The Zytglogge Mission

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Carla Xanthis, a Swiss prosecutor investigating the banking transactions of a Russian pipeline company, is the target of a failed assassination attempt as she leaves her old Bern home for work. Oblivious to what happened, she is secretly contacted by Uri Yatom, the renegade Mossad Katsa who saved her life.

Back in the Middle East, Alexander Nikitin, the Russian Oligarch who heads the pipeline company, transfers his operations to Dubai where he purchases a bank. He moves to the Emirate with his key staff and Najwa Nilufar, his Palestinian/Iranian girlfriend.

The plot thickens as the characters involved cross reference transactions and individuals.


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Gulf of Aden

Aboard a small rusted trawler, three men use a crane to raise a cable from the bottom of the sea. Pierrot, who seems to be the leader, speaks with a French accent as the cable winds up through his hand.

-Slowly... Slowly...

Philippe emerges out of the water wearing a diving suit and holding on to the cable. He removes his mouthpiece and shouts in French with a Meridional accent.

-10 meters guys...

A rusted trunk pops out in a net and is raised on deck. Philippe removes his gear as he is being helped on-board, then walks up to the Pierrot.

-So... Gold bars!

Pierrot looks at him perplex as he tilts the trunk on its side.

-One thing we know it's that this thing is sealed! No water...

He notices an embossed logo on the front of the trunk.

-G.V.I.R.? What's that... A crown?

-Nice... The Queen's jewels!

Pierrot addresses the other two crewmen in English.

-Get me the crow bar.

He pops the lid off the trunk to find stacks of letters inside as Philippe looks astonished.

-Shit... The mail!



Carla Xanthis, 35, a Swiss federal prosecutor, unlocks her bicycle just outside her apartment and starts riding when a stocky 40 year old pedestrian crosses the street towards her. As the two are about to collide, another cyclist, Uri Yatom, 33, storms from behind Carla and purposely runs into the pedestrian who then falls on the pavement, dropping his umbrella. As Carla stops, Uri maneuvers back towards the fallen pedestrian, picks up the umbrella and zooms down the Bubenbergrain passage leading to the Aare river. Before Carla or other passers-by could get to the fallen pedestrian to assist him, a silver Mercedes sedan cuts them off to pick him up and continues its course as the man in the passenger seat, Boris, exits the car to run after Uri. Carla and the other passers-by stare at each other in disbelief before continuing their journeys.


Uri continues his rocky ride down the outdoor stairway when he sees the silver Mercedes stopping at the bottom. As he hears the steps of the man following him getting closer, he dismounts his bike and hides behind and entrance still holding the umbrella. A mobile phone rings and Boris answers as he continues running down.


The Mercedes' driver, Dimitri, 38, shouts in Russian into his phone as he looks up the stairs and sees Boris running into Uri.

-Look out... On your left!


Boris reacts to the warning a split second before Uri extends his leg to trip him. After dropping his phone and falling down several steps, he grabs a knife strapped onto his leg, presses a trigger which shoots its blade narrowly missing Uri's head before getting stuck in a wooden wall behind. Reacting to the unexpected flying blade, Uri rushes towards him and strikes him on the chest with the tip of the umbrella then kicks him in the head. Boris drops unconscious.


Dimitri looks at the injured pedestrian on the back seat.

-Shit, he struck Boris! Get in front!

He then exits the car and runs up the stairs.


A large group of school children walk down from the top of the stairs blocking the way. Uri jumps over a side wall and starts running through inner courts and garden. Dimitri cuts through a side alley and runs on a parallel path but is slowed down by multiple dead ends. Dimitri catches glimpses of Uri then lose him again several times as the chase continues.


Uri jumps a last wall and runs across a parking lot towards a couple entering an outside elevator leading back to the old city. He gets in just before the glass doors close and sees Dimitri arriving at the scene as the elevator climbs rapidly.

The silver Mercedes reaches the parking lot as Uri continues his escape.


A replay of the opening scene through various city surveillance cameras which extends to Uri crossing the Kirchenfeld bridge aboard a black Alfa Romeo Giulietta.


Carla gets to her office late to pick up documents. A young female Assistant is busy gathering them into a rolling briefcase. Carla fires up her laptop and notices that she's late.

-Shit... the train leaves in 12 minutes.

-Making sure all the subpoenas are there. Feurer called to say he'll meet you in the restaurant waggon. He tried your mobile but he couldn't reach you.

Carla rapidly scans through her filled inbox.

