by Steve Berry
The image of the man on the left suddenly moved and the wooden panel upon which it appeared sprang open, revealing a secret compartment. Stamm gently hinged the panel out ninety degrees. She saw an envelope inside, brown with age.
“I’ll be damned,” Levy said.
She reached in and slid out the packet. Written on its face, in faded black ink, was
For a tyrannical aristocrat
She realized that they were standing in a public hall, though out of the main line of traffic, people moving back and forth, so she quickly slid the envelope into a coat pocket and thanked her friend.
“I need you to keep this to yourself,” she said.
The curator nodded. “I get it. National security.”
“Something like that.”
“I don’t suppose you could at least tell me who left that.”
“Andrew Mellon hid it for FDR to find. But that never happened. Thank goodness we’re the ones to actually discover it.”
“I’ll be interested to hear, one day, just what this is all about.”
“And I’ll let you know as soon as I can. Without going to prison.”
She and Levy left the hall as Stamm went about returning the desk to its more benign self. They avoided the entrance they’d used coming in, which led back to the street, and exited the Castle toward the National Mall. She wanted a quiet place where they could read what was inside the envelope.
They followed a wide graveled path toward the museums on the far side. People moved in all directions. An empty bench ahead, beneath trees devoid of summer foliage, beckoned and they sat.
She removed the envelope from her pocket, “It’s definitely from Mellon. FDR said he used these words, tyrannical aristocrat, when referring to him. It seemed to really piss him off.”
“You realize,” Levy said, “that what’s inside there could change the course of this country.”
“I get it. That’s why we have to make sure no one else sees this but us.”
She was about to open the envelope when she heard footsteps behind them. Before she could turn a voice said, “Just sit still and don’t move.”
She felt the distinctive press of a gun barrel at the base of her neck. The man who’d spoken stood close, another man pressed equally close to Levy, obviously trying to shield their weapons.
“We will shoot you both,” the voice said. “Two bullets through your head and be gone before anyone knows the difference.”
She assumed the weapons were sound-suppressed and that these men knew what they were doing. Levy seemed nervous. Who could blame him. Having a gun to your head was never good.
“You do realize that I am the secretary of Treasury,” Levy tried, his voice cracking from nerves.
“You bleed like anybody else,” the voice said.
To her right she caught sight of another man, walking down the graveled path, wearing a dark overcoat, dark trousers, and the same shiny Cordovan shoes that she remembered from last night.
He stopped before them.
The ambassador to the United States from China.
FIFTY-SEVEN
CROATIA
KIM LEFT THE FIRST-CLASS CAR AND PROCEEDED BACK TO WHERE Hana said the four men were waiting. He decided that the time to lead had come and fear was the last thing he would show. So far he’d acted decisively, never hesitating in ending Larks’, Jelena’s, and the man at the hotel’s lives. No one would be allowed to stand in his way, and that included the four Koreans he saw sitting together ahead. He cradled the black case to his chest, the gun with sound suppressor still inside, and entered the car. He approached the four and sat across the aisle in an empty row of seats, their faces all set in a frosty immobility. Only eight other people were in the car, all at the far end.
“Are you looking for me?” he asked quietly in Korean.
ISABELLA COULD SEE INTO THE CAR AHEAD AND SPOTTED KIM, apparently confronting the four problems. Luke was facing her, his back to the action.
“You’re not going to believe this,” she whispered.
And she told him.
“Crazy fool is tryin’ to unnerve them,” he said.
“He’s carrying the black satchel.”
“Let’s get closer,” he said. “You go ahead and move to a seat at the end of this car, near the exit door. I’ll be along.”
She stood, walked down the center aisle, counting six others scattered among the empty seats. She claimed a spot near the exit door, facing toward Kim, whom she could see through the half glass in the doors between the cars. Luke appeared and sat in the row across the aisle, he, too, watching ahead.
“Where’s Howell?” she heard him mutter over the clank of the wheels on the tracks.
She was wondering the same thing.
Howell had been sent to occupy Kim.
But that wasn’t happening.
“It has to be the daughter,” she whispered. “She’s got him.”
HANA STUDIED THE MAN CALLED ANAN WAYNE HOWELL. He watched her with a stern gaze that did not betray even a hint of fear. She’d observed Howell and the dead woman in the dining room on the ferry. They were obviously close, their touch and looks those of lovers. She envied him. Never had she experienced affection. Not with her mother, her father, her siblings, or anyone else. She’d even escaped the guards’ lust and kept her virginity. Perhaps only with Sun Hi had she ever experienced any form of close connection with another human being.
“Did you throw Jelena into the ocean, or did he?” Howell asked.
“I have never killed anyone.”
Her English was perfect, learned in Macao at a private school where she’d lived for the past twelve years. It had taken time for her to catch up with the other students, but she’d been determined to free her mind of ignorance. And she had. Reading was one of her few delights. Howell’s eyes signaled that he did not believe her declaration, but she did not care what he thought.
