Chapter 3: The Zurich Banker

On a misty morning in Zurich, thin fog lay like a grey-white veil over the lake. Felix stood at the edge of the Old Town by the Limmat, the ancient fragment in his hand fluttering slightly in the morning breeze. Sophia's cold, striking gaze from the auction house at the end of the last chapter still seemed to linger at his ear, warning of the abyss hidden behind that unfinished deal.

He drew a breath of damp air and touched with his fingertip a seemingly ordinary damaged edge of the fragment. His ink-revealing gift activated at once, a cool sting at his fingertip, and the blurred ink unfolded like a living thing, tracing out a string of ancient coordinates pointing to Milan.

These were no ordinary map marks, but a set of coordinates hidden in Latin abbreviations, pointing to a family vault at the foot of the Alps that had slept for a hundred years.

Felix quickly sealed the fragment in a specially made temperature-controlled case. Passers-by took no notice of him, except for a figure in a black overcoat at a distant alley mouth, adjusting his watch without drawing attention.

Felix pulled his hat low and crossed the narrow cobbled lanes. The Old Town facades were well preserved, their Baroque window frames gleaming in the sunlight. The tracker's footsteps grew closer, shoes striking stone in a rhythm almost matching his own deliberately quickened pace.

He nimbly dodged around several turns and finally vanished into the shadow of an old clock shop. Only when the footsteps behind him had faded did he slip out of another side alley and join a tram bound for the modern financial district.

The carriage was well air-conditioned, passengers silently looking at their phones or reading newspapers, only the metallic scrape of the tram rounding a bend breaking the surface calm. Felix gazed at the cityscape rushing past the window, planning how to pass the information, without alerting the other side, to the one person who could decode this family cipher.

His destination was a private bank beside Bahnhofstrasse, its heavy marble facade exuding an authority that could not be ignored. Hans von Brunner was a senior partner there, and Felix's only ally at present. The office held none of the usual modern coldness; instead there were several potted plants and a set of vintage leather sofas.

Hans was holding a cup of espresso, its silver handle glittering in the light. Seeing Felix enter, the banker famous for his humour at once set down his coffee, clapped his hands, and wore his trademark easy smile.

The two embraced familiarly, and though Hans's gaze was gentle, it keenly swept the fine wounds on Felix, left while he was evading pursuit just now.

"Chased by Marcus's men again? It seems you still have not learned to keep a low profile," Hans teased. Felix smiled lightly and set the temperature-controlled case on the desk. "This time the target is in Milan, far more dangerous than Zurich."

Felix took the case from his breast and placed it on the oak desk. He carefully lifted the lid, revealing the faintly glowing fragment. Hans put on white gloves, leaned in to examine it, and his brow gradually knitted.

Under an ordinary magnifying glass the string of coordinates meant nothing, but Hans, with years of study of the heraldry of Europe's old families, instantly recognised the coding logic. He looked up, his smile fading, his voice growing low and grave.

He told Felix this was not merely a coordinate: it was linked to a prominent Milanese financial family with a vast lobbying network inside the European Union, reaching even into the core seats of several legislative committees.

"Are you sure you want to tackle this hard nut? This is no ordinary historic relic," Hans said, looking him straight in the eye. Felix nodded, his gaze firm. "I must know what is hidden in the vault."

Hans rose and walked to the bookshelf, pulling out a thick leather-bound album, his privately compiled atlas of European family power. He turned to a page marked with a red seal and pointed to a passage for Felix.

He warned Felix that touching this family meant touching the nerve endings of the whole southern European political and economic system; once leaked, what awaited them would not be simple revenge, but systematic elimination. Felix felt a chill at these words, but he did not retreat.

He looked firmly at Hans and asked for his help, because only the financial channels this banker controlled could locate the vault's precise position under the contemporary legal framework.

"If you get dragged in, what will your family think of you?" Hans asked in a low voice. Felix answered, "That is my choice. You only need to help me find the entrance."

Hans was silent a moment, his fingers tapping lightly on the desk, as if weighing the pros and cons, and finally nodded.

