“Well?” Vogler asked. “Can we count on you to cooperate?”
“Yes,” he said softly. “Yes, of course.”
Vogler smiled again. “Excellent. I think it only fitting that we seal our agreement with a kiss.”
And the moment Vogler said this, Dimitri realized that the hands on his shoulders were no longer Radek’s. Radek, to his surprise, was again standing behind the desk next to Vogler.
The hands that remained moved up to Dimitri’s chin and tilted his head back, then the tall, bored brunette in the pink panties leaned down and rolled her tongue into his mouth, her breath smelling faintly of tobacco.
“This is Klara,” Vogler told him. “She has agreed to entertain you tonight.”
Dimitri didn’t know how or when she had entered the room, but he felt powerless, unable to resist her.
And as she took hold of his hand and led him to the door, he went along willingly, all thoughts of Yalena and his promises to her vacating his mind.
“We look forward to working with you,” Vogler said.
But Dimitri barely heard him.
When Kovalenko and the girl were gone, the one who called himself Radek shook a Black Devil cigarette from the pack atop the desk and lit it, exhaling a plume of smoke.
“Nasty little thing,” he murmured.
The one who called himself Vogler leaned back in his chair. “The Russian or the cigarette?”
Radek smiled and shook his head.
“Our secret interloper,” he said, then turned his attention to a darkened corner of the room. “I know you’re there. You may as well show yourself.”
The darkness shifted, and as expected, the intruder emerged from the shadows looking radiant as always, her nearly translucent skin glowing in the lamplight. She looked even more beautiful than she had in Istanbul the other night. Had Radek not known what lay beneath the surface, he may have found her attractive.
She mirrored his smile. “Gentlemen. I thought I’d stop in and see how you’re progressing.”
“Perfectly fine without you,” he told her. “As always.”
“What’s wrong, my darling? Are you upset with me? You two left that tea shop in such a hurry, I had to wonder if I somehow hurt your feelings.”
Vogler scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself. We weren’t interested in watching you seduce your little plaything.”
She shook her head in amusement and sank into the chair in front of his desk.
“But isn’t that what it’s all about?” she asked. “Isn’t that what you’ve done with this Russian and so many others?” She leaned forward and shook out a Black Devil for herself. “Taking a new skin and dressing up like a wannabe soldier doesn’t change that fact. It all comes down to getting these insects to do exactly what we want them to do.”
“A means to an end,” Vogler said with a wave of the hand. “I’m afraid neither of us takes the pleasure from it that you seem to.”
She lit the cigarette. “It’s true. I do take pleasure in it. Great pleasure. Turning them is half the fun. Then all we have to do is crank out a tune and watch the little monkeys dance.”
“But the dance itself is all that matters,” Radek told her. “Getting them to do what we need them to do. And our methods should always be simple and direct. There’s no point in calling attention to ourselves. Something you obviously haven’t yet learned.”
“Meaning what?”
“The girl in Brazil. You put on quite a show there.”
She shrugged. “I wanted information; she gave it to me.”
“And you went about it in the most spectacular way imaginable, when what you should have done was approach her through the boyfriend. Worked through him to get that information.”
“You two act as if we have all the time in the world,” she said. “The fourth moon is only days away and there won’t be another lunar tetrad for decades. I did what had to be done.”
“And what has it gotten you? While we’re busy making real progress, you’re wasting your time chasing a myth.”
She sighed. “Must we have this argument again?”
“If I think it’s one worth having, yes.”
“This is my party, remember? You both agreed to let me run with it.”
“Not if it means seeing us fail,” Radek told her. “You know me better than that.”
“Indeed I do, Radek.” She rose from her chair and moved around the desk toward him, stopping only inches away. “And you’re starting to sound as if you consider me some kind of threat. Let’s get it out in the open. I’m done sneaking around, pretending we’re something we aren’t.” She took a drag off the cigarette, blew smoke in his face. “Am I a threat to you, my darling Mamman? Are you scared of little old Belial?”
Vogler spoke sharply, “Not here, not now. We can’t know who’s listening.”
Belial turned to him, “And what of it, Moloch? Are you afraid the vermin will hear your real name? Do you think they look into your beady little eyes and don’t realize what you truly are-even if in their coward hearts they can’t admit the truth to themselves? Don’t make me call our brother out west to back me up. You know how he feels.”
Vogler didn’t flinch. “Don’t think for a moment you can intimidate me, Belial. And Beel doesn’t scare me, either. Not anymore. Not since he became distracted trying to reach these creatures by manipulating their so-called culture. When all is said and done, we’ll have our chance to settle our differences, and I don’t think you’ll be too happy with-”
A sharp knock cut him off.
“Komm rein,” he barked.
The door flew open and Vogler’s assistant-Heinrich-stepped inside, hefting the black nylon suitcase he had retrieved from Dimitri Kovalenko’s hotel room. Setting it next to the one on the desk, he unzipped it and threw it open.
They all stared at its contents: five lead cylinders containing fifty pounds of highly enriched U-235 weapons-grade uranium.
The one who called himself Radek eyed it appreciatively. “You see, my dear, this is how it’s done. This is the kind of dance that can be useful to us. No myths, no fantasies. Just good old-fashioned human ingenuity-with us pulling the strings.”
He looked at Belial, a self-satisfied grin spreading across his face.
“Welcome to the end of the world.”
22
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
He spent his days watching the girl. Jenna.
He’d found a spot across from the shelter, a stretch of curb between two parked cars that he’d staked a claim on. To anyone observing, he was just another homeless waste-of-space waiting for the shelter to serve its evening meal.
In a way, that was true. He was homeless. He’d been thrown out of the only home he’d ever known a long, long time ago and had found himself feeling unsettled and lost, searching for a reason for his father’s betrayal.
But his father had never been big on explanations.
Only consequences.
The shelter was a small, squat building in the center of the block that looked as if it had once been a store of some kind. Record shop. Used books. Auto parts. Pizza stand. Pawn shop.
Maybe all of the above.
It didn’t matter. It was now doing double duty as a bunkhouse and a soup kitchen, with enough room for about ten beds-cots and blankets, really-that were folded up each afternoon to make space for a dozen or more tables and chairs.
He watched Jenna through the front window. Saw her with the woman from the coffee shop, who had apparently asked her and several of the other girls to help out in exchange for guaranteed bed space. They worked with her in the kitchen and carried trays full of food to a long, narrow table in the back of the room, then stacked paper plates and cups and plastic sporks and knives on one end.