White Death: An Alex Hawke Novella

by Ted Bell

  “Good point.”

  “My specialty.”

  “Fine. You’re the murder specialist. So how do you think he got there?”

  “He just dropped in after a day of shopping in London?”

  “Spare me,” Hawke said.

  “Okay. One, he was killed elsewhere and the corpse was carried up there to a very remote location to be disposed of. Possible, but nonsensical.”

  “Not even remotely sensical.”

  “Right. You hire a boat, fit him with a pair of cement shoes, and throw him overboard in the middle of Lake Zurich at midnight.”

  “And what is your second brilliant possibility?”

  “I have no earthly idea. Nor do I think even my hero Holmes would have one. Not this early in the case, at any rate.”

  “But there’s obviously some kind of explanation.”

  “Of course there is. That’s why we’re here, dear boy.”

  “No. That’s why you’re here. You’re the brains of the outfit. I’m the intrepid mountain climber, remember.”

  “Good point, Alex. And what would our intrepid hero surmise, based on the statement you just made?”

  “Hell, I don’t know, Ambrose. You tell me.”

  “That mountain climbing will obviously be required to solve this very puzzling mystery.”

  “She’s looking this way again. I think she’s extremely lonely. Do you think I might stroll right over there and offer my services?”

  “No, I certainly do not. Baron von Stuka and Blinky are waiting for us at the restaurant.”

  “Be right back,” Hawke said over his shoulder.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Hawke, Congreve, and Alex’s brand-new friend, the newly minted vice president at Credit Suisse named Sigrid Kissl, were a little late when they arrived at the restaurant. Von Stuka and Blinky were already at the table, on their second vodka martinis.

  Der Kronenhalle was the go-to spot in Zurich for both Baron von Stuka and Herr Schultz. In this centuries-old city, few restaurants had more to offer. On the walls hung paintings by Picasso, Chagall, Matisse, Miró, and Klee. It had been a gathering place for artists and poets from all over Europe who’d sought refuge from the Nazis during World War II. And the food was remarkable too.

  The baron, resplendent in an exquisitely tailored navy blue blazer and grenadier’s regimental tie, got to his feet, smiling broadly, as the newcomers approached the table through a throng of diners.

  “Alex! Ambrose! Over here!” he called out.

  “Good evening, Wolfie. Blinky,” Ambrose said, first to pull out his chair and sit down. “Sorry we’re late. I’m afraid Alex was unavoidably detained at the last minute, and my apologies. Baron, may I introduce Miss Kissl?”

  “How do you do, my dear Sigrid?” Wolfie said, offering the exquisitely beautiful woman his hand. “We have met before, I believe?”

  “I’m sorry, Baron, you have me at a disadvantage.”

  “You are Fräulein Sigrid Kissl, I believe. From Credit Suisse. And I am Baron von Stuka.”

  “Ah, yes, Baron von Stuka,” Sigrid said, turning a bit pink. “Of course, now I remember. At the Credit Suisse corporate office. You were having coffee with our chairman last month, were you not?”

  “Yes, yes, my dear. We had coffee in the CEO’s office. My dear friend Dr. Heinrich Scheel’s office, that’s right, is it not? He tells me you are his most trusted bank officer.”

  “Ah, but in fact I was only taking notes for Dr. Scheel that morning, Baron. Still, I’m very pleased that you remember me.”

  “My dear, you are a very memorable woman in every way, if I may say so.”

  Hawke, like a warring stag sensing the unexpected heat of battle, was swift to join the fray. “I hadn’t noticed that lovely ring you’re wearing, Sigrid. Ruby, is it?” he said.

  “A red sapphire. Quite rare.”

  “Stunning. Who gave it to you?”

  “Just a friend.”

  “Ah. Someone who must have strong feelings.”

  “Oh, he does,” she said, glancing across the table.

  Hawke maintained his fixed smile.

  “Look here, Wolfie, our guests have arrived,” Blinky said, quickly filling the awkward moment. “Let’s order more drinks, shall we?”

