Chapter 4 #2
Draco touched his hand to Cate’s back, just once, and guided her up the curving staircase.
Stefan Brunner met them at the top, wearing a suit of storm-cloud gray and a smile he’d perfected over his nineteen-year career as a banker. A smile that made the recipient feel like an old friend. “Please, come in. Come in.” He stood back, sweeping his arm toward the door behind him.
Draco glanced in, quickly assessing the interior before allowing Cate to enter. Like the lobby, the furniture was top quality and expensive.
Once they were through the door, Brunner entered behind them and closed the door.
Draco studied the man, noting his confident, bordering on arrogant, air of a man used to dealing with wealthy clients.
He was tall, and like Dmytro had reported, handsome and had good hair.
Women would consider him a silver fox—the kind of man who only skied on the best snow and vacationed on the French Riviera.
He held out his hand to Draco.
Draco shook the man’s hand.
Firm grip, warm, dry, giving away little insight into the man’s character.
“Americans,” Brunner said with an English accent and a smile. “Always a pleasure.”
“British English.” Draco shook the man’s hand and released it.
Brunner nodded. “My father was Swiss, my mother from the Cotswolds. I grew up in England, and now I work with people from all over.” He swept his hand toward a sitting area. “Please, have a seat. Can I get you coffee?”
Cate smiled tightly at the man.
Draco recognized the fire in her gray-blue eyes.
She was probably angry Brunner hadn’t offered to shake her hand.
“Thank you for seeing us on short notice,” she said, her tone clipped but polite.
“We don’t want to take up too much of your time.
” She sank into one of the chairs the man had indicated.
Draco dropped into the other beside her, angling to be with his back to the wall, his angle of view to the door into the office. Habit.
“Herr Brunner, I’ll be straight with you,” Cate said. “I’m a private investigator, hired to trace Marcus Calloway’s assets and settle his affairs since his death.”
Brunner dropped into the leather chair behind a desk void of everything but a pen and a pad of paper.
“I’m sorry for the family’s loss, Ms. Marsh.
” He lifted the pen and tapped the tip to the pad.
“However, I cannot disclose any information about the clients of this bank. People choose to bank with us because of our strict adherence to protecting their privacy. We don’t share information with private investigators, police, courts or family members unless their names are on the account.
That’s why Mr. Calloway chose to do business with us. ”
Cate raised an eyebrow. “So, Calloway was a client.”
Brunner lifted one corner of his mouth. “I can’t deny or confirm.”
Draco didn’t say a word, taking in everything about the man’s countenance and the absolutely straight face he maintained throughout the conversation.
Draco would have bet his last dollar that Brunner knew Calloway and had planned exactly what to say before Cate had walked through the door.
He had to give it to the man. He was smooth.
“I understand, Herr Brunner. I’m not asking you to break the law.” She leaned forward slightly. Her eyes narrowed, and she lowered her voice to not quite a whisper. “I came to ask about a company you might have heard of…Alpenhorn Relief Logistics.”
Brunner didn’t blink, didn’t flinch. The man had been in the business long enough to table his emotions and carry on as if nothing fazed him.
But the air in the room seemed to chill several degrees.
The practiced warmth he’d exuded as the bank’s relationship manager bled out in the silence.
He laid the pen on the desk, exactly parallel to the pad, and folded his hands on the wood surface.
“Where did you hear that name?” he asked softly.
“I take it you’ve heard of it,” Cate said.
“In my profession, I’ve heard the names of many different companies.” He pushed to his feet, straightened his suit jacket and nodded toward the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting at eleven.”
Cate remained seated. “Herr Brunner, a woman is sitting in a jail in Virginia, charged with the murder of a man who might not be dead, and nine million dollars that were funneled through a company whose name I believe you recognize for products never delivered. I’m not the police or Interpol.
I can’t legally make you give me information, but I came because everyone I could ask is either dead, pretending to be dead or in jail for a crime she didn’t commit. ” Cate stood.
Draco stood with her.
“I’ll go,” Cate continued. “But if there’s any ounce of honor and empathy in you, know that you could make the difference for that woman who was jailed for a murder she didn’t commit, so that others can conceal a crime they did commit and are willing to kill to hide. I asked nicely. It’s your move.”
Brunner stared down at her for a long moment.
His professional demeanor seemed to display a hairline fracture.
