Alexandria Link (35 page)

“And you think you can affect those?”

“I’m fairly confident I can cause trouble.”

“My net worth easily matches yours.”

He smiled. “But you value reputation. Unthinkable that one of your companies be perceived as a failure.”

“You’re welcome to try, Alfred.”

He realized that they each possessed billions of euros, most accumulated by ancestors, each of them now a faithful steward. And neither a fool.

“Remember,” Thorvaldsen said. “I have your daughter.”

He shrugged. “And I have you and the boy.”

“Really? You willing to risk her life?”

Hermann had not, as yet, decided on the answer to that question, so he asked, “Is this about Israel? I know you fancy yourself a patriot.”

“And I know you’re a bigot.”

A bolt of anger rocked him. “You’ve never spoken to me like this before.”

“I’ve always known how you felt, Alfred. Your anti-Semitism is obvious. You try to shield it—after all, there are several Jews in the Order—but it’s clear.”

Time to end all pretense. “Your religion is a problem. Always has been.”

Thorvaldsen shrugged. “No more so than Christianity. We just gave up our warring ways and watched while Christians killed more than enough in the name of the risen Lord.”

“I’m not a religious man. You know that, Henrik. This is about politics and profit. And those Jews in the Order? That’s what they care about, too. Not one voiced any opposition in the Assembly. Israel is an impediment to progress. Zionists are terrified of the truth.”

“What did you mean about the Christians also being involved?”

“If the Library of Alexandria is found, there are texts that could well expose the entire Bible for the fraud that it is.”

Thorvaldsen did not seem convinced. “You might find that result a bit difficult to obtain.”

“I assure you, Henrik. I’ve thought this through completely.”

“Where is the Talons of the Eagle?”

He threw the Dane a look of approval. “Well done. But he’s outside your control.”

“But not yours.”

He decided to make his point. “You cannot win this. You have my daughter, but that won’t stop me.”

“Perhaps I need to make myself clear. My family endured the Nazi occupation of Denmark. Many of them were killed and we killed many Germans. I’ve faced challenge after challenge. I personally care nothing for Margarete. She’s an arrogant, spoiled, unintelligent woman. My friend Cotton Malone, his son, and my adopted homeland are my concern. If I need to kill her, then I shall.”

Hermann had worried about threats from outside, but the most immediate concern had now arisen from within. This man needed placating. At least for a short while.

“I can show you something.”

“You need to stop this.”

“There’s more at stake here than simply furthering our business interests.”

“Then show me.”

“I’ll have it arranged.”

MARYLAND

4:50 PM

STEPHANIE SAT IN THE REAR SEAT OF A SUBURBAN, CASSIOPEIA beside her. They motored through the main gate without stopping, the SUV whizzing past armed guards. They’d driven north from Washington into the rugged Maryland countryside. She’d immediately known their destination.

Camp David. The presidential weekend retreat.

Past more guards and another checkpoint, the vehicle stopped before an elegant log cabin engulfed by trees and wrapped in a covered porch. They climbed out into a cool afternoon. The Secret Service agent from the museum waved, and the front door opened.

President Robert Edward Daniels Jr. stepped from the cabin.

She knew the president never used his birth name. Long ago he’d adopted the tag Danny. A gregarious soul with a booming baritone voice, Danny Daniels was blessed with a God-given ability to win elections. He’d served as a three-term governor and a one-term senator before claiming the presidency. His reelection last year to a second term had come easily.

“Stephanie, great of you to come,” Daniels said as he hopped down the porch steps. The president was dressed in jeans, a twill shirt, and boots.

She gathered her courage and stepped forward. “Did I have a choice?”

“Not really. But it’s still good you came. Been having some trouble, I’m told.”

Daniels added a cool chuckle, but she was not in the mood—not even from the leader of the free world. “Thanks to your people.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Now, that remains to be seen. You haven’t even heard what I have to say. And the new look? The hair and clothes? I like it.”

Without giving her a chance to reply, he turned to Cassiopeia.

“You must be Ms. Vitt. I’ve heard a lot about you. Fascinating life you have. And that castle you’re reconstructing in France? I’d love to see it.”

“You should come. I’ll show you.”

“I’m told you’re building it just like they did six hundred years ago. Amazing.”

