8th of May, 1945… last day of WWII in the region… Schloss Immendorf set on fire by retreating German troops… Destroying….

See also: Lost artworks.

Click, scroll and then there it was: Schubert at the Piano.

By Klimt.

Destroyed in 1945.

I was right.

But what did this mean? Was that painting in Le Voltage a fake? Was Agnès dealing in fakes? It made no sense. And what was that document about? Why had Sabine sectioned it off in the same folder as that Klimt?

I put my phone on mute, pulled up the first video again and watched it play. As soon as the camera was close enough to the screen to read the text, I paused, took a screenshot and zoomed in.

Sabine’s finger was pointing to a line that read: Entered into by and between Hintos Holdings LTD (the seller) and LeKOR Corp (the purchaser, and together with the seller, the parties). Right below that was a section called Recitals where the details of the transaction were listed. It was for a bond issued by a company named Genovexa. And it was worth 100 million euro.

Yes, 100 million euro. That’s 100 million wheels of brie.

I focused on the name right above Sabine’s finger: Hintos Holdings.

Why was she pointing at that?

So I did what anybody would do. I googled it.

And I found it immediately: Hintos Holdings belongs to a man named Philip Crawford-White. A philanthropist based in the Isle of Man. It was listed on his webpage along with a tonne of charitable activities. Nothing strange there.

But Sabine’s words echoed in my mind: I know what you’re doing, Agnès.

And I needed to know: what the fuck had Agnès been doing?

It felt like the contents of that folder were a cryptic message from the grave.

I wanted to find out what it all meant. And I tried to do it for myself. But by 7.30 pm, everyone else had gone home and I was no closer to an answer. I needed someone to decode that document for me. Someone who knew about finance. And there was only one person I could think of.

Which brings us back to me standing here, right now, outside Thomas’s building, pressing his buzzer. And here I will stay, for as long as it takes for him to answer.

Bzzzz.

Chapitre Vingt-cinq

Chapitre vingt-cinq

I press the buzzer again and wait. Why isn’t he answering? My fingers twitch as I stare at the numeric keypad by the door.

Because I know the code.