Across the Zurichsee, dark clouds were creeping like thieves to the summit of the mountains. Within the week the first snowfall was sure to come.
In the small town of Meilen, Switzerland, at a table in the patio of the Hotel Hirschen am See, near the boat dock, Sanguineus put on his sunglasses, pulled down on his black sockcap, half unzipped his black leather jacket, and with a studied nonchalance picked up his cup of mulled wine.
The young woman he had been expecting for the past thirty minutes was walking toward him, under the crude but picturesque bower of leafless limbs that made a quaint entrance for those leaving the dock for the white-draped tables of the Hirschen patio.
She was tall, leggy, small-breasted, somewhat mannish in her stride, chestnut colors in her choice of clothes so as to match her short hair and the sparkle of her eyes. She was dressed for the Sonnenhut ski lodge: thick cotton stretch pants, a short corduroy coat over a turtleneck sweater, fur-lined boots, a Cossack fur cap, tinted glasses (pushed up on the cap), and tight black gloves.
Sanguineus was relieved to see her confident bearing and the no-nonsense smile she gave him as she pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down without saying a word.
"Good afternoon, Fontenay," he said.
"I won't apologize for being late."
"I haven't asked you to."
"Well, that look of yours and tone of voice. If you smoke, give me one. I'm breaking all my resolutions."
As he reached in his inside jacket pocket for the pack of Sultans, he mused on how accurate Fredrico Rolgo's description of Tertia Fontenay had been. Rolgo negotiated the contract in Berne, two weeks ago, and as per mode securitatis, sent Sanguineus the draft of a short story called, 'Femme la grand femme.' It contained all the necessary information to begin the assignment.
Sanguineus lit a cigarette and handed it to Tertia. She said, "I don't mind telling you that you're the sexiest man I've ever seen."
"I don't mind either," he said, lighting a smoke for himself and looking casually at the other tables, of which all but two were unoccupied.
"I like vain men," remarked Tertia, "at least they're honest." She eyed him thoughtfully as she exhaled. "You're not going to blackmail me, are you? It wouldn't be good for business. You'd lose a reference, for one thing."
"Our reputation is our reference."
She laughed in a sultry manner, her face showing a cynical amusement. "A secret assassination group has a reputation? Among whom?"
"How did you hear of Red Rum?"
"My boyfriend's uncle. He was a full bird colonel in the army. I didn't trust what I saw on the Shadow Web, those killers for hire, hm. Just scams and bullshit probably. Right?"
"That, and amateurs who think they know their ass from a hole in the ground, and ex cons who most certainly would blackmail you, after raping you and killing your dog. Now, let's get straight about this before we go any further. You want to kill the Subject and have me there as a backup."
"Well, yes, I'm just an amatuer who doesn't know her ass from..." She smiled at him, inhaling.
"The negotiator says you want to use a knife."
Smoke left her laughing mouth. "Wouldn't a gun echo all over the fucking place?"
"Not with a silencer," said Sanguineus, "but at long range it wouldn't be practical. If you want to use a knife, that's fine with me."
"Did he tell you that I need instruction on how to use a knife effectively? I want it to be a slow death. He positively deserves it."
Sanguineus took a photo from his right boot and held it up for her to see. "This man is a money launderer for a French syndicate. He lives in Zurich. His movements and habits have been noted by an ICS woman who does surveillance for Red Rum on the European continent. I'm going to use him to teach you how to kill with a knife."
Tertia's face brightened. She slipped her tinted glasses down over her eyes. "When?"
"We leave tonight for Zurich. The lesson is tomorrow before sunup. We have to be at the ski resort by tomorrow evening, in Gipfelhaus."
"He'll be there. The 'Subject,' I mean. You do know his name?"
"No, just some details of his appearance and work history."
"It's Drake LeCourt. He's twenty-one, divorced, two kids. His ex has custody of course. And he's sort of semi-rich. I've photos of him."
"I'll have a look at them later. What will you drink? I want your story, from the beginning."
"What are you having?" Tertia asked indifferently. "Smells like cinnamon."
"A spiced wine, heated to ninety-nine degrees Fahrenheit. A fetish of mine when I'm in the Alps. But I'm getting a Fuzzy Navel at the bar. Shall I bring you one? And I think some fried zucchini."