Stephanie realized Daniels was sending her a message. They were here, and he was informed, so lighten up.

Okay. Time to see where this was headed.

“Contrary to what you think, Stephanie,” Daniels said, “I’m not an idiot.”

They were sitting on the front porch of the cabin, each in a high-backed wooden rocker. Daniels worked his with vigor, the floorboards straining from his thick six-foot-three-inch frame.

“I don’t think I ever called you an idiot,” she said.

“My daddy used to tell my mama that he never called her a bitch to her face.” He threw her a glare. “Which was true, too.”

She said nothing.

“I went to a lot of trouble to have you flushed from that museum. That’s one of my favorite places. I love airplanes and space. Studied everything about them when I was younger. Great thing about being president. You can go watch a launch whenever you want.” The president crossed his legs and leaned back in the rocker. “I have a problem, Stephanie. A serious one.”

“That makes two of us. I’m unemployed and, according to your deputy national security adviser, under arrest. And didn’t you fire me?”

“I did. Larry asked me to, and I agreed. But it needed to be done, so you could be here now.”

Cassiopeia sat forward. “I wondered. But now I know. You’re working with the Israelis, aren’t you? I’ve been trying to piece it together. Now it makes sense. They came to you.”

“I’m told your father was one of the smartest men in Spain. Built a financial empire from nothing. One you now run.”

“Not my strong point.”

“But I hear you’re an excellent shot, brave as hell, with a genius IQ.”

“And at the moment I find myself in the middle of a political mess.”

Daniels’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “A mess. That’s exactly what we have. And you’re right, Israel did contact me. They’re irritated with Cotton Malone.”

Stephanie knew Daniels was partial to Malone. Two years before, Malone had been involved with a murder trial in Mexico City—the victim a DEA supervisor, Daniels’s college roommate, murdered execution-style. She’d sent Malone to ensure a conviction, but during a lunch break he’d found himself in a crossfire that resulted in the death of the Mexican prosecutor and Henrik Thorvaldsen’s son. Malone shot the assailants and came home with a bullet in his shoulder, but got the conviction. When he’d wanted to resign early in return for what he’d done, Daniels had personally allowed him out of his navy commission.

“What about you, sir?” she asked. “Irritated with Malone, too?”

“Sir? Now that’s a first. I’ve noticed the few times we’ve been together, you never use that word.”

“Didn’t realize you were paying such close attention.”

“Stephanie, I pay real close attention to a great many things. For example, just a short while ago Cotton Malone called the Magellan Billet. Of course, you’ve been busy, so the call was routed to Brent Green, on the attorney general’s personal order.”

“Thought Daley was in charge?”

“I did, too. Why’d Green do that?”

“How do you know he did?” Cassiopeia asked.

“His phones are tapped.”

Had Stephanie heard right? “You have his phones bugged?”

“Damn right. Him and a few others. And, yes, one of those is Larry Daley.”

Ripples of uncertainty spread through her and she forced her mind to concentrate. This puzzle apparently came with a lot of pieces.

“Stephanie, I’ve worked my whole life to get here. It’s a position where one person can really do something. And I’ve done all right. Unemployment is at its lowest in thirty years. Inflation is nonexistent. Interest rates are modest. I even pushed through a tax cut two years ago.”

“With Larry Daley yanking Congress’s chain. Hard to lose.” She could not resist. This man may be president, but at the moment her bullshit-tolerance level was well below zero.

Daniels rocked in silence, staring out into the dense woods. “You remember Rocky III.”

She did not answer.

“I loved those movies. Rocky was always pounded to the breaking point, then that great music played, trumpets and all. He’d see everything clearly, grab a second wind, and beat the crap out of the other guy.”

She listened with amusement.

“In Rocky III he finds out that Mickey, his trainer, was arranging easy fights. Sure wins. Just so Rocky could keep his title and wouldn’t get hurt. Stallone played that great. He wants to fight Mr. T, but Mickey says no, he’ll kill you. Rocky gets furious when he realizes he may not be as good as he thought he was. Of course, Mickey dies and Rocky finally KOs Mr. T.”

The president’s words carried a tone of respect.

“Daley is my Mickey,” he said in a near whisper. “He fixed my fights. I’m like Rocky. I don’t like it.”

