The Englishman shrugged. “Information pertaining to our land deals mostly. Nothing that Locke will be able to string together into any coherent pattern and no hint whatsoever as to the existence of Tantalus.”
“And what of Grendel? Remember, he now possesses every bit of information Locke does. He could be extremely dangerous to us.”
“Only if he were aware of our existence,” the Englishman pointed out. “All he has to go on are rumors and vague conjecture.”
“He will piece the truth together,” St. Clair said. “It’s what men like Grendel specialize in. But it’s not the damage he could personally do to us that concerns me. It is the possibility his suspicions might reach forces high up in the United States government.”
“That can be dealt with,” Van Dam noted. “I can use Dogan’s failure to obey orders as the basis for a quarantine order. He’ll become an untouchable. That should prevent him from doing us any harm.”
“Elimination is the only way to assure that,” said Mandala.
“If I make the quarantine order restricted, it will provide sanction for precisely that. Quite unofficial, you understand.”
“Yes, I understand, and your assurances mean nothing to me.” Mandala’s eyes darted from one Committee member to the next, locking finally with the chairwoman’s. “Grendel’s reputation and prowess will prevent any average agent from taking him out or even daring to try. He’s extremely resourceful and he likes to kill. I suggest we go along with Mr. Van Dam’s restricted quarantine strategy. I will insure the elimination is handled at the earliest possible time.” Then, with a slight smile: “I have the perfect man for the job.”
“Of course, we’ll have to find Dogan first,” St. Clair said. “Any ideas on where to start?”
“Switzerland,” the British representative suggested. “Dogan has many contacts there and its proximity to Liechtenstein makes it a logical refuge. But he won’t stay in one place long. Locke’s information will send him searching for answers.”
“Then perhaps we can get him through Locke,” Mandala noted. “Finding our college professor should prove a far easier matter. I have the means to insure he cooperates with us fully and knowingly. Once his contribution has been made, I can have him eliminated as well.”
“Not a wise move,” St. Clair said firmly, “for we must learn if he has contacted anyone else. We will learn nothing from Grendel, even if we are able to take him alive. Therefore, I want Locke kept alive and brought here. Is that understood, Mr. Mandala?”
Mandala nodded as convincingly as he could manage. He had no intentions of following any of the old bitch’s orders unless they suited his plan. Her reign over the Committee was drawing to a close. His was about to begin. Mandala suppressed a smile.
“All right, then,” St. Clair continued, addressing herself to all the men before her. “Bring all our intelligence forces to bear. Put out the call to all our contacts in the field, especially Switzerland.” She paused. “It’s a small world, gentlemen. Our quarries will not be out there for long.”
Calvin Roy pressed his fingertips into his forehead, as if imprinting ten small permanent marks might relieve the frustrations of the past five days.
“Goddammit, Major Pete, that’s not a whole helluva lot to go on. You’re tellin’ me all we got’s the shit we started out with.”
“Liechtenstein was slow in responding, but we know now that Locke used his credit card number there to make a long-distance call. He dialed a number in England — Falmouth, to be exact. We’ve got the line tapped and the house under watch.”
“Any more calls from our renegade professor?”
“Not a word.”
“What about to his home?”
Kennally shook his head. “I’ve covered Liechtenstein with agents. If Locke’s still in there, we can’t find him.”
“You ever walk across a plowed field at night, Major Pete? You can smell the shit something awful, but the idea is still not to step in it ’cause there’s more places where it ain’t than where it is. But those places where it is, they get ya every time. Same thing with Locke. We just gotta follow his trail.”
“He didn’t leave one, Cal.”
Roy seemed not to hear him. “You find any strange occurrences in Liechtenstein immediately preceding Locke’s phone call to England?”
“There was a murder,” the CIA chief reported, “but the details are sketchy.”
“Sketch ’em for me.”
“A financier named Felderberg was killed. The Liechtenstein authorities aren’t saying much but it’s a safe bet there’s nothing to link Locke with the murder.”
Calvin Roy smiled and scratched his bald dome. “Right now, Major, I got the feeling that Locke and Felderberg are tied tighter together than bull’s balls. What I don’t get is how.”
“Locke started out following Lubeck’s trail,” Louis Auschmann noted. “And we know Lubeck was in Liechtenstein at some point before San Sebastian. What if Locke’s still following the trail? That would explain why he hasn’t come in yet.”
“But without Charney to run him, he would’ve needed help for that, Louie. What about our check of Charney’s contacts in England?”
“A total blank.”
“That ain’t right. Makes no sense I can see. The connection’s gotta be there. Still got the file, Louie?”
“In my office.”
“Bring it over when you get a chance.”
“You think we missed something?”
“Maybe,” Roy replied. “We got any notion of where Lubeck went after Liechtenstein?”
“Florence, if he’s following Lubeck’s trail. But we have no way of knowing who he’s going to meet there.”
Roy nodded. “Throw our primary field forces into Florence, Major Pete. Heavy concentration. That’s where Locke’s headed.”
“If he’s still alive,” from Kennally.
“Least his family still is. You pull them out like I ordered?”
Kennally hesitated. “There was a … complication.”
Roy frowned. “Clean the shit off your shoes, Major, and tell me all about it.”
The woman climbed into the backseat of the idling car and faced the big man with the black eyepatch.
“Our efforts to find Locke have led nowhere,” she reported in Spanish.
“The old hag’s reputation was excellent.”
“The bastard Locke will pay,” the woman spat out. “He’ll pay for her death too.”
“Self-defense,” the one-eyed man offered, “is understandable.”
“Why are you defending him? You of all—”
“Something isn’t right here. It hasn’t been from the beginning. I was never comfortable about London. Alvaradejo got off four shots before Locke took him out. And the cabdriver said that Locke was helped by a car crash more than anything else.”
“Pablo’s throat was cut ear to ear.”
“You didn’t read the autopsy report. The slice was delivered from low to high by a person barely five-and-a-half-feet tall. Locke is six one.”
“A helper?” the woman asked, flustered.
The big man shook his head, fingered his eyepatch. “That doesn’t fit. If Locke was as good as he must be to have been given this mission, others would be superfluous … unless it has all been an illusion.”