He stopped walking. This had to end. “If you don’t shut up, you’re going to get Gary killed. I’m his only hope and, right now, playing with my head is not productive.”
That truth produced a momentary flash of understanding in her bitter eyes, an instant when the Pam Malone he’d once loved reappeared. He wished that woman could linger but, as always, her guard flew up and dead eyes glared back at him.
“Lead the way,” she said.
They entered the ballroom.
The rectangular hall stretched two hundred feet. Windows lined both sides, each set deep in alcoves of thick masonry, the oblique light casting a subtle spell across a checkerboard floor. A dozen or so visitors milled about admiring huge oil canvases that dotted the pale yellow walls, mainly battle scenes.
At the far end, before a hearth, Malone spotted a short, thin man with reddish brown hair. He recalled him from the Magellan Billet. Lee Durant. He’d talked with Durant a few times in Atlanta. The agent caught sight of him, then disappeared through a doorway.
He headed across the hall.
They passed through a series of rooms, each sparsely decorated with European Renaissance furniture and wall tapestries. Durant stayed fifty feet ahead.
Malone saw him stop.
He and Pam entered the room identified as the Corner Chamber. Hunting tapestries adorned plain white walls. Only a few pieces of furniture dotted the dull black-and-white tile floor.
Malone shook Durant’s hand and introduced Pam. “Tell me what’s happening.”
“Stephanie said to brief you, not her.”
“As much as I’d like for her not to be here, she is, so don’t sweat it.”
Durant seemed to consider the situation, then said, “I was also told to do whatever you ask.”
“Glad to hear Stephanie’s being so accommodating.”
“Get to the point,” Pam said. “We’re under a deadline.”
Malone shook his head. “Ignore her. Tell me what’s happening.”
“Access was gained to our secured files. No evidence of hacking or forced entry through the firewalls, so it had to be by password. That’s changed at regular intervals, but there are several hundred people with access.”
“No traces to a particular computer?”
“Zero. And no fingerprints in the data. Which indicates that whoever did it knew what they were doing.”
“I assume somebody is investigating.”
Durant nodded. “The FBI, but so far nothing. About a dozen files were viewed, one of which was the Alexandria Link.”
Which might, Malone thought, explain why Stephanie had not immediately alerted him. There were other possibilities.
“Here’s the interesting part. The Israelis are super-hyper right now, particularly during the last twenty-four hours. Our sources tell us that information was learned yesterday out of the West Bank from one of their Palestinian operatives.”
“What does that have to do with this?”
“The words Alexandria Link have been mentioned.”
“How much do you know?”
“I was just told this an hour ago by one of my contacts. I haven’t even fully reported to Stephanie yet.”
“How is any of this helping?” Pam asked.
He said to Durant, “I need to know more.”
“I asked you a question,” Pam said, her voice rising.
His civility ended. “I told you to let me handle this.”
“You have no intention of giving anything to them, do you?” Her eyes blazed and she seemed ready to pounce.
“My intention is to get Gary back.”
“Are you willing to chance his life? All to protect some damn file?”
A group of camera-clad visitors wandered into the room. He saw that Pam had the wisdom to hush, and he was grateful for the interruption. Definitely a mistake bringing her. He’d have to ditch her as soon as they left Kronborg, even if it meant locking her in a room at Thorvaldsen’s manor.
The visitors wandered off.
He faced Durant and said, “Tell me more about-”
A bang startled him, then the ceiling-mounted camera in the corner exploded in a shower of sparks. Next came two more bangs. Durant lurched backward as blood roses blossomed from punctures in his olive-colored shirt.
A third shot and Durant collapsed to the floor.
Malone whirled.
A man stood twenty feet away, holding a Glock. Malone stuffed his right arm under his jacket to find his own weapon.
“No need,” the man calmly said, and he tossed the gun.
Malone caught it. He gripped the pistol’s stock, finger on the trigger, aimed, and fired.
Only a click came in response.
His finger worked the trigger.
More clicks.
The man smiled. “You didn’t think I’d give it to you loaded.”
Then the shooter fled the room.
TEN
WASHINGTON, DC
4:40 AM
STEPHANIE CONSIDERED BRENT GREEN’S INQUIRY-WHY DON’T you trust me?-and decided to be straight with her boss.
“Everybody in this administration wants me gone. Why I’m still here, I don’t know. So I don’t trust anybody at the moment.”
Green shook his head at her suspicion.
“Those files were accessed by someone with a password,” she added. “Sure, they scanned through a dozen or more, but we both know the one they were after. Only a few of us are privy to the Alexandria Link. I don’t even know the details-just that we went to a lot of trouble for something that was seemingly meaningless. Lots of questions. No answers. Come on, Brent. You and I haven’t actually been asshole buddies, so why should I trust you now?”
“Let’s be clear,” Green said. “I’m not your enemy. If I were, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“I’ve had friends in this business say that to me many times and not mean a word.”
“Traitors are like that.”
She decided to test him further. “Don’t you think we ought to bring more people into the loop?”
“The FBI is already in.”
“Brent, we’re operating in the dark. We need to know what George Haddad knows.”
“Then it’s time we deal with Larry Daley at the White House. Any road we take will lead straight to him. Might as well go to the source.”
She agreed.
And Green reached for the phone.
MALONE HEARD THE PERSON WHO HAD JUST MURDERED LEE Durant scream that there was a man with a gun who’d shot somebody.
And he was still holding the Glock.
“Is he dead?” Pam muttered.
Stupid question. But standing with the murder weapon in hand was even more stupid. “Come on.”
“We can’t just leave him.”
“He’s dead.”
Hysteria filled her eyes. He recalled the first time he’d watched someone die, so he cut her some slack. “You shouldn’t have seen that. But we have to go.”
A warning rush of heels on tile echoed from beyond the room. Security, he assumed. He grabbed Pam’s hand and yanked her toward the opposite end of the Corner Chamber.
They scampered through more rooms, each like the next, sparsely furnished with period pieces, illuminated by dim morning light. He noticed more cameras and knew he’d have to eventually avoid them. He stuffed the Glock into his jacket pocket and brought out his Beretta.
They entered a room identified as the Queen’s Chamber.
He heard voices from behind. Apparently the body had been found. More shouts and footfalls, coming their way.
The Queen’s Chamber was an apartment. Three doorways led out. One to a staircase up, the other down, the remaining portal opening into another room. No security camera in sight. He scanned the décor trying to decide what to do. A large armoire towered against the exterior wall.
He decided to play the odds.
He rushed to the armoire and grabbed the double-door iron handles. Inside was spacious and empty. Plenty big enough for them both. He motioned at Pam. For once she came without comment.
“Get in,” he whispered.