The Columbus Affair: A Novel (21 page)

He recognized the first two markings. Hebrew letters.

Po nikbar
. Here lies.

The same as on his father’s tombstone. But those letters adorned many Hebrew graves. The third marking he did not know. An X, one stem hooked. He shook his head. What did it all mean?

The woman next to him had dozed off beneath a blanket. More people around him were heading to sleep.

He should, too.

He’d made a few precautionary preparations while in the library, a printer available for a fee. But there would have to be more. What would he do tomorrow at St. Stephen’s?

Good question.

He needed an answer.

And fast.

———

B
ÉNE CHECKED HIS WATCH. 9:30 P.M
.
IN
J
AMAICA MEANT
3:30
A.M
. tomorrow in Vienna.

“I had no choice,” he told Brian through the phone. “She had to be
bartered.” He’d just informed Jamison about the conversation with Zachariah Simon in which he’d revealed that Alle Becket was still alive.

“You compromised your man inside,” Brian said from Vienna.

“I’ve already told him to disappear. Simon and his guard dog are on a plane headed home. My man is gone from the residence.”

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done,” Brian said, his voice rising. “We worked with you because
you did
have a man inside Simon’s business.”

And that was true.

Brian Jamison had appeared at his estate, nearly a year ago, unannounced. He was an American intelligence agent, working for a unit called the Magellan Billet, come to ask questions about what Zachariah Simon was doing in Jamaica. Béne had offered him coffee and cake and told him nothing. Jamison returned three days later, this time with a thick file that contained more information on Béne’s illegal activities than he thought could be amassed in so short a time.

“Actually, this was all done before I came the first time,” Brian said. “My superior wanted to give you a chance to work with us on your own.”

He chuckled. “Like I would.”

Brian pointed a finger at him and joined in the laughter. “That’s exactly what I told her. But she’s the boss, so I had to do what she said. Thankfully, you said no, so now we get to do this my way.”

Jamison then made clear that there was more than enough evidence in the file to support a variety of felonies that Jamaica, the United States, several South American nations, or most of the Caribbean could prosecute. Nearly all of those jurisdictions also allowed civil forfeiture of property upon conviction, which meant all of the Rowe wealth could be seized. Of course, that unpleasantness might be avoided if Béne was willing to do one simple thing.

Work with them.

“Would you have anything to offer?” Brian asked him
.

“How about a source directly inside Simon’s camp.”

Jamison had been introduced to Simon as Béne’s chief lieutenant, and a point was made to underscore their close relationship. Brian
had even interacted with Simon and his people twice in Jamaica, including Simon’s own lieutenant, Rócha. His appearance in Vienna had certainly spooked the Simon. Enough that Alle Becket’s death had been ordered. Béne knew that when he revealed that the young woman was still alive, the Americans would not like it. But what did he care? Liking things was never part of their bargain.

“If I had not told the Simon about her,” he made clear, “this would be over. He has no further use of me.”

The silent pause signaled that Jamison knew that to be true. Finally, Brian asked, “What do you want me to do?”

“Make her available tomorrow for the trade. He still thinks you work for me. I didn’t sell
you
out.”

“Béne, you have no idea who you’re dealing with. Simon is a dangerous man, into things way beyond finding some lost gold mine. I’ve come to realize that there’s something big happening here.”

“I don’t suppose you’d share those thoughts?”

“Get real.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t think so. But know this. Finding that lost mine is still important to him. I heard it in his voice. Lucky for you he still needs me. Or, better yet, he needs that woman.”

“I could have you arrested.”

“But you won’t. What I did kept this alive. And you know it.”

“I’m going to have to run this by people above my pay grade.”

“You do that. But I suggest you be at that church tomorrow with the daughter. The Simon is expecting her.”

“You know that he wants to kill both her and her father, and probably me, too.”

He laughed again. “Your problem.”

“I don’t buy all this, Béne. Simon could have told you to go to hell. He doesn’t need the woman that bad. There has to be more you offered than just her.”

“Oh, yes. You’re so right. I definitely have something else he wants. So be a good agent and do your job. Have her there. See what happens. Then know that the Simon will be coming back my way.”

He paused.

“And that will allow us both to find what we are after.”

———

T
OM DOZED IN AND OUT
. H
E’D ALWAYS BEEN ABLE TO SLEEP ON
planes. That had been his time to rest, moving from one place to the next, readying himself for what lay ahead. But he was eight years out of practice. He’d been thinking about Michele and what a mess he made of both their lives.

“You’re a cheater, Tom. Women are your weakness.”

“Am I also a fraud?”

She’d never told him her thoughts about what happened to him
.

“That one I don’t know. It’s certainly in you, since cheaters always cheat. But I have to say, I was shocked by all that.”

Her voice was calm, her words clear. The anger that had stayed between them had faded in the year since the divorce
.

“I’ve met somebody,” she told him. “I’m going to get married.”

He was not surprised. Other men would quickly discover her
.

“I’m happy for you.”

“It’s Alle you have to deal with. I’ve told you before, don’t wait until it’s too late.”

“I know. I know.”

“I have to go now, Tom. And I was wrong a moment ago. You’re a lousy husband and an even worse father, but you were a good reporter.”

He recalled how her affirmation of his innocence had hurt him even more.

All that he’d done to her.

Yet she still believed in him.

That was the last time they ever spoke.

He spent the next seven years wallowing in self-pity, living alone. She remarried but lost her life far too early.