-Yes, I got caught up in a bike accident.

-You're OK?

Carla shuts down her laptop.

-Yeah, I wasn't really involved... It's like this guy came out of nowhere to save me from crashing into a wandering pedestrian, then stole his umbrella and disappeared down the Bubenbergrain!

-Who's umbrella?

Carla seems perplex as her Assistant closes her briefcase.

-The man's crossing the street I guess. He got picked up by a car and also vanished...

The Assistant is more preoccupied by the departing train than by the incident.

-Wow! You're sure you're OK? 9 minutes!


Uri drives his black Giulietta through several trans-alpine tunnels into Switzerland's heartland.


Flag of Canton of Uri

As he reaches a highway service area, Uri parks and waits in his car until he notices the flashing headlights from a car parked on the opposite side of the highway. He picks up the stolen umbrella and crosses the austere pedestrian tunnel where he notices the emblem of the Canton of Uri, a cow's head with a buckle through the nostrils.


Uri picks up a tray and gets in line next to Aaron Hanin, a bulky man in his late 40s, at the self service food counter.

Aaron speaks Hebrew to Uri.

-What the fuck are you doing here?

Uri discreetly raises the umbrella to show it to Aaron who notices the open tip.

-The target was about to hit the woman. Probably with ricin.

-What target!!! First it's not our business what goes on in this country, then it's especially none of your business. Who the fuck told you to get on these Russians' case!

The cook looks at them from across the counter as Uri switches to German.

-One sausage with gratin please.

Aaron addresses the cook with a heavy accented English.

-What's in the sausage.


-OK, give me two.

-With gratin?

-Is there cheese in it?

-No. Potatoes, butter and cream.

Aaron looks annoyed and mumbles to the cook...

-Just the sausages...

...before getting back to Uri in Hebrew.

-Since when have you been in Europe anyways. Aren't you supposed to be in China?

-Well I had some personal issues to deal with here and I bumped into these guys by accident...

-By accident!

Uri and Aaron sit at a table with their trays.

-I just picked up the umbrella and left, not to leave evidences.

-But you left a Russian hit-man unconscious on the streets of Bern!

Uri looks surprised.

-They left him there?

-An ambulance was already on its way when the others reached him.

-Did they find out about the toxin at the hospital.

-Not yet, but the Swiss police got a good description of your car... That's how we tracked you down... Get rid of it and report back home within 48 hours.


After crossing back the pedestrian tunnel to reach his car, Uri stops by the service area's shop to buy cigarettes and picks up an Uri flag crested cap which he wears with amusement and addresses the cashier in perfect English.

-Do I look good?

-Nein. Deutsche.


A surveillance camera records Uri's car driving through a tunnel.


A surveillance camera records Carla Xanthis and Feurer, a 50 something auditor from the Swiss Department of Finances, as they enter the building of the Zurich Intercontinental Bank AG along with a dozen Federal Police officers. They show a search warrant to the security agents as the police officers quickly bypass the gates and infiltrate the building.


As the bank's CEO, Julius Widmer early 50s, is being warned about the intrusion by a panicked employee, Carla and Feurer enter his office. Feurer firmly addresses the CEO.

-Julius Widmer?

Julius responds with a defiant tone.


-We have a warrant from the Department of Justice to search this building. We also have authorization to shut down all communications and seize all mobile devices.

-Show me this warrant.

Carla hands the warrant as she introduces herself.

-Carla Xanthis, Department of Justice


Staff on all floors of the bank are quickly ordered to cease using their computers and to surrender their phones and mobile devices as IT specialists take over the bank's servers and cut the building's Internet access. Walking through the bank's luxurious corridors amidst stunned employees, Feurer is lead to the archives where plainclothes police officers seize boxes of documents.


As police officers search employees exiting the bank, Carla is on the phone with her superior explaining that they might need several days to find what they're looking for and that letting the CEO go might jeopardize the case that she's building.

She stare at the flow of well dressed pedestrians and commutors on their way home from work.


As she questions the very evasive CEO, she gets a call back from her office informing her request for an arrest warrant has been declined. As she close her phone, Julius who's looking out the window, continues.

-What is this mascaraed.

-We have solid evidence showing steady transfers occurring from your transit. The Russian government is ...

-Fuck the Russians... You can't suspend the operations of a whole bank because you are investigating one account. Don't you see the damage this causes us... Not only us... All of us!

-It's the only way we have to act diligently.

