32 Lauterbrunnen
Lauterbrunnen
The interior of the chalet was a work in progress. The walls were freshly painted, the wooden floors newly refinished, but
there was little in the way of furniture and, with the exception of a half dozen novels piled on the low coffee table, even
fewer personal touches. It looked to Gabriel as though she had been reading John Banville when he presented himself unannounced
at her door. If nothing else, he admired her taste in literature.
At length she returned to the sitting room bearing a silver tray laden with a pot of tea and the usual accoutrements, including
an unopened package of English digestive biscuits. She placed the tray on the table and sat down. Gabriel, still on his feet,
regarded her for a long moment, a hand to his chin, his head tilted slightly to one side.
“Who are you supposed to be?” he asked at last.
“Marlena Brunner.”
“Nice.”
“I thought so too. But I didn’t choose it.”
“Who did?”
Ignoring his question, she poured a cup of tea. “Biscuit?” she asked cordially.
“They’re a dead giveaway, you know.”
“The McVitie’s? Marlena Brunner is half English. In fact, she spent most of her life living in the United Kingdom.”
“Does she speak German?”
“She can order in a restaurant, but otherwise she’s quite hopeless.”
“That would explain the stack of English-language novels.”
“She’s read them all twice. If you have anything good lying around, she would love to borrow it.”
“I’m sure the Metropolitan Police will find something for her to read when she gets back to London.”
“Come now, Mr. Allon. There’s no need for dramatics.” Despite her unruffled outward demeanor, the hand that poured the next
cup of tea was no longer steady. “Nor is there any need to involve the police.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that. The police have been involved from the beginning. That’s what happens when the wife of
a British real estate mogul goes missing.”
“And the British real estate mogul asked you, of all people, to get her back.” Quietly she added, “Just my luck.”
“Mine too, as it turned out.”
“Edward paid you well, I assume.”
“Unlike you, Alice, I wasn’t in it for the money.”
“Is that why you think I did it?” She gave him a shrewd smile. “Perhaps I overestimated you, Mr. Allon. I thought you were
more intelligent than that.”
“Obviously not. How else to explain that I risked my life trying to save the likes of you?”
“In point of fact you were never in any danger.”
“The four blokes at that house in Austria gave me quite a thrashing.”
“They were only trying to appear convincing.”
“But the bruises they left were quite real. So was the ketamine they pumped into me. They’re lucky they didn’t kill me.”
“If it’s more money you want—”
“I don’t want your money,” said Gabriel, cutting her off. “I want to know why you did what you did.”
She sat back in her chair. “It will cost you, I’m afraid.”
“I’m shocked to hear that. What do you want?”
“Your forgiveness.”
“You’re not going to get it.”
“I would reserve judgment, if I were you. After all, you haven’t heard my side of the story.”
He couldn’t help but admire her icy calm. “Surely you want more than that.”
“Surely,” she agreed.
“Here are the terms of the deal, Alice. Are you ready?”
“I find showdowns a bore, Mr. Allon. But please continue.”
“You’re going to tell me everything you did and everything you know. And if I find your story remotely plausible, I will consider
our options. If not, I’m going to call the police, and you and your accomplice Peter Hoffmann will spend the next several
years in a Swiss jail. Which is undoubtedly where you both belong.”
“Peter wasn’t my accomplice,” she replied.
“How would you describe him?”
“He was my friend and financial adviser.”
“Is Peter the one who provided you with a Swiss identity?”
“No,” said Alice. “That was Sentry Global.”
It was, she explained, a corporate security firm headquartered in the Wiedikon district of Zurich.
Its clients included some of the biggest financial services firms in Switzerland, including Bank Josef B?nzinger & Co.
Most of the services offered by Sentry were legitimate, but it had a secret division that provided tailored solutions to intractable problems.
“The sort of solutions,” said Alice, “that Sentry never mentions on its website.”
“Such as staged kidnappings?”
“Evidently I wasn’t the first.”
“Whose idea was it?”
“It was entirely mine, I admit. But Peter handled all the arrangements on my behalf.”
“He came to see you while you were on Ibiza. You pretended to bump into one another on the beach at Cala d’Hort. I suppose
that photograph of Es Vedrà that you posted on your social media was a signal that you wanted a word.”
“Very good, Mr. Allon.”
“Why did you want to see him?”
“My abduction was scheduled to take place in two days’ time, and I was having second thoughts. We worked out a simple way
for me to signal him that I wanted to go ahead with it.”
“The white hat you purchased at Louis Vuitton.”
She smiled but said nothing.
“Why the withdrawal from the ATM?”
“I was running low on cash, if you must know. Silly me, but I ended up being a few minutes late for my own abduction.”
“The kidnappers were Sentry operatives?”
She nodded.
“How did it go down?”
“There were no fireworks, if that’s what you’re asking. I simply got out of my car and got into theirs. Then they rolled my
car into the ravine and we left.”
“The sandal you left behind on the beach was a lovely touch.”
“You think so? I was worried it was a tad over the top.”
“I suppose there was a motor yacht waiting offshore.”
“It was on the small side because we had to crew it ourselves. We were at sea for a couple of days. Then we put in at a marina
along the C?te d’Azur and settled into a villa in the Luberon.”
“They locked you in a cellar, did they? Bread-and-water rations?”
“Hardly. But I did keep a low profile. After all, I had just vanished without a trace.”
“You must have been surprised by the fact that it never became public.”
“Not really. You see, I happen to be married to one of the world’s most secretive men. We were, however, quite startled when
Edward blurted out your name during our first phone call.”
“You weren’t alone.”
“I must say, you were a worthy opponent.”
“And you were quite the actress. That was an impressive performance you gave on the telephone. You clearly missed your calling.”
“I was in the Dramatic Club at Cambridge.”
“Congratulations,” said Gabriel.
She frowned at him over her tea. “Bitterness doesn’t suit you, Mr. Allon.”
“Where were you that night?”
“The night of our phone call? Still in the Luberon. I came to Switzerland a few days after Peter wired the money to that bank
in Cyprus.”
“I suppose he’s done business with CyproBank in the past.”
“You would have to ask Peter about that.”
“What was his cut?”
“Twenty-five million.”
“Sounds a bit steep to me.”
“I chose the number, not him.”
“And Sentry Global?”
“Another ten million,” said Alice. “But it included a Swiss passport.”
“Which left you a mere four hundred and sixty-five million dollars.”
“Four hundred and sixty, actually. This chalet cost me a pretty penny.”
“And then there was the nearly three million pounds you donated anonymously to charity,” said Gabriel. “Including the one
million pounds you gave to the international relief organization where your friend Phoebe Chadwick works.”
“Is that how you found me?”
“That’s how I found Peter,” said Gabriel. “And Peter led me to you.”
“He warned me not to give Phoebe that money, but I thought we’d covered our tracks with the other contributions.”
“Why did you do it?”
“I wanted to make amends for what happened between us.”
“Perhaps you should have done that before she left Ibiza.”
“I couldn’t. My real accomplices and I wanted her off the island before my disappearance.”
“Sophie Maxwell and Ella Burns?”
She nodded.
“A solicitor who works for the Magic Circle law firm that represents your husband’s company,” Gabriel pointed out. “And an
executive at the British bank where he gets his financing.”
“You’re wrong about that, I’m afraid. HSBC stopped doing business with Edward years ago.”
“In that case, where has he been getting his money?”
“In Moscow, Mr. Allon. Where else?”