She didn’t stop to consider the absurdity of running toward the gondola. If she had been thinking clearly, she probably would have stayed on the platform and done her best to convince the operator to reverse the cable once McKinley was clear.
But she didn’t think. She turned and ran, pausing only to scramble over the barrier. She heard the tall woman screaming at her, but Zoe pressed quickly through the people milling around outside the restaurant and lift house then crossed the open stretch to the base of the support tower. McKinley perched atop the cable car, high above her head with the doors to the gondola standing open below him. Either the doors were broken, or the stop of the lift had disabled them, because they hadn’t snapped back into place as they had after Amy fell.
There was still no sign of Jack.
The group around Amy, which was only a few feet away, had grown. Now medical people were attending to her, and most of the bystanders who’d come to see what had happened to her had transferred their attention to McKinley’s impromptu high wire act. A single long arm connected the gondola car to the cable, and McKinley had embraced it like a lover as he extended his free hand for the cable. A chorus of gasps sounded around Zoe as the spectators realized what McKinley was about to do.
It wasn’t far to the support tower. Wheels that moved the cable extended out from the support column and several sections of metal ran alongside the wheels. If McKinley could reach the metal, he could move along those sections like a kid swinging along monkey bars on a playground. Within a few swings, the central pole with the ladder would be within reach—well, within a long reach—but if he made it that far, Zoe was sure he’d make it to the ladder.
She felt as if she had cotton stuffed in her ears. People shouted and milled around, but she couldn’t hear anything distinctly. Her intense focus on those open gondola doors made everything else fuzzy and faint. She searched for movement inside the gondola, but didn’t see anything.
McKinley straightened, released the support arm of the gondola, and transferred both hands to the cable. Zoe had seen him move lightning fast when he left the restaurant, but the height had slowed him down and his movements were methodical and slow as if someone had hit the slow motion button.
McKinley inched his hands along the cable and the gondola rocked. At first, Zoe thought it was because of McKinley’s shift in weight, but then it happened again, when McKinley wasn’t moving.
“Jack,” Zoe breathed and wasn’t at all surprised when he appeared between the open doors. He looked down. People shouted and pointed.
If the scene had been moving in slow motion before, it suddenly skipped into fast forward. McKinley saw his chance and moved back to the support arm attached to the gondola. He raised his red-booted foot and stomped down, aiming for Jack’s head, intending to send him sprawling out of the gondola like Amy.
But the shouts and pointing must have clued in Jack enough that he realized something was wrong, or his instinctive dislike of heights kicked in. He ducked backward. McKinley’s foot sailed down and, without Jack’s head there to connect with and stop it as he expected, it continued onward, pulling McKinley off balance. He flailed, lost his grip, and fell.
Jack reached out, caught a bit of his jacket, and McKinley jerked to a stop to the accompaniment of a chorus of gasps from around Zoe.
Zoe was beyond gasping. She was barely breathing as she watched the fabric strain against Jack’s fingers. Jack had both feet braced against the open doors of the gondola, which had tipped to the side because of their weight. McKinley’s red boots twitched and windmilled as he dangled.
Jack’s calm and only slightly strained voice drifted down. “Your hand. Give me your hand.”
McKinley reached one arm upward. As their fingers connected, the fabric ripped and an object plunged to the ground. Zoe didn’t even have time to jump back before something small and black hit the snow near her feet.
The tall woman—Zoe hadn’t even realized she’d followed her—picked it up. It was the fanny pack that Amy had given to McKinley.
Jack now had a solid grip on McKinley’s wrist, and, unbelievably, they seemed to be having a conversation. McKinley said something indistinguishable.
Jack shouted, “Any police officers down there?”
The tall woman shouted back. “Yes. We’ll get you down as soon as we can.”
Jack ignored the reassurances. “I thought there would be. Okay, go ahead.”
There was a second’s pause. Zoe squinted against the swirling flakes. McKinley’s face almost looked sulky. Then Jack shifted a bit, and McKinley dipped an inch, which erased that look from his face. “Okay,” he said to Jack, then looked down. “Amy did it.”
Instinctively, Zoe looked to the hubbub around Amy. Medics gently placed her on a flat board. Her eyes were closed. If she heard McKinley’s accusation, she didn’t react. Zoe supposed Amy was probably in pain and in shock and the least of her worries was what McKinley was saying.
McKinley continued, “Amy Beck. She took the Flawless Set and framed that insurance guy and the couple.”
