She returned to her desk, lifted the telephone receiver, tapped buttons and waited. She spoke softly in what sounded like German.
While the receptionist was on the phone, Draco glanced around the lobby, taking in the opulence and expensive décor, but more importantly, the cameras mounted in strategic locations. He noted a door behind the desk with a keypad lock. A staircase led up to the next level, with a man standing in the shadows at the base, dressed in a dark suit, doing his best to blend into the background while watching Cate and Draco. Bank security. Competent and, based on his expression, probably bored. Bored was a good thing. It meant they weren’t expected.
The receptionist nodded and set the receiver in its cradle. “Herr Brunner will see you,” she said with professional warmth. She waved toward the staircase. “Please. You’ll find him on the next level.”
Draco touched his hand to Cate’s back, just once, and guided her up the curving staircase.
Stefan Brunner met them at the top, wearing a suit of storm-cloud gray and a smile he’d perfected over his nineteen-year career as a banker. A smile that made the recipient feel like an old friend. “Please, come in. Come in.” He stood back, sweeping his arm toward the door behind him.
Draco glanced in, quickly assessing the interior before allowing Cate to enter. Like the lobby, the furniture was top quality and expensive.
Once they were through the door, Brunner entered behind them and closed the door.
Draco studied the man, noting his confident, bordering on arrogant, air of a man used to dealing with wealthy clients. He was tall, and like Dmytro had reported, handsome and had good hair. Women would consider him a silver fox—the kind of man who only skied on the best snow and vacationed on the French Riviera.
He held out his hand to Draco.
Draco shook the man’s hand.
Firm grip, warm, dry, giving away little insight into the man’s character.
“Americans,” Brunner said with an English accent and a smile. “Always a pleasure.”
“British English.” Draco shook the man’s hand and released it.
Brunner nodded. “My father was Swiss, my mother from the Cotswolds. I grew up in England, and now I work with people from all over.” He swept his hand toward a sitting area. “Please, have a seat. Can I get you coffee?”
Cate smiled tightly at the man.
Draco recognized the fire in her gray-blue eyes. She was probably angry Brunner hadn’t offered to shake her hand. “Thank you for seeing us on short notice,” she said, her tone clipped but polite. “We don’t want to take up too much of your time.” She sank into one of the chairs the man had indicated.
Draco dropped into the other beside her, angling to be with his back to the wall, his angle of view to the door into the office. Habit.
“Herr Brunner, I’ll be straight with you,” Cate said. “I’m a private investigator, hired to trace Marcus Calloway’s assets and settle his affairs since his death.”
Brunner dropped into the leather chair behind a desk void of everything but a pen and a pad of paper. “I’m sorry for the family’s loss, Ms. Marsh.” He lifted the pen and tapped the tip to the pad. “However, I cannot disclose any information about the clients of this bank. People choose to bank with us because of our strict adherence to protecting their privacy. We don’t share information with private investigators, police, courts or family members unless their names are on the account. That’s why Mr. Calloway chose to do business with us.”
Cate raised an eyebrow. “So, Calloway was a client.”
Brunner lifted one corner of his mouth. “I can’t deny or confirm.”
Draco didn’t say a word, taking in everything about the man’s countenance and the absolutely straight face he maintained throughout the conversation. Draco would have bet his last dollar that Brunner knew Calloway and had planned exactly what to say before Cate had walked through the door. He had to give it to the man. He was smooth.
“I understand, Herr Brunner. I’m not asking you to break the law.” She leaned forward slightly. Her eyes narrowed, and she lowered her voice to not quite a whisper. “I came to ask about a company you might have heard of…Alpenhorn Relief Logistics.”
Brunner didn’t blink, didn’t flinch. The man had been in the business long enough to table his emotions and carry on as if nothing fazed him. But the air in the room seemed to chill several degrees. The practiced warmth he’d exuded as the bank’s relationship manager bled out in the silence. He laid the pen on the desk, exactly parallel to the pad, and folded his hands on the wood surface. “Where did you hear that name?” he asked softly.
“I take it you’ve heard of it,” Cate said.
“In my profession, I’ve heard the names of many different companies.” He pushed to his feet, straightened his suit jacket and nodded toward the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting at eleven.”
Cate remained seated. “Herr Brunner, a woman is sitting in a jail in Virginia, charged with the murder of a man who might not be dead, and nine million dollars that were funneled through a company whose name I believe you recognize for products never delivered. I’m not the police or Interpol. I can’t legally make you give me information, but I came because everyone I could ask is either dead, pretending to be dead or in jail for a crime she didn’t commit.” Cate stood.
Draco stood with her.
“I’ll go,” Cate continued. “But if there’s any ounce of honor and empathy in you, know that you could make the difference for that woman who was jailed for a murder she didn’t commit, so that others can conceal a crime they did commit and are willing to kill to hide. I asked nicely. It’s your move.”
Brunner stared down at her for a long moment. His professional demeanor seemed to display a hairline fracture. His eyes flickered. Was it fear? Not of Cate, but of something else. He looked like he wanted to look behind him, over his shoulder, as if someone could be watching his every move. But he didn’t. He held Cate’s gaze a second longer. “I’ll see you out.”
