The Fall of Ozog

The great Rock of Ozog, high above Lake Geneva, is cracking up and so are the lives of those who live in its shadow - The first time I heard about Maria Ceccini she'd been dead just over a month. I'd been in the States for the summer when she'd taken a dive under the paddle-wheel of an old steamer on Lake Geneva, and it wasn't until a week or so after I got back to Switzerland, when Gruber dropped by my picture gallery in Vevey, that I realised I had an investigation on my hands that would tip my personal life into the final stages of chaos. I have never, in all my forty-two mostly law-abiding years, wanted to be a policeman. Buying and selling modern art has been my game ever since my second marriage went into terminal decline. But about eight years back, Gruber's pals at the European Intelligence Agency in The Hague decided Europol needed to expand its network of undercover agents and they reckoned I fitted the bill; which is pretty amazing since I'm American, born and bred. But then, I'd married a Swiss lady around that time and settled near Lausanne, papers and all; though my wife and I had different addresses and a third divorce was in the air when I first heard of Maria Ceccini. Set in the scenic vineyards of the Lavaux region on the Swiss Riviera, The Fall of Ozog traces the destruction of a family of winegrowers and those whose lives are crushed in the fall -