Read The Midas Murders for Free Online Page A

earlier. The façade was magnificent. But what lay behind the façade had been adapted by a consortium of highly paid architects to the functional needs of a modern bank and looked like a sleek bomb shelter, the kind in which the average clerk would feel perfectly at home.
    The sliding doors opened automatically, welcoming Van In into the building. The dry heat of the sophisticated air-conditioning system grabbed him by the throat. Banks used this tried-and-tested tactic to daze their customers as they came in.
    Four of the six counter positions were unattended. Van In had a choice between a balding amateur triathlon runner and a recently flunked-out economics student. The clerks shared one thing in common: neither bothered to look up at him. Van In chose the girl.
    â€œCan I have a word with Mr. Lonneville? My name’s Van In, Assistant Commissioner Pieter Van In.”
    She was wearing a modest jersey blouse and, he presumed, a Wonderbra.
    â€œSorry, Mr. Van In, but Mr. Lonneville isn’t available right now. Do you have an appointment?”
    â€œNo. It’s a personal matter. I would appreciate it if you could inform Mr. Lonneville that Pieter Van In wishes to speak to him.”
    He tried to sound unruffled yet intimidating.
    Geertrui Vaes—the name on her uninspired pin—put down her pen and sized Van In up like a meat inspector sizing up a suspicious carcass.
    â€œIt’s extremely urgent, Miss Vaes. I’ve known Mr. Lonneville for years,” he lied with conviction.
    She smiled routinely and fiddled with her earring. He could see that she was wavering.
    â€œOne moment, Mr. Van In.”
    She got to her feet with evident reluctance and disappeared through a door at the back. The modest blouse squared perfectly with the picture Van In had formed of her. Geertrui Vaes was wearing a pair of dirty-gray slacks with elastic foot straps. She had the silhouette of a cello and the moves of a Naomi Campbell adept.
    Van In straightened his tie and checked his reflection in the mirrored glass that separated the counter from the outside world. The triathlon runner yawned unashamedly and—for want of customers—polished his expensive glasses.
    â€œMr. Lonneville will see you immediately,” said Miss Vaes on her return. “Please come this way.”
    She pushed a button and unlocked the counter door. When Van In pushed against it, the lock mechanism flipped back to red. Clearly irked, she pushed the button a second time. Van In slipped inside like a thief and the door locked automatically behind him. Geertrui Vaes led him to a small waiting room and pointed to a chair.
    â€œTake a seat, Mr. Van In. The manager will be with you shortly.”
    The smell of a name-brand cleaning product filled the waiting room. A couple of well-thumbed copies of the Financial Times had been left on a side table. This was apparently the reception area for those who couldn’t keep up with their payments. Van In was convinced that cognac and chocolate cookies were being served in an adjacent room.
    Lonneville kept him waiting for a good twenty minutes. In the distance, Bruges’s carillon struck ten-fifteen.
    The door suddenly flew open. An arrogant blond creature gestured that he was next and directed him to Humbert Lonneville’s office. The man had excellent taste. Her legs were almost as beautiful as Hannelore’s.
    â€œGood morning, Mr. Van In. Take a seat. What can I do for you?” Lonneville rattled, routinely affable.
    Van In settled into an expensive chair. Lonneville smiled benignly. He was forty-five, clean-shaven and completely impersonal. Banks love sophisticated machines, and the blond secretary also appeared to be part of the same strategy.
    â€œSo, Mr. Van In.”
    â€œDo you mind if I smoke?”
    Lonneville glanced in horror at the recently painted ceiling. “I’d rather you didn’t, Mr. Van In. But if you absolutely must.” Van In nodded.