She knew the truth.
“What’s wrong with you?” Howell asked. “There’s not a speck of feeling on your face or in your eyes. It’s all blank, like you’re a machine.”
He was the first person to ever say that to her. Not once in fourteen years had her father ever inquired about how she felt. Everything had always been centered on him. His thoughts. His desires. Especially during the past few months, as his excitement rose in proportion to his potential success.
She said nothing and continued to stare at him.
“I’m leaving,” Howell said.
She produced the gun from beneath her jacket.
Howell froze.
KIM FACED THE FOUR MEN, THE BLACK SATCHEL IN HIS LAP, ITS ZIPPER open, the gun inside easily accessible. “I asked a question.”
The man closest to him, on his right, said, “We’re here for that satchel and for you.”
“And did my bastard of a brother send you?”
“The people of the Korean Republic sent us. You have been named an enemy of the state, as was your other brother.”
“Who was slaughtered, along with his entire family.”
“You cannot escape this train,” the man said in Korean. “We have people waiting in Solaris.”
“Might I inquire how you know so much about my whereabouts.”
“We have friends helping, supplying excellent information. And they have the means to know.”
That meant the Chinese. Then it occurred to him how. They were monitoring his mobile phone and computer use. He’d honestly thought nobody cared what he was doing. Definitely a miscalculation, but not insurmountable given his present location. Isolation worked both ways, and he intended to take advantage of the situation.
“The Chinese are not our friends,” he said to the man, who was apparently in charge of the other three. “Far from that, in fact.”
He gestured with his head to the satchel in his lap. “I assume you want the documents this contains?”
The man nodded. “All of them, especially an original crumpled page with numbers o
n it.”
Amazing. How much did these people know? And just who exactly were the Chinese monitoring?
“Do you think me a fool?” he asked.
“I think you are a reasonable man. There are four of us here and more waiting when this train stops. There is literally nowhere for you to go. Can we not do this without violence?”
He seemed to consider the inquiry.
“Let us start,” the man said, “with you handing over those documents.”
He lost all of his curiosity at these men’s intentions as another more vital desire rose within him. Survival. So a nod of his head seemed to accept the inevitable, and the hint of a tolerant smile masked his right hand as it slipped into the case and found the gun. He did not bother to withdraw the weapon. That would provide too much of an opportunity for his targets to react.
Instead he angled the satchel to the left and pulled the trigger.
ISABELLA COULD SEE THAT SOMETHING WAS HAPPENING IN THE next car. Kim jerked the black satchel, first left, then right. The four men sitting across the aisle from him were only partially visible, but over the train noise she heard faint pops and saw part of the satchel burst open. One of the passengers in the car ahead leaped to his feet and the exit door was flung open. A bearded man in an overcoat rushed her way. Through the glass she saw others bolting for the exit at the other end of the next car.
Luke saw it too. “What the hell?”
KIM FIRED THREE SHOTS, LEAVING NEAT HOLES IN THE TWO MEN TO his left and one to his right. The man in charge, sitting closest to him, had clearly been caught off guard but recovered and managed to pivot in his seat and thrust with his legs. The man’s feet slammed into the satchel and threw Kim back, but he managed to keep a grip on the gun, which he now withdrew from the case.
His target was quick.
Slipping to the floor, and finding a gun of his own.
FIFTY-EIGHT
WASHINGTON, DC
STEPHANIE SAT STRAIGHT ON THE BENCH AND NEVER MOVED, HER gaze locked on the Chinese ambassador.
“We’ve been watching and listening to you,” he said. “But your agents inside China do the same to us.” He shrugged. “It’s the way of the world.”
No real surprise, so she said, “Once you left Virginia last night, you knew I’d be running the show from this end. Of course, China would never risk an international incident. We are, after all, supposedly friends. But North Korea is a friend, too, whom you were talking to long before you came and spoke to me and the president.”
“They rely on us for help. Which we provide—”
“In exchange for those mining concessions the president mentioned. North Korea, for all its problems, does have a lot of minerals in those mountains.”
“That it does. But let’s not be so sanctimonious. Your country has allies that it helps, too. Some, I’m sure, occasionally to the detriment of others. You will admit this current situation is, to say the least, extraordinary.”
The ambassador held out his hand for the envelope.
She hesitated, then handed it over.
“You’re just going to give it to him?” Levy asked.
She faced the secretary. “Please tell me my choices.”
His silence confirmed that there weren’t any.
But she wanted to know more so she said to the ambassador, “You obviously had me followed today. There were eyes and ears in the National Gallery?”
The ambassador nodded. “One of the people in the garden court, when you spoke to Ms. Williams, then to the Treasury agent, monitored it all. Quite amazing what technology can do.”
