The Lie (26 page)

Maybe there were lessons to be learned from just that, he thought. But who could learn them?

T
HE STORM HAD PASSED
. Thunder no longer rolled and the rain had stopped rattling the plastic sheets over Wannsee’s blown-out windows.

It was 6:30
P.M.
; nearly an hour had gone by since Klaus Logefeld had appeared in the conference room, made his brief, searing statement,
and left. During this period the detailed, thirty-two-page copies of his terms for President Dunster’s release had been distributed
and were in the process of being studied and discussed by the delegates and press.

The room buzzed with small pockets of sound. People left and returned, many of them with fast food and soft drinks. Some of
the higher-ranking delegates went briefly to their hotels to freshen up and telephone their governments.

Paulie Walters kept himself in the background, moved about unobtrusively, and watched.

Mostly he watched Kate Dinneson and Nicko Vorelli, who held close to their separate groups and made no visible contact. When
Kate got up at one point and headed for a rest room, Paulie drifted in the same direction, moved in close, and brushed by
her.

Then he strolled past the guards at the villa’s main entrance and lit a cigarette. He stood there smoking, watching some low
scudding clouds. After a while he began walking. He followed a curving road for a few hundred yards until it passed through
a patch of woods. A moment later Paulie left the road and placed himself behind a screen of brush.

He had just ground out his cigarette when he saw Kate approaching through the purple-shadowed dusk, a slender amorphous creature
who seemed to glide slightly above the ground.

I love a woman who walks on air
.

“Here,” he said.

Then she was against him and they were holding each other, the air between them so full of feeling that it seemed to carry
its own mist.

He went after her mouth and smothered it until they were both out of breath. Then he kissed her cheeks and felt her lips on
his neck and her breasts against his chest and her instant wetness when he touched her.

“This is crazy,” she whispered.

“Should we stop?”

“That would be even crazier.”

Paulie lifted her.

He entered her standing up and Kate cleaved herself on him, taking all he had with a sharp intake of breath, her hair falling
forward to brush against his face. She might have been weightless, the way she found his rhythm and worked against it, meeting
him when he was aching to be met, then pulling back when not to would have been unbearable.

Somewhere near the finish they both realized that this might turn out to be their last time together, that anything could
happen during the unpredictable madness of the seventy-two hours immediately ahead.

Moments later they were grinning and kissing and hugging as though they had done something wonderful, like bringing each other
a dozen long-stemmed roses.

Kate came back to earth on trembling legs.

“I’d better not stay too long,” she said against Paulie’s face.

He breathed the sweetness of her scent. “Are you worried about your Nicko?”

“There’s no point in making him wonder.”

Wannsee’s lights had come on in the settling dark and they gazed at them through the trees.

Kate sighed. “Wouldn’t it be lovely if we didn’t have to go back there at all?”

“Wouldn’t it though.”

“It’s all too much. Who would ever have dreamed something like this could happen?”

Paulie just looked at her.

“Of course,” she said. “You knew all along that Dunster was coming to Wannsee. That was the real reason you were here in the
first place, wasn’t it? To help protect him from exactly this kind of thing.”

“I did a really great job, didn’t I?”

“Be sensible, Paulie. You can’t blame yourself for what happened.”

“Who else can I blame?”

“Klaus Logefeld.” Kate paused. “And
my
stupidity in letting him use me to get in here.”

“It’s easy to be smart with hindsight. But that’s nothing but history now, so forget it.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes you can.”

“Can
you
forget I shot your mother and father?”

“I guess not. But the heart of that was really Logefeld’s too.

Paulie slowly reached out his hand and touched her face. Was he still afraid she might disappear? “And there’s no way I’m
going to let him get away with it.”

“What about the president?”

“This has nothing to do with Jimmy Dunster and what’s happening here. This just has to do with Klaus Logefeld, my mother and
father, and me.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“I never said it was. I just said that’s how it’s finally going to be.”

In the fading light, Kate’s expression was troubled.

“That bothers you?” said Paulie.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it sounds too much like my obsession with the killing of my own parents.”

“Then you should understand how I feel.”

Kate took his hand and held it, her fingers probing skin, bones, tendons.

“Oh, I understand it all right,” she said. “That’s exactly what’s so frightening. I can still remember everything it did to
me.”

“Yes. But that was
you
, not
me
.”

“Are you really that different?”

“Yes.” The answer was instant. “At least in one way.”

“What way is that?”

“The fact that I shot a man to death when I was only eight.”

Kate’s eyes reflected what remained of the dying light. Otherwise they were blank. “You mean by accident?”

“No. I meant to kill him.”

“Why?”

“Because if I didn’t he would have killed me, my mother, and another man who was with us. And to make it even worse, the man
I shot was the United States attorney general.”

Kate gripped Paulie’s hand and waited.

“His name was Henry Durning,” he said. “And since it happened, I haven’t gone to sleep a single night without first thinking
about what the then-president said in his eulogy. He said Henry Durning was one of the truly great men of his time, that his
death was a tragic blow that couldn’t help but lessen the lives of people everywhere. The president’s exact words, Katey.
You can imagine how
that
made me feel.”

Paulie stared off, remembering. “I couldn’t understand it. I knew this man. I knew he was the same man who not only had caused
the deaths of a lot of people, but was just about to murder three more, myself included. A little pisspot of a kid.”

Paulie shook his head. “I was eight goddamn years old and the whole thing was way too much for me. I think it still is. Although
at the time, my father did do a pretty fair job of explaining it.”

“How?”

“By telling me people aren’t just one way, that there are different parts to us all. That some parts can be real great, but
other parts can stink to high heaven.”

“Did that make you feel any better?”

“What it made me feel mostly was very sad.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t mind shooting the bad part of Henry Durning. But what about all that great stuff I’d blown away along with
it?”