“And you didn’t know?” she asked.

He shook his head with an odd mixture of annoyance and curiosity. “I was working on nailing him myself when I discovered that you were investigating. Using a call girl? Imaginative. My people weren’t as creative. I have to say, when I was told, my opinion of you changed that day.”

She needed to know, “How did you know I was doing it?”

“My guys love wiretaps and video. So they listened and watched. We knew about the flash drives. And we also knew his hiding place. So we were just waiting.”

“That investigation was months ago. Why didn’t you move on him?”

“Why didn’t you?”

The answer was obvious. “I can’t fire him. You can.”

Daniels planted both feet on the deck and balanced on the rocker’s edge. “Scandal is a tough thing, Stephanie. There’s nobody in this country who’s going to believe that I didn’t know what Daley was doing. I had to take him out, but with no fingerprints.”

“So Daley needed to do it to himself,” Cassiopeia said.

Daniels faced her. “That was the preferable way. But Larry specializes in survival. And I have to say, he’s good at it.”

“What’s he got on you?” Stephanie asked.

Her audacity seemed to please rather than anger him. “Other than those compromising pictures of me with a goat, not all that much.”

She grinned. “It had to be asked.”

“Yes, it did. I see what they say about you, Stephanie. Aggravating you can be. How about we return to my question, which neither of you seems to think is important. Why did Brent Green want to talk directly with Cotton?”

She recalled what Daley said in the museum. “Daley told me Brent is bucking to be the next vice president.”

“Which brings us to the purpose of this gathering.” Daniels leaned back and started rocking again. “I like to play the good ol‘ boy. Part of my Tennessee hill country upbringing. It’s one reason I love Camp David so much. Reminds me of home. But now it’s time to be president. Somebody accessed our secured files and managed a look at the Alexandria Link. Then they leaked that information to two foreign governments, both of which are now in an uproar. The Israelis are really pissed. Yes, publicly it sounds like we’re at each other’s throats. But privately, I like those folks. Nobody, and I mean nobody, is going to screw with Israel on my watch. Unfortunately, I have some in this administration who think otherwise.”

She wanted to ask who, but decided to let him talk.

“Something has been placed in motion, which all started when Cotton Malone’s boy was taken. Luckily, with Malone, these folks have no idea who they’re dealing with. He’ll give ‘em fits. Which gives us an opportunity to flesh things out. One of my uncles used to say, Want to kill snakes? Simple. Set fire to the underbrush and wait for them to slither out. Then you can whack their heads off. That’s what we’re going to do here.”

Cassiopeia shook her head. “Like I said, what you have, Mr. President, is a mess. I’ve only been involved for a day or two, but I have no idea who’s telling the truth.”

“Including me?”

Cassiopeia’s emerald eyes tightened. “Including you.”

“That’s good. You should be suspicious.” His voice rang of sincerity. “But I need your help. That’s why I fired you, Stephanie. You needed freedom of movement. Now you have it.”

“To do what?”

“Find my traitor.”

VIENNA

11:20 PM

THORVALDSEN LED GARY FROM THE CHÂTEAU’S SECOND FLOOR down to ground level. He’d heard nothing more from Alfred Hermann since their brief conversation earlier. Gary had spent the evening with a few of the other guests. Two members had brought their teenage children, and Hermann had arranged for them to dine in the greenhouse at the rear of the mansion.

“That was neat,” Gary said. “Butterflies land right on your plate.”

Thorvaldsen had visited the schmetterlinghaus several times and also found it fascinating. He’d even thought of adding one to Christiangade.

“They’re remarkable creatures that require great care.”

“Place was like a tropical forest.”

Neither one of them could sleep. Gary was apparently a night person, too. So they made their way into Hermann’s library.

Thorvaldsen had heard earlier that the Blue Chair intended to meet with the Economic Committee. Those discussions should go on for a while, which would give him time to read and prepare. Tomorrow’s Assembly would be one of decision. Debate needed to be to the point and accurate. Everyone would leave on Sunday. The Assembly was never a prolonged affair. Staff and committees narrowed issues to only the ones that required a collective vote. These were then presented, discussed, and resolved—the Order’s course set for the coming months until spring.