But—damn, the mind could keep spinning—why had Stavro insisted so strongly on anonymity? What was that aborted terrorist gathering that Ron had dug up on the doorstep of a Bouvier Lait plant? And why had Rafe Sassaman, his old friend from Harvard, now some kind of US government operative, suddenly popped into his life asking questions about Stavro’s trades?

And why had he himself stared so long at news footage of the African explosion and its victims and promised Ron, willingly, that they would cut Stavro loose?

So many questions. And so troubling. As Majid finally resumed walking toward his office again, he knew only one thing for sure—he was not going to discuss any of them with the Swiss police.

Movie

MOVIE

Catherine didn’t find out about Barnstable until she got to work on Monday. Nobody had called her to tell her he was dead. He hadn’t been especially well-liked in the office, and why would anyone call her in particular? “We thought you’d want to know that the middle-aged middle manager who’s been hitting on you is suddenly dead.” There was no reason for that, even if anyone had noticed the strained non-relationship between them. At 9 a.m. Monday, the office operations manager made a brief announcement. A tragic sailing accident. Their esteemed colleague. The funeral to be held in the United States. She’d send an email when word came of where donations could be made. People were already eyeing their terminals. Markets were open.

Catherine sat at her desk but didn’t look at her terminal. Two people dead in two days. She hadn’t known Majid’s partner, but Barnstable had been a fixture in her life, even if an unwelcome one. She picked up the stapler she had placed to prevent him from perching on her desk. She wouldn’t need it for that anymore. Now she could use it for stapling.