Epiphany in the Alps
Bistro Bentrice is elegant. There’s no other world for it.
Old world ambiance, location and service. The building is hundreds of years old but impeccably appointed and redolent with history. Full length portraits and frescos of Medieval Knights and battles long forgotten mixed in with ponderous Bauhaus, Fin de siècle’ and Art Nouveau paintings are everywhere. The atmosphere is one of wealth and privilege – a place where the movers and shakers of the world meet to decide where the next war will break out, when the next boom or bust cycle will commence or who will be the next Chairman of the European Bank in Brussels.
The dining and banquet halls overlook majestic Alpine views outside floor-to-ceiling windows – and Heinlein and Leeds are awed by them all as they walk to their appointed “Dressing Rooms”. They are told that a tailor is at their disposal for last minute tweaks of what has been provided for them to wear – and that “Madame can receive assistance with her Coiffeur if she so desires”.
They’re led into a building wing that exists solely to prepare guests for their special events. Leeds is directed to her room – and grins as she waives an enthusiastic “See you later” to Heinlein. She’s as giddy as a bride. Heinlein has a room across the hall – and can hardly believe his eyes when he enters it. An Italian tailor – he introduces himself as “Stracci” – greets him immediately and directs him to a trolley holding a kick-ass black Brioni tuxedo. The garment is obviously sized for him – but by the looks of Tailor Stracci’s frown, some work needs yet to be done.
A selection of Tuxedo shirts, cummerbunds and bow ties – tied and untied – are on a table as well as patent leather slip on shoes – some more masculine than others. In the center of it all is a Rolex Submariner watch.
Heinlein is expected to wear this outfit. Without thinking he utters out loud what he’s thinking.
“Outstanding.”
After the better part of an hour – and multiple consultations, fittings and adjustments with Stracci the Tailor – comes a knock on the door. Brother Dimitrios enters, himself decked-out in a tuxedo-like black suit and clerical collar. A silver chain hangs around his neck, suspended from which is an ornate Orthodox crucifix in the Greek Orthodox style.
“I will escort you and the Madame to the Master’s table in the main dining room. Festivities are about to begin.”
He gently knocks on Leed’s changing room door. She emerges like a vision.
Heinlein’s is jaw drops.
Out of nowhere, Jon Mellencamp’s song “I saw You First” starts spooling through his mind –
“I saw you first – I was the first one tonight.
Yeah, I saw you first – don’t that give me the right
to move around your heart?
Everyone was lookin’ – but I saw you first…. yeah, I saw you first – I saw you first.”
She’s beautiful.
Although Heinlein’s familiarity with Houte Couture is limited, his brief dalliance with Ilse Sonnerlund and her endless clothing budget gave him a good idea of what Leeds is wearing. Ilse wore these same couture labels and fineries.
Leed’s is wearing an eggshell white evening gown with slight shoulder straps by Valentino – a Roman designer who has taken the Parisian fashion runways by storm with his interpretations of his chief designer – Alessandro Michele. Romantic, ultra-feminine designs, not garish but flowing silhouettes of captivating chiffons and tulle. She’s wearing silk chiffon shawl – presenting an ethereal layer that keeps shoulders warm but adds elegance and style. Her shoes are Christian Louboutin ivory pumps – with their signature red soles and six-inch heartbreaker heels.
Her hair is combed but unchanged – short and practical – revealing simple, exquisite diamond stud earrings set in white gold. Around her neck is a delicate white gold necklace sitting perfectly at her collarbone, suspended from which is a noticeable, but demure, solitaire diamond pendant. Thin, multiple white gold cuffs encircle her wrists.
She is a picture of tasteful, minimalist elegance – an image of classic feminine enchantment and understated wealth.
She’s smiling like a New Jersey schoolgirl at her Prom. But Heinlein can see that she’s just as impressed by him.
“Wow. A Brioni Tux fitted like James Bond. And a Rolex! Lookin’ good, there, Heinlein. We’re sure a long way from The Garden State!”
Brother Dimitrios clears his throat – and Leeds pays him a belated acknowledgement – a kiss on his cheek.
“It’s time we joined the rest of the party. Please follow me.” He says.
There’s at least two hundred people in the room – including everyone’s security details and spouses. The Master’s table includes a dapper, Tuxedo-clad Cassius Gaius Longinus – facial scar red and resplendent in the candelabra light – and Brother Dimitrios, Heinlein, Leeds, Jancek Urban and five dignified Russians who look like they could’ve stepped right out of a Tolstoy novel set in Czarist times. The Master speaks Russian to these gentlemen through most of the main course – Chicken Kiev – and then, once coffee is served, pivots to English.
“Detective Heinlein, Monsieur Grushakov wishes to clarify for you certain unfortunate factual deficits you may be laboring under concerning the events at the Gamla Uppsala in Sweden. This background will better prepare you – and Madame Leeds – for our mission here in Switzerland in the weeks to come.
Grushakov clears his throat and addresses Heinlein. His English is perfect.
