<div class="floatleft">(https://www.mediafire.com/convkey/5b5a/33ou2hc5dq5wb5r6g.jpg)<br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"></span><div align="center"><strong> <span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Nan Rapido</span> </strong> <span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></span><div align="center">_____<br/><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;">Det. Kantonspolizei Zürich</span></strong></div></div></div><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;"><em>Do I have any idea what’s going on with the police?</em>  (Pause).  I turn back in my seat, looking in the direction of the sirens.  I shake my head ‘no’ “nope.”  I smile, “Probably more than a parking ticket scofflaw though.” <br/><br/>Everyone has their breaking point.  Has my companion reached hers?  She’s reaching out, looking for support.  I pat her hand.  “You’ve done as asked.  Relax.  Not much of a wait to hear from du Monde.”  Du Monde—the very significant person of interest.<br/><br/>I take a look at the streaming video on the proffered phone.  I see the jewelry store, the officers in takeaway mode—I’m sure they retrieved the dropped package.  What will that reveal?  <br/><br/>Yes.  We’ll know shortly how matters are to develop.   <br/><br/>“If you don’t have to be anywhere,” I’m trying to figure if du Monde has given more instructions: “the hotel makes sense.  Comfortable.  A good bar and attentive bartender.  Sound good?” <br/></span>