her. Josefa just squinted at him, her eyes burning.
    “A person with access to information,” he continued.
    “And what do you want from me, Herr Van Duisen?” she asked, her patience exhausted. Even if there was a mole, what did she have to do with it? It was the police’s job to shine a light into the darkness. What did they think her role was in this? Her anxiety made her forget that she’d been looking for answers herself for the past few months to no avail; now she had the opportunity to settle at least one of the questions.
    Van Duisen sounded as if he were pleading a little. “I want you to know that I was not in league with Thüring, Salzinger, and Westek. Whatever their scheme was, I was not a party to it.”
    Josefa gave him a blank stare. “Why is it so important for me in particular to know all this? Did you tell Herr Walther about these talks?”
    “Yes, of course, but he merely laughed and turned a deaf ear. Walther told me that he heard stories like these at least once a month, that there probably wasn’t anyone around who had not been suspected of trying to acquire Loyn. It flattered him enormously.”
    “And what did he say about the mole?”
    “I didn’t mention it. As I said, I thought it was a trick of that braggart. I cannot go around spreading suspicion about innocent employees. That is not my style.”
    Josefa took a drink of water. “I have never suspected you of anything untoward, Herr Van Duisen. I don’t know the slightest thing about this whole business.”
    “You saw me sitting with Westek, Thüring, and Salzinger in St. Moritz, Frau Rehmer. At my age I’ve nothing to lose but my good reputation. I’ve already