Julius walks the room nervously.

-I can't believe this... I got to make a phone call to Bern.

-Please go ahead... We have to remain in your office though...

Julius grabs his mobile phone from his desk.

-Roland! Julius... Not good. A team from the Department of Justice stormed into the bank just now. No, not a joke. Can you talk to someone and see what the fuck is going on...

He walks to the window to peek outside.

-Yes, like 10 police cars parked downstairs blocking the door... Call me on my cell. The bank's lines are down!


The Burj Khalifa

On the 144th floor of the Burj Khalifa, Najwa, a 28 year old Palestinian/Iranian writer, contemplates the sunset over the Persian Gulf. In the background, Alexander Nikitin, a 41 year old Russian businessman, gets an SMS urging him to log on to Epyks (a Skype derivative application).

Alexander sits on a sofa and opens his laptop as Najwa, wearing a white cloth that catches the soft light of the setting sun, sits on the railing of the bay window writing on her iPad.

Dimitri appears on Alexander's screen.

-She's the prosecutor. We tried to get to her before she got to Zurich but things got out of hands... as I'm sure you already know.

-That's OK, we have nothing in Zurich.

Dimitri's anxious face fills the screen as he gets closer to tweak settings on his keyboard.

-Great... I'm relieved... By the way I can't see you... Is your camera on?

Alexander stares at Najwa then gets back to Dimitri.

-You screwed up Dimitri. I asked you to slow down the process, not to hit a government official.

-The subpoenas had been issued. They were heading for the bank.

-I knew that and we acted accordingly... This is not Africa, Dima.

Dimitri's expression becomes apologetic, anticipating bad news.


-Forget about it. Viktor is now in Geneva and he's taking over. Go back home.

Alexander closes the application and looks at Najwa's silhouette against the setting sun. He walks towards her and softly grabs her shoulders as he kisses her neck. They speak in English.

-Why do you write your diary in French? You think I can't understand!

Najwa smiles but does not let him disturb her.

-I told you, it's not mine. I'm just continuing someone else's.

Alexander continues to tease her.

-A French lover...

-No, a young girl, who's diary I read in French when I was a kid... Now stop bugging me you Russian mobster.

Alexander gently caresses the side of her face as she looks up at the setting sun.

-When I look at the sun, especially now when it's so red and peaceful, I see you my love. Bright, strong and peaceful.

Alexander kisses her head.

-I think of you when I see the sun rising... Then, all my senses emerge.

-Hmmmm... My senses emerge when you touch me.

Alexander gently pulls her body on the floor.

-Ishtar... You're a goddess.

They make love.


On a rainy night, Uri, wearing his drippy Uri cap, boards a tramway and stops by Carla who is sitting down.

-Excuse me. Carla Xanthis... Please do not look at me... There is something important I'd like to share with you but we can't be seen together... here.

Carla seems suspicious as she looks around her, then stares out the window, nervously ignoring Uri who continues talking to her.

-Remember the accident across from your house yesterday morning? It was not an accident...

Carla reacts to Uri's claim and looks down as he continues his monologue.

-Meet me at the Kornhauskeller at midnight. It's important.

He exits the tramway as it reaches the next stop. Carla and Uri exchange quick glances through the tramway's window as it leaves.


As the rain continues to fall, Carla arrives in front of her building and meets an old lady who's struggling to close her umbrella.

-Oh, you're all wet young lady...

Carla smiles and extends her hand to offer assistance with the umbrella.

-I like the rain... it showers the city. Let me help you with this.

The old lady takes back the folded umbrella.

-They don't make them like they use to... Thanks you...

-You're welcome. By the way, did you hear anything about what happened yesterday? The accident.

-Oh no... You know at my age... You get concerned about less important things, like closing an umbrella and not forgetting what you need when you're at the grocery store.

Carla opens the building's door and lets the old lady in.

-You're right. Those are the important things.

The old lady gets to her ground floor door and turns towards Carla who's climbing up the stairs.

-I did hear about a man who got picked up by a ambulance on Bubenbergrain yesterday morning. But they didn't say it was an accident. But what do I remember...

Carla stops to smile at her.

-That's ok. Good night Mrs. Mahler.


At home Carla is preparing a fresh juice mix on her kitchen counter while watching the news. She gets a call on her mobile phone and checks the displayed name.


A Swiss German female voice replies.

