Chaper 27 Tristan
Up earlier than usual, I flick the television on and pour my coffee. Another front is moving in, which may bring yet another round of freezing rain. Gray clouds cover the expanse across the lake and the ripple of waves with the occasional white crest can be seen from my perch, which means the storm front carries a fierce wind.
If Lucia weren’t so dedicated to her career, I’d convince her to take a second day off work, and we could bundle up in blankets before the fire and talk through everything. Perhaps I could do a little groveling of the sexual kind, bringing her to orgasm with my tongue and fingers to drive away her nausea.
As lovely as that thought is, she would never go for it. I know nothing about pregnant women. She might averse to physical contact. She’s not eager to see me. There was no text from her this morning. Which is why I’m going to head in earlier than normal, even though it goes against my cover as a spoiled louse banking on nepotism to get by.
The phone vibrates on the counter. If Lucia were here with me, where she’d be if I hadn’t behaved like a total asshat yesterday, and it was her phone ringing, I’d be listening to a snippet of a song right now. As it is, there’s no song.
The name on the screen captures my attention. Jack Sullivan.
“Hi Jack.”
“Hope I’m not waking you.”
“I was about to head into the office.”
“Officially, the wreck is still being investigated, but our sources tell us there’s no doubt the car was rammed off the road. In that area of the highway, there are no traffic cams. The only evidence collected is paint from the vehicle. The chances we’ll uncover more information are slim.”
“They thinking hired assassin?”
“It fits. Someone might have been surveilling him for days and taken the opportunity when they saw it.”
“Doesn’t seem they were careful about making it look like an accident.”
“No, but you know how hired help works. They aren’t always top-notch.”
“Right.” It’s true. Around the world, governments struggle with outsourcing their deeds. Invariably, when leaks occur, it’s because an outsourced provider got sloppy. There’s no reason crime syndicates wouldn’t face the same challenges.
“But I’m calling because a CHS relayed some information I think you’ll find enlightening.”
“I’m about two sips into my coffee. Can you refresh me on your American acronym?” Everyone loves their acronyms, but the American vernacular is heavy with them.
“Confidential human source. Doesn’t mean it’s highly reliable. Keep in mind, any rando can call in a tip and it goes down as a CHS. But this one is connected to Dolsten. According to this source, he dined with Dolsten and a Mr. Haussler the day before the wreck.”
“Mr. Haussler. The banker?”
“The Swiss might call him a banker. In the states, we’d say he’s a portfolio manager.”
He’s one name on my Venn Diagram, but over to the side. There were photographs on the Lumina website of him with the former CEO and CFO at a charity event, and I had Ozzie locate his name and run a background. He’s never worked for Lumina. “What was Dr. Haussler doing in the States?”
“Stated reason passing through customs is business.”
“Business indeed.” Both men lived in Switzerland at the same time for years. It could be coincidence. They might have simply discovered they were both in California on business and agreed to get together. “I don’t suppose you can access his phone logs?”
“Working on it. The accident investigation complicates access, but I expect we’ll have it all by the end of the week.”
“It would be interesting to see how often those two men talked to each other. And Salo too.”
“Given the banker has known ties to the Obshina, it’s quite possible they’re the group behind eliminating your witnesses and suspects.”
“The Obshina cartel meets our criteria. I’ve been suspecting the Seva cartel, as their specialty is moving anything across borders. But Obshina works.” It matches what Saint said. Fucking Russians. “And a corrupt banker would get behind preserving stock prices on client investments.”
“I have another source I’ve been conferring on this case. An expert in the area. He doesn’t buy that the Russians are concerned with pharmaceuticals. It’s not an industry they dominate. His opinion is we’re dealing with someone, or a group of someones, that reached out and cut a deal with the Russians to help them clean up a situation before it got messy.”
“That’s how I see it, too. I’ve met with over half of the employees at our Geneva location, combed through records, which admittedly can be falsified, but I don’t see any Russian imprint. And I’m running out of leads. As soon as I track one, they end up dead.”
“Wreaks of a cleanup. Just do me a favor. Remember, Arrow’s priority is keeping the Watson girls safe. If you uncover anything that might send a clean-up crew their way, I need to be informed immediately.”