Zoe spared a quick glance at the policewoman. She had unzipped the bag. She didn’t pull anything out, but Zoe caught the sparkle and flash of gems. She noticed Zoe’s attention and yanked the zipper closed.
At a few murmurs from Jack, McKinley added, “Jack and Zoe Andrews. They had nothing to do with it.”
***
After McKinley shouted his confession, a scissor lift lumbered onto the scene. The snow was deep, and it got stuck, but it did manage to get close enough so that, first McKinley, and then Jack were able to climb in and be lowered to the ground.
Once Jack was down, Zoe sailed into his arms, noticing one eye was swollen shut and the corner of his mouth was bleeding. She wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she could. “That was insane. I was terrified.”
He rubbed his cheek against her hair. “So was I. Well, I would have been if I’d been able to think about it for a moment. Things happened fast.”
“Not on the ground, they didn’t. It felt like you were hanging there forever.”
A discreet cough sounded. “You must come with me, please.”
Zoe recognized the speaker instantly. His thick-framed glasses and hooked nose were unmistakable, the man from the balcony. Jack had knocked this guy unconscious. Felix something. Had he tracked them down? Was he about to throw a punch at Jack’s unswollen eye? But that was absurd. Jack had been behind this guy when Jack smashed him on the head—he had never seen Jack. And he didn’t look as if he was bent on revenge. In fact, he looked slightly embarrassed at interrupting them.
They both hesitated, and the man said in his heavily German-accent English, “Please. It is,” he paused, working to find the words, “official business.”
Zoe could almost see Jack put on his all-business mode. “We’d like to speak with Colonel Alessi,” he said.
“We know he’s here. We saw him earlier,” Zoe added.
The man inclined his head. “Of course.”
“You can arrange that?” Zoe asked.
“Assuredly. He has worked closely with us on this matter.” The man’s gaze strayed to the scissor lift and the empty gondola overhead.
“Us?” Jack asked.
“The Criminal Intelligence Service of Austria. This way, please.”
He escorted Zoe and Jack to the offices of the ski area management company, which the police officials had obviously commandeered. Large maps of the ski area as well as a white board filled with incomprehensible lists in German hung on the walls around the long table. He said he would return shortly.
“Where do you think Harrington is?” Zoe asked.
“Probably in a room down the hall. They’ll want to keep us separate, see if our stories match up.”
Zoe swiveled in her chair nervously. After the heightened reality of the last few hours, she was returning to normal, noticing that her pinched toes pained her and that her lips were chapped, miniscule details that the dramatic events had blocked out but were now coming back into focus. “Do you think that door is locked?”
“Ready to make a run for it?” Jack asked.
“You know me well,” Zoe said lightly, but she was itching to get out of the room and down the mountain. “I’d rather get out of here, but I know we have to sort this out.” She sighed and forced herself to lean back in the chair. “So, Felix is with the Austrian police.”
Jack moved the cold pack one of the medics had given him to a different position on his eye. “Better not to mention I was the one who brained him, I think.”
“I agree, but I was thinking more about how it puts a new spin on everything.”
“It does indeed. Felix said Alessi was working with ‘us,’ the Austrian police.”
“And the tall policewoman with Alessi sounds American. So it looks like we have Italian, Austrian, and U.S. law enforcement…a cooperative investigation.”
“Appears so.” Jack tipped his head to nod in agreement, but checked the movement and winced. “Interpol, maybe.”
The door whipped open and the tall policewoman entered, her ski pants making a swishing sound as she came into the room. She had removed her white ski jacket, which revealed a white turtleneck and a shiny police badge. Zoe hadn’t seen her since the moment McKinley stepped off the scissor lift. She had grabbed his arm in her crushing grip and carted him away.
She tossed the fanny pack on the table, and the jewels partially spilled out, clattering against the table. Zoe knew diamonds were one of the hardest substances on earth, but the way the woman was handling them seemed especially cavalier. “I’m Detective Neely from Scotland Yard. Colonel Alessi you already know. Detective Felix Wenzel is from the Austrian police,” she said as the men took seats across the table. So, Zoe thought, no Americans were involved, but there was definitely some international cooperation going on.
“Mrs. Andrews and I have met,” Wenzel said, with a steady, almost warning gaze at Zoe. “Briefly.”
Zoe got it. He remembered her from the balcony and was reluctant to broadcast the fact that he’d been knocked unconscious. “Yes,” Zoe said. “Very briefly.”
