Mélanie Mercier née Markowitz (16)

The suicide?

Jean Michel Jakobowicz, UNOG

The children of Mélanie Mercier, née Markowitz, had been kidnapped by a stranger. One of her friends had been killed. On the other side of the world, a man who had been nearly ruined by Mélanie’s work had decided to seek his revenge.

— No, it is not possible, Mélanie repeated as she paced the floor of her apartment. No, it is not possible; they cannot have done this. But why? Why? What could I have done to them?

Then all of a sudden she stopped in front of her bed and picked up the telephone that sat on the night table. She dialled the number. The phone rang… once… twice…

— Come on, pick up Jerome, she said in a high- pitched voice. The one time I need you to be there, please answer. Answer: Our children have disappeared. This time is for real. Answer, I beg you. — I am not at home right now, please leave a message.

Mélanie slammed down the phone.

— A message is not what I need from you, Jerome.

Since their divorce it was the first time that Mélanie felt completely alone. After all, Jerome was not such a bad guy but…

Bourg en Bresse: the Hospital

— I am only a good-for-nothing! A good-for-nothing! — Father, no! It is not your fault! They used knock- out gas. You could not have done anything, Mélanie said to her father. — But if I had been sleeping in the children’s bed- room, they would not have been kidnapped. — No, it is my fault, Mélanie said, I should never have accepted the police’s plan. We tried to trick people that are cleverer than we are, people who are out to get me. And the worst part is that I don’t even know why. Mélanie began to sob. — And where is Jerome during all this? asked her father. — I couldn’t reach him. He has been calling me for days to ask about the children, and now I don’t know what has become of him. He must be out look- ing for them. I don’t know how he is going to react when he learns that I lied to him. — Enough. When you are done moaning perhaps you can both begin to see the truth.

It was Melanie’s mother who had just spoken. She was tucked into one of the armchairs in the hospital room where her husband had been brought after the night’s events.

— What truth is that? Mélanie demanded. It is all just words. My children have disappeared and the police have no clues. I don’t know what else we can do besides wait. — I know you both think I am an old fool, Mélanie’s mother replied, since you didn’t trust me enough to tell me about your bogus kidnapping plan. But for God sakes, try to use your head! — I would like to see you in my situation, Mélanie said. It is easy to see that it is not your children that have disappeared. — Thank God for that, the mother said sadly. — I’m sorry mother, I don’t even know what I am saying anymore
— First things first: Your children are alive, said Mrs. Markowitz. — How do you know that? asked her husband. — Only because if they had wanted to kill them, they would not have gone to the trouble of kidnap- ping them. So they care about the children’s lives and, to some extent, they must also care about yours, you old fool, she added while looking at her husband, since they didn’t kill you either.

Mélanie and her father suddenly began listening with great interest to the old woman.

— So, she continued, perhaps they don’t really want to hurt anyone, they only want to scare us, or per- haps they want something from you. — But I don’t have anything, Mélanie said hopelessly. — In your work, don’t you know secrets that could…. — Oh mother, I am a simple economist, not a spy. Everything I know is public knowledge. — But your survey, replied her mother, it made a lot of noise. I imagine that some people were not very happy with that noise. — That is true, Mélanie said, but it is not my fault if the world economy is not as strong as people thought. And even if it had anything to do with that, I don’t see how kidnapping my children would have an effect on the stock market. — They could demand that you publish a retraction! Mrs. Markowitz said. — But even if I published a million retractions that would not make the economy grow any faster, Mélanie replied. — And your Jerome, what does he have to say about it? asked Mrs. Markowitz. — First of all, he is not MY Jerome, replied Mélanie. But he is very worried. At one point he even wanted to bring in his “friends” to get the children back. That was before the kids were even kidnapped for real. — And since then? asked Mrs. Markowitz. — I don’t know. I tried to call him several times but he didn’t answer.

Geneva, an apartment in Champel, 7: 30

A blond man, 6 feet 4 inches tall, knocks on the door of an opulent apartment. A man in pyjamas, his face swollen with sleep, opens the door. Despite the sleep, his face betrays his surprise. He tries to shut the door but the blond man throws it back violently and enters the apartment, knocking down the man in pyjamas.

St. Lucia Island in the Caribbean

John Gardiner is in the middle of taking his break- fast on the oceanfront terrace of the Seaview Hotel. After a delicious juice of exotic fruits, he sips the strong coffee that is his preference. In front of him is a pile of newspapers. He picks one up, the Tribune de Genève, and thumbs through it with disinterest. Then an article on page 14 catches his attention. A big smile grows on his face.

Money Manager of Geneva Fortune Commits Suicide

“The lifeless body of Mr. Erwin Müllbach was found Thursday morning in his bathroom by his maid, Mrs. Gonzales. According to preliminary reports, Müllbach ended his life by slitting his wrists in his bathtub.

For some time Müllbach had managed large sums of money. In particular he managed a certain number of pension funds that recently suffered serious financial setbacks. The stock market crash left several funds that he managed in a catastrophic situation. According to analysts, the actuarial deficit of some of the funds has climbed to more than several million dollars.”

John Gardiner put down his newspaper with jubilation. His revenge had begun. There was a good chance that the other newspapers that he would find in front of him in the days to come would carry more news of a very similar nature.