Authors: Luca Pesaro
BOOM!
The truck in front screeched as it swerved on the road, sounds of crunching metal exploding through the air. Somehow the driver had lost control and rammed the vehicle ahead, smashing it into the following one. The Gendarmes shot forward, rushing to check the damage. Walker breathed out and skirted the mess, careful to avoid the shattered glass from the headlights of the two cars in front. The border police were screaming at the driver and didn’t even turn to look at them as they slid past, into Switzerland.
They drove on, and long minutes later the houses and villas became grander, and then scarcer, until he turned onto the highway that would take them into the south-western part of the country, the Italian-speaking Canton Ticino. Layla soon fell asleep again, her body twitching as she struggled to find a more comfortable position, but eventually she started snoring lightly, almost sounding at peace.
The night’s events and the seven-hour drive had exhausted Walker but he drove on, knowing they needed to get somewhere safe in a hurry. Layla’s wound had turned out to be truly nasty, more than an inch deep and five long. He had managed to clean it a little and staunch the flow of blood by bandaging it tightly, but she would need attention soon. It took another tense ninety minutes until eventually he stopped at a service station, just a few miles outside Lugano. He got out of the car, stretched his aching back and wandered past the pumps to use the single payphone. Luigi answered after the second ring, his voice chirpy.
‘
Pronto?
’
‘Get out of the office and find a place where no one can hear you.’
‘What?’
‘I’ll call you back in a minute.’ Walker put the receiver down and went to buy some water before going back to the booth and dialling again.
‘Can you speak freely now?’
‘Sure. What’s going on? And where are you?’ Luigi sounded surprised, and a little worried. ‘The market is all over the place…’
‘I couldn’t care less. Listen, I’m near Lugano, and in big trouble. I need your help.’
‘Whoa. Anything, man. Just tell me.’
Walker exhaled. ‘Can you meet me at your place in twenty minutes?’
‘Of course.’
‘Don’t mention my name, to anyone.’
‘Right.’
Walker returned to the car to find Layla awake. Her skin was pasty, deep dark circles under her eyes. ‘Hi gorgeous, how are you getting on?’
‘Not too bad,’ she croaked, taking the water bottle. She greedily drank a few mouthfuls before asking, ‘Where are we?’
‘Lugano, still in Switzerland. We’re going to a friend’s house, see if we can sort things out a little.’
‘Are you sure? DM’s death will be on the news soon. Can you trust this guy?’
‘With my life.’
‘How about mine?’
Walker smiled and started the Peugeot, heading back onto the highway. ‘I can always drop you off here, if you want.’
Layla ignored him and they soon drove into town, along the shorter route by the lake. Lugano was a relatively small city: about fifty thousand people, but growing to double that during the summer. It sat around a pretty lake and was built with typical Swiss neatness around the historic centre. It was a wealthy place, hundreds of well-kept houses dotting the beach promenade and the surrounding low mountains.
Walker turned for Castagneta, the tiny suburb where Luigi lived, just a couple of miles away. They drove up the hills along winding semi-private roads until they reached his friend’s place at the bottom of a cul-de-sac surrounded by pine trees.
Luigi’s house was a medium-sized villa with magnificent views over the water and the Ticino valley: a two-story wooden chalet on top of a sheer hundred-yard drop to the lake below. Walker stopped the car and looked around; his friend hadn’t arrived yet. He got out and lit a cigarette, but after a minute or so a loud engine approached and a green Range Rover turned into the cul-de-sac, braking just in front of them.
Luigi stepped out and embraced Walker, then he glanced at Layla still sitting in the Peugeot and his eyebrows arched up.
‘Hi ugly, what’s going on? And who’s that charming lady?’
‘Inside. Is your garage big enough for our car as well?’
‘
Si
, of course.’ He pressed a button on his remote control and a wide door yawned open. ‘Let’s get you in and we’ll chat.’
As Layla went for a quick shower, Walker talked through the events of the previous thirty-six hours with Luigi. When he finished the Italian just nodded silently, stood up and poured himself a large drink. Walker joined him, glancing at the scenery from the massive windows that opened onto Lake Lugano and its valley.
‘Sweet Mother of God.’ Luigi’s voice was shaken. ‘What are you going to do now?’