They stood in the leaden quiet of the darkening wood.

“That’s why you’re so upset about maybe having to destroy all that great stuff you’ve begun to see in Klaus?” Kate suggested.

Paulie seemed surprised. “Who said I was upset?”

A
T
7:15
P.M.
N
ICKO
V
ORELLI
once again entered Wannsee’s security office. This time it was at his own request. Major Dechen, CIA Director Cortlandt,
and Agent Hendricks were already there.

“I want to talk to Professor Mainz and his grandfather,” he told them. “And I want to do it alone, in person, and without
any microphones around.”

“Why?” asked Tommy Cortlandt.

“Because I was the one who brought them in here, and I’d like the chance to try getting them out.”

“What makes you think they would see you?” said Major Dechen.

“If you’ll put through a call, we’ll know soon enough.”

The security chief looked at Cortlandt and Hendricks. “Any objections?”

“What’s there to lose?” said the CIA director.

John Hendricks barely shook his head.

Dechen picked up a phone. “This is Major Dechen, Professor. Dr. Vorelli would like to talk to you in person. Privately. No
microphones.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Will he submit to a body search?”

The major repeated the question to Nicko, who nodded. “He will,” said Dechen.

“Give me a few minutes to get things in order.”

Dechen put down the receiver.

“All right,” he told Nicko. “But you’ll have to let
me
pat you down first.”

“Why?” said Nicko. “What if I
could
get in there with a gun? Do you think it would be such a terrible idea?”

The three men stared at him.

“I’m no expert on such things,” said Nicko, “but you people certainly are. Wouldn’t it be possible to conceal a small-caliber
weapon somewhere on my person that might get through a nonelectric body search?”

“It’s possible,” said Cortlandt. “But it would take too much time and preparation to even think about right now.”

“I wasn’t thinking of now. I want to try talking first, anyway. But if nothing comes of that, I can always invent some reason
to get in there again.”

The CIA director turned to John Hendricks. “Remember your Greek assignment last year? Would you be able to rig something like
that for Dr. Vorelli?”

“If I could get the parts.”

“I’ll find whatever you need,” said Major Dechen.

“Exactly what are we talking about?” Nicko asked.

“It’s a forearm pressure harness that carries a small-caliber pistol under your jacket sleeve,” said Hendricks. “When you
lower your arms after a body search, it can feed the piece into your hand.”

Nicko considered the solemn-faced son of Peggy and Peter Walters. The open hostility he had shown at their last meeting was
gone and he seemed almost friendly.

“The only problem,” continued Hendricks, “would come from a hands-on body search that included your inner arms. But if you
reacted quickly enough, you could get off a shot even then.”

No one said anything.

Major Dechen gave Nicko a quick pat-down and walked him over to the surveillance room.

A moment later, Nicko was inside, with the door locked behind him and Klaus Logefeld aiming an automatic at his head.

“Welcome to God’s corner, Doctor.”

No one else was visible and Nicko realized Klaus had prepared for the visit by putting his grandfather and the Dunsters into
a connecting bathroom to insure privacy. In addition, he had radio music blaring to further cover their conversation.

“Please excuse the precautions,” said Klaus, and he went through a brief body search that did not include Nicko’s arms.

Then with the banks of monitors flickering around them, they sat facing each other.

“A lot has certainly happened,” said Nicko softly. “Imagine the president just dropping into your arms like manna from heaven.”

“Does that mean God is with me?”

“How could He not be? You’re doing His work for Him.”

The music soared but Klaus was quiet.

“And your treaty terms are brilliant,” said Nicko. “There’s only one detail I find disturbing. Why was there no mention of
my fifty million marks?”

“No problem, Dr. Vorelli. I just thought it unfitting to inject any specific mention of money at this point.”

“But you have mentioned money. What about your multibillion-dollar revolving fund?”

“That’s to support our strike force and infrastructure. Although it’s also where your fifty million will be coming from. Don’t
worry, sir. It will be handled.”

Nicko somehow doubted it.

“I’m only in here to supposedly talk reason to you and your grandfather,” he said. “So it would be nice if you could give
me something to take back to them.”

“Like what?”

Nicko stared at the bathroom door. “How about Dunster’s wife?”

“We’ve already tried to send her out. She won’t go.”

“Send her anyway.”

“It’s not that simple,” said Klaus. “She threatens to scream, carry on, and do real damage to herself if we push her out.
And that’s not the kind of thing we need the world’s attention focused on right now.”

Nicko studied the backs of his hands as if seeking solutions there. “Has the president read your proposed terms for peace
in Africa and their follow-up?”

“Before anyone else.”

“What was his reaction?”

“Mildly ecstatic.”

“Then how about putting him in front of a camcorder and letting him share those feelings with Wannsee’s delegates and the
world? Getting an all-out endorsement from the president of the United States would certainly help sanitize what you’re doing.”

Klaus Logefeld thought about it. “I don’t know whether he would.”

“I can’t believe you said that, Professor.”

“Why not?”

“Because you should know by now that as long as you have Mrs. Dunster here, there’s probably nothing in this world the president
wouldn’t do for you.”

T
HE ATTACK STARTED VERY MILDLY
this time, giving Jimmy Dunster plenty of warning and allowing him to keep control, move at his own pace, and not panic his
wife.

The president just asked to be excused for a moment and let the old man free him from the single handcuff that still anchored
him to his chair. Then he went into the adjoining lavatory and closed the door behind him. But by then his joints seemed to
have locked together, and he had to struggle to get one of the nitro pills out of the bottle in his pocket and place it under
his tongue.

Breathing hard, Dunster sat on the closed toilet cover and waited for the nitroglycerin to begin its work.

Crazy
.