“Clients never saw the real Madame?”
“No, they’d call for appointments but never meet her in person. Madame comes in late on Thursday nights to manage the books and doesn’t like to be disturbed.”
He smiled. “Thursdays, eh? Unfortunately for her, I’m going to have to bother her tonight.”
“Be careful. She has connections.”
“Then I’ll have to arrest her before the top brass stop me.”
“Good luck,” said Verena, sounding scared and skeptical.
He eyed his desk. “You’ll be safe, I promise. But I need two favors. The second one’s huge.”
“Tell me.”
“The first is I need you to name a judge you’ve got dirt on. BecauseI have to make a late-night phone call for a warrant, and it needs to count.”
“Easy. What’s the huge favor?”
He rifled through his desk drawer for the box. He’d been waiting for a chance to hand it over.
“I’m driving you to the Orient. Go in, tell Sterling we’re making the arrest, tell her tostay put, and give her this.” He handed over a smartphone.
“Ha, impossible. She’ll give me another black eye throwing it in my face.”
“Please try. Then tell her and Fernando to sit by the phone at reception and not move until I call them. After that, I have one more stop, and I need you to come with me.”
— 48 —Achtundvierzig
Andreas dimmed the headlights before turning onto the street, his face glowing green from the dashboard, where the clock read 3:10 a.m. The tires rumbled over slushy cobblestones, strewn with sand to combat ice. He silenced the engine, then shook Beate’s shoulder gently to ensure she was awake. Fog heavy as her eyelids hung over the narrow alley. Luxury jewelers lined the block, with their bare window displays caged behind metal security grates at this hour. Except one.
He wiped a stripe in the windshield’s condensation, and peered through it at Blanc de Noir, glowing gold amid the gray, mist clinging to its light.
“Not the most convincing front. A fancy wineshop open this late? The neighbors must wonder,” he said.
“Maybe they’re on her payroll, like everyone else in this overgrown village,” said Beate. With her slumped shoulders and wrinkled clothes, she looked as worn down as he felt. But her eyes were alert. Her dilated pupils scanned the scene, jumping from sparks to shadows.
They were here to arrest a woman with two names. Frau Goldfinch and Madame Weiss were one terror with two identities.
Andreas shivered. Cold air tickled his neck, like a woman grazing her fingernails up his spine and into his hair.
He clasped his chin, tracing a finger over his lower lip, ruminating on a redhead. Beate cleared her throat. “Dreaming about your favoriteFlitscherl?”
Either Beate had boarded the same train of thought or she’d read his body language.Oida. He was slipping. The woman he should focus on was Madame. This was their only chance to nab her, by catching both her and their chief by surprise.
He checked his holster. “Didn’t you say the wordFlitscherlis offensive?”
“Yes, butImeant it as a compliment,” she said.
“Since when are you on her side?”
“Since I realized she’s helped more than the department. Speaking of the department, you sure about this plan? We could still call for backup.”
“If we make that call, it’ll echo up to the commissioner, and we’ll have our badges revoked before we enter Blanc de Noir. Frau Goldfinch’s connections climb high in the force, and Weiss’s claws run deep in Vienna. Given they’re the same woman, we’re running out of people to trust.”
“Still, this is reckless.”
“Hence my decision not to tell you first.” He slapped his knees. “So.” It was time.