Walker shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. I need to speak to DM’s brother, but I don’t have his number and it’s probably unlisted since he’s at an army base.’
‘Leave that to me – I’ll check with the office systems. And I’m going to buy a new phone you can use, in my name.’
‘
Grazie
. Then I’ll need to take some cash out of…’
‘Money sounds good. Can I have some?’
Layla glided into the living room. Her hair hung wetly to her shoulders and she wore a sleeveless white dress; the top of her arm was wrapped in a towel that was already turning pink. She was still too pale and her eyes were sunken and bloodshot but she looked a little more alive.
Luigi glanced at Walker and winked as she headed to the couch, curling up on a pillow.
‘I’m out of clothes,’ she said. ‘This is the last clean stuff I have.’
The Italian finished his drink and headed for the stairs. ‘Don’t worry, my wife has millions of clothes and she’s of a size with you, I’d guess.’ He turned and grinned at Layla. ‘Though maybe not quite the same shape.’
Layla smiled, then winced, and her hand went up to her shoulder. Walker stubbed out his cigarette and joined her on the sofa. ‘Let me have a look at that.’
‘It’s getting better.’
‘I’m sure. Show me.’
He unwrapped the towel and then the gauze Luigi had given her. The cut underneath was still bleeding in places, and the swollen skin was turning a deeper shade of red. ‘You have to see a doctor.’
‘No, I don’t. Just get me some pills and I’ll be okay.’
‘This is going to need some stitches. Try not to move your arm too much.’ Walker stood up,
calling out, ‘Mate, where are you?’
Luigi came back down with a pair of long boots and some socks. ‘Yes? Try these on, Layla, then you can go and raid Susan’s wardrobe. I’m sure she won’t mind. Or notice, really.’
‘Do you know a doctor who can help us?’ asked Walker.
Luigi paused, thinking. ‘Eh, it’s difficult. This is Switzerland, where everything is done properly. There isn’t anyone I can trust – any doctor would go to the police for a knife wound. If we were in Sardinia, sure…’
Layla cut him off. ‘I’ll be fine, I just need some general antibiotic.’ She winced. ‘And maybe a painkiller or two.’
‘That’s okay, I have to go back to the office for a while but I can pick something up on the way back. I’ll take a cab. Here are the keys to my car…’ He paused before continuing, ‘I also need to get you a new phone. Any preferences?’
Walker glanced at Layla and she shrugged. ‘Just not a smartphone, anything old and simple will do.’
‘Done. And feel free to use my laptop while I’m gone.’
Walker sighed, tiredness and the release of tension catching up on him all of a sudden. ‘Thank you, man. I owe you big.’
‘We’ll call it even on the eight grand you won from me on our Italian election bet.’
Walker smiled. ‘I thought your word was your bond.’
‘I’m not a trader, Yours. Thank God.’
Luigi left and Walker brought out the PC from his friend’s studio, setting it up on a coffee table near Layla’s couch. After a few minutes of typing he checked the message carefully to make sure Mosha would not freak out and contact the police. ‘
Don’t believe a word of what you hear
,’ it read. ‘
Someone is after me, and I might need you to repay that debt soon. It probably won’t even be illegal. I’ll be in touch in the next few days. Yours
.’
Walker sent the email to the Serb’s private account and slid next to Layla, noticing she was shivering.
‘Are you cold?’
‘A little. I think it’s the shock.’
‘Wait here.’ He went upstairs, searching for a blanket. When he returned she had already taken hold of the laptop and was scanning through some news websites.
‘Anything yet?’ Walker laid the heavy quilt on her shoulders, carefully folding it around her wounded arm. Layla turned to him and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. ‘Thank you. I’m sorry about… everything.’
‘Me too.’ He glanced at the BBC news-page she had pulled up, and then at the City Life website, but there was no mention of DM or anything else. ‘So it’s not out yet?’
‘Doesn’t look like it. But the police wouldn’t tell the press for a few hours anyway, not before they have a first idea of what’s going on.’
‘Good. I’ll go and get some money out, then.’
‘If you use your passport they’ll know where we are. You can’t wire it from the UK.’
Walker nodded. ‘I know my banking. Home wasn’t the only place where I kept some cash hidden, and this is Switzerland. You don’t need a passport to use a numbered account, not in the right private banks.’
