“I’d call that a pattern,” said Jack.
“What are we saying, though? That Klugmann cyberattacked those facilities and caused those catastrophes? For what reason?”
“Who stood to benefit from those companies’ losing their contracts?” Jack asked. “Did these countries nationalize the failed facilities, or did they hire another company to take over?”
Effrem surfed on his laptop for a few minutes. “Mumbai’s reclamation plant stayed private, but another company is managing the facility.”
“Same with Ontario,” Jack noted. “And Panama.”
“This is unbelievable,” Effrem said. “We can’t be looking at this right.”
Jack wasn’t so sure. Economic espionage was a booming business, with hundreds of billions of dollars at stake. Rarely did a week pass without a new story about one company trying to sabotage a rival’s market research or financial position. Gossip was spread, media campaigns launched, and legal battles fought, all as an economic cold war. Was direct-action sabotage that much more of a stretch?
The Panamanian sugarcane business was probably $4 billion a year. With those kinds of profits, hiring someone like Rostock to oust a rival company and be installed in its place could be seen as both a reasonable expense and a sound investment.
Marshal Allemand had mentioned the immense coffers Rostock would need to fund his private war on terrorism. Having failed to find either advocates or investors, had the German developed a niche side business as an economic mercenary?
Talk about aggressive market development. Through disaster Rostock creates an economic vacuum and then arrives to save the day for his client. Jack wondered how many times Rostock had done this. They’d found three possible instances, and perhaps one in the making here in Namibia, but could there be others they had yet to find?
René, who had been following the exchange closely, walked over and sat down on the couch opposite Jack. “All this that you’re suggesting, you believe Alexander Bossard is involved?”
Jack and Effrem exchanged glances. Jack hesitated, then replied, “Involved, yes, but he’s secondary. We think Jürgen Rostock is at the head of it.”
René nodded thoughtfully. “And why would he do all this?”
“To fund his war on terrorism,” said Effrem. “René, you said it yourself: Rostock is convinced governments can’t do the job and that his approach is the only one that has a chance of working. Does he believe that? Is he truly committed?”
“Of course.”
Jack said, “Then how do you know how far he’s willing to go? If you need to make a little mess to clean up a bigger one, isn’t it a fair trade?”
René was frowning, shaking his head. “Stop. Just please stop.”
Jack and Effrem went quiet. Finally René said, “Earlier you were talking about Dovestar. What is that?”
“Are you asking?” said Jack.
“Obviously.”
“Just wanted to make sure. Effrem, tell him everything.”
Effrem did so, starting with Jack’s audit of Dovestar, RSG’s connection to it, and the secret operational fund. He ended his recap with the evidence that Dovestar had been paying Klugmann.
“It sounds like there is a better case against Bossard,” René said.
Jack did his best to keep the frustration from his voice. “Here’re the pieces of the puzzle. Follow me on this: Without knowing it, I uncover evidence that Rostock is hiding money at Dovestar; Eric Schrader tries to kill me, Schrader works for Rostock, Schrader and Möller know one another, therefore Möller likely works for Rostock. There’s evidence Schrader was involved with the Lyon attacks. Finally, there’s evidence that it was Rostock who kidnapped you, held you, and tortured you.”
“What evidence?”
Effrem answered: “Janine Périer.”
“What about her?”
“She doesn’t exist,” said Jack. “Her real name is Janine Pelzer. She’s German. She lives in Munich, the same place RSG is headquartered. Rostock used her as a lure, René. She helped set up your kidnapping.”
“No. I don’t believe you.”
Jack replied, “There’s a part of you that does.”
“Why would Jürgen do that?”
Jack decided they’d pushed René far enough for now. “We don’t know yet. We’re working on it.”
René waved his hand dismissively. “Until you have an answer for me, I refuse to buy into any of this.” He stood and stared down at Jack. “Do you really believe I could miss seeing all this? I’m going for a walk to clear my head.”
With his belly in a knot, Jack took the elevator down to the lobby, then out the doors to the valet desk. It was two hours since René had left.
“Can I help you, sir,” the valet on duty said.
“I’m looking for a friend. He came down a couple hours ago.” Jack described René’s face and clothing.
“Yes, I remember, sir. He asked for a taxi.”
“To where, do you know?”
“Hosea Kutako Airport. I hailed the taxi myself.”
34
Jack’s choice of Zurich was based on little more than a gut call. If his reason for leaving was what Jack suspected, René’s destination could be only one of three locations: Khorusepa Lodge to find Möller; Munich to confront Rostock; or Zurich to force answers from Alexander Bossard. René had already suggested Bossard, not Rostock, was the driving force behind all this, so in René’s mind Bossard was not only the juicier target but also the easiest, for he’d already spent weeks stalking Bossard.
Fifteen hours later and six hours behind René, Jack’s plane touched down at Zurich’s Kloten Airport just after midnight local time. Having left Zurich in a hurry, Jack had told Effrem to not return their rented Citroën, but rather to leave it in the airport’s long-term parking. Jack went straight there, then drove to the level on which he and René had left his van.
The van was gone. For the sixth time since finding René gone, Jack dialed his cell phone. As with each time before, the phone went to voice mail. Jack disconnected before René’s greeting began. He called Effrem, who answered immediately.
“Any luck?”
“His van’s gone, so at least we know this is where he came,” said Jack. “Is the Pilatus still at the Midgard airstrip?”
“The GPS tracker hasn’t moved. That doesn’t mean Möller and his men are still there, though. Jack, I can—”
“Forget it, Effrem.”
They’d already had this conversation a few times, Effrem pressing for permission to stake out Khorusepa Lodge and Jack demurring. Effrem had come a long way since their first meeting at the nature preserve in Alexandria, but the kind of surveillance mission Effrem was proposing would have been risky even for Jack.
“So I just sit here?” Effrem asked.
“No, you sit there and keep working the Bossard material. Look for flaws in our thinking, details we overlooked. Sift it all through your journalist’s brain.”
Marshal Allemand had promised action against Rostock if Jack offered evidence to support his allegations, and the information in the Bossard material went a long way to doing that.
But not far enough, Jack thought.
Rostock’s people had come to Namibia for the same reason they’d gone to Mumbai, Ontario, Panama, and who knew where else, and Jack wanted to catch them in the act. That might not happen if René succeeded in grabbing Bossard — or if he failed in the attempt, for that matter. If either news reached Rostock, Namibia would be called off. But would that outcome be so bad? he wondered. In the short term, no, but Rostock wasn’t going to stop. If not Namibia now, where next?
Effrem made one last attempt: “If they don’t take the Pilatus, we’re going to lose them. Let me go—”