Chapter 49

 

A person running through a train station normally doesn’t attract much attention, Frank discovered. His haste had nothing to do with catching a departing train at this point. He merely wanted to become lost in a crowd. He spotted a pack of American tourists following the flag of their guide and he dropped in beside them, needing a moment to think.

Penelope Fitzpatrick’s appearance here in Switzerland had shocked him to the core. How the hell had she found him? No way it was coincidence. And the woman with her—chasing him through the city—where had she come from?

The tourists paused at the entrance to the various platforms, their guide counting heads. Frank peeled off and walked briskly to a kiosk selling postcards and newspapers. What to do … He couldn’t go back to the Alpen Haus. By now the woman and her friend had no doubt summoned the authorities and his room was likely being searched. Thank goodness for the money belt around his waist, he thought for the hundredth time.

Frank had walked out several times when a con went wrong, but never with one this lucrative. He had no intention of giving up either the cash or the necklace. All he had to do was lie low until his meeting with Anton van der Went tomorrow at noon. But where?

If those women had found the small, inconspicuous Alpen Haus they could pretty much find him anywhere in Zurich. But he didn’t want to leave the city either; it was where Anton would come. He could get a message to the gem cutter, but it felt too soon to throw in a change of plans. The guy could blow him off and cancel the whole deal.

He needed time to think. He bought a newspaper he couldn’t even read—it would help with his disguise if they were looking for an American. In the men’s room he used a bit of water to mess up his hair, giving him a more youthful appearance, and he turned his casual jacket inside out. One of his father’s old teachings—buy reversible clothing whenever you could. Rather than light tan it was now a deep green.

At the ticket window he bought a ticket for the town two stations south, some place he couldn’t pronounce but it was only thirty minutes away. He could stay overnight and ride back in the morning in time to find the clock museum where Anton wanted to meet.

He found a seat facing the departure board and flipped open his newspaper, watching the crowd for cops and the board for his train. Apart from station security men, he didn’t see any extra police, certainly none who appeared to be looking for him. When his destination appeared on the board, he meandered his way to the platform. His first class seat came with beverage service and he happily accepted a beer, letting the tepid brew course through and relax him.

When Pfäffikon Station came up, he left the train at a leisurely pace. A person hurrying draws attention and one thing Frank had learned to do was to blend in and remain unnoticed. With his paper tucked under his arm, he was just another guy coming home from work, a worker heading out for a beer, a husband who wasn’t especially eager to get home just yet.

He strolled out of the station, down a street with enough traffic that he didn’t stand out, past a pharmacy and an internet café, coming to a street with several banks. Geez, they were thick around here. A block over, he came to an area of restaurants (pizza in Switzerland!) and found a picture-postcard hotel, complete with brown shutters at the windows and flower boxes full of purple petunias. No one would see it as the hideout of a man with a stolen million-dollar necklace.

He paid cash for a room on the ground floor. Inside his room, he was happy to find a menu. He would order dinner and settle in. Now, to stay low-key until late tomorrow morning when he would ride the train back into Zurich.