-OK. So I looked into the case... Let me read this right... The victim is a Russian national named Boris Pichushkin. He entered Switzerland through Basel from either Vienna or Moscow on Friday. He was rushed to H+ by ambulance twenty minutes after a school teacher found him lying semi-unconscious on the Bubenbergrain. Early diagnostic was a contusion due to a head trauma. He stayed in observation for about an hour before leaving the hospital with two men claiming to be his work colleagues. We're waiting for the interrogation report from the nurse who talked to the two men. Her shift was over when our agents got back to H+.

-So no one spoke to him?

-No. The guys we dispatched were waiting for him to get out of observation but when they called back to inquire, he was already gone. It happen right bellow your street no? You heard of something?

Carla pauses for a second...

-No. I was just wondering what happened. Thanks for your help.

-Any time sweetie. Call me when you feel like seeing me.

-I will...

Carla sips her juice pensively.


Carla walks into the lounge area as a DJ X mixes a trans Bossa nova beat. She observes the crowd from the edge of the room, trying to recognize the man from the tramway. A waiter brings her a drink and mentions that it's from a man sitting at the bar. Carla takes the drink and walks toward Uri at the end of the bar.

-I give you one minute to tell me what's going on.

Uri gestures towards the stool next to his.

-Please sit.

She sits on the edge of the stool with her back to the counter as Uri gets to the point.

-What I will tell you has to stay between us. Off the record... I didn't ask you to come here for official reasons.

-I'm a Federal Prosecutor. Everything I do is official!

-I work for a foreign government. Nothing I do is official. And I'm not here on business. Just to warn you.

Carla grows impatient.

-Thirty seconds.

-I'm the cyclist who pushed down the pedestrian in front of your house.

-Why are you telling me this? Tell the police.

-He was after you.


-The Russian man I bumped.

-How do you know?

-I was following him.


-That's beside the point.

-So what is the point?

-They want you out. He was going to kill you.

-Kill me?

Carla tries to look calm.

-Who are you? What do you want.

-Nothing, I just wanted to avoid an unnecessary victim.

-Look, I can't really be talking to you.

-Me neither.

Carla spots a surveillance camera as she walks out of the club.


Feurer sits on the side Carla's desk as she leans back on her swiveling chair.


-And you went to the Kornhaus alone?

-Yes, the place was busy. It was not like meeting him in a parking garage.

-Why didn't you call the police.

-I don't know. I didn't have any reason to fear him. I did call my friend at the Cantonal Police. They didn't know much anyways. I don't want the file to be removed from me, Feurer. This is important to me. It's my first major case.

-Yeah but you don't want it to be your last.

Feurer search for a number on his mobile and dials it.

-I know someone who might be able to guide us through here. He's worked on several international cases. Hold on...

The call gets through.

-Franz! It's Gunti... All Good... Not bad... Listen, I'm here with a colleague who is also a friend. She had a strange encounter and doesn't really know who to turn to. Do you think you could meet with us shortly to discuss... Yes we're at the Department of Justice... Yes a prosecutor... Like mid thirties... Yes... She's here with me... Great, see you then.

Feurer hangs up, and looks up at Carla who's getting impatient.

-He's available?

-Yes, he agreed to meet us now.

-Which department does he work for?

-I don't really know. He's asked that we meet up with him at the Bellevue's Bar in 15 minutes.

-That's fast.


Carla and Feurer walk along the Federal Palace's terrace overlooking the Aare river and the Bernese Alps as two Kurdish men play a chess game on the floor. Feurer explains how he met Meier.

-We met during military service. He was not really the army type. More of a punkish guy. We liked the same music, got drunk together during days off... I lost track of him for a while. He skipped our yearly trainings and I guess got away with it. I think he was abroad. Then I bumped into him at an inter-agency meeting when we were looking into Duvalier's accounts, around 86 I guess. I don't know how he ended up there, but he was the one providing the best intel. Since then, we see each other through mutual friends or at concerts. We never talk about work.


Franz Meier, 49, sporty type, shaved head, discreetly waves towards Carla and Feurer as they enter a the bar of the Hotel Bellevue. Only a couple in their 70s sits in the background sipping on coffee.

Moments later... Carla and Feurer lean forward in their seats listening to Meier.

-The man you met yesterday is probably from the Israeli secret service, Mossad. The man who was hit across from your house we don't know, nor do we know who the man which was found unconscious on the Bubenbergrain was. We have a hard time tracking all the Russians in and out of the country. What puzzles me is why the Israelis engaged with Russians here in Bern... on a bicycle.

