The Zurich Conspiracy

by Calonego, Bernadette

  Zwicker has approval for questioning in London. P.H. wants to make statement with lawyer present. Zwicker on way to airport.

  Josefa looked at her watch again. Half an hour had already gone by. Ten minutes late, that was explainable. If only time didn’t pass so slowly down here. Pius must be in the vicinity by now. She picked up the whistle and blew it. The penetrating sound was deafening. Only an echo came back in response.

  Maybe Pius answered when her ears were still buzzing. This time she plugged her ears with her fingers before blowing. Nothing. Just an echo. She stood up and stretched her legs as much as she was able to on that little ledge. Perhaps I should go around the corner and whistle from there. Maybe the rock walls cut off the sound.

  She whistled once, twice, three times. Nothing. Did he even have a whistle on him? She couldn’t remember. How stupid. She was annoyed with herself. Why did she let him go off against all the dictates of reason? Pius must know that she was worried now. Why is he doing this to me? He’s got cave experience, and I don’t!

  Josefa kept moving her legs so they wouldn’t go to sleep. She was cold.

  Maybe Pius underestimated the distance. Or their watches weren’t synchronized.

  There’s sure to be a simple explanation. He’ll pop up any minute now, apologize a hundred times, and beam at her as he announces he’s found the second exit, Josefa told herself, packing up her rucksack.

  Monday, February 10

  J.R. left Hotel Des Anges in Crans Saturday morning five a.m. P.T. also. He spent one night there, she five. Separate rooms. P.T. registered in hotel with own car. Three dripstone caves in area. One open to public, second closed. Third only accessible to scientists. H. Meyer says she found out that P.T. went through third cave last year with Charles Favre, scientist at Lausanne Uni. Lausanne colleagues en route. Search party forming.

  Waiting for transcript of P.H. questioning in London.

  It was perfectly still. Deafeningly still. Only the spattering of drops could be heard. Then the terrifying silence again.

  Josefa sat immobilized. Just don’t make a sound. Just listen and see if you hear something. Somewhere.

  Her bones hurt. Or was it her muscles? Everything felt clammy. Clammy and cold. She tried to stand up, move around. But her body didn’t obey. She held her arms around her shivering legs. She felt cramped, all pressed together.

  How cold it is!

  She’d been waiting for Pius for two hours now. She didn’t believe there was some delay or misunderstanding anymore. She’d stopped thinking that something happened to Pius. She was too angry for that, too desperate. Pius had left her here intentionally. There was no other explanation.

  Her carbide lamp was still burning, but for how long? And her water supply was limited. She wasn’t hungry, just miserable and scared.

  The horrible feeling of being abysmally lost.

  She’d experienced it once before. Way back when—on a hike in the mountains with her father. The mountain wasn’t very high. They’d almost reached the top when the weather abruptly changed. An ice-cold wind was blowing right through their clothes. It was even more unpleasant at the top. The wind was so biting that it was a struggle just to get food out of the rucksack in spite of her hunger. Josefa was overcome by a feeling of overwhelming hopelessness. When her father asked, “Something the matter, Josefa?” she began to cry bitterly. Herbert Rehmer, clueless as ever, could only reply, “You managed to do it; now it’s downhill all the way.”

  It was exactly that feeling of absolute abandonment that was lurking in every crevice. Any moment now it would creep out and attack her. At any moment, as soon as her resistance—her last spark of confidence—was extinguished.

  Josefa had quickly rejected the thought of going back by herself. She would get hopelessly lost in this labyrinth. She would wait here until…what?

  Nobody knew where she was except Pius. She’d told Helene and Esther about this expedition to the cave, but how long before her friends would start to think something was wrong? When would they inform the police? And how would they know where to look?

  It was the darkness she feared the most, though. How long would her lamp keep burning?

  She rehearsed her last conversation with Pius again and again. She had the crazy idea that she could find a clue in their exchange of words—something that she’d missed. Maybe he’d communicated something to her that might mean her rescue. Or he’d let on that he wasn’t about to come back.

