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asked in a firm voice. “You ought to have applied. With your qualifications you’d have made a super marketing head!”
    Josefa felt she’d been caught off base, caught in the act by her own assistant. She looked away and was annoyed at the ensuing pause. She was struggling to find the right words, and Claire could tell. When she finally answered, her voice was more strident than she intended.
    “Why? Well, for starters, the position was already filled, that is, by Bourdin and me—I’m in effect running marketing. They could have offered me the job. It would have been obvious to talk to me about it first.”
    Claire kept looking at her—challenging her, Josefa thought—but said nothing. Josefa was irritated by her silence and knew it was a mistake to justify herself to Claire, but she couldn’t stop the words from coming out.
    “This whole business with Schulmann really shows that they don’t want to give me a higher managerial position. Claire, this company keeps the glass ceiling very, very low. I can work and work, give it everything I’ve got—what’s the point?” She leaned back in her chair, making an effort to appear above it all.
    “You mustn’t give up so easily, Josefa,” Claire said earnestly, leaning forward. “Maybe you should’ve tried to stay in closer touch with Walther, to butter him up more. You know how he goes for that. Walther wants to be courted; he likes to be the benefactor, beloved by his people.”
    Josefa just stared at Claire, her irritation growing. So it had come to this . She was receiving well-meaning advice from her assistant on how to climb the career ladder. What’s more, it was coming from a woman who was having a liaison with the very man who could jeopardize her career, who could undermine her position, who could make every meeting, every day, miserable.
    Josefa was almost sick at the thought that she wasn’t Bourdin’s immediate subordinate anymore, but Schulmann’s. He would seize this opportunity to take his revenge on her, she was convinced of that. He would keep important information from her, cut her bonuses, force her to work with whomever he chose. Who’d give her any support against Schulmann? She couldn’t count on Walther or Bourdin, and not on Auer certainly. Now she was fighting mad.
    But she realized she had to choose her words carefully. Claire had the tendency to overreact to criticism. Josefa cleared her throat, propped her elbows on the desktop, and clenched her hands into fists.
    “I wouldn’t have gotten as far as I have if I didn’t know what this company needs. You must believe me, Claire. You don’t get very far by just being nice or making eyes at somebody; you need different artillery. It’s important to know who’s on your side, who’s got your back when you need it.” Josefa stood up and adjusted the cuffs on her silk blouse.
    Claire rose from her seat as well and half turned to the door. “As for Werner Schulmann, I know where I stand in spite of everything, Josefa,” she said, before walking out.

“I’m standing in the middle of the woods.”
    Josefa heard birds chirping, children’s voices, some snapping and rustling.
    “Are you stalking something?” she asked, getting a cup of tea from the kitchen. She had called Helene’s cell phone because her friend was always off somewhere, as an ornithologist or a hunter. In the fall she’d go to the mountains in the Canton of Graubünden to shoot game. In winter she was often in Borneo, Madagascar, or some other tropical bird paradise. When it turned warmer in Switzerland, Helene would climb fire ladders, venturing into the attics and chimneys of condemned houses and buildings to relocate bird colonies.
    “I’m taking some schoolchildren through the woods,” Helene shouted.
    “I absolutely must talk with you, can you hear?” Josefa yelled back.
    “Today?”
    “Any way we can.”
    The background crackling grew louder, sounding like a herd of wild boars crashing through