‘That’s impressive.’ Layla coughed, and then grimaced. ‘Maybe I’ll offer you a job after all this.’
‘I’m too expensive for you.’
‘Probably. What about the rest of your plan?’
Walker studied her, considering. She was still shivering, and her bright eyes looked feverish. For the first time since he had met her Layla looked fragile, and a little scared. If it hadn’t been for her, he wouldn’t be in such a mess. But without her help, he might also be already dead. He shrugged, deciding to go with his instincts.
‘I need to meet up with DM’s brother, JS. Luigi is going to find his phone number – he’s the only one who could possibly know about DeepShare’s access codes. I must convince him I had nothing to do with the murder, and if he believes me and he’s got something that can help, then…’
‘There’s a lot of
ifs
in this plan.’ Layla leaned back onto the couch, her naked feet pushing against his leg and slipping behind his back.
Walker ignored her and continued, ‘I’ll work on the software, figure out all the parts I don’t know much about. Then I’ll see if it can be used to prove I’m innocent and Frankel is behind all this.’
‘Is that Frankel Schwartz, the investment bank?’ She adjusted herself, trying to get comfortable without hurting her arm further.
‘Yes. DM thought they were after him to steal DeepOmega, the secret version we were working on.’
‘And how would finding this DeepShare help?’
‘I don’t know yet – I need to access it first. But you have no idea how powerful Omega is. It was developed for financial markets, but DM has been expanding it for years to do a lot of other stuff. Nothing out there can touch it, especially when it comes to uncovering information and examining patterns of behaviour.’
‘And you’re positive Frankel, or whoever, didn’t take it from DM when they killed him?’
‘If they did, what were those thugs doing in Reims last night?’
‘Good question.’
Walker stood up, looking around the living room. ‘So that’s my plan.’ He spotted Luigi’s car keys and went to pick them up.
Layla had stretched out on the couch, her eyes closed. ‘It doesn’t sound like much, to be honest,’ she whispered.
Walker shrugged. ‘I’m going to the bank. If you come up with a better idea, let me know.’
Planning
The Banca Cantonale di Lugano occupied a turn-of-the century building hidden beyond a sharp bend in a peripheral road, on the other side of town. Walker parked Luigi’s car a few hundred metres further ahead, in the shade of a massive pine tree. Though he had tried to sound calm to Layla, he was worried about the security cameras that would be spying on him from everywhere around the bank, and inside. The baseball cap he had taken from Luigi’s wardrobe felt like scant protection and he shivered in the chilly air, hurrying but trying not to look conspicuous as he tracked back.
The road was almost deserted, and so was the tiny carpark. Small glass doors beckoned from the front of the building, leading him into a foyer of gleaming marble and steel, dominated by a huge staircase rising up the right side. A receptionist waited discreetly behind a small corner desk and smiled at him as he approached, struggling not to stare at the wall-set glass eyes above her coiffured hair.
‘
Buongiorno
. Can I help you?’ she said.
‘I’m…’ Walker croaked, cleared his throat. ‘I’m a client of Signor Ventura.’
‘Ventura? I’m afraid he’s away, this week. Will anyone else in Numbered Accounts suit?’
Walker swore under his breath. He didn’t want to use his ID, but he needed the money. Desperately. ‘Sure,’ he answered, trying to sound confident.
The lady picked up a phone and dialled. Walker turned around, looking away from the small cameras only to find himself staring into a bigger one, just above a pair of walnut doors. Trying to avoid them was useless, and he gave up.
A couple of minutes later a heavyset man in a brown suit came down the marble steps, looked at him gravely and offered his hand. ‘Welcome, sir. I’m Tom Ghizzoni. Would you follow me to my office?’
Walker nodded and stepped after him, along the half-spiral up to the second floor. His brain spun through scenarios, wondering if they were going to try and detain him as the police arrived.
Just calm down and be normal
. The office door closed behind him with a solid thunk and he sat down, bumping his knee on the desk.
‘How may I help you?’
‘I have an account – numbered. I need to withdraw some money, but I just realised I forgot my
passport and I guess…’ Showing up at the bank had been a really bad idea. But he’d be a sitting duck without any cash.
Ghizzoni glanced at his monitor, then back to Walker’s face. He waved his hand, and smiled.
‘Not a problem, of course. What is the account number?’