His eyes flickered. Was it fear? Not of Cate, but of something else.
He looked like he wanted to look behind him, over his shoulder, as if someone could be watching his every move.
But he didn’t. He held Cate’s gaze a second longer. “I’ll see you out.”
He crossed to the door, opened it, and stood back for Cate and Draco to pass through it.
Then he followed them down the curving staircase to the cold, marble-tiled lobby, and past the bored security guard to the entrance.
He held the door for them to pass through and leaned in to shake Draco’s hand.
When Draco placed his hand in Brunner’s, the man’s grip was tight, almost desperate. He lowered his voice to a whisper and said, “You should not have said that name in this building. Bad idea. Very bad.” Then, in a louder voice, “Thank you for coming in. Enjoy your time in Zurich.”
Cate stuck out her hand before he could walk away. “Thank you for seeing us on such short notice.” He took her hand, his eyes flaring slightly as he gripped hers and shook it once.
“Pleasure.” He dropped her hand, stuck his hand in his pocket, stepped back, spun on his heels and climbed the curving stairs up to his office.
Draco cupped Cate’s elbow and guided her through the doorway out into the cool, fresh air, glad to be out of the bank and the sense of surreptitious affairs that all the security and secrecy inspired.
Not until they were away from the bank and its all-seeing cameras did he speak. “He knew Calloway and Alpenhorn.”
Cate nodded. “And he was scared.”
“That’s what got me. He was smooth and professional up until you mentioned Alpenhorn. He wasn’t rattled over the nine-million-dollar account. I’m sure he deals in large sums on a daily basis. He acted more afraid of someone.”
“Someone who could hurt him,” Cate agreed. “And I don’t mean just hurt his career. Physically hurt him.”
“He’s involved, for certain.” Draco frowned. “Deep enough to feel threatened. But he’s a banker. I doubt very much that he’s a killer.”
“Maybe not, but he could hire someone to do the dirty work,” Cate offered.
Draco steered them along a different route, one that would take longer and make anyone following them work harder to keep up.
He led them down a street lined with glass storefronts.
His hand rested at the small of Cate’s back, an attempt to appear like a couple on vacation, not two professionals on a mission.
“I think Brunner manages the account, but he’s working for someone.
Whoever that someone is has him scared. He’s just worried about surviving. ”
Cate’s lips twisted. “So, he’s part of the problem, but not the source.”
“Right.” The hairs on the back of Draco’s neck prickled. He glanced into a window’s reflection, searching behind them, rather than looking over his shoulder. “Whoever sent the driver to kidnap you wasn’t protecting the banker. He was protecting what the banker knows.”
They walked another block, that prickle on the back of his neck raising the hairs to attention. He tapped Cate’s back twice.
She stiffened, her steps slowing for a moment before she continued. “Whatcha got?”
“A man is following us,” he said quietly.
“Gray overcoat, dark hat, opposite side of the street, twenty yards back—the same man who was following us on the Bahnhofstrasse when we entered the bank. He was sitting on a bench across the street and half a block away when we came out, reading a magazine.”
“He’s been on us since.” Cate didn’t ask. She stated and paused in front of a glass storefront to point at a display of ladies’ clothing. “I saw him,” she whispered. Louder, she said, “I like that color. Do you think it would look good on me?”
“You’d look beautiful in anything,” he said, and meant it, not just making shit up to pretend to be a couple. His gaze met hers briefly in the reflection and then shifted to their tail.
She hooked her hand around his elbow, her fingers digging in tightly with a slight tremor. “Isn’t that the same guy from last night?” She leaned her cheek against his shoulder, keeping her smile glued to her face.
He was impressed she’d noticed the guy as well and even more affected by the way she practically clung to him.
She was good at playing the doting lover.
If only it wasn’t an act. He tore his gaze from her reflection to study the man in the gray coat.
“Looks like him. Same height. Same tradecraft moves. Whoever he is, he’s good. ”
“And patient,” she added. “He’s maintaining a good distance to avoid discoverability, and the hat is shading his facial features from us and any cameras along the way.”
“Since he hasn’t come closer, I doubt he’s ready to jump us in broad daylight. He’s studying our routine.”
“That’s not making me feel better,” Cate said.
“Maybe not,” he said with a grin. “But I informed you, thus following your rule.”