  Hawke took his chair and said, “Sigrid tells me she has been promoted since then, Baron. She’s now one of the bank VP’s handling some of the U.K. investment portfolios, among others.”

  “How coincidental,” the baron replied, deliberately vague. “Quick, everyone order drinks and take a look the menu. I have an urgent call to take, but I shall be right back. Sigrid, dear, you’ve met Chief Inspector Congreve, have you not?”

  “Oh, yes. We all three met at the hotel just an hour ago.”

  “Macallan’s whisky for me,” Ambrose said to the hovering waiter, “and a rum neat for Mr. Hawke. Sigrid, what would you like?”

  “A glass of Pinot Gris, please. The Helfrich 2008, if you have it.”

  When the drinks came, they all raised their glasses, clinked, and said, “Prost!”

  “Please don’t touch that wine,” Congreve said, catching her as she raised the glass to her lips.

  “Why not?” she said, alarmed.

  “It’s turned. Let me order another vintage for you. Sorry. I have a highly attuned and sensitive nose, you see. One of my many weapons. And weaknesses.”

  While Ambrose summoned the wine steward, Blinky said, “Thank you for joining us, Fräulein Kissl. We were just discussing a topic you may have read about in the Neue Zürcher Zeitung last week. The discovery of a corpse at the base of Der Nadel. Yes?”

  She sipped her water and replied, “Apparently, he might have been a banker. One of ours, even. Just office gossip at this point.”

  Congreve, Hawke, and Schultz stared at each other in astonishment. “Are you joking?” Blinky said. “A banker? We’ve heard nothing about any bankers.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t have. I only learned of this a few hours ago, just before I left my office. Our bank’s director of human resources was on our floor, speaking with a group of our senior managers, and I happened to overhear. The director said that one of our senior bank employees had recently traveled to London on holiday and—”

  “So sorry to interrupt, Fräulein Kissl,” Ambrose said, smiling at Hawke. “Recently traveled to London, had he?”

  “Yes.”

  “I suspected as much. Please go on.”

  Wolfie looked at his watch and said, “I have an urgent call to make, but I shall be right back.”

  After he’d left, Sigrid said, “I knew him rather well. His name is Leo Hermann. Quite good-looking, actually. He was supposed to be back at work this morning, she told us . . . but he never showed up. Calls to his apartment went unreturned, as well as calls from his parents, who knew nothing about his whereabouts. They’ve not heard from him all week, his mother said. Not that it’s him, of course, but still.”

  “Fascinating,” Hawke said. “By the way, what was this chap’s name again, Sigrid? Leo Hermann, did you say?”

  “Yes, Alex, that’s it. The police simply said his disappearance was one of a few linked to an ongoing police investigation, nothing more.”

  The three men remaining at the table looked at each other, all unsure as to what they should say next. Clearly she had the trust of the baron. But, as lovely as she was, Fräulein Kissl was a long way from being invited into their circle of confidence.

  “Let’s order,” Blinky said. “Try the Wiener schnitzel, it’s the best in town here. Der beste!”

  After they’d ordered and were making idle conversation about the snowstorm while sipping their cocktails, Blinky said, “So, are you and our friend Alex longtime friends, Sigrid?”

  “Not exactly. Unless you call half an hour a very lon
g time.”

  Everyone chuckled and Hawke said, “Funny thing. Sigrid and I just bumped into each other in the Bauer au Lac bar this evening.”

  “Alex makes friends very easily,” Congreve said, taking a sip of his whisky and avoiding Hawke’s eyes.

  Sigrid said, “So I’ve learned. And what do you do in Zurich, Herr Schultz?”

  “Ah, yes. Well. I run a small office for a U.K. company here in Switzerland. Import-export type of thing. We export our Swiss chocolates and import their English bacon. A high-calorie business, you might say. But very boring.”

  “And you, Ambrose? Just visiting?”

  “Yes, a tourist, actually. I’m retired from police work now, but I occasionally look into crimes that catch my attention. Idle curiosity, you see. Read about the strange death in the Times of London, and here I am.”