  She reached for his rucksack—at least he hadn’t taken that with him. It had a water bottle, two energy bars, and a foil emergency blanket. She wrapped the warm blanket around her.

  Had he told somebody he was going to this cave? Had he created a safety net? Had he told his friends? But who were “his friends” anyway? Who did he spend his free time with? She knew so little about him. He had his colleagues at Loyn, and he certainly had some photographer friends. And there was this scientist who showed him the cave…And Joe. Joe was an old buddy of his. Didn’t Pius say that he knew him from their training together?

  That’s odd. Was Joe a photographer once? She couldn’t even conceive of it. He’d worked as a nurse, that’s how she met him… Did Pius train as a nurse as well? She tried to visualize Pius in a white smock. Pius emptying bedpans, washing human bodies, and telling kids they didn’t have to be afraid of needles. It just didn’t fit.

  She saw her father’s syringe lying before her on the desk. Insulin that he had to inject daily. Does he always do it himself or does Verena help him? Would my father miss me if I don’t come back?

  It was Josefa’s body that reacted first. She had to catch her breath. Her pulse was racing. And then a terrifying image entered her consciousness. Pius. The syringe. Schulmann.

  Her thoughts were all a jumble. Somebody must have given Schulmann the injection, somebody who knew a thing or two about how to do it. About fatal poisons. About overdoses.

  A nurse! Was it possible that Pius…? Schulmann would have let him into his house without giving it a thought. After all, Pius would sometimes come and show him photographs, even late at night. But what motive would Pius have for poisoning Schulmann? Schulmann couldn’t hurt him. There were no indications or rumors that he was harassing the photographer.

  Josefa’s ears were buzzing. Maybe the scream of the whistle had affected her eardrums. She closed her eyes.

  The buzzing was more clearly audible now. More of a soft rustling sound. But it wasn’t her ears. It came from somewhere deep down there. Water!

  Josefa leapt to her feet. She tried to locate where the rustling was coming from. How far away is it? Suddenly she was overcome with panic the likes of which she’d never felt before. Maybe I won’t freeze after all. Maybe I’ll drown instead.

  At that moment the light in her lamp started to flicker.

  It was one of the greatest moments in Heinz Zwicker’s life. He had taken the night flight back from London for the sole purpose of opening the morning meeting. Franz Kündig was already on his way to the Waadtländer Jura and had left the field to him.

  “To summarize,” Zwicker said, his voice noticeably deeper than usual. The whole staff was gathered there, eight in all.

  “Pamela Hartwell began her affair with Pius Tschuor in March of last year at the presentation of the new Loyn collection in London. For both of them it was apparently mainly about sex. Moreover Tschuor took art photographs of Frau Hartwell, who had acting ambitions. Everything took place in secret. During the golf event in September the two took advantage of the break after lunch to engage in sexual activities under one of the tables in the tent. Tschuor had given Frau Hartwell two earrings that day as a gift, apparently an heirloom from his great-aunt.

  “The table under which the incriminating acts took place was outfitted with a microphone, about which the two people knew nothing at that point, according to Frau Hartwell’s statement. The sexual acts—involving mutual oral gratification—lasted roughly ten minutes. They were on the tape discovered in T
schuor’s apartment and confiscated by us. When Frau Hartwell went to her hotel room shortly after her rendezvous with Herr Tschuor, she discovered an earring had disappeared. This caused her to look for it under said table in the party tent, with negative results, however. Both she and Herr Tschuor were very worried about the situation. Frau Hartwell was afraid it could lead to troublesome questions because she said Pius Tschuor told her that the earrings were very valuable.”

  Zwicker took a drink of water. You could have heard a pin drop in the room.

  “Tschuor found out shortly afterward about the existence of the recording. He called Frau Hartwell at the end of September to tell her about it. He said that Schulmann had played the tape for him, but in the belief that the man under the table was Richard Auer. Tschuor said Schulmann regarded the matter as a huge joke. He told Tschuor he wanted to lure Auer out of his usual reserve.

