The Zurich Conspiracy by Bernadette Calonego

strange break-in at Esther’s. It all came gushing out. Then she showed him the unsettling anonymous e-mails she’d been receiving. Stefan read them closely, and as he did, Josefa noticed that his wavy, chestnut-brown hair was rumpled, and that he was wearing the white bathrobe Josefa had bought him at the outset of their affair. She felt a tender warmth for this man.
    “I wouldn’t take it all too seriously,” he said finally. “Some nut case is raving on the Internet because that’s where he feels secure.”
    “Not take it seriously?” Josefa felt her stomach tighten. “He’s talking about claws that could tear me apart, about enemies I have to watch out for—and I’m supposed to just laugh it off?”
    “Yes, I think so. I think the language alone shows that this guy’s just fooling around. Don’t do him the favor of driving yourself crazy over it. Besides, I’ll show you later how you can easily block the sender so that his e-mails don’t get through anymore.”
    He took Josefa onto his lap, and she caressed his tired face. “You know I’ve really gotten paranoid about this. I wonder, for instance, if that burglary was meant for me. Why should anybody break into Esther’s place? Maybe he got the floors mixed up. I’m suspicious of everybody. Even on vacation I was always watching out. Like with that Ingrid.”
    Stefan smiled. “I know that side of you only too well…But seriously, Josefa, don’t be too quick to panic. And I wouldn’t worry about Schulmann; he will probably be so rotten to his colleagues at Loyn that he’ll soon be intolerable. Maybe the top brass would like to upset you a bit too. Did you ever think of that? Maybe you’re so good that Bourdin feels threatened and wants to create some space between the two of you.”
    He kissed her hands, finger by finger. “Who actually got Schulmann to come aboard?”
    “You’re the third person to ask me that,” Josefa replied.
    He looked at her. “The third?”
    “Helene and Paul asked me exactly the same question.”
    “Paul Klingler? How come he’s asking? How did you meet up with him?”
    “He phoned me this afternoon…He wants to lure me away.”
    Stefan frowned. “Lure you? For what?”
    Josefa got up and went to the kitchen to turn on the espresso machine.
    “He wants me to work for him. But he hasn’t made me a firm offer yet.”
    “And do you want to take him up on it?” Stefan knew Paul from business school in St. Gall and obviously didn’t like him. But he kept Josefa in the dark as to why. She suspected a typical alpha-dog aversion between the two. They were both powerful, competent men, after all.
    “He already knew Schulmann had been hired. He probably thinks I’m desperately looking for a new job.”
    “You should take your time and test your marketability,” Stefan said, rather absentmindedly.
    “If Paul Klingler wants me I must really be worth my weight in gold.” Josefa grinned, but Stefan did not return the smile.
    “Come on, tell me about New York,” she said, handing him an espresso.
    Stefan reached for the sugar and slowly poured it into his coffee.
    “What’s the matter?” Josefa asked, aware that something unpleasant was coming.
    “The company wants to send me over there for a rather long time,” he said hesitantly.
    “For how long?”
    Stefan continued to stir his espresso, his eyes avoiding Josefa. “My predecessor was there for eight years.”

“Eight years old,” the young woman said, after introducing herself as Elif Yilmaz. “He looks like he’s still in kindergarten.”
    Josefa had no idea how to respond. She didn’t know any eight-year-olds personally or any kids in kindergarten.
    The teacher shook her head.
    “These kids aren’t getting a balanced diet or medical care. You can tell by looking at them.”
    She and Josefa were sitting in an empty classroom. On the walls were drawings of trees with colorful glass beads hanging from their branches; the sun shone through cut-out