This isn’t the first time he’s expressed concern about those two women. It could be because he’s a good boss and looking out for his team members, but I’ve been in this field long enough to know that’s an unlikely scenario. “What’s your connection to those girls?” I doubt he’ll come clean, but there’s no harm in asking.
“I’ll share that on a need to know basis.”
“The information isn’t relative to this case?”
“No, it’s not.”
“Understood. Well, I’ll let you know if we get more information. I’m going to spend some time triangulating the bankers’ connections to Lumina employees. Although, a connection doesn’t mean anything. He lives in Geneva.”
“I’m working on getting our file on him.”
What he means is, he’s digging up all the information the CIA has on him.
“I’ll put in some requests from our international partners. When is Haussler’s return flight?”
“In five days. I’ve got men monitoring him. We’ll report on who he meets with.”
The call ends and I refresh my coffee and head into my office. So much for getting in early, but knowing Lucia, she’ll be grateful to buy some time before putting on her professional face around me.
My first call is to Nigel to ask him to expedite requests for information from our international partners. We both agree a blue notice will tip our hand, as there’s a good chance all interested parties will learn a blue notice has been placed on the banker.
After the call ends, I reach out to Ozzie and ask her to see what she can find. I also reach out to a few of my trusted contacts within MI6, Japan’s Public Security Intelligence Agency, the Federal Intelligent Service, or FIS, here in Switzerland, and even one highly coveted contact within China’s State Security Ministry. It’s a broad sweep, but these are individuals I’d trust with my life. What will be interesting is if what they provide differs at all from what the heads of state share after receiving Interpol’s official request for information.
The process of reaching out to my contacts is time intensive, and it’s past noon by the time I’m strolling into the office with a practiced debonair air.
Lucia’s computer screen is dark. Good for her. She finally broke away for lunch. Unless her absence means she was too sick to remain at the office.
“Where have you been?”
Peltz steps into the hallway. His thin hair is unkempt with one thick clump laying the opposite direction from all the others in a curved arch, and his tie partially covers a brown stain, presumably coffee, on his starched robin’s egg blue oxford.
“Working from home this morning.” His lips press together in obvious distaste. Truthfully, I’d hate myself if I were in his shoes. There’s little worse than a useless employee you’re forced to manage.
“What’s your schedule like this afternoon?”
“I’ll need to check.” That’s a lie. I don’t have any meetings. I’ve been careful to casually meet as many employees as possible while ensuring project meetings proceed without my inclusion.
“I need you to join me for meetings at two, three and four. I’ll need you to take notes.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to explain to him how to record a meeting, upload it, and have AI produce reliable notes, but Lucia might have my balls. She loves attending those meetings.
Which, why is he asking me and not her?
“Is Lucia sick again today?”
Our family physician got me a contact with a nearby OB-GYN. I refrained from making the appointment, as that felt like overreach. It’s something I want to discuss with her this evening.
Peltz’s chest falls, and he scratches his scalp. “Lucia is no longer employed here.”
“Come again?”
Did he fire her? Absent one day?
“We’re interviewing for replacements. I believe they’re setting up interviews for Friday. Graeme’s working on it. Until I get that replacement, there are quite a few meetings I’d like for you to join in on.”
I brush aside the fact he clearly sees me as an assistant at best. “Where’d Lucia go?”
“She resigned.” He shoves his hands in his slacks, shoulders caved in. “I’m as surprised as anyone. She’s been working with me for five years now. With the company for eight. Apparently, an emergency with a family member.”
“A family member where?”
“Brazil.”
There’s no way. Lucia wouldn’t pack up and move to Brazil.
Is avoiding me more important than her job? No. She would never walk away. And she agreed to speak with me. Tonight.
I don’t bother closing my office door and wait as the phone rings.
A ring tone plays at her desk. It’s The Scientist, by Coldplay. Is that what she assigned me?
Chills cross my flesh. I step out, and on her desk I see a mobile set beside her laptop. All of her work devices turned in as if she did indeed resign.
Peltz steps out of his office, his gaze on the ringing mobile.
“Did she leave her phone and computer here?”
“She left everything on my desk before I arrived this morning. Graeme is sending someone up to gather everything and prepare it for the next employee. I might promote from within. Have you had any interaction with an assistant you believe should be considered?”
I don’t bother answering him.
Something is very wrong.