Tertia nodded absently. She had become introspective.
Sanguineus went into the restaurant bar and ordered the drinks and appetizers.
He glanced around, saw a sturdy middle-aged brunette with a scarf around her neck sitting alone by a window, looking at him over her laptop. He made a small gesture with the hand that rested on the bar counter. She smiled briefly and returned to her typing.
He knew what she was up to. It had to do with 'Femme la grand femme.' He could expect the second part of the story before leaving for Zurich.
Sanguineus returned to the patio with the drinks. A boy in a leather apron brought the fried zucchini on a covered plate, set it in the middle of the table, and said cheerfully. "Bon apetit."
Two powerboats burbled past the rocks at the bottom of the pilings supporting the seaward side of the patio.
Tertia sat sideways to watch the boats going out into the bright path that the sun had cast on the water. But she was thinking of other things. Sanguineus waited patiently. He enjoyed her profile.
"My mother was a high price call-girl in Monte Carlo," Tertia began, her gaze following a pair of Alpine Swifts gliding over the bower and the umbrella'd tables at the south end of the patio, where a young girl laughed and tossed a fried potato wedge in the air.
"She became the steady escort for a rich banker from Marseilles. He told her that if she gave him a son he would marry her. He had made the same offer to three other beautiful women, but all the babies were girls, so he gave the women some money and tried again. My mother ended up having triplets. Girls. I was one of them. The last to come out, twenty minutes after the first. Our father was disappointed. So Mother gave us up for adoption."
Tertia smiled coldly at Sanguineus. "We each were adopted by different people. The oldest, the first one born, was named Prima. She went to a family in Rome. The second born was named Secunda. She went to a widower in Athens. Then me. Tertia. The youngest. Ha. I was adopted by an unmarried business woman who was a client back then of my father's. She gave me the surname of her own father, Fontenay. So he became my grandfather. Alfred. He raised me. I was crazy about him, but he died when I was seventeen. Dear Mom put me to work at her office. She's the CEO for Bride-Wallens Pharmaceutical, in New York. Give me another cigarette. It gets a little sad now."
He lit a Sultan and handed it over. She munched on a zucchini strip while watching smoke curl away from the red ash.
"You have an older brother," Sanguineus said, impatient now, "Drake LeCourt. Am I right to assume that your birth mother finally had a boy, a son for Mr LeCourt the rich banker?"
Tertia set down her glass. "Yes, the baby of the family," she said. "I'm such a pig. My god these are good. So... Our father is on his death bed, so to speak, and Drake wants every last cent of the LeCourt fortune. So, he had our mother killed, three months ago."
"She died in a plane crash. A private Lear jet."
"But it wasn't an accident."
"According to the investigating authorities there was a malfunction in the air flow system," Sanguineus said, bemused. "Everyone passed out. Down went the jet. No indication of foul play. But that's not our concern. You say Drake killed your mother, and the money you've given us proves you're right. But that's only the beginning. The sad part is next."
Tertia took a long swallow of her Fuzzy Navel. She sighed, holding the frosty glass to her cheek. "Prima was murdered two months ago. Last month Secunda was murdered. As if that isn't sad enough, I'm sure to be Drake's next target."
"According to..." Sanguineus smiled wryly. "They were cleverly contrived 'accidents,' yes, I agree with you, and the authorities can go fuck themselves. I think your mother's death was truly accidental, but that it gave your brother ideas. Now, you say that LeCourt is on vacation at the Sonnenhut ski resort above Gipfelhaus. You hired a PI to monitor his movements?"
"You're goddamn right I did. I hired the most expensive outfit in the business. International Counterintelligence Services. I've heard that you get what you pay for. I paid for the best. But what I need to know is, does Drake have accomplices? Or is he doing all this killing on his own?"
Sanguineus removed his shades. He said confidently, "I'll know before we leave for Zurich."
"Is Red Rum--?"
"Never mind that. It's time for dinner. You're paying, by the way, and with sublime cruelty I shall order the most expensive thing on the menu."
Tertia opened her mouth to laugh, but the laughter was only in her eyes. In her mouth was a restless tongue looking ahead to the knife lesson.
"I don't care what you order," she said, "just so long as I get what I pay for."
