Requiem for the Future

Part 22 Heidi Reinhardt

Heidi Reinhardt, Matt’s tour guide. (with help from Copilot)

I knew how to play the part.

Now I had to live it.

The limousine ride to Teterboro was interesting.

Aria asked, “Do you know how to swim, Mr. Stroud?”

“Of course, but I don’t get much practice. I suppose it’s like riding a bike.”

“My robotic assistant packed everything you need. This is your passport, and currently no visa is required to visit most of Europe. Upon arriving, a limousine will pick you up and take you to your hotel. The concierge is expecting your arrival. I will arrive a week later. Familiarize yourself with the area. I have arranged to have a guide to assist you, but only if you behave as a gentleman.”

“Wait. You are not going?”

“No, I’m throwing you into the deep end to see if you can swim. Now, have a nice flight. You may wish to change out of your tuxedo, so a change of clothes is on board the jet. I’ll see you in a week.”

“How will recognize the guide?”

“Meet her at the Landesmuseum, in the archaeology wing. Her name is Heidi. And you have never met her, so act surprised.”

The jet ascended smoothly, and once Matt had changed into his business suit, he managed to catch a few winks. He breezed through customs and soon he was in front of the Ström Vault Hotel. Doors opened with Swiss precision, and Matt stopped in front of the concierge.

“No need for keys, Mr. Stroud.”

“So I’ve been told. I was wondering what your name is?”

“It’s Felix.”

“Thank you. I’ll be here for a while, and I expect you will report any of my misdeeds to the owner.”

“Actually, I do not need to report to her as she has access to all the security feeds. Have a productive day, Mr. Stroud.”

“If I’m calling you Felix, please call me Matt.”

“I’ll have your bags brought up to your room, Matt.”

“Thank you, Felix.”

The elevator rose in silence and opened directly into Matt’s room. No hallways or other doors. He made a mental note to ask Felix about that.

After a quick rinse and a change of shirt, Matt returned to the lobby.

“Felix,” he said, “the elevator doesn’t stop at a hallway. It opens straight into the room. Is that normal?”

Felix didn’t blink. “Middle rooms and the penthouse have direct access. Exterior rooms share a hallway. You’re in a middle room.”

“You have two deliveries.” Felix handed him a museum pass. “Your annual access to the Landesmuseum. The second delivery will arrive shortly.”

Matt nodded. “Anything I should know about it?”

Felix offered a neutral smile. “It’s an old whiteboard.”

Matt took the pass. What came out of his mouth was, “Thank you, Felix.”

What he wanted to say was, “You’re talking like someone who hopes I’ll take the hint and vanish.”

Matt retraced Aria’s steps for a couple of minutes, then pivoted down a side street, stepping into a cafe near the Landesmuseum.

A barista asked, “What is your name and what will you have, sir?”

“Do I stick out that badly? The name is Matt. Just a plain black coffee, please.”

The man brought his coffee over and said, “Five francs, sir.”

Matt slipped him a ten-franc bill and told him to keep the change.

“Thank you, sir.”

But Matt’s attention was on the street, and while his coffee was being made, Matt saw an utterly confused Nico, looking everywhere for him. He gave up and returned in the direction from which he had come.

“Hmm,” Matt thought. “Haven’t seen him since he was looking to help Viktor pick out a painting. Both work for Aria.”

Matt lingered just long enough to let Nico vanish from view. He finished his coffee, left the cup on the saucer, set it on the counter, and stepped back into the street.

Zurich moved with quiet precision, trams gliding past, pedestrians wrapped in their own stories. Matt kept his pace casual, but his eyes scanned every reflection, every shadow that lingered too long.

The Landesmuseum rose ahead, its stone façade weathered and grand. He passed through the entrance, pass in hand, and nodded to the staff member who barely glanced at him.

“I don’t know if he saw my name or just noticed Aria Sable had gifted me the pass. If he was impressed, it wasn’t with me.”

Inside, the air shifted. It was cooler, quieter. Matt drifted toward the archaeology wing, trying to blend in with a group of students and tourists. In a business suit, he stood out like a sore thumb.

“Who was I kidding?”

It wasn’t long before a voice asked, “Is everything alright? You seem lost in thought. How may I help you?”

I looked up, and there was Heidi, just as I remembered her when I was a piece of Aria’s memory. “I was thinking each of these pieces of pottery has a story behind them, not unlike paintings. However, people actually used these pieces, and were not hung on a wall to show off wealth.”

“My name is Matt Stroud. I am early, but I am supposed to meet Heidi Reinhardt, who may show me around later today.”

Heidi studied him for a second and said, “You’re early.”

Matt shrugged. “I’m still adjusting to the time zone. And the expectations.”

She smiled, not the kind reserved for tourists, but something quieter.

“Well, you’ve already passed the first test. You noticed the pottery.”

They walked slowly past the vitrines, her steps measured, his gaze drifting. Heidi didn’t launch into a tour. She let the silence settle, like dust on an artifact.

They spent the entire day in the archeology wing—Heidi was the director, and her love and knowledge of her job showed. They ate a quick lunch at the museum café. Heidi didn’t talk much, but when she did, it was about the pottery Matt had lingered over. He listened more than he spoke, which she seemed to notice.

After lunch, she led him through a side corridor, past a keypad and a heavy door. The storerooms were colder, quieter—just shelves, crates, and the scent of aged paper and stone. Heidi moved with ease, brushing dust from a carved fragment, pausing to explain a mislabeled amphora. Matt didn’t ask questions. He just watched her work.

At one point, she turned to him and said, “You’re not just being polite. You actually care.”

Matt smiled. “I do. I just don’t know what I’m looking at yet.”

She didn’t answer, but her eyes lingered for a moment, then she turned back to the shelf, and the tour continued. Matt glanced at his watch. “I have reservations at elmira. Aria made them, I believe. It’s supposed to be… refined.”

Heidi stopped, turned slightly. “Refined is nice. But there’s a place a few blocks from here. No reservations, no dress code. Burgers, fries, and a view of the river if you squint past the scaffolding. It’s called Noirhaus.”

Matt looked down at his suit. “I suppose I could change.”

She gave him a look—half challenge, half invitation. “If you want to see Zurich, don’t wear Zurich’s idea of a tuxedo.”

He nodded. “Give me twenty minutes.”

As he turned to leave, she called after him.

“Matt, where are you staying?”

He paused. “The Ström Vault Hotel.”

“You’re not at all what I expected. Let’s go. The bar is close to there. My uncle Franz owns it.”

He didn’t answer. But his smile lingered longer than it should have.

The bar was tucked between two shuttered storefronts. A sign in the window said ‘open’ and its outdoor tables were worn chessboards, weathered by time. The burgers were better than expected, the fries crisp, and the whiskey smooth enough to make Matt forget the surveillance, if only for a moment. Heidi didn’t ask questions, and Matt didn’t offer answers. But when their hands brushed reaching for the check, neither pulled away too quickly. It wasn’t romance. Not yet. Just the kind of silence that feels like trust.

Noirhaus was quiet enough to hear your own thoughts.

And had shadows deep enough to think in.

Author’s note: Yes, I used the word vitrines. Give me a thesaurus and see what happens. My above-average subscribers and followers know it is a word meaning glass cases. Just wait ‘till I use the word ‘plinth’.

Matt here: Aria assures me she had nothing to do with the Picasso painting, ‘Still life with guitar’ that went missing earlier in October. Reuters report I can assure you that I had nothing to do with this morning’s jewelry heist from the Louvre. AP report