“What about Engel?”
Will turned to me, confusion creasing his brow. “The banker?”
“Think about it. In that meeting at his office, the information he gave us was too well organized. He pulled that folder out of his drawer without so much as a thought, and he spoke like he was expecting exactly the questions we asked.” I leaned forward, ignoring the throbbing in my shoulder. “And he was nervous, more nervous than made sense, evengiven the circumstances. He kept mentioning his daughter.”
“His daughter is in Munich,” the Baroness said slowly.
“She would be easy leverage.” Bisch’s voice from the window. “They threaten the girl, he cooperates. It is the oldest play there is.”
The Baroness was quiet for a long moment, her bandaged hands rested on the table, motionless.
“I smuggled his family out of Vienna,” she said finally. “He owes me everything.”
“Which is exactly why he wouldn’t come to you for help,” I said. “If they convinced him you couldn’t protect her, his collaboration was the only way to keep her safe—”
“He would betray me to save her.” The Baroness closed her good eye. “Yes. I can see it. The fear when we met. I thought it was fear of the conspiracy, but perhaps it was fear of what he had already done.”
“For all we know, they had his office bugged and were listening the whole time,” Will said carefully. “We don’t know any of this for certain. It’s still speculation.”
“Yes, but it makes sense.” The Baroness opened her eye, and I saw steel there. “The Sternberg records, Engel gave us summaries and analyses; but the source documents—the actual correspondence,the payment records—those will show who has been communicating with whom.”
“You want us to break into Sternberg AG?” I nearly fell out of my chair.
“I want to find the truth.” She met my eyes, then Will’s. “If Engel is the leak, we need to know. The Sternberg records would contain information about the conspiracy that he chose not to share—or was ordered not to share.”
I glanced at Will. He gave me a small nod.
“When?” I asked. “How?”
“Tomorrow night. That gives you a day to rest and scout the location.” The Baroness looked at my sling. “Can you manage?”
“I can manage.”
“Thomas—” the Baroness began to protest.
“I can manage.” I held her gaze. “You’re not the only stubborn one at this table.”
Something flickered across her face—almost a smile.
“No,” she said. “I suppose I am not.”
“I know the building,” Bisch said as he pushed off from the window. “I have been inside before, for other purposes. I will draw you a map.”
He found paper and began sketching with quick, precise strokes. Will leaned in to study the emerging layout. The Baroness watched, her mangled fingertips briefly tapping the rim of her cup until she winced and ceased the movement.
We were running out of time, but for the first time since we’d crawled out of that drainage channel, I felt like we were moving forward instead of just surviving.
23
Will
The Sternberg AG offices occupied the top three floors of a limestone building on Bahnhofstrasse, Bern’s most prestigious address. At two in the morning, the street was empty. Shop windows were dark. The only movement was the occasional patrol car gliding past on its rounds.
Thomas and I watched from the shadows of an alley across the street.
“The service entrance is around the back,” I murmured, consulting the map Bisch had drawn. “Through the courtyard, past the loading dock. He said there’s a door with a simple pin tumbler lock.”
“Simple for him, maybe.” Thomas shifted his weight. I watched him wince. His arm was out of the sling only because he’d insisted, but he was still moving stiffly and favoring his wounded shoulder. “Let’s hope my lock-picking skills are up to the task.”