Detective, I am Pyotr Grushakov, Chief Executive Officer of the BratvaRus. As you know, our organization was monitoring carefully the movements and traitorous inclinations of Dr. Ilse Sonnerlund for years. We knew that she and her father – who held a high executive position inside our organization – were using slowly transforming the corporate behemoth that is NordPharma into an international bioweapons supermarket, marketing their poison to any country that could pay hard cash or gold. Ilse’s father apparently wasn’t moving fast enough to corner the international market on bioterror – and so she concocted a scheme to eliminate him and take over his seat on the governing board of the BratvaRus. We call it our Stavka.
She mistakenly took into her confidence certain members of our loyal guard – the BratvaVerang– who, in turn, kept us appraised of her treachery. We played along with her marriage plans – our apologies for not warning you – and let her assassin eliminate her father. You apparently left the scene in disgust before Ilse Sonnerlund killed the murderer – whom she thought was her only direct witness – and we made certain our BratvaVerang Captain, Jancek Urban, got you safely home to New Jersey thereafter.
What the BratvaVerang or the BratvaRus didn’t appreciate, however, was how fast Sonnerlund could use her CRISPR genomic splicing technology to alter the Cryptoid DNA and synthesize a bioweapon. By the time we’d extracted from her the whole story – and turned her over to Simon Magus to placate the Old Ones – it was too late. ASTRA was already created.
It was no surprise to us that the Vampyre Nation Leader, Archon Alius, sought a Parlay with Simon Magus to present his warning of ASTRA’s existential danger to all concerned. Simon Magus and Longinus have kept humanity safe from the Vampyre scourge for centuries – but ASTRA! This chemical is an abomination that spells doom for us all! Our own science is killing us. And Ilse Sonnerlund is laughing at us all, locked inside whatever inter- dimensional void she is kept prisoner.
There is the chronicle of it. You have my apologies, Detective. Yes, the BratvaRus used you from the beginning. We needed the Cryptoid. We needed its DNA. But we didn’t know one of our own was betraying us until it was too late – and she was engineering an extinction-level event weapon. So, we green-lighted her marriage plans to lure her and her father back to Europe. Clouded her mind with the lure of domestic bliss. Ilse Sommerlund was ambitious – and she knew that the BratvaRus expected their executive council members to be married. We are a very traditional brotherhood. And you, Detective Heinlein fit the bill. The perfect Groom. Uninvolved in her secret business, ignorant of her true life – a Gentleman Consort. Content to be pampered and maintained. Money, private Gulfstream jets – it’s a good deal. I don’t blame you.
The BratvaRus allowed her to eliminate her father and cross her personal Rubicon. Then we interrogated her. Harshly. In the end, she sang like a little bird. But she kept one secret.
We set up this facility here in Zurich to reverse-engineer our way out of this predicament….but there’s something that doesn’t make sense. Ilse Sonnerlund had a love child with a Russian Officer on the General Staff in the Kremlin. By all accounts, she was devoted to this child – and loved the Officer…..Yuri, I believe his name was. Yes, we tortured him to death – but he didn’t tell us anything…. In any event, we believe that when she created ASTRA she also created an antidote. She wasn’t prepared to let her precious Katya die. It must exist!
So, Detective. Where is the ASTRA antidote? Where did she take it? Where did she hide it? In Europe? Russia? Zurich? New Jersey?
What if our group of captive scientists cannot replicate what their predecessors did?
We must employ what you Americans call a “Belt and Suspenders Approach”. We must find that antidote! That’s why we need you and Madame Leeds, Detective. You knew Ilse Sonnerlund. You were about as familiar with her warped mind as anyone. We have hardened military assets – but this kind of investigation requires finesse and subtlety. We need experienced, police Detectives – who we can trust – to help us find the antidote. The Master, Simon Magus says we can trust you both – and that is all the assurance we need.
But there’s one more problem. Aleah al Sacrede. He’s a French engineer specializing in aerosolization of bioweapons agents from commercial aircraft. He is missing. And he was in touch with Ilse Sommerlund. We know that Sommerlund paid him millions of dollars that she siphoned off NordPharma finance ledgers. For what? We believe this is the delivery system Ilse Sommerlund designed ASTRA to be disbursed by: Commercial aircraft. Like contrails – but not harmless. The BratvaRus and BratvaVerang are leaving no stone unturned to find him. He, too, is part of your probe.
I’m told that you are of the Russian Orthodox faith and that your mother was born in Russia. Your blood is our blood. Unfortunately, since both of your parents weren’t born in Russia you cannot be consecrated into the BratvaRus.
We’ve arranged for the Hetman of the BratvaVerang, Igor Timoshyenko, to make both of you Captains in their organization. You will have equal power -the privileges and unquestioned authority of a BratvaVerang Officer. You will have support facilities, backup personnel and infrastructure available to you. All costs and finances will be paid for by the BratvaRus. Money is no object in this quest – all of the expenses you both incur will be paid. No receipts – no explanations. We give you both free rein. Just help us. That is all we ask.
Do you agree to help us, Detective Heinlein and Madame Leeds?”
Copyright, 2026 Jon Croft
www.bogironslav.com
Email: vlchek1@gmail.com
