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people
transport humans through wormholes in the universe. You
really think booking flights to Switzerland while we’re
sleeping would be a stretch?”
Blake and Dal glanced at Bellinger who was also
staring at the ceiling.
“At eight tonight,” Sam groaned. “I’ll have the
three of you at LAX.”
Marcie tapped on the door. “Excuse me, Sam, I just
had the weirdest call, a Doctor Drummond. He was asking
for you. He wouldn’t stop rambling, didn’t take a breath. I
tried to say can you hold but I couldn’t slide the words in
edgeways.” Her hand covered her mouth as she suppressed
a slight giggle. “He had a heavy accent, Scottish I believe.
I could hardly follow what he was saying. To make matters
worse we had a bad line.”
Sam tilted his head, parrot fashion. “Was he calling
from LA?”
She gave him an inquisitive look. “It’s the strangest
thing. He said he was calling from Zurich, something
about finding a note, a note written to you from Drew. He
mentioned something about the pier, the pier here in Santa
Monica.”
Sam threw Blake a quizzical face. “You recall
leaving a note for me in Switzerland?”
“Hmm. I was skiing in Geneva about eighteen
months back,” Blake replied. “But no, I didn’t leave any
note.”
    CHAPTER FIVE
Zurich, Hotel Baur Au Lac
March 24
8.07 P: M
    They stepped into the Zurich International Terminal
and ambled toward a wall of greeters. A black suited man
flapped at passengers as they pulled baggage carts toward
exit doors. The black suited man’s sign showed one word,
‘Blake.’ He lowered it, stood erect and smiled as three
passengers passed on by. The black suited man’s smile
dissipated and his shoulders briefly drooped. When he
regained composure he redirected his attention at the few
stragglers still scanning the carousel.
“Hey, over hear,” Blake called.
    The black suited man’s speech impediment became
quickly obvious. “Pleath to meet you. I am Klauth, Mr.
Danzig ith exthpecting you. I hope you had a very good
flight, pleath come thith way.”
    “I’m not much of a salesman,” Dal whispered to
Blake. “But I’ll bet my left nut I can sell this guy a few
esses.”
    He placed their luggage onto a cart and led them
to a platinum colored Rolls Royce Phantom, a private
limousine accessible to special guests of the Baur au Lac.
    Twenty minutes into the drive, Bell said, “This is
styling it. I’ll bet Sam isn’t picking up the tab.”
On arrival at the hotel lobby the three couldn’t help
notice an excessive amount of construction noise. The
nearest concierge, a flush faced man in his early sixties
managed a friendly salutation despite the intermittently
blinking red lights atop a bank of phones.
“Welcome
to
the
Baur
au
Lac,
gentlemen,
madam.”
“That noise,” Dal shrugged, “when’s it gonna
stop?”
“In June, Monsieur,” the concierge replied. He
gave the wall clock a casual glance, “Unless we continue
to suffer further weather delays.”
“Just great,” Dal groaned. He turned on his heels
and eyeballed Blake. “I knew there’d be a catch. And uh,
what’s with that sign?” He flicked a thumb to a red and
white enameled notice: No animals permitted in hotel
except for seeing eye dogs.
“And your point is?” Blake asked.
“Who’s it for, the dog or the blind guy?”
Blake rolled his eyes, gave Dal a gentle jab to
the shoulder. “Good one, Dallas, you should’ve been a
comedian.”
“Yeah well, I’ve gotta try, if I don’t – this noise is
gonna drive me nuckin’ futs.”
Blake raised a finger. “Just thought of it, speaking of
dogs – how’s that golfing buddy of yours doing, you know,
Eddie – the guy whose dog got hit by the golf cart?”
“You ain’t gonna believe it,” a bemused Dal said,
“he took the dog to the vet and the guy lays the dog on the
table, takes a cat out of a cage and has the cat walk all over
the dog. Well, the dog doesn’t move, so the