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The man laughed and momentarily released her arm in order to take a swallow of wine, slurping it more like someone drinking water on a hot day.

“I must tell you something, mademoiselle,” said the man, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his suit coat. “You are very beautiful, and a beautiful woman should never be left alone.”

“You’re too kind.”

“And I seem to hear an accent. You are American, no?”

“Italian.”

“Well, welcome to Geneva. You know, you must excuse me, but there aren’t many beautiful women like you here in Geneva. Where your country is blessed, ours seems to be cursed.”

“Thank you,” replied Carmen, feigning embarrassment. “But that’s not true about Switzerland. We’ve been in Geneva for several days now, and I’ve seen many beautiful women.”

“Perhaps.” The man's eyes roamed over the operative while he took another drink. Carmen predicted he would have to be carried out of the hall before the night was over. “Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Francois Maisonet. And yours?”

“My name is Mariella,” replied Carmen. “And if you don’t mind, I need to—”

“What a beautiful name.” Francois reached for her arm once again. Carmen pulled it away but stopped short of walking off. “It’s almost musical. So tell me, Mademoiselle Mariella, what brings you and your… ummm, boyfriend… to the celebration tonight? I’m one of the finance directors at CERN, so perhaps I know him.”

Scusi? Excuse me?” Carmen asked, trying to buy some time.

“What brings you and your friend here tonight?” The man's breath was a noxious combination of mouthwash and wine.

“Oh, uh… my boyfriend is a journalist and is writing an article about one of the speakers,” Carmen said, giving him their prearranged story.

“Who does he write for?” Francois asked.

Without hesitating she gave him the name of a fictitious scientific journal.

“Never heard of it,” Francois stated with a shrug. “Well, I hope he’s not here to cover Markus VanGelder, our lovely keynote speaker.”

Carmen noted the man’s sarcasm. “To be honest I can’t remember the person’s name. We seldom talk about his—”

“Strange fellow, that VanGelder,” said Francois, his voice suddenly taking a more serious tone. “Always keeps to himself. I’ve passed him a thousand times out at the laboratoire, and never once has he spoken to me. Arrogant Dutch bast—”

“Well, as you probably know, there are quite a few characters in the scientific community.”

“If your friend is here to cover VanGelder, you must see if he knows anything about the rumors.” Francois had a twinkle in his eye.

Carmen was about to express the need to use the restroom herself and walk off, but something about the man’s question caused her to linger. “Rumors? What rumors?”

Francois looked around to make sure no one was listening. He put his hand on Carmen’s shoulder and positioned his mouth close to her face, so close that she felt she could probably pinpoint the brand of mouthwash he was using. “The crazy research,” he said in a slurred voice.

“The crazy research?”

“This madness he’s involved in.”

“Oh? Tell me more,” Carmen said.

He seemed to like that, dropping his hand from her shoulder down to her waist. “They say…” He looked up again, to make sure no one was close by. “They say he’s been using dirty money to finance his work.”

The hair on the back of Carmen’s neck stood on end as she realized she might have stumbled onto something important. She ignored the hand that was massaging her waist and asked, “So tell me, exactly what sort of research are you talking about?”

He laughed. “All I will say is this, Mademoiselle Mariella… just make sure you stick around for the keynote speech tonight, and you will hear for yourself. It’s all madness if you ask me.”

“I will be here, but can you give me a little sneak preview?”

“I tell you what,” he said, lifting his mostly empty glass and staring at it much the way a chemist would examine a test tube. “Let’s go find another drink and get away from all this noise. Then I will tell you everything you need to know about the brilliant Markus VanGelder.”

Carmen glanced at the time on her phone. She realized she might have stumbled onto something important but also knew she needed to get away from the increasingly frisky Swiss finance director standing at her side. She needed to find Reid and then try to obtain more information about VanGelder.

“I tell you what,” said Carmen. “Let me freshen up a bit, and then you and I will go get that drink.”

Francois hesitated. “Something tells me that if I let you out of my sight, I won’t see you again.”

Carmen knew that even though he was drunk, the man was no fool. “No, not at all. Can’t you tell I want to know more? In fact, I think this might be the one my boyfriend is writing about.”

“You promise you’ll come back?” His voice sounded like that of a teenager.

“I promise.” Carmen grabbed his arm reassuringly.

“Okay.”

“I’ll be right back.” She gave him a little wave, turned around, and then slipped into the crowd.

It took her about two minutes to locate Reid. He was standing underneath one of the massive windows, sipping his champagne and watching each person who walked by.

“Ah, there’s my date,” he declared as she arrived. “Any luck?”

“If getting hit on by a drunken Swiss groper in his sixties is good luck, I just won the lottery.”

Reid grinned. “Excuse me if I don’t cry. I’m sure you acquitted yourself quite well.”

“To be honest,” she said, stepping closer to Reid and lowering her voice, “I think that in the midst of that wine-fueled harassment I may have stumbled onto something.”

Reid lifted an eyebrow.

Carmen peered into her clutch and saw that the only thing inside was her Beretta. “Say, do you have that program they gave us when we came in?”

“I think I do,” Reid replied, using his free hand to fish a program from his coat pocket. He handed it to her.

“Thanks,” she said. She opened it and scanned the page. “Got it. Here is the list of speakers. Yes, that’s him.”

“Mironov?”

“No, Markus VanGelder. He’s the keynote speaker tonight. I know this is a long shot, but the drunk who was hitting on me started rambling on and on about VanGelder, saying he’s involved in some kind of crazy research. But in order to get more information, I’d have to join him in some cozy spot to share some drinks. At that point I just had to get out of there. He was already squeezing my arm and talking into my ear, and I realized the next thing on the agenda was a slobbery kiss.”

“That smooth, huh?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if he were hugging a ceramic bowl in a couple of hours. Anyway, where was I?”

“VanGelder.”

“So, this guy told me that VanGelder’s research was being financed using dirty money.”

Reid raised his eyebrows. “Wow. Alexander Mironov, I presume?”

“Exactly. At least that’s my guess. If we knew the nature of the research, it might shed some light on why Mironov would be interested in it.”

“Well, what is he speaking on tonight?” asked Reid, pointing to the program.

Carmen shrugged. “I didn’t see anything.”

“Look again. They usually give the topic of the speeches.”

“You sure?”

“I’d be shocked if it’s not in there.”

Carmen opened the program again and went back to the list of speakers. “Bingo. Here it is — the agenda.” She continued to read. “Oh my. Good grief.”

“What?” Reid asked.

She handed him the program and pointing to a place about halfway down the page.