Neely noticed the exchange but didn’t ask about it. Instead, she said, “My colleagues have asked me to lead this…” Zoe realized she was about to say interrogation, but changed her mind and finished with, “session because I speak English. They may have additional questions for you later. Now, I suggest you start talking.”
Zoe felt her palms go sweaty. This wasn’t the friendly chat she’d expected where she and Jack could explain what had happened. Alessi’s face mirrored Neely’s impassive expression. Only Wenzel’s face had a hint of approachability, but the language barrier would clearly be a factor.
Jack put the cold pack on the table. “This seems a little confrontational, considering that McKinley told you we weren’t involved.”
“McKinley said that under duress. He’s not talking now, so I suggest you take advantage of the opportunity and get on our good side.”
“We aren’t involved in this,” Zoe said. “Well, we’ve been dragged into it, but we didn’t steal anything. Amy committed the thefts and set up Harrington as well as us to take the blame. She said that to McKinley.” Zoe looked at Wenzel. “You were there. You had to have heard her say it, too.”
Behind his thick-framed glasses, Wenzel blinked rapidly, then glanced at the other investigators. Outside, Zoe had thought he was younger, but under the fluorescent lights, she could see the fine lines spraying out around his eyes and guessed he was older than she originally thought, probably in his thirties. “Yes, I can confirm,” he said, carefully selecting the correct English words.
Jack leaned forward sharply. “You were investigating him, weren’t you? You had McKinley under surveillance. Zoe saw you on the street earlier and—”
“Yes. That is correct.” This time Wenzel managed to get his words out quickly, cutting off Jack before he could say anything about the balcony. If the Austrian police were watching McKinley, the last thing they’d want would be Zoe lurking on the balcony. No wonder Wenzel had pulled her away from McKinley’s and Amy’s rooms.
“So if you’ve had him under surveillance, you can also confirm that we—Zoe, myself, and Harrington—have had no contact with him.” Jack obviously felt Wenzel was more likely to help them than the other investigators.
Wenzel touched the frame of his glasses, straightening them. “Yes, that is true…for three weeks.”
Detective Neely pushed up the sleeves of her turtleneck and crossed her arms. “But you could still have been in contact with him. Through an intermediary—Amy Beck.”
“We had never met her, never even seen her until the opening of the exhibit.” Zoe shot a quick look at Jack. “Neither of us ever talked to her, even when we made arrangements for the trip.”
“That’s right,” Jack said. “Harrington handled everything. I never went through his assistant. If you check, you’ll find we have had no contact with her…ever.”
Wenzel consulted a stack of papers he’d brought in with him. “But the five of you met at the top of the Zugspitze yesterday. Finalizing plans for the transfer?”
“No, Amy wasn’t there,” Zoe said. “We followed Harrington there. We were mistaken at first as well and thought Harrington had taken the Flawless Set. You see, we knew we hadn’t taken it, so we assumed it had to be Harrington. We were trying to find him, so we could turn him in to prove our innocence. But then we realized he’d been framed as well. McKinley was reselling the stolen goods to the insurance company—Harrington’s told you all this, right? How he’s suspected an inside job and was tracking the jewels himself?” Zoe realized she was getting sidetracked and went back to her first point. “Anyway, Amy wasn’t there on the Zugspitze.”
Wenzel thumbed through a folder then slid several photographs across the table. The first photos showed Harrington and McKinley seated across the table from each other, the next was a shot of Zoe and Jack, also seated at one of the tables. The last photo was a wider shot of Zoe after she’d stood and moved around the open area to take pictures. Wenzel tapped a figure on the edge of the picture.
Zoe hunched over the pictures. “That is her—that’s Amy.” Zoe turned to Jack. “She was there. She saw Harrington. She’s the one who ran him off the road. It had to be her. McKinley had deviated from their plan—he said that to Amy that night—you must have heard that, too,” Zoe said, switching back to Wenzel. “Amy was checking up on McKinley. It wouldn’t be hard to find out where he was. McKinley was always sending tweets. He posted several about skiing on the Zugspitze that day. If she was here in Ischgl, it would only take her around two hours to get over to the Zugspitze. When she saw Harrington, she panicked. She assumed he’d be back in Rome in custody, not recovering stolen gems. Tell me, has she been driving a gray hatchback? Because that’s the car that forced Harrington off the road right after he left the meeting with McKinley.”