-He said to protect me.

-Mossad don't usually intervene when it doesn't concern them... Xanthis, that's not a Jewish name if you don't mind me asking?

-No, it's not.

Meier looks towards Feurer.

-Are you guys working on any Russian cases these days?

Carla cuts him off.

-Unfortunately, I can't reveal the nature of ongoing investigations and I believe that Feurer's office is guided by the same prescription.

-We all work for the same cause, Miss.

-Sorry, our guidelines at the Department of Justice are very clear. We can't share our data.

Feurer intervenes.

-We're investigating several accounts at the ZIB, some of which belong to Russian interests.

Then he turns to Carla.

-I'm Finance Carla.... Sorry... We're looking out for you here.

Meier leans forward as he needs specific details.

-Oil companies? Anything related to Alex Nikitin?

Feurer looks towards Carla who gestures acquiescently.

-Could be.

Meier, looking at Feurer.

-Then this could explain it. Before buying into the RPC, Nikitin was moving ex-Soviet navy ships filled with weapons to the Middle East. He's been on the Mossad watch list ever since.

Then at Carla.

-And I supposed you guys threatened his assets here.

Feurer confirms.

-At the request of the Russian Government.

Meier continues.

-He probably forgot to pay upstream.

Then looks at Carla.

-I suggest you take this very seriously. You probably know people Cantonal Police?

-Yes, I suppose.

-Then ask for their protection. They'll be back.

-Meier looks at his phone and turns towards Feurer.

Feurer gets the hint.

-Thank you Franz... How is your daughter?

-Great. I wished I'd see her more often.

Looking at Carla.

-By the way. No need to confuse the Cantonal Police with too much unnecessary information if you know what I mean. Better not to mention our meeting.

Carla looks towards Feurer who nods at Meier.

Feurer smiles and jokes.

-At the Bellevue bar... Who would believe us anyways.

Meier stands up.

-Nice meeting you Ms. Xanthis, and good luck.

-Same here. Thank you for your time.


Carla looks at Feurer as they walk out of the hotel.

-So we do have a spy agency after all.

-Not officially...


Uri drives his black Giulietta into a Yeniche camp where kids interrupt a soccer game to let him through. He walks out of his car and tries to locate the head of the clan. A stalky bearded Man walks towards him.

Uri initiates the conversation in German.

-Good afternoon.


Uri then extends his hand and continues in in broken Yiddish.

-My name is Uri.

The man replies in Yenish, shaking Uri's hand.

-Stephan... Where are you coming from?

-West... Going East.

-And where did you learn to speak Yeniche?

Uri switching back to German.

-I speak a little Yiddish.

The man acknowledge and continues.

-What are you looking for?

Uri looks towards his car.

-I need someone to drive my car to Venice.

-I thought cars were not allowed in Venice.

-Well, there's a parking lot as you get in... Tronchetto (pulling a smart card from his pocked) This will get you in to the main garage.

The man hesitates, looking at the car.

-We can't really do that. Better find someone else.

-I can't. I can pay 1000 Francs.

The man skeptically looks at the car as Uri pulls ten 100 CHF notes from his pocket.

-Also I would ask that you drop me in Buchs, at the train station.


Alexander is driving his Tesla Roadster through Sheikh Zayed's Road. He gets an SMS on his mobile phone: EPYKS-V. We hear the sound of the electric engine slowing down as he pulls to the side, flips open his laptop, seeks an open WiFi connection and launches the app.


At the other end, Viktor replies in Russian.


-You're in Zurich?

-No, still in Geneva.

-Well, stay there.

-What about Dimitri?

-We're closing Zurich.

Viktor pause for a moment.


Alexander looks at a row of high-rises.

-We're opening here in Dubai.

-What do you mean? We're... You're already in Dubai!

-No man. We're opening a bank in Dubai. Plenty of brand new empty buildings here. Sharia banking... We don't need the points anyways... You'll get a floor to yourself!

-Great. What about girls and vodka...

-Don't worry about it. It'll do you good.

-Ok. So what's next?

-Lay low. Keep an ear for the Swiss and an eye on this girl. Also, don't tell me Dimitri's guys both got mugged by some cyclist on the streets of Bern. See if the Swiss are on to something.

-Could be from home?

-On a bike? No... Plus they wouldn't have left a man there... Alive.

-You heard about Dima's crew?


