W iley took the call in his office. ‘They’re being held in the city watch-house.’ The encrypted telephone connection to the US Embassy in Berlin was unusually clear, as was the message from the chief of station, Brandon Gray. ‘The heat from the media is red-hot -’
‘Not least because, like me, the media are mystified as to why two men in balaclavas would attack a fucking garbage truck!’
‘Their instructions were to follow the cell phone and assassinate Tutankhamen and Nefertiti,’ Gray said defensively. ‘There’s little doubt the cell phone was on board the truck, but there was no sign of either of the targets.’
‘Has anyone tumbled to anything that might link us? What about the cell phone?’
‘No, sir. The fire was intense, and the cell phone would have been destroyed. I’m worried about the assets, though. Germany abolished the death penalty in 1949, but the feeling here is overwhelmingly in favour of its reinstatement for cases like this. Either of them might talk.’
‘That can’t be allowed to happen! Terminate them both.’
‘Even if we can find someone who’s prepared to do it and able to get access,’ Gray replied, hesitating, ‘it’ll be very expensive… ’
‘I don’t give a fuck what it costs. Find someone on the inside!’ Wiley slammed the receiver back onto its encryption cradle, got up from his desk and paced his office. The German Chancellor was already describing the crash as a massacre and she was demanding answers. He contemplated briefing the new director but immediately dismissed the notion. The old regime would have simply denied any involvement, but if the CIA connection surfaced on this new President’s watch, Wiley knew he’d be finished. Four floors below, a heated argument between Larry Davis and Ellen Rodriguez was in full swing.
‘Jesus Christ, Larry. I don’t know what O’Connor or Weizman have done to get so far up the administration’s nostril, but this is way out of control!’ Rodriguez’ green eyes were blazing. ‘Ten people are dead, including two babies, because we’ve got a bunch of thugs out there. Amateurs firing at anything that moves!’
‘If you’re not up to this, Rodriguez… ’ Wiley strode into the room. ‘What’ve we got, apart from this clusterfuck in Gottingen?’
Davis mopped his bald pate. ‘It appears the targets were not in Gottingen, but Bad Arolsen,’ he said, glancing at Rodriguez. ‘We got a look at the visitors’ book and Nefertiti used her own name to sign in.’
‘Why would she use her own name?’
Davis shrugged and Rodriguez stepped in. ‘Probably because you have to book to search documents well in advance, and at the time Weizman made the phone call to the International Tracing Service, she wouldn’t have been aware we had her in our crosshairs.’
‘Was Tutankhamen with her?’
‘She was accompanied by a man fitting his description,’ Davis replied quickly.
‘So where are they now?’
‘Not sure, but we’re sending more assets into Bad Arolsen,’ said Davis.
‘Which I think is a mistake.’
Wiley wheeled on Rodriguez. ‘Why?’
‘Firstly, Germany is not some third-world country where murders are part of everyday life,’ Rodriguez replied evenly. ‘Everyone from the Chancellor down is demanding answers to our latest effort in Gottingen and the police will be on high alert across the country. If we start pouring assets into a little village like Bad Arolsen, that’s only going to draw the crabs. Secondly, the targets are highly unlikely to still be there.’
‘And why is that?’
‘I’ve worked with O’Connor before. He is, or was, one of our best agents. He hopes for the best and plans for the worst, so he’d expect us to be close on his heels. He won’t stay exposed a moment longer than he has to.’
‘So where do you suppose he might be now?’
‘O’Connor already knows what we’ve got planned for Weizman, and knowing O’Connor, he’ll be on to us – you,’ she added, ‘having exactly the same plans for him. Our contact in Bad Arolsen has reported that Weizman asked to see the documents for the Mauthausen concentration camp. They may be headed there, although just why O’Connor has sided with Weizman, I’m not sure. Perhaps it has something to do with that Mayan conference.’
‘I’d stick to finding out where they are if I were you, Rodriguez,’ Wiley responded, a menacing edge to his voice. He turned to his chief of staff. ‘Get Vienna to stake out the border crossings to Austria, and I want observation on the trains and airports. Get hold of the rental car hirings in the area and get someone out to the Mauthausen concentration camp. I want these two on toast.’