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  Mironov knocked once and came in. “He’s South African. Name of John Browne.”

  Lukashin turned away from the window. “I was never in South Africa. How could we have met?”

  “You were both in Rio de Janeiro for the war games four years ago,” Mironov said. He laid the thin file folder on Lukashin’s desk. “He worked for South African Intelligence until two years ago when they fired him. He was down there working with some arms dealers, but now they have a warrant for his arrest, though they’re not pushing it with much vigor.”

  “What’d he do?”

  “I couldn’t find out,” Mironov said. “Leastways not about that. But he has no love for us.” Mironov explained what he’d come up with from Browne’s record. “I checked with Moscow but there was no record of any such operation against him or his family.”

  “Things like that tend to get lost,” Lukashin said. “Is he a threat?”

  Mironov thought about the question for a moment. “Not to this operation, as long as we keep him at arm’s length.”

  “Then I’ll give Speyer what he wants.”

  “What about me, Ivan?”

  “What do you want? Money?”

  “Browne.”

  Lukashin grinned evilly. “When our business is concluded, you may have him. You’ve earned it.”

  “Yes I have,” Mironov said with some relish. “Oh, yes I have.”

  3

  NEW YORK CITY

  The Gulfstream took off from Washington a few minutes after ten that morning. Lane and Gloria were the only passengers aboard. Speyer and Baumann were staying behind to wait for word from the Russians.

  “Change of plans,” Speyer had told him this morning. “I want you and Gloria to take the jet up to New York. Check into the Grand Hyatt and wait for us.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier if we all went together?” Lane asked. He had an idea what they were up to. They didn’t trust him, even yet, and he couldn’t blame them. But siccing Gloria on him was an exercise in futility, really sophomoric, and there was no way he wanted to get in the middle of some sort of a domestic dispute, whatever the reasons.

  “You’ve already caused enough of a stir, and I want you out of here.” He laughed tightly, his expansive, friendly mood of last night gone. “And there are times, frankly, when my wife gets on my nerves, if you know what I mean.”

  “Right,” Lane said. “But I didn’t sign on to be a baby-sitter.”

  “If you work for me, you’ll do as you’re told,” Speyer said. “When you get to New York send the jet back for us; we should be ready by then.”

  Gloria sat across from Lane. She kept crossing and uncrossing her legs, giving him a good look at her thighs. She was dressed in a transluscent silk blouse, a lightweight cream-colored skirt and no nylons. She had probably been a beautiful young woman, Lane thought, but now she bordered on the edge of garish, though she still held her figure. He had to smile to himself. Under any other circumstances it would be amusing to see just how far she would go.

  “It’s nice to be with a man who is in a good mood all the time,” she said.

  “I can’t see any reason not to be. I’m going to make a lot of money.”

  “Is that terribly important to you?”

  Lane shrugged. “Not really,” he said. “Having it is okay, but being without can be a drag.”

  “I’ve been there,” she said with a little bitterness.

  He supposed she had, and there wasn’t much he could say. “Helmut seems to do okay for himself. Did you know him in Germany?”

  “No, we met in LA about five years ago. He bankrolled a movie I was in and it just went from there. He was the life of the party.” She focused on Lane. “But he can be a royal pain in the ass sometimes.”

  “We all can.”

  “I mean a real fucking Hitler. It’s not all about money and power.”

  “That’s too bad,” Lane said.

  “Yeah, I get tired of it sometimes.”

  “No, I mean that he has to take this kind of a chance to make some money. But Kalispell has to be expensive, and Eden won’t come cheap.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The mission. Germany. The diamonds. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?”

  Gloria shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I really don’t. Do you want to start making some sense?”

  “Look, I took a chance coming out to see him because he’s supposed to be connected. So I get out there, save his life and what happens?”

  She shook her head, confused.

  “You, Mrs. Sloan. He’s sent you and me to New York together so that you can seduce me.” Lane lit a cigarette with his Vacheron et Constantin gold lighter, handed it to her, and lit another for himself. “I’m flattered and all that, naturally, you’re a beautiful woman, but what’s the point? What does he want?”

  He was in her territory now and she gave him a shrewd, appraising look. “Everybody has their own idea of Eden.”

  “If I take you to bed I’m being disloyal, is that what he wants to know?”

  “I didn’t discuss it with him,” she said with amusement. “But if you would like to ask him, there is a phone beside you.”

  “Maybe I should. I wonder what he’d do?”

  “He might kill you.”

  “He might try.”

  Gloria laughed, the sound deep in her throat, and she wet her lips. “Actually he didn’t suggest that I sleep with you. That was my own idea. What do you think about that?”

  “I think that when we get to the hotel I’m going to lock my door and make sure it stays that way,” Lane said. He put out his cigarette, got up and went forward to the drink cabinet. It was well stocked. “How about a Bloody Mary?” he asked her.

  “That would be nice,” she said, still laughing. “Do you know what, John?”

  “No, what?”

  “I think that this is going to be more fun than I thought it would be. Infinitely more fun.”

  They took a limo to midtown Manhattan. The day was warm and hazy, the traffic somewhat light.