  “What fun. Alex won’t tell me what he does. When I asked, he told me he was a male model.”

  “Well, look at him,” Ambrose said. “Man candy. He’s quite the lad in all the London gossip magazines. Very much the man about town, you see.”

  “Man candy,” Sigrid said. “I love that, Alex! Suits you perfectly, our new man about town.”

  “He’s kidding,” Hawke said, trying to smile. “I’m quite harmless once you really get to know me.”

  “And after that, Alex?” she purred.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Wolfie returned just as the food arrived, looking troubled as he picked up his napkin and eyed his piping-hot Wiener schnitzel mit Sauerkraut. However, after a bite to eat, he quickly recovered, and the conversation veered around the table. Time flew.

  Everyone was simply having fun and happy to be in such a clean and well-lit space with such good history on the walls.

  It wasn’t until the coffee had been served that Wolfie artfully steered the conversation back to Sigrid’s missing banker. He spoke in a low and quiet voice, encouraging the others to do the same. It was, after all, an extremely sensitive matter.

  “I find the mystery of the dead banker at the bottom of a mountain quite fascinating, don’t you agree, Sigrid?” he said.

  “You, too, Baron? This missing mystery man seems all anyone in my department is talking about. I can’t believe the bank has kept it out of the papers.”

  Von Stuka said, “You won’t see this in the papers. It was one of my Tenth Mountain Division grenadiers who discovered the body, Sigrid. As the divisionnaire, I’m of course eager to help the officials find out what really happened.”

  “Yes,” Hawke said. “Sigrid, we were up on the mountain with Wolfie all morning, watching the Tenth Mountain in combat training. The baron pointed out the exact spot where the victim was found. All very mysterious. The chief inspector here thinks he was thrown out of a helicopter. But, of course, he has a very vivid imagination.”

  “I certainly do not think any such thing! I have no idea how he got there. But I am curious about something else. Tell me, Sigrid, you’re rapidly becoming a well-connected banker here in Zurich. Have you heard much at all about this alleged hacking scandal? It is my impression that it’s raising eyebrows within the Swiss banking system?”

  “Certainly I have heard occasional whispers, Chief Inspector. All rumors and innuendo. No one really knows what’s going on. Of course, I work in the client service department. If any of this were true, we would have known about it. And become concerned about the security of some of our British clients.”

  “Why do you say British, Sigrid?” Hawke said.

  “Well, that’s the rumor at Credit Suisse, isn’t it? That hackers might be going after the Queen of England’s gold reserves?”

  “The Queen, you say. That’s interesting, Sigrid,” Congreve said, lighting up his pipe and puffing away to get it lit. “And are there any security problems that you know of involving any other British-held accounts?”

  “We’re not privy to such details at my level. And, even if I were, I would certainly not discuss it. But I’ve definitely heard water-cooler gossip that somehow the Queen of England is involved. And I very much doubt Prince Philip himself is the hacker.”

  “Is anyone even capable of doing such a sophisticated invasion?” Congreve said, leaning closer to her and puffing away on his pipe. “Hacking an account of that importance? With that many firewalls? That would be a massive breach of countless defensive measures. The usual suspects? Iranians? Chinese? Russians? Any real suspects so far?”

  “Our chief of cybersecurity, Helmut Koller, is a social friend of mine. I can only say that Helmut is having a difficult time keeping a lid on this long enough to find out if any of these attempted attacks are even real. And, if they are, how deep have the attackers gotten? The Swiss Banking Federation Security Division is breathing down Helmut’s neck, I can say that much. Not to mention our chairman, Dr. Scheel.”

  “I’ll tell you one thing,” Hawke said. “We’d all better pray there’s nothing to this. Because if there is, and it’s significant, stand back and watch the world banking community crumble to the ground.”

  “And as the Swiss banks go, so goes the world,” Ambrose added.

