Guido Pepi read the detailed report with a studious frown as he sat alone in his s
tudy, his twenty-six year old daughter, Maria, wandering in. She glanced at the report, ran a hand through his hair and left him alone. Pepi had hardly noticed, his attention focused, only glancing up after she had left.
Ten minutes later he placed down the report, lifting a cold coffee before he noticed the drink’s temperature, his right hand man stepping in after a knock.
‘Just got back, sir.’
‘Obviously,’ Pepi lightly commented.
‘That the K2 report?’ his assistant enquired, stood at the side of the desk.
Pepi nodded very slowly as he stared down the length of his study. ‘Yes,’ he sighed. ‘And quite … strange. A former British Intelligence officer, who appears to have inherited all of Gunter’s money, makes an big effort in a show of force to the Serbs, then gives them everything they could want.’
‘That does seem strange, sir.’
Pepi looked up. ‘I’d almost believe that this man did not inherit the money, that he is … an actor, working for the Swiss Government, or the Bank Society.’
‘He does not seem to be acting like someone who had inherited the money.’
‘When it comes to K2, we should know better than to… apply normal logic.’
‘Our people inside have noticed nothing strange, sir.’
Pepi continued to stare down the length of the room. ‘Apart from the fact that this … this very rich old man appeases those who might be his enemies. Why? Why did he do it? And why the show of force first? And why is he not sat on a beach somewhere?’
‘As you said, sir, an actor. Or at least in league with the Swiss Government.’
‘All of our people inside say otherwise, especially inside the Bank Society.’ He heaved a big sigh, adopting a puzzled expression. ‘So far I cannot piece this puzzle together. Nothing seems to fit.’
‘The bomb, sir.’
‘Yes. That should show us what is really going on.’