Harbinger by Shelton S. L

Author:Shelton, S. L. [Shelton, S. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller, Technothriller - CIA, International Suspense
Amazon: B00WF771EE
Goodreads: 25396105
Publisher: Amazon Digital Services
Published: 2015-05-12T07:00:00+00:00

six

Monday, January 31st

12:10 a.m.—Zurich, Switzerland

It was my first time in Zurich. I couldn’t tell if it was a trick of the mind or not, but I could almost smell chocolate and money when we got out of the SUV at the hotel. I stopped and stretched as the valet hurried around to the driver’s side.

“Do you smell that?” I asked Kathrin.

She sniffed the air. “Cold,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s all I smell.”

I chuckled as the bellhop loaded our things on a cart before the valet drove the SUV away.

I had been to other European countries and was always amazed at how unique each one was. In the US, it seemed that the cities were all cut from the same fabric, all with the same restaurants, banks, grocery stores, and department stores with few exceptions. It was as if all the mayors had ordered their cities from the same catalog, and then accessorized them with local flare—a local historical figure cast in bronze or cut from stone, a favorite eatery or prestigious old hotel scattered here and there so they could call it unique.

Zurich was distinctly Swiss. But more than that, it reflected the prestige of being, arguably, the world’s banking center. It was also one of the best places in the world to set up a shell company. The Swiss advertised their shell companies. You could barely read a newspaper without seeing an advertisement for “Vintage Trust Company For Sale” or “Established Swiss Shell For Sale”.

It made sense; in a country where you could bank privately with impunity, there was no need to hide your desire to cover your tracks. It was an environment created by a system of numbered bank accounts—no names required. It was perfect for hiding just about anything.

I hoped it wouldn’t be so successful that the source of the upstream funds would remain hidden from us.

Kathrin and I followed our luggage into the historic Schweizerhof Hotel, opposite the Zurich Hauptbahnhof—the city’s main train station. As soon as I stepped into the lobby, I felt severely underdressed. I was the only man in the lobby who wasn’t wearing an expensive suit—including the employees. Kathrin, to her credit, didn’t even seem to notice that she was the only person wearing military fatigue pants.

The women who passed through the lobby glared at her as if she were the singular cause of the collapse of modern society. She smiled and winked at them as they walked by, scowling at us. She was perfect.

“We were called in from a remote job unexpectedly and hadn’t the time or opportunity to pack appropriate attire,” I explained to the clerk as we registered. “Where might one purchase business attire nearby?”

He seemed relieved there was an explanation—if the two-millimeter rise at the corner of his lips was any indication.

“Bahnhofstrasse…the city’s main shopping district,” he said with a little too much arrogance for my taste. “There you will find clothing for nearly any budget.” He looked at Kathrin out of the corner of his eye.

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