And his daughter had not even allowed him to attend the funeral.

He grabbed hold of himself.

And wondered.

What would he say to Alle once she was free?

Z
ACHARIAH SETTLED DOWN BEFORE THE COMPUTER
. H
E’D ARRIVED
back in Vienna four hours ago and Rócha had driven him straight to the estate. He’d dozed in and out for a couple of hours during the transatlantic flight, anxious.

Today was the day.

The Levite had left something in his grave, just as Zachariah’s grandfather and father had predicted might happen, and he’d found it. Tom Sagan’s stunt in Florida had actually worked to his advantage since disposing of two bodies, once this day was over, would prove far easier here than in America. He’d even made a deal with Béne Rowe. No choice, really. Having Alle Becket to show Sagan would make things much easier. But there was still the matter of the spy within his household. He employed thirty-two people at the estate, including Rócha. The traitor’s identity was obvious, and he’d learned on returning that the man called Midnight was gone.

As he should be.

Part of Rowe’s bargain was that his asset not be harmed.

Ordinarily, he might not have honored such a request, but Rowe had tantalized him with what had been found at another Levite’s grave in Jamaica. A hooked X. And documents that might point the way to the lost mine. Keeping every avenue open seemed important.

At least for now.

The computer came to life and a man’s face appeared.

He was middle-aged and bearded, with long sideburns.

“How are things today in Israel, my friend,” he said to the screen.

“Another day of negotiations. We are making progress, finally, toward a true peace.”

And he knew how. “What are we giving away?”

“Such an attitude, Zachariah. There is nothing wrong with talking to your adversary.”

“Provided you do not concede.”

“Now, that I cannot promise. As of yesterday, the Knesset was considering more concessions. The United States is pressuring. More so than ever. They want movement on our part. Significant movement. We stall but, in the end, there is a feeling that perhaps we should concede.”

This man headed one of six minor Israeli parties. They varied in slant from Ultra-Reform to Orthodoxy. His was more moderate, centrist, which was why Zachariah kept the line of communication open. Ordinarily, all six’s presence would be ignored, but the Israeli Parliament was severely divided, coalitions forming and dissolving by the hour. Every vote counted.

“Billions in aid comes from America,” the man said. “You can ignore them for a while, but not forever. It is reality. There is even talk of leveling the separation fence. Many think it is time.”

A 760-kilometer-long physical barrier defined the border between Israel and Palestine. Most was three layers of barbed wire. Sections that passed through urban centers were concrete wall. Periodic observation posts and gates controlled access from one side to the other. The idea had been to define the border and prevent terrorist attacks and, on both counts, the barrier had worked. To remove it seemed unthinkable.

“Why would such a thing be considered?”

“Because to get you have to give.”

No, you did not.

“This government is at an end point. Parliamentary elections are coming soon. Everyone knows there is going to be a change. What that will be remains to be seen. Nobody knows, Zachariah. Uncertainty breeds compromise.”

He hated the world interfering with Israel. One world leader after another, American presidents especially, wanted to be its peacemaker.
But Jews and Arabs had remained in conflict a long time. Their divisions were impenetrable. No one, other than the participants, could possibly understand the depth of their disagreements.

He did.

And he planned to do something about it.

Which did not involve concessions.

“Our enemies are not interested in peace,” he made clear. “They never have been. They are only interested in what we are willing to give away to get it.”

“That kind of thinking is exactly why we are in the position we currently are in.”

Not at all. Men like the man on the screen, and others in Israel, who actually thought they could negotiate an end to 5,000 years of conflict were the reason.

Idiots.

All of them.

Jews must be
made
to see.

And so they would.

———

T
OM HUSTLED ACROSS THE PLAZA BEFORE
S
T
. S
TEPHEN’S
C
ATHEDRAL
. His watch read 12:25
P.M
. He’d made it to Vienna in plenty of time. The drive west from Bratislava was an easy forty minutes, his rental car parked in a public lot a few blocks away. He glanced up at the massive cathedral, its steeple rising like a jagged arrow to an azure sky. After Simon had so readily agreed to the swap, he’d decided that he might need some help. So while surfing the Internet at the library in Jacksonville he’d caught a break. Someone he knew still worked at
Der Kurier
, one of Vienna’s main newspapers. Back in his day the paper had only been in print. Now it was a mixture of electronic and print, and he’d noticed the name of one of its online managing editors. Inna Tretyakova.

He veered from the square and found a narrow passageway that led to a series of backstreets. He still remembered the location after ten years. It was a talent that had always come in handy. He was bad
with names, but he never forgot a face or a place. The café he sought was once one of his favorites, frequented by the local and foreign press. He entered through a glass door, his gaze noticing the same fine trompe l’oeil ceiling fresco. Not much else had changed, either. He also recognized a face in the sparse crowd.

“Inna, you’re as lovely as ever,” he said in English, walking over.

“And you are still a man with charm.”

She was midforties, with stark blond hair that fell in broad curls to just above her shoulders. Her face contained not a blemish, her eyes a pale shade of blue. Time had been kind, her figure remained thin and petite, the curves he recalled still there. They’d never ventured beyond business in their relationship, as she was married, but they’d been friends. He’d called her from Bratislava, and though they hadn’t spoken in a long time, she immediately agreed to meet him.

“I need a favor, Inna. I’m in a mess and a hurry, but I’m hoping you can help.”