She stepped toward the pastor, her hand extended. “Yes, I’m Amanda Higgs. And you are?”
Philippe’s eyes started to tear as he reached out and clasped Amanda’s hand with both of his. “I am Pastor Philippe Bachand. I knew your father well.”
“You knew Dad?”
“I did indeed. A fine man,” Phillipe said, still holding on to Amanda’s hand. “I can’t honestly say that you look like him, but you certainly have his eyes.”
Amanda smiled. “Thank you. I’ve been told that a few times.”
The other woman stepped forward and extended her hand. “I’m Carmen.”
Carmen then looked at Zane. He hesitated, and then reached out and grabbed Philippe’s shoulder. “I’m Zane. I apologize for… well, my unannounced entry.”
Philippe nodded, still a bit wary of the large man.
“Unfortunately, we came here not knowing what to expect. We didn’t know who to ask for or what we were going to find. I could tell you knew something but knew you weren’t going to open up.”
“I understand.”
“So, you spoke to him recently?” Zane asked, not wanting to waste any time. With the blizzard in full force, it wasn’t likely the pastor planned on sticking around for long.
“Ian and I spoke just before he left Switzerland. He said some bad things had happened, and he feared for his life. And now…”
“Don’t beat yourself up,” Zane said. “We can only assume he had a good reason for keeping the whole thing under wraps.”
“Is that all he told you?” Carmen asked.
Philippe shook his head. “No. He said if something happened to him, Amanda would probably visit. But if not her, others would come. He made me promise I'd talk to no one but Amanda.”
“Now what happened tonight makes sense,” Zane said, and he told the pastor about their journey to Vienna and the clue they had found.
Philippe frowned. “Ian was a smart man, but the whole thing is strange. Why wouldn’t he just tell his daughter to come to Geneva and speak to me directly? It would have saved a lot of time and effort.”
“I think I have that part figured out,” Carmen said. “The clue we found in Vienna is something only Amanda or someone close to her would know. So, if he had sent the letter out with just your name and contact information and it had fallen into the wrong hands, it would have led the bad guys directly to you. In the end, he did it to protect you, Philippe.”
“That makes sense now,” Philippe said.
“So, that brings us to tonight,” Amanda said. “Now that we’re here, I’m assuming Dad wanted you to pass along a message to me.”
“Not exactly.” Philippe bent down, pulled the Bible out of the safe, and placed it on the desk in front of Amanda.
“Wow, it’s beautiful,” she whispered, running her hand across the leather-bound cover. “Only I’m not sure that’s what we’re looking for.”
“I’m very sorry to disappoint you, but it’s all I have.”
“Let me have a look,” Zane said, taking the Bible from Amanda. He opened it up to the center as if trying to confirm that indeed it was a real Bible, and not simply a container that looked like one. He held it up by the spine and shook it to see if anything fell out. Nothing.
“Oh,” Philippe said, snapping his fingers. “There is one thing I need to show you, Amanda. Your father wrote you a personal note in the front. Perhaps that’s what you’re looking for.”
Amanda took the Bible from Zane and opened it to the first page. She read it twice and then looked up. “This isn’t exactly what we’re looking for, but I like it.” She ran her finger across the handwritten words. “He mentions my favorite verse.”
“Yes, I’ve been wondering which verse he was referring to,” Philippe declared.
“John 15:13. 'Greater love has no one than this; to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.'”
“One of my favorites as well,” Philippe said.
Amanda smiled at the pastor with genuine affection. Then she frowned. “Wait a minute.” She flipped through the pages and then came to a stop toward the back. After staring at the page for a moment, she turned the Bible clockwise and held it close to her face, as though reading something along the inner crease. “Oh boy.”
“What?” Zane asked.
“I found something.” Amanda handed him the Bible and pointed to tiny handwriting printed along the crease. As Zane read, he raised his eyebrows.
“What is it?” Carmen asked.
“It’s the name of an office park,” Zane replied. “There’s only one problem — no city is given.”
Carmen pulled out her phone and began to tap on the screen. “Give me a sec.”
“May I see it?” Philippe asked. Zane handed the book to him. Philippe held it up close to his face and studied it for a moment before dropping it to his side. “I know this place. And now it all makes sense.”
Carmen stopped tapping on her phone.
“It’s west Geneva, along the north shore of the Rhone. The buildings are generally owned or leased by companies that like to maintain secrecy, such as those operating in technology or defense. It’s the typical sort of arrangement you’d expect to find in Switzerland.”
Zane frowned. “So why do you say it all makes sense now?”
“Because that is where Ian worked when he came to Geneva. But Ian didn’t just work in one place. He told me his job responsibilities took him to several locations, the main one being somewhere east of Lake Geneva. Our city was one of his other locations, and that’s how he found me. At some point he asked one of the locals where he could find a Protestant church, and someone suggested he visit us here at the St. Pierre Cathedral. I happened to be the pastor on duty the day he showed up, and we connected from the beginning. He was a fine man and had lots of questions about faith.”
Amanda smiled.
“About the place he worked here in Geneva, the office park… can you tell us more about that?” Zane asked.
“It was kind of interesting how it came up. He let the name slip one day, and I knew where he was talking about because my nephew works there.”
“Your nephew worked with Ian Higgs?” Carmen asked.
“No, he works for a company in one of the other buildings.”
Carmen was nodding. “Well, it seems obvious why Ian left this clue with you, Pastor Bachand. It sounds like you’re familiar with the location.”
“Not only the location, but I’m actually familiar with Ian’s building.”
Zane sat down in one of the empty chairs. “You are?”
“Yes. A month or so ago we had agreed to do lunch together. Ian wanted to go to a bistro near his office, so he offered to let me use the parking lot associated with his building, since there wasn’t much parking available near the restaurant.”
“Did you go into the building?” Carmen asked.
“I did not,” Philippe replied. “I simply pulled into the numbered space he told me to park in, and we walked to the café from there.”
“Can you tell us anything about the building?” Zane asked.
“Not much,” Philippe admitted. “I do know that Ian’s offices were not on the ground floor. I saw a name on the ground-floor window and recognized it, though. It's an investment firm of some kind, used by Eastern Europeans.”
Carmen looked over at Zane. “Something tells me that investment firm might be owned by Alexander Mironov. I seem to remember reading that there were a few financial pieces to his holdings.”
“Possibly,” Zane mused. “That would certainly make sense, given the location and the clientele.”
“There is one other thing,” Philippe said. “They had strange hours of operation. They operated primarily in the evening. In fact, on the night we ate dinner at the bistro, Ian was just getting to work.”
Carmen appeared intrigued. “Did he say why they operated at night?” she asked.