  “Pius Tschuor, so said Frau Hartwell, was afraid that Werner Schulmann would play the tape for Herr Auer, and then it would come out that it wasn’t Auer who was involved but Tschuor.

  “Tschuor and Hartwell were both terrified that Schulmann might blackmail them with the tape, especially Frau Hartwell. She said they could not understand how Schulmann acquired the tape. She then said that Schulmann explained to Tschuor that a reporter just happened to forget his pocket recorder and left it lying around nearby; Schulmann had played the tape to find out whose it was and stumbled across that passage on the tape.

  “Tschuor and Hartwell thought his explanation did not hold water. She said they thought about strategies for resolving the situation. First, they would simply deny everything in case they were discovered because it was easy to fake a tape recording. But Pamela Hartwell was afraid of a scandal, primarily because her marriage was already on the rocks and she assumed her husband would exploit this incident in any divorce proceedings.

  “Frau Hartwell and Pius Tschuor could not agree on where to go from there. Then Schulmann was murdered. When Frau Hartwell found out about it a few days later, she phoned Herr Tschuor. He said that they had nothing to fear even if the police found the tape at Schulmann’s. He said Schulmann had apparently secretly taped other people who would be of more interest to the police than the previously mentioned sequence on the tape. She said Tschuor sounded very confident and at ease.

  “Frau Hartwell did not know what to think of that, but she could only sit and wait. When asked if she was afraid Tschuor might blackmail her, she stated that he would never make the tape public because Hans-Rudolf Walther, Loyn’s owner, wanted to subsidize a book of his photographs. She said Tschuor would never want to scuttle the project because of a scandal.”

  Zwicker paused. “Any questions?”

  The young woman spoke up, “Does this mean we suspect Tschuor killed Herr Schulmann to gain possession of the tape?”

  Zwicker moved a hand to his right. “Peter, will you explain that?”

  A corpulent man took the floor. “We have discovered that Tschuor began training to become a nurse after high school. He did not begin a career as a photographer until later. We are now trying to ascertain whether Tschuor obtained the substance that knocked Schulmann out.”

  Zwicker took over. “If that turns out to be the case, then it strongly points to a means and a motive—that Tschuor could have actually panicked because of the tape.”

  “And the Westek case?” another officer asked.

  “We’re still on it, but it looks very promising—excuse me a moment.” Zwicker retrieved his cell phone from his pocket, answered it, said a few words, and then put it away.

  “They found Tschuor’s car at the cave.”

  “And Frau Rehmer?”

  “Still no trace of Rehmer or Tschuor. There’s some hope that they will both be found in the cave.”

  “How do things stand between Rehmer and Tschuor? Is she in peril?” The question came from their female colleague.

  Zwicker rolled his ballpoint pen thoughtfully back and forth between his hands before he answered.

  “We assume she suspects nothing, or else she wouldn’t have gone into the cave with him. The question is whether Tschuor is counting on the fact that she is not suspicious, or whether he’ll panic again.”

  He’s trying to kill me. He’s planned it all. He took off before the water came in. Josefa was quivering. The warm blanket she was clutching with stiff fingers crackled. I’m going to die here, and nobody will know what really happened.

  She felt something warm running down her legs. She’d urinated. Out of fear.

  The light from the carbide lamp grew dimmer and dimmer. Josefa thought about Sali. How would they explain it to him? And who would tell him? He won’t understand. He’ll just think that another person has gone from his life forever. That’s how he’ll see it. People aren’t reliable. Their promises are lies. People turn away without a word of explanation. They’re all traitors, Sali, hypocrites leaving you high and dry.

  She began to cry. Her whole body was racked with cramps. She was overcome by a longing for her mother that rolled over her like a storm-tossed wave. She couldn’t stop crying. And this time nobody would say, Josefa, you mustn’t cry or we’ll all fall apart.

  The tears gradually ebbed away. She was completely exhausted. And then the cold came back!

  Will I freeze to death? Will my body slowly stop functioning? She stared into the light, her eyes burning.

  She tried to keep herself awake. But fatigue was stronger.

