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disembarking,
David drove the final few miles into the lakeside resort of Weggis, and parked
his hire car on the quay near an open-air bandstand where a three-piece
orchestra was playing Strauss.
    The scene could have come straight from the
lid of a chocolate box. The flowerbeds, magnolias, palms and fig trees paraded
a palette of colors in the warm September sunshine while a paddle steamer
glided gracefully past on the tranquil lake against a backdrop of snow capped
mountains. It was as beautiful and peaceful a place as he had ever seen, so he
sat for a while listening to the orchestra and soaking up the afternoon sun,
trying to relax.
    He’d been looking forward to this trip to
Europe for years, since before Aunt Freda had died in fact. While she was over
in New York with them, just after his father’s death, she’d promised him a
vacation at her chateau, or Schloss, as she called it, on the lake. But she’d
died before he was able to come.
    He could remember vividly how upset and
disappointed he’d been, when a few months after her visit his mother had
received a letter from Aunt Freda telling them that she was to be married to an
English nobleman, Sir Ross Webley of Hertfordshire.
    She’d sounded really happy and excited in
the letter, and he’d been bitterly jealous. Looking back later, he’d realized
it was just a silly schoolboy infatuation, but at the time, he’d been deeply in
love with his glamorous rich aunt, and he hated the thought of losing her to
another man.
    Then, not long afterwards, they’d received
another letter, this time from Aunt Freda’s lawyer here in Weggis, regretfully
informing them that she had died from a heart attack whilst at her new
husband’s estate in England. His mother had been very upset by Freda’s death
and by the fact that they had not been left anything in the will, especially
since Freda had been sending them money regularly and had promised to pay for
David’s college education. She’d been sure there was something fishy about her
sister-in-law’s death, but there’d been nothing she could do about it. David
remembered how he’d cried for a week, then vowed that one day, when he was a
man, he would go to Europe and find out what really happened to her.
    But without Freda’s help, the following
years had been tough, working his way through college, then finding a job and
supporting his mother. He’d more or less given up the idea of ever getting to
Europe when the chance of a trip at the Bureau’s expense had come up. He’d
arranged to fly home a week after the rest of the team so that he could take
his long awaited European vacation. Having his return airfare covered by the
Bureau left him with just his hire car and accommodation to pay for the week,
which he figured was a pretty good deal.
    He’d intended to look Webley up when he got
to England and couldn’t believe his luck when he’d found out the Englishman was
going to be in Monaco at the same time he was there. He’d managed to arrange an
invitation to the party on the rich Italian guy’s yacht through the embassy,
but had been badly disturbed by the reception he’d been given by his uncle. It
had been preying on his mind ever since.
    He realized now, after thinking about it
all morning, that he’d been very naïve. Aunt Freda had been such a wonderful
person, he’d just assumed that the man she’d chosen to marry would be wonderful
too. He’d built up a picture in his mind of Sir Ross as an elderly gentleman,
living on a large country estate in regal fashion, who would accept the nephew
of his dear departed wife as a long lost family member and invite him to stay.
    Instead, his uncle had turned out to be a
swarthy, smooth, rather petulant playboy, much younger than he’d expected, with
the same guarded, nervous look in his eye as the hundreds of corrupt
businessmen he’d dealt with during his time at the Bureau. Webley, he decided,
was definitely a man with secrets that needed looking