"Insolers," I said, "you seem to be forgetting the fact that you pointed me here."
"I did not point you here, Frederickson," Insolers replied tersely, impatience and a hint of anger in his voice. "Not intentionally anyway. I was trying to send a signal through you. When you showed up in Zurich, I was absolutely convinced you were a part of his network, a friend who'd come to help him do whatever it is he's trying to do. With your background, you fit the profile of the kind of person Sinclair has crossed paths with, and befriended, over the years. These people are incredibly loyal to him. I wasn't about to swallow what I considered then to be a cock-and-bull cover story about doing donkey work for Neuberger. I was in a hurry to get in touch with Sinclair, and I made a snap decision that the fastest way was through you. I was wrong, okay, but at the time I considered it vital to convince you I wasn't an enemy. That's why I said the things I did. I figured that by mentioning Blake, I'd prove to you that I was on Sinclair's side. I couldn't imagine that you'd dig as deeply and as fast as you did into something that didn't mean anything to you."
"If you were so certain I was Sinclair's friend, how did you know I wasn't also the betrayer you're so certain exists?"
Insolers laughed. "You're not the betraying type, Frederickson. Your reputation truly does precede you. I was just trying to nudge you in the ribs to get you to see that I could be trusted. I nudged too hard, obviously, and too often."
"What happens now, Duane?" Jan asked quietly.
Insolers sighed, glanced toward the curtained window. "We have to get out of here. Now. I just hope it's not too late."
"Why, Duane? Do you think you've been followed?"
"I don't know for certain that we haven't. If we were seen coming in here by anybody who may have been following us, they could have put things together. They may be waiting, either for Chant to show himself if he's in here, or, if he isn't, simply to show up. But if they decide to move on us, we could all die."
"Where do you propose that we go, Mr. Insolers?" Harper asked. "You may recall that they're after Robby too."
"I'll take you all to a CIA safe house. You'll be protected there until this business is sorted out. Jan, you'll close down the castle, make it obvious to Chant that you're not here."
"I pass," I said. "I can't afford to go into hiding, because there's nothing to be sorted out as far as I'm concerned. If the people hunting Sinclair can't get to him, they may just fade back into the woodwork and wait for another day. But they know where I live. You can take Har-"
"Don't you dare say it, Robby!" Harper snapped. "Don't you dare!"
"We're out, Insolers," Garth said evenly. "But we appreciate the offer."
"Jan?"
Jan Rawlings shook her head. "If you have been followed and there are people outside watching my home, it's doubtful they'll let us leave. If there's nobody watching, I'm as safe here as I would be anyplace else. I won't go anyplace where Chant couldn't find or get in touch with me."
"And if you're being used as bait?"
"Chant will know what to do," she replied, then looked around at the rest of us. "You're all welcome to stay here, if you like. I know you mean Chant no harm, and I believe he'll trust you. I believe he'd want me to extend this invitation. If he does get in touch, then Dr. Frederickson can discuss whatever it is he wants to discuss with him." She paused, again looked at Insolers. "I'll give Chant your message, Duane, but you're welcome to stay too, if you want. I'm sorry I spoke to you the way I did. I know you didn't mean any harm, and Mr. Kendry pointed out that you risked your life to try to keep this secret safe. You don't claim to be a friend of Chant's, but I know that he thinks of you as one. I do too. You've kept your part of the bargain over the years, and I appreciate that. Of all the people Chant has struck bargains with, you're the one who's always been in the best position to betray him. You haven't. Again, I'm sorry for the things I said."
"There's no need to apologize, Jan," Insolers said quietly, "but I do thank you for your words. The reason I came to Switzerland is that I do consider you and Chant my friends. Talking to you is the same as talking to Chant, but I would like to stay a little longer to try to see if there's anyone else hanging around here."
Veil said, "If you wait until nightfall, I'll be able to find out if there are men on the grounds."
Insolers looked at Veil, narrowed his lids slightly. "Are you that good?"
It was Garth who answered. "Oh, he's that good."
Insolers nodded, and I turned to Jan Rawlings. "Lady-"
"Jan, please. In the first place, as you already know, I'm not really a countess at all. Good grief. In the second place, if you're going to be my guests for an indefinite length of time, we may as well be on a first-name basis."
"Then you'd better call him Mongo," Garth said with a wry grin. "He hates 'Robby,' and Harper's the only person who calls him that. But then, she knew Mongo before he was Mongo. There's Harper, Mr. Kendry is Veil, and I'm Garth."
The woman nodded to my brother and Veil, then smiled at me. "Then Mongo it shall be. I believe you were about to say something."
"Actually, I was about to ask something. Jan, I think Insolers is right about John Sinclair purposely using himself as bait to draw in an enemy. It's one enemy, one group, in particular that I think interests him, and it's a bunch of Japanese assassins, possibly all members of a secret society. I believe the ties between them go back many years, and your man may see this as an opportunity to take care of business once and for all. Does what I've just said mean anything to you?"
Jan shook her head. "Chant was born and raised in Japan, as you may know," she answered, looking puzzled, "but I don't know about any secret society of Japanese assassins. But then, I know there are a lot of things Chant hasn't told me. I suppose I really don't want to know. The one incident I was involved in with him was quite enough for me, thank you very much. I still have nightmares about those men."
Her tone had the ring of truth, and she had already demonstrated that she had little skill at hiding her emotions or dissembling, but I looked over at Garth anyway, just to make sure. He nodded slightly. She was telling the truth.
"Jan," I said, looking back into the woman's soft, brown eyes, "does he have a mark on his body? It would probably be on his back, but not necessarily. It would be quite large, a combination of burn scars and a tattoo. It would look like fire burning black."
Jan Rawlings' response was immediate, and as dramatic as when Harper had first spoken John Sinclair's name. Her eyes went wide with shock, and she gave a little gasp. "Yes," she said. "That's exactly right. How do you know that, Mongo?"
"Well, well, well," Garth said quietly. "Bingo."
"Jan, it means-"
I stopped speaking when both Garth and Veil suddenly leaped to their feet. Veil gave a slight shrug of his right shoulder, and I knew that his throwing knife had slipped from the spring-loaded scabbard strapped to his forearm and was now in his palm. I stood up, turned and looked in the direction of their gaze.
To my astonishment, I saw a man who looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties standing on the balcony above me and to my right, casually leaning on the railing. He was looking down at us with what could only be described as a silly grin on his face. He was Japanese and, like many of his generation, quite tall, close to six feet. He was handsome, with piercing black eyes that seemed to have no pupils, black hair, high cheekbones, and smooth skin. He wore black linen slacks, expensive loafers, and a red and gray Harvard sweatshirt.
Veil, the only one among us besides Harper who had a weapon, wasn't waiting for the man to introduce himself. His right arm suddenly came up in a softball fast-pitch motion, and his knife flashed through the air. But the Japanese was just as quick. Without any wasted motion-indeed, without even taking his left foot off the bottom rung of the balcony railing-he merely moved his head an inch or so to his right, and Veil's knife sailed on up past his throat and embedded itself at an angle in the ceiling.