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Lund’s identity had never been in question, but no one could say why she’d come to Austria. The Bundespolizei thought it highly suspicious that the attack on the station had occurred as she was being released from detention, and that the Marine guard sent to retrieve her had been targeted by the killer.

Emerson kept to the facts as he knew them. “We haven’t been able to locate her, but I can confirm that a murder took place in her apartment in Alaska. Lund was proven to be elsewhere when the crime occurred — a rock-solid alibi. By all accounts, until a week ago she was a Coast Guard investigator with a spotless record. I agree that we should talk to her, but her association in all of this seems quite tangential. The prevailing thought is that she was pursuing an investigation of her own, perhaps even tracking this man who did so much damage. Our first concern is for her well-being, given that she’s disappeared under such grim circumstances.”

“Yes, we did place her at the Hofburg that morning. The very gallery where Dr. Patel was scheduled to speak.”

“Yes, Dr. Patel,” said Emerson, “the professor from California. Does the Bundespolizei still consider him a bystander who got caught up in all this?”

Landau didn’t respond right away. With a pensive look he stood and walked toward his window, which Emerson knew from previous visits presented Minoritenplatz — a scene today held hostage by the profound morning gloom. “A bystander,” he finally said. “Yes, that was our original thinking. Unfortunately, certain curiosities have arisen regarding Dr. Patel.”

To this point, Emerson had heard nothing that wasn’t in yesterday’s briefing. He now sensed a shift in Landau’s course, and correspondingly, he suspected, the reason he’d been summoned at such an unseemly hour. “What kind of curiosities?”

“We studied the phone Patel was carrying when he was killed. There was also a laptop computer in a suitcase he’d sent to the airport. Oddly, both had been scrubbed.”

“Scrubbed?” Emerson repeated.

“Cleansed. Erased. Somehow all information on both devices has been very professionally wiped clean.”

“How could that be?”

Instead of answering, Landau turned back to face him and shifted course yet again. “With so little evidence to go on, the Bundespolizei were relying heavily on what the postmortem on our assassin would tell us.”

“I see,” said an increasingly cautious Emerson. “Was there something in particular they were looking for?”

“The body was taken to the morgue at our main hospital, and during the preliminary examination the medical examiner noted some highly unusual scarring on the killer’s scalp — indicative, perhaps, of recent cranial surgery. The work was quite extensive — in fact, no one in our medical examiner’s office had ever seen anything like it. They were convinced that a thorough postmortem would determine what kind of operation had been performed. In fact, due to the unique nature of the work, they thought they might even find indicators of where it had been done. A comprehensive autopsy was scheduled to have taken place yesterday. Our investigators saw it as the best hope for obtaining an identification.”

Emerson was lost. “Are you saying the postmortem didn’t take place?”

“That’s correct.”

“Why not?”

“Because the body has gone missing.”

Emerson sat stunned. He realized Landau was watching him closely, gauging his reaction. “How on earth did that happen?”

A reticent foreign minister diverted from the sullen panorama of his window to a bookcase that ran the length of one wall. “I’d like to show you something.”

Emerson stood and went closer as Landau used a remote control to activate a video monitor that was built into the bookcase. A video began to play, and the foreign minister provided commentary. “This is closed-circuit footage of the morgue where the body was kept. It’s a very secure facility, and due to heightened interest in this case, the Bundespolizei took the added precaution of placing a guard at the entrance. The video we’re watching is from two nights ago.”

Emerson watched the video run, and saw a morgue like any other — not that he was an expert. Large drawers lined one wall, and there were a few stainless-steel examination tables, all of it cast in severe industrial lighting. He saw the occasional technician come and go, but for the most part the scene was one of stillness, the only evidence of time’s progression being a clock in one corner of the screen. Then, quite abruptly, the video went to snow.

“What happened?” he asked.

Landau ran back to one of the last useful frames. “At 2:31 A.M. the video signal is lost. Our technicians have gone over the system and determined there was an interruption in the camera feed. In other words, it’s not a problem on the data storage end — the camera simply stopped sending images for thirty minutes. We can’t recover the information because there’s nothing to recover.” Landau kept working the remote, and said, “The video is reinstated at 3:02. Notice anything different?”

Emerson saw a scene much like the first video, but with one glaring exception — one of the big steel drawers was partially open. “You’re saying someone stole the body — and manipulated this security system to cover their tracks?”

“Without a doubt.”

“But you said there was a guard.”

“Yes, at the main entrance. There is, however, a service entrance. It is almost never used — only to transfer heavy equipment in and out — and is secured by a very capable cipher lock. At 2:34 that morning someone breached the system, inputting an access code to the door. This is a ten-digit code that changes every week, and is known to only two administrators. Both have been put in the clear.”

“So … how then?”

Landau stopped the video. “The service entrance I mentioned connects to a receiving dock where the hospital’s supplies are brought in. It wasn’t in use, of course, at that time of night, and the door was locked securely. Interestingly, there’s a camera outside this entrance as well, part of a completely different network. That system also malfunctioned at precisely the same time.”

The foreign minister retreated to his desk and took a seat.

Emerson said, “You’re suggesting that someone hacked into two separate security systems in order to remove the suspect’s body?”

“Three, actually. There is also a bank directly across the street from the hospital’s service entrance, and we thought it was worth checking. Same result. Then there is the matter of the defeated cipher lock at the morgue, and a second on the receiving dock. And of course Dr. Patel’s phone and laptop. I’ve been told by our cyber technicians that permanently erasing data from such devices is tricky — very hard to do without having them physically in hand.”

Landau reached into his top drawer and pulled out a sealed envelope. He pushed it across the desk toward a sinking Emerson, who asked, “What’s this?”

“Ambassador Emerson, the Republic of Austria hereby lodges a formal complaint against the United States of America. Serious crimes have been committed on Austrian soil, and a number of American citizens are involved, both as victims and, perhaps, as perpetrators. More damningly, the investigation of these crimes has been impeded and evidence destroyed by electronic means, the likes of which are available to only a few countries on earth. I dare say that neither China nor Russia would have any interest in disrupting our investigation. That being the case, the Republic of Austria hereby makes the following demands. First, all intrusions are to halt immediately. Second, the United States government will give every assistance to get to the bottom of this matter, including the return of any appropriated evidence to the Federal Police Forces of Austria.”