  Wolfie said, “Exactly right, both of you. If Swiss banking security were to be breached and confidence in our system and its defenses was destroyed, it would be the end of all of us, I assure you, Sigrid. Panic, meltdown of international trade would spread around the world. And, most importantly, trust would evaporate overnight. Every significant nation in the world keeps the vast amount of its private wealth here. Hell, eighty percent of the entire world’s wealth is right here in Zurich. Such an event would be cataclysmic.”

  Hawke said, “Do you agree with the baron, Blinky?”

  “I’m just grateful our government and the banks are maintaining a heavy cloak of secrecy until someone gets to the bottom of this. Shut these cybercriminals down before the story leaks out to the world at large. But what do I know? I’m in chocolate.”

  Wolfie said, “Sigrid, we’ve only just met. But knowing that our mutual friend, your chairman, Heinrich Scheel, has just demonstrated his faith and entrusted you with your promotion to a Vice President. I’ve just spoken about you with Dr. Scheel. And now I’d like to make a proposal to you. You don’t need to answer me now. Take some time to think about it. Will you hear me out?”

  “Of course, Baron, I will do that. But may I ask what your involvement is in this case?”

  “You may. Heinrich Scheel and I are old friends since childhood. He’s worried about what he sees happening inside the Swiss financial community. Deeply concerned. The first thing he wants me to do is identify the man at the bottom of the mountain. He knows that I myself, and the entire Swiss Army, have enormous manpower and technical resources far beyond his own. He has confidentially asked me to look into the murder. That request from Dr. Scheel is, of course, highly classified information, as it involves our national security at the very highest level. Reveal it at your gravest legal peril, my dear.”

  “I understand. I give you my word, Herr Baron.”

  “I give you my trust,” he replied. “But from now on you have to earn it.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Never abuse it, Sigrid. You must believe me on that one. My thought for you is this. It would be most helpful to all of us if, through your CEO, you became our liaison inside the Swiss banking community. You would be expected to report any relevant information you come upon directly to me. Time is of the essence, obviously.”

  “You mean that, as of now, I’m a spy?”

  “Essentially, yes.”

  “Fine. You say I could be helpful to all of you. What do you mean by all of ‘you,’ sir?”

  “All of us at this table. Blinky and I are friends since schooldays. He is in the import-export trade, but he’s also an international forensic accountant. Alex is not a male model. In fact, Lord Hawke and Blinky are colleagues of sort
s.”

  “So, he’s Lord Hawke now, is he? It just keeps getting better, does it not?”

  Hawke said, “I never use the title, Sigrid. ‘Alex’ still works.”

  “Duly noted,” she said.

  Wolfie said, “And what about our young tourist here? Chief Inspector Congreve, you see, is only partially retired from Scotland Yard. He has been involved in many investigations regarding the Crown and the British Parliament.”

  “Nice to meet you all again,” Sigrid said with a smile.

  “And you,” Hawke said, with a smile of his own, “again.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  He didn’t see her again for a few days.

  He told himself he had to stop missing her; they’d only just met, for God’s sake. Besides, he was too busy for romance. He and Ambrose spent every waking moment working the case, interviewing bankers and cybersecurity experts—not to mention Walter Heitz, the crusty old detective from the Stadtspolizei who was lead investigator on the case of the missing banker, Leo Hermann.

  Everyone they knew, it seemed, was involved. Everyone except the one man they really wanted to talk to—the young Swiss Army grenadier who had actually found the body. Unfortunately, he was in St. Moritz at the moment. Wolfie’s Tenth Mountain Division had relocated to the mountains there for even more intensive alpine training. Extreme pursuit skiing under fire and X-treme parasail combat tactics.

  It was a brilliant morning, the skies shot through with blue; Lake Zurich was peacefully lapping the shore, while the town’s rooftops and church spires were cloaked in a brand-new mantle of purest white.

  Hawke eased the silver Aston out of late-morning traffic and rolled to a stop in front of the Zurich Opera House to collect his waiting passenger.

  “Hop in,” he said.

  “Where’s Ambrose?” Sigrid asked, peering into the car as she climbed inside. Settling into the leather bucket seat, she said, “What in the world have you done with Ambrose, Alex Hawke?”