-Just heard the local news here... They found trace of Botulinum in a blood sample taken on an "Eastern European type" during his visit to the hospital and launched a nationwide search to find him. They're concerned about an outbreak and want to identify the source which they believe is food-borne.

-Botulinum! Can't be from home... And now Dima's gone!

-If they didn't make it out of the country, they might have taken cover around here.

-In Geneva?

-Yeah, not far. Let me check on a lead.

-Good... Oh... and Viktor.


-Don't let this escalate any further.


Zvi Dagan, Deputy Director of Mossad' Collections department meets Aaron as he steps out of an El Al flight at Tel Aviv's airport.

Aaron looks surprised.


-Welcome home... You had a good flight?

-Yes thanks.

-Sorry for rushing to you here... I wanted to see you first... About Uri.

-What about him?

-Well, it's been 4 days now. I'm concerned.

Aaron nods his head.

-I should have grabbed him in Switzerland...

-Can I ask you what he told you there.

-Not much... Basically told me to fuck off.

Zvi signals a plainclothes officer at a first security check who lets them through. They continue walking.


-We figured out who the Russians are....


-Nikitin men... Remember, the Russian who snatched a Soviet Navy ship and sailed it across the world without anyone noticing... More your era than mine.

-What the fuck is Yatom messing with these guys... Nikitin is not an issue for us any longer...

-Not that we know, he switched to pipelines and finance in the 90'... No indications he's back in the arms business.

-We should look into what he's up to anyways. He'll be easier to track than one of ours.

-Use him to find Uri?

-You see another way?

Zvi remains pensive as Aaron continues on his way through passport/immigration check.


-We'll talk tomorrow. My wife is picking me up.


Uri stares through the train's window as a speaker voice announce the departure of the train bound for Schaan, Liechtenstein.


Viktor drives his Mercedes S600 sedan in and out of tunnels on Highway E62 overlooking Lake Geneva. Surveillance cameras record his passing by.



Feurer is crossing the Kirchenfeld Bridge reading news updates about the Botulinum scare on his smart-phone when a private call notification appears on the screen.

Feurer answers.


He smiles as he recognizes Meier's voice at the other end.

-Cute but pretty uptight your prosecutor, Feurer.

-Yeah well she's not for you Franz... I heard she doesn't walk the walk.

-Well too bad for us.

-She's a good girl and a promising prosecutor. I want to help her out.

-I'm sure you do... By the way, I wanted to let you know that the guy we talked about, not the one on the news, the other one, well he's on the lose... Even his people are looking for him. Let me know if he resurfaces at your end. I'd like to know.

-Well, I'll see with Carla... And what about this Botulinum case.

-Can't speak about it. Tschüss.


Viktor parks his car on the side of a narrow road overlooking a winery and crosses the vines towards the back entrance of the main building. No one's in sight except for a barking leashed up German Shepherd. He enters the cellar which doesn't appear to have been used in years and hears someone calling. As his sight adjusts to the darkness, he discovers a man lying on a makeshift bed. It's Boris who's agonizing.

-Here... Here...

Viktor looks surprised by Boris' condition.

-Where are the others?

-They went back home... To get an antidote. I got struck by our poison.

-Our poison?

-Some guy came out of nowhere, stole Vlad's umbrella and turned it on me when I caught up with him.


-No, he said something in English... I think.

-When did the others leave?

-I don't know, I've been in and out of it since then. This thing is killing me. Get me something fast.

Viktor gets closer to Boris, moves his right hand up his chest reaches his neck, and chokes him. Boris convulses for several seconds then rests inert.

Viktor carries the body outside and dumps it in a dry well. He unties the German Shepherd which remains still, then drives away as the sun is setting over the French Alps on the opposite side of the lake.


Franziska Wenger, 35, a Bern Cantonal Police investigator, opens the door to Carla who appears shaken.

-Can I come in?

Franziska lets her in.

-Of course. What's going on, you look so pale.

Carla collapses into Franziska's arms.

-I'm scared Franzi... I'm so scared.


Franziska gently massages Carla's naked back on a yoga carpet.

-Ssssshhhhh.... Relax Carla... No one is going to hurt you.

-I don't want to file an official request. They'll take the case away from me.

-Stay here for a few days. Can't you call in sick? We'll figure it out tomorrow.

-Ok, I guess I could work from here... Thanks for being there for me Franzi.

Franziska leans down and runs her tongue over Carla's spine.

-My pleasure baby, my pleasure.

Carla turns over and removes Franziska's T-shirt as they starts kissing.