  “We could be here alone in New York for days,” Gloria said.

  The UN was a block down the street. Despite his upbringing and his job with the National Security Agency and now working directly for the president, Lane had always been naive. He’d always thought that ideas like the United Nations were a good thing. He called it his Superman complex. Truth, justice, and the American way. He firmly believed it. Frannie and Tom laughed at him, but with affection and not derision, when he argued for a world peace with the U.S. as the benevolent policeman. Of course what they were doing amounted to just about the same thing.

  He focused on Gloria. “Why did you quit the movies? Didn’t you ever get your big break?”

  “You’d be better off asking why I started in the movies in the first place. Well, the answer is simple. I was looking for a husband and I found one.”

  “Nothing wrong with that. But Helmut might not have been your best choice.”

  She had brought a glass of champagne from the airplane and she drank it, looking at him over the rim of the glass. “Now you really are being disloyal. I don’t care what business a man is in, as long as he treats me right. And Helmut did okay. He’ll do okay again as soon as whatever’s biting his ass goes away. But in the meantime I’m his wife, not a piece of property.” Her thick, sensuous lips curled into a smirk. “And if that doesn’t sink into his thick skull maybe it’ll be me who kicks him out.”

  “Then what?”

  “Whatever I want to do. I still have plenty of options, and Helmut is not in any position to try to stop me.”

  “He might kill you.”

  Gloria laughed. “That’s rich,” she said. “The son of a bitch wouldn’t dare.”

  They checked into the Grand Hyatt a few minutes before one. The hotel, with its soaring atrium lobby, was a half-block from Grand Central Station, and comfortable if not elegant. Speyer had
booked them adjoining suites that looked down on 42nd Street. Champagne and flowers were waiting in Gloria’s.

  She knocked on the connecting door after the bellmen were gone, and Lane let her in. She was a weak link in Speyer’s defenses, and even though he disliked using her like that, he couldn’t afford to pass up the opportunity.

  “I’m not going to play games with you,” he said, as he opened one of his bags on the luggage stand by the closet. “If you have a problem with your husband, work it out, but if you want my advice, just get the hell out.”

  “Are you trying to justify taking me to bed, John?” she asked. She walked into the bedroom, flopped down on the bed, and kicked off her shoes. She’d brought the bottle of champagne and a glass from her room. With the drinks she’d had on the way up from Washington she was beginning to get drunk. “I wonder what hubby dear would say if he were to walk in on us right this moment?”

  Lane stepped around the corner. “If you want to fool around, okay, I’m game. But how about let’s wait until the mission is done. I need the money and I don’t want to screw up here.”

  “But I don’t want to wait.” The telephone rang. She reached over and switched it to speakerphone. “Hello.”

  “Sweetheart, I thought the switchboard was connecting me with John’s room,” Speyer said tightly.

  “They did,” Gloria replied lightly. “Did you want to talk to him?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Lane shook his head. “I’m right here, Mr. Sloan.”

  “Did you send the jet back for us?”

  “Yes. We just got here ourselves, but it should be on its way back by now. Is there any problem in Washington?”

  “None whatsoever. But there’s been another change of plans.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “We’re flying to Frankfurt tonight. The information we wanted has arrived safe and sound.”

  “I’m very glad to hear that.”

  “I want you two to check out of there this afternoon and get over to JFK no later than six-thirty.”

  “I’m not going anywhere without a passport.”

  “I have it. We’re booked on Lufthansa zero-zero-nine, which leaves at seven-thirty. Meet us in the first-class lounge.”

  “What if there’s a delay?”

  “There won’t be. Now listen. I want you to do exactly as you’re told. Your special equipment that won’t fly well, you need to get rid of it.”

  He meant Lane’s pistol. “I understand, but what about when we get to Frankfurt?”

  “You’ll have your choice of the best available.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Very well, we’ll see you at six-thirty.”

  “Right,” Lane said.

  Gloria reached over and broke the connection, purposely hiking up her skirt to give him a long look. She was wearing no panties, and Lane almost had to feel sorry for her. She was crude. She flashed him a big smile. “At least we have the rest of the afternoon.”

  “Not a chance,” Lane said. “I have to get rid of my gun, and then I need to catch a couple hours of sleep. I was up most of last night.”

  “I have just the cure—”

  “Out,” Lane said. “Now.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t know what you’re missing.” She got languidly off the bed and, carrying her champagne with her, brushed past him, gave him a wet kiss on the cheek, and left the room.

  He locked the connecting door then went back to the bedside phone and called the hotel operator. There’d been something in Speyer’s phone call that should not have been there, and he wanted to make sure he’d not been hearing things.

  “Operator, how may I direct your call, Mr. Browne?”

  “I just received a long distance call. I think it was from Washington. Could you find out that number for me?”

  “One moment, sir.” The operator was back a half-minute later. “Sir, there was only one telephone call to your room, and it was local. Would you like the number?”

  “Yes, please.”

  The operator gave it to him, and he hung up. During Speyer’s call he had heard the distinctive note of a ship’s whistle. An ocean liner’s whistle.

