Annabel stood at the window, gazing out across the expanse of Lake Geneva. The water glowed at this time of day, a mirror for the electric blues and celestial pinks of the brightening morning sky. In the distance, the craggy white mountains stood, silent and imposing, like sentinels beside the lake. The vertical rises and drops of their peaks were awe-inspiring. Annabel wondered how many people had lost their lives to those mountains. She thought of men with ice axes and crampons, buried beneath avalanches of snow. Of hikers who set off in the early morning light, never to return. Of her husband’s plane, smashed to metallic chords on a mountaintop, a place so remote that it had never before been touched by any living being. She thought of Matthew’s ashes, disappearing on the wind like smoke.
The room felt like a gilded prison cell. The walls were lacquered in a brilliant eggshell blue; the drapes were made of a thick, expensive-looking chintz. The bed was an antique four-poster. Like something out of Versailles, Annabel thought. Jonas and Julian had insisted that she stay here, at the Klausers’ home in Cologny. It was for her protection, they said. They couldn’t in good conscience let her stay in a hotel. So here she was, staying in a lavishly appointed guest room, with eighteenth-century furniture and a rug so soft it felt like cashmere, just ten feet down the hall from Jonas and Elsa. She’d never felt less safe in her life.
She hadn’t slept. She hadn’t bothered to unpack her suitcase, either. She didn’t want to get comfortable here. She didn’t like the idea of being naked in Jonas Klauser’s house. She was vulnerable enough as it was. Within the hour, a car would take her to the airport. From there, she would fly back to London, where Khalid would meet her at Heathrow. He would give her Matthew’s laptop and she would board a plane to New York. Then she’d board a train to DC and find Hunter Morse.
Jonas Klauser knew none of this, of course. Only that she was on a one-way flight home to New York. She couldn’t stay in Switzerland any longer, she told him. It was too hard for her there. She just wanted to go home.
He had arranged for her flight. First class, nonstop. She had waited until he was asleep and then she had called the airline to change her ticket so that she had a one-hour layover in London. She changed the payment method, too, so that the charge would go on her credit card instead of his. She figured Jonas wouldn’t notice. Even if he did, she hoped he would think she was just being polite.
Annabel heard a knock on the door.
“Annabel?” Elsa’s muffled voice came from the hallway. “Darling, your car is here.”
“Thank you,” Annabel called, trying not to sound as on edge as she actually was. “Out in a minute.”
She gazed out the window for one last moment. The sun was rising above the horizon, bathing the mountains in light. She pressed her fingers to the glass. She felt its coolness against her skin. It was nearly freezing outside, she thought. The bright morning sun was deceptive, making the lake look inviting instead of deadly cold to the touch.
“Good-bye, Matthew,” she murmured, her eyes closing. “I love you.”
Then she pulled away from the window, away from the view of the lake and the mountains beyond. It would be her last real glimpse of Geneva. She shut the shades and headed for the door.
Jonas and Elsa were waiting for Annabel in the hallway. Jonas moved quickly to take her suitcase. They seemed as nervous as she felt. Jonas descended the stairs, her suitcase in his hand. Elsa trailed behind, seeming unsure of what to do or how to be of help.
“I’m sorry you can’t stay for breakfast,” she said. “Can I send you off with something?”
“Oh, I’m all right. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
“Don’t be silly. You were hardly here at all.”
“Thank you. I’m eager to get home. It’s time.”
Elsa looked troubled, but she nodded nonetheless.
“You could have taken my driver to the airport,” Jonas said. He frowned at the town car in the driveway. “It wouldn’t have been a bother.”
“Oh, no. You’ve done enough for me already.”
Now came the part that Annabel dreaded. Jonas embraced her. She felt dizzy as his arms encircled her. She wanted to scream. Instead, she closed her eyes and waited for the moment to pass. Then, she forced a smile.
It’s almost over, she told herself. By this time tomorrow, Jonas Klauser’s hands will be cuffed behind his back.
“This is it, I guess,” Annabel said. She shivered involuntarily, as though her body itself was revolting against Jonas’s touch. “I’ll never forget all that you’ve done.”
“Stay in touch,” Jonas replied. “I’d like to know how you are doing.”
“Oh, I will. We’ll speak again soon.”
“I hope so.”
Annabel nodded and turned away. Her heart was in her throat as she walked out of the Klausers’ house and into the waiting car.
ONCE SHE’D REACHED the airport, Annabel felt her shoulders begin to release from around her ears. The hardest part was behind her now. Her departure from Geneva had gone smoothly. She had a plan; three more steps to go. She had to collect the laptop. Bring it to Hunter Morse. And then wait for the arrests to begin.
Jonas and Julian would be first. Then Fares Amir and the lawyers at Schmit & Muller. From what Khalid had told her, Matthew’s laptop was filled with damning evidence against all of them, hundreds of documents that proved beyond a doubt that they colluded to hide the assets of hundreds of international criminals, from Assad to Putin. Countless others would be arrested, too. Lawyers, accountants, bankers. People who Annabel had met and perhaps even liked. People who had attended Matthew’s memorial service; maybe some who had considered him a friend. People who may or may not have made criminal decisions. Maybe they were just doing as they were told. Maybe, like Zoe, they had been naive enough to think that Swiss United was just like any other bank. Annabel was certainly guilty of such thinking. How wrong she had been. How wrong they all had been, these cogs in the wheel of a vast criminal enterprise.
Her flight was boarding. Annabel rose from her seat and headed to the gate. As she was about to hand over her boarding pass to the attendant, her phone rang. She stepped back, allowing the next passenger in line to move ahead of her. It was a number she didn’t recognize, but from the country code, she knew it was coming from the United Kingdom.
“Annabel, listen to me. Where are you?” Khalid’s voice was scratchy and faint, and muffled by what sounded like a passing train.
“Khalid?” Annabel pressed the phone tight to one ear and covered the other with the palm of her hand. “I can hardly hear you.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m at the airport. Why? My flight is boarding. I’m on my way to you.”
“Annabel, you can’t go to New York. Morse—”
“Khalid, you’re cutting in and out.”
“I did some digging into Morse. He’s getting paid by James Ellis. Ellis is a client of Jonas Klauser’s. I think Ellis paid Morse off to tell him who the leak was inside of Swiss United. He can’t be trusted.”
“Morse at the DOJ?” Annabel’s head was spinning. The last of the passengers were boarding her flight to Heathrow. She watched as a red line appeared around the flight number on the board, indicating final boarding call.
“Yes. He’s working for—”
Annabel heard a scuffling sound, a thump. Then, the line went dead.
“Khalid?” Annabel screamed. “Khalid?” But all she heard was dead air on the other end of the line.
People around her were staring.
“Are you all right?” a woman beside her approached, her face clouded with worry.
“Do you speak French, miss?” a man asked. “Qu’est-ce qu’il y a?”
“Madam, it’s final boarding call for London, Heathrow Airport,” the attendant said. “Dernier appel d’embarquement.”
Annabel spun around. A crowd was gathering. At the back of it, she saw a familiar face. It was the man who bumped into her at the library, just as she was leaving the microfilm room. He had knocked the photographs out of her bag. When she made eye contact with him, he turned away and disappeared into the crowd.
She looked at the attendant, not comprehending.
“Madam, are you boarding?”
Annabel shook her head. “No,” she said, her voice a whisper. “No.” She picked up her bag and backed away, nearly colliding with the woman who had asked after her as she sprinted out of the gate.