That it was. Remote listening equipment was standard issue. No need to place a device near anybody. Just get within fifty yards, point the laser receiver, and listen away.
“And from that conversation you learned exactly where Kim was in Croatia.”
“Precisely. The North Koreans are there. They even tried to kill him, but failed. I’m told, though, that they now have Kim cornered on a train.”
She pointed at the envelope and asked, “Will the North Koreans actually get to see what’s inside?”
“That was the bargain.”
“You’re taking an extraordinary risk accosting two federal officials on the National Mall.”
“I don’t think it’s such a problem. Nobody seems to care. But after all, it had to be done.”
Which she understood. “There’s no way you were going to allow Pyongyang to take the lead here. They could just as easy double-cross you. So you had to get this for yourself, while they did the heavy lifting overseas.”
“Which they are much more suited to accomplish. And I do this as much for you as for us. At least now we can contain things, which you would have never been able to accomplish. I came to the president last night to find out if this was real. I left there knowing that it was.”
“And there’s no telling what Dear Leader might have done, is there?”
“He can be a bit … unpredictable.”
“Were you inside the Smithsonian?” Levy asked. “Watching us?”
He nodded. “I was able to see thanks to a covert video feed from an agent we had there in the exhibit hall. That desk is quite amazing. We have pieces like it in China, from long ago. Andrew Mellon apparently went to a lot of trouble to torment your President Roosevelt.”
“Does your premier really know of this operation?” she asked.
“He does. And he remains your friend, grateful for all the help you provided him. But this is a matter of national concern. The potential destruction of the American economy could cripple us, too.”
“So you plan to hold on to what’s in that envelope, and hope that it’s enough of a stick to keep us in line.”
“What did your President Reagan say. Trust but verify. We believe the same thing. You can be assured that if the potential here is catastrophic, we would be the last to utilize that. As I’ve said, your interests and ours are similar. As are North Korea’s, by the way. Dear Leader has no interest in seeing his half brother succeed.”
“Though he wouldn’t mind being the one who actually takes us down,” she said.
“I assure you, that is not going to happen.”
“And we have your word to make us feel better,” Levy added with sarcasm.
The ambassador smiled. “I understand your pessimism. But all Dear Leader wants at the moment is his half brother dead. Since he just annihilated his other half brother’s entire family, that should consolidate his power. No threats would remain to him. He can go back to his isolation and continue his bravado, which no one pays much heed to. So you see, our taking control of this envelope will not be a problem for the United States.”
“Except that our dirty little secret won’t be a secret anymore.”
The ambassador slipped the envelope inside his coat. “That is the price to be paid, but it could have been much worse. The North Koreans themselves could have taken command of the situation and acquired this information. Lucky for you, we decided to make sure that did not happen.”
Officially, the United States maintained no diplomatic relations with Pyongyang. In the past all necessary communications were funneled through the Swedes. But that had not been an option here.
She decided to allow the conversation to end.
She doubted the ambassador planned to linger much longer anyway. The Mall was quiet, and there were security cameras everywhere.
“I’m going to leave,” he said. “The men behind you will linger a few moments, then leave, too. After that, let us consider this matter closed.”
The ambassador bowed slightly, then turned and walked away, heading toward the American history museum and a car that waited on the street before it. She watched as he climbed inside and the vehicle drove away. After another minute, the men behind them left.
She and Levy sat on the bench.
The day was fading away, the air turning cooler.
She faced Levy and smiled.
He smiled back.
It worked.
FIFTY-NINE
CROATIA
MALONE DECIDED THAT THE MAN IN THE CAR WOULD BE FIRST, and he hoped that these two were all that he’d have to worry about on this end. The street was quiet, nearly no one around, all of the shops and stores closed. The train was due in shortly, so he needed to be in position and ready. He also wondered what was happening in DC, since everything depended on Stephanie’s show.
He assessed the situation and made a decision.
The direct approach was usually best.
He fled the shadows and headed into the street, negotiating the fifty feet of damp cobblestones between him and the car. He approached the driver’s side and banged on the rear windshield.
“Taxi. Are you for hire?” he called out.
He caught the startled reaction from the man inside.
He pounded on the rear window again. “I need to go. Are you available?”
The car door opened and the driver emerged. Another Asian, his face agitated. He wore a long overcoat and gloves. Big mistake. Not giving his adversary a moment to think Malone slammed his bare right fist square into the man’s jaw. The blow stunned the driver and he used the second of shock to grab a handful of hair and smash the man’s face into the car’s roof. He felt muscles go limp as consciousness faded. He kept a grip and stuffed the body back inside, laying him across the two front seats. He spotted a plastic grocery bag lying on the floorboard and retrieved it. A few rips and he fashioned a strip strong enough to bind the hands behind the back. For added measure, he pocketed the car keys and retrieved a pistol off the unconscious Korean. No need to leave a weapon around for someone to use.