  Using his cell phone he called Frannie in Washington, and gave her the New York number that Speyer had called from.

  “Hold on a sec, love,” she said. She was back in just a few seconds. “It’s a pay phone.”

  “Somewhere near the docks.”

  Frannie was silent for a long moment. “How did you know that, William?”

  “I heard a ship’s whistle when he was talking to me. You have to wonder why he didn’t come up on the jet with his wife and me.”

  “Maybe he wanted to meet someone without you knowing about it,” Frances suggested.

  “I think you’re right. But who, and why?”

  “Okay, love. What next?” she asked.

  “We’re off to Frankfurt tonight. Lufthansa zero-zero-nine from JFK. Call the Germans and make sure they give us plenty of room. In the meantime, have you come up with anything about the Nazi research bunker, and the business about the diamonds?”

  “Nothing yet, but Tommy’s working on it.”

  “Okay, tell the old scoundrel to step on it. I have a feeling that I’m going to be needing all the hard information I can get, and soon.”

  “Oh, you were right about Lukashin, too. He was in Rio during the war games, so he must have seen you there.”

  “Okay, that’s not going to create a problem. The only other loose end is my gun. I’m going to check it here at the hotel. Have someone pick it up for me.”

  “Will do, luv.”

  “Tell Tommy to do whatever it takes to find out about Reichsamt Seventeen.”

  “William, listen to me, don’t take any unnecessary chances. I’m worried about these people. We have enough right now to turn this over to the German federal police.”

  “Not yet,” Lane said. “This isn’t just about money, or at least not the diamonds. It’s something bigger than that. I’ve got a feeling.”

  “Well, be careful,” Frances said. “I want you back in one piece. In the meantime you’re calling from a suite in the Grand Hyatt. What are you and the man’s wife doing alone in a hotel?”

  “Bridge,” Lane said. “She’s a marvelous bridge player. Honestly, darling.”

  “Peachy. We’ll have to have the dear over one evening when this business is finished,” Frances said sarcastically.

  “Sounds good. Ta-ta,” Lane replied and he broke the connection.

  The first-class lounge was three-quarters full when Lane and Gloria showed up after picking up their tickets and checking their luggage. They got some champagne and walked over to where Speyer and Baumann were waiting at a window seat.

  “Ah, I was wondering if you two were going to make it,” Speyer said.

  Their 747 was pulled up to the jetway, surrounded by service trucks and luggage handlers. The pilot and first officer were doing a walk-around. All routine. All normal. Yet Lane was beginning to wonder just what it was that Speyer was getting himself into. There was something sinister to the business; something much more than a mere snatch of a cache of diamonds hidden in a Nazi bunker for more than a half-century.

  “Did you just get to New York yourself?” Lane asked, sitting down.

  Gloria gave her husband a peck on the cheek and sat next to him, an amused expression on her face.

  “About an hour ago.”

  “How about the Gulfstream?”

  “We won’t be needing it for now, so I sent it back to Kalispell,” Speyer said. “Is there anything else you’d like to know?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Sorry. But I tend to get a bit hyper in the middle of an operation. I want to know what’s going on around me, and I want all my ducks in a row. Especially when it’s my life on the line.”

  “Perfectly reasonable,” Speyer told him.

  “Is the bunker very far from Frankfurt?”

&nbs
p; “It’s in what used to be East Germany, of course,” Speyer said. “But first we’re going to Hamburg to meet with someone. Then we’ll continue on to Neubrandenburg, on the Tollense See. It’s just a couple of hundred klicks, not far.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then we’ll meet another old friend who’ll put us up, and after that it’s up to the Russians and to your diving skills.” Speyer held up a hand before Lane could ask another question. “That’ll be all for now. You’ll be told the rest as and when you need to know.”

  “That’s fine by me,” Lane said. “But I’ll want to know what’s coming my way in plenty of time to get ready for it. I don’t jump into dark closets unless I have a flashlight.”

  “We’re in this together,” Speyer said. “I’m depending on you just as much as you’re depending on me and Ernst.”

  Gloria laughed softly, but then turned away as Speyer glared at her. The animosity between them was palpable, and Lane had a feeling that there would be trouble because of their problems.

  OVER THE ATLANTIC

  The overnight flight was smooth and the first-class accommodations comfortable. “I suppose that you’re used to traveling like this all the time,” Baumann said to Lane.

  They were seated together, Speyer and Gloria, who was already sleeping, across the aisle. Dinner was a very good Wiener schnitzel with a passable Piesporter Michelsberg, then coffee and Asbach-Urhalt cognac afterward. The movie had started but most of the first- and business-class passengers were either asleep or working on their laptops.

  “I’ve always figured that if you can’t travel first-class, why bother? Why not just stay at home?”

  “You have expensive tastes,” Baumann said. “You must have to stay busy to keep up with them. And it has to be hell when you don’t have the money to live that way. I know that it would bother me.”

  “I suppose it would,” Lane said. “But personally I’ve never been in that position.” He glanced over at Speyer, who had also reclined his seat and looked as if he was asleep. “What about your boss?”