  Feb. 10, 2 p.m.

  Call from Sebastian Sauter (Pol. Crimes). Asks whereabouts of J.R. Had information from E. Ardelius, R.’s neighbor. Sauter knows A. and R. from Pol. Dept. investigation. A. asked Sauter if something happened to R. Sauter told by A. about cave. Sauter very interested in case. Will keep him informed.

  She gave a start. It was dark all around her. She felt beside her, everywhere. Cold stone. The lamp. It must have gone out when she was asleep.

  Don’t be afraid, Josefa. It’s only the dark.

  They must be starting to search for me now.

  So much time’s gone by. They must be searching by now.

  It’s so cold. So bitterly cold. Move your hands, Josefa. Fingers. Feet. Rub your face until it hurts. Pull the protective blanket tighter.

  Think about Tenerife. The sun. The heat. Feel that warmth?

  I’m still alive. The water hasn’t got to me yet.

  Think about Helene. I can trust Helene. After all, she’s my best friend.

  Think about Sebastian Sauter. You’re sure to go to heaven, Frau Rehmer. My name’s Josefa. I think the name “Sebastian’s” cool. We might go to the opera together, Josefa. Rigoletto. Rigoletto! I’d love to, Sebastian. As soon as I’m back from my skiing holiday.

  Don’t be sad.

  Don’t drift off. Keep your mind busy. Recite a poem. Es reitet der Vater durch Nacht und Wind. The father? Er reitet durch Nebel und Nacht und Wind…She heard a horse’s hoof beats, rattling harness. In seinen Armen hält er das Kind…Er hält das Kind…das tote Kind.

  I must blow the whistle so the rider can hear me. The whistle, where’s my whistle?

  The horse, it’s coming closer. Rattling, and now voices. Light, a glaring light! “Shosefa.”

  Somebody was forcing her to sit up straight, holding her tight. “Buvez, Shosefa. Tout est bien. Vous êtes sauvée.”

  A man was handing her a plastic cup. It was steaming. That smells good. That’s warm.

  “Buvez,” the man repeated. “Ça vous fait chaud. Ça donne de la force.”

  Hands were picking her up, arms supporting her. “Can you stand up?” a woman asked. She had very short hair. Her face was sunburned, but two rings around her eyes were all white. Her lips were white. She had an orange jacket on and yellow pants. A clown, Josefa thought to herself.

  “We’ll take it very slowly.”

  Josefa felt her legs give way. Two men held her firmly under her arms.

  “Ça va aller,” one of them said. It’s going to be all
right.

  Helene spread a nightie out on the bedcovers—it was white, with red-and-black ladybugs on it. “I couldn’t find anything more elegant in your size in this godforsaken place. But I thought the green nightgowns with the slit down the back were far worse.”

  Josefa was touched, and she laughed, trying to fight back her tears, but then gave in. She was too weak to stop them. “It’s so nice to see you,” she said in an unsteady voice.

  “You weren’t so nice to look at when they brought you out of that cave. You were the picture of misery,” she replied in a gruff voice. It was her way of keeping strong emotions under control, as Josefa knew all too well. “But Valérie and the boys did a good job. They found you in two hours.”

  “Going through the first entrance?”

  “Yes, the second passage was flooded in spots. There must have been a fast inflow of water sometime earlier.”

  “Did they find…Pius?” Josefa had to struggle to get his name out.

  “No, not yet. Kündig from Criminal Investigation will be dropping by in a minute to ask you a few questions before going back to Zurich.”

  “I’d like to go back to Zurich too.”

  “That will take a while yet. Doctor says you’re suffering from shock; you were completely dehydrated and had hypothermia.”

  Josefa took Helene’s hand. “I was so afraid they wouldn’t find me,” she cried.

  “Bull.” Helene played with her hand. “I would never let you go into a cave and not check to see if you got back in one piece. That would be the last thing I’d do. But the cops were much faster.”

  “How long was I down there?”

  “A little more than fifty hours.”

  “Where’s my suitcase?”