Suddenly, a violent crash sounded from the lobby below, followed by the sound of shattering glass, breaking the understanding between them. Hans's face instantly darkened; he leaped up and pressed a hidden button beneath the desk. The security system's red lights came on, and a heavy metal roller shutter began slowly descending.

Hans quickly stuffed the atlas into his coat pocket and pulled Felix toward the narrow safety passage at the back of the office. Their movements were swift and silent, as if rehearsed countless times.

Meanwhile, two men in black sent by Marcus rushed into the bank lobby, silenced pistols in hand, roughly shoving aside terrified staff as they searched for their target.

At the end of the safety passage was a spare freight elevator, but just as they were about to reach it, the elevator doors were suddenly forced shut from outside. Hans stopped, glanced back at the pursuing footsteps, and his eyes flashed cold.

He took out his phone and quickly sent an encrypted message, then took a riot shield and a short baton from a fire box in the corner. He turned to Felix, his tone steady but brooking no argument.

He told Felix to stay by the elevator while he drew the enemy's attention, using the bank's complex underground layout to buy time. Though worried, Felix knew this was the only chance, so he gripped his temperature-controlled case and retreated into the shadows.

Hans rushed down the stairs and met the two men in black trying to pry open a side door lock. Without a word, he swung his baton at one man's elbow, then grappled with the other. In the narrow corridor, the clash of metal, muffled grunts, and footsteps merged into one.

Using his knowledge of the terrain, Hans lured the enemy into an area fitted with electronic security traps. When one man in black tried to force his way through, Hans pulled a hidden electric-shock switch, and the current instantly left his opponent limp on the floor. Throughout, Felix kept his eyes on the exit, ready to step in should Hans falter.

Finally, with the bank's regular security forces intervening, the two intruders were completely subdued, Hans unharmed except for a little blood on his cuff.

Once the chaos subsided, Hans arranged for a staff member to issue Felix a temporary pass so he could leave the bank through the freight passage. As the elevator descended, Hans handed Felix a new document: the route to a safe house. Felix took it and thanked the ally who had risked so much to help him.

Hans waved his hand, his tone carrying a weary teasing note. He told Felix not to be so polite; in this circle, debts of favour weighed heavier than debts of money.

"Next time you risk your life like this, remember to buy me insurance," Hans grinned. Felix shook his head helplessly. "I will. Thank you, Hans."

Felix nodded, understanding that Hans's move was not unrewarded, but in exchange for some future balance within the financial network. He walked out of the bank doors and melted into the afternoon traffic of Zurich, his figure gradually disappearing amid the bustle of the prosperous district.

In the safe house, Felix spread out the files Hans had provided and began studying the Milan family's specific influence inside the European Union. The files showed that the family not only controlled the supply chains of several traditional carmakers, but also funded several major political lobbying groups through complex trust structures.

Felix realised Hans had spoken truly: this was no longer a simple treasure hunt, but a hidden war involving high-level power games. He closed the file and decided not to wait for further instructions from Hans, but to go to Milan alone. That way he could avoid dragging Hans fully in and reduce the risk of retaliation against his ally.

He packed his bags and booked an early-morning flight to Milan, acting decisively, leaving no room for delay.

Back in the bank, Hans returned alone to his office and tidied the scattered files. His expression was grave, his fingers lightly stroking the desk, his gaze resting on the grey sky outside the window. He knew today's events would not stop at a security upgrade; the forces behind Marcus would soon trace the source of this information.

Hans stood, picked up the private telephone on his desk, and reported to the highest level within his family. From the other end came stern reprimands and warnings, demanding that he immediately cut all contact with Felix and seal away all related files.

Hans hung up, his face ashen. He knew the family's pressure had arrived, but that did not mean he would abandon his principles.

Just as Hans was about to leave his office, his secretary knocked and handed him a heavy kraft-paper envelope. It bore no postmark, only a vivid red wax seal in the shape of an exquisite key, the mark of the Vatican envoy Isabella.

Hans's fingers trembled slightly as he carefully opened the envelope. Inside was only a black card bearing a line of warning in German: Rome's eyes have long been fixed here; all who stray in are pawns.

Hans stared at the card as thunder rolled faintly outside the window, realising that this game over the ancient fragment had completely crossed the bottom line of the financial world and extended into a more secretive centre of power.