She placed a hand on her flat stomach. You’ll be better than both of us, little one. I promise.
She took another sip of coffee as she watched the glowing sunset over Potsdamer Platz, the former wasteland barrier between East and West Berlin, between Communism and Democracy. It had been a dumping ground for almost forty years while the Cold War had raged, but since the Wall had fallen, the city of Berlin had put considerable effort into making it vital again. Skyscrapers and office buildings and nightclubs and other attractions had been built to bring people to the area. People who had no memory of what had come before except for what they read in history books or saw in documentaries.
She didn’t blame them. Memories were overrated and often dangerous.
She would see to it that her baby would live in a different world than she had known.
The Moscow Protocol warning had put her on edge since she had received it, even though she had ignored it. It was the first time in her years with the University that she had received such an order, but her surveillance of the PotzdamerBanc was too important to abandon now. Any one of the hundreds of faces entering and leaving the bank could give them the link they needed to find the Vanguard. This was why she ignored the order and let OMNI continue its scans.
She had already been stationed in the safe house for weeks when the Moscow Protocol alert was issued. She had spent the hours since making preparations to activate the facility. Weapons and ammunition had been catalogued and stored. All security measures were checked and re-checked several times a day.
The Penthouse, as it was known within the University, was a relic from the Cold War that had proven useful in modern times. It was accessible only by a converted service elevator that required a physical key to be turned in a lock to access it from the loading bay. A different key must then be used inside the elevator to gain access to the Penthouse, which was located one floor below the actual penthouse.
The elevator was direct and unable to stop on any other floor. All access points for the elevator had been sealed and covered back when the University had first acquired the property in the late 1940s. The elevator was the only point of entry to the suite. The Hotel Delphi was taller than any of the other buildings in the immediate area, so the threat of snipers was minimal. The roof doors were rigged with a silent alarm. Any breach would alert hotel security immediately. None of the staff members were aware of the Penthouse’s existence, nor did it appear on any public plans of the building.
Assault by a missile or a helicopter was possible, of course, but the windows were thick enough to withstand fifty-caliber rounds before steel shutters slammed down to protect the structure. Anything larger than a pigeon hitting the glass would bring about the same result.
It was an impressive layout, Tali thought, though with only one way in or out it was both a fortress and a tomb. But in this life, very little could be assured. Least of all life.
Tali looked at the banks of monitors when she heard the alert that the elevator had been activated. She sneered when she saw Roger Cobb boarding, wheelie bag in tow. She knew Roger had been part of Hicks’s ground team in Europe. She knew she would have to deal with the disgusting little man eventually, but had successfully blocked the thought from her mind. Nothing lasts forever.
She turned back to the window and sipped her coffee, knowing this may be the last time she would be able to savor the view alone for quite some time. Berlin by twilight, a view her grandparents never would have believed possible. A Jew enjoying a beautiful view of Berlin. A woman, no less. The thought made her smile.
Stalin had killed more of her people than Hitler, but Hitler was more reviled. She often wondered why. Perhaps because the footage of Nazi death camps had been readily available, whereas Stalin committed his atrocities behind an Iron Curtain. People feared what they could see and willfully ignored what they could not. Out of sight, out of the collective mind.
The Jews had always been Europe’s punching bag, but no longer, not since 1948 and the establishment of a homeland. The homeland she defended even now.
She had always hated Hitler and Stalin and all the beliefs that had allowed both tyrants to rise to power. She knew why it happened. People would run to any light in the darkness, even when that light led them over a cliff.
She remembered her grandmother’s tears as she listened to her grandfather’s stories of surviving the camps. She remembered her father’s stories as a Nazi hunter with the Mossad and her own mother’s tears as she waited for him to come home. She remembered his tales of Munich during the Olympics and Entebbe.
And now they were all gone and she had joined the fight in her own way. A fight of her own time in history. Perhaps against the same people who had hunted her ancestors? Yes, she thought, the Jews had been the leftists’ punching bag for far too long. No more. Never again.
She shut her eyes when the elevator pinged, sounding its arrival at the Penthouse. A pleasant sound for such an unpleasant event.
“Well, look who’s here,” Roger said as he pulled his wheeled bag behind him. “My desert rose. It’s been a long time.”
“Not long enough to suit me.”
“What kind of greeting is that for an old friend?” He looked at her coffee. “That won’t help with the morning sickness…assuming you’re actually pregnant, of course.”
“I am pregnant, little man. I know I am. The coffee won’t hurt the baby. My mother drank and smoked during all her pregnancies and all her children turned out fine.” She decided to beat him to the punchline. “Even me.”
“Yes, you did.”
She watched his eyes move over her, not in a flattering way or even a leering way, but in a cold, appraising manner she did not like. “Yes, I can see why Hicks fell for you now that I can see you in a certain light. You’re not beautiful by any stretch of the imagination, but you certainly have an alluring charm about you. The olive skin, the doe eyes, and high cheekbones give you an exotic quality that fits James’s profile perfectly. He’s always been a sucker for dusky ladies such as yourself. I should know. After all, I’m the one who wrote his profile in the first place. I wrote your profile, too, come to think of it.” A smile. “Would you like to know what it says?”
“I’d like you to go to your room and shut the door until James arrives.” She set her cup back in the saucer. She no longer wanted it and was anxious to move on. “The first bedroom off the hallway is mine.”
But Roger Cobb didn’t budge. “I don’t blame you for lying to him. About the baby, I mean. You didn’t expect him to find out about your treachery with Schneider about the Jabbar business. He had a gun and probably had that look he gets when he’s about to do something horrible. I’ve seen it several times myself. Hell, I would’ve even told him I was with child, too, if I thought he would buy it.” He winked. “But I’m not as good a saleswoman as you. James and I don’t share your history, do we?”
“Enough.”
“Enough?” Roger laughed. “Oh, my love, I’m only getting started. I know what you said and why you said it. Unfortunately, you’ve painted yourself into something of a corner, but luckily for you, you’ve got Uncle Roger to help you get yourself out of it. Because I know you’re lying. It was all too convenient, too clever by half to be true. And when James finds out you’re lying, he’ll get that look again and I don’t know what he’ll do.”
He bent halfway forward. “Oh, I’m not worried about what he does to you. Not for your sake, anyway. I’m worried about what it’ll do to him. Finding out he’s not going to be a father will crush him. What he does to you after that will only make things worse.”
She stood as straight as she could, facing the fair, little man with the dead, gray eyes. She wasn’t accustomed to men speaking to her this way. She usually had some charm over them to distract them. But not Roger Cobb. Not because he was a homosexual, or at least she was pretty sure he was, but because he was clinical. His eyes saw everything, and he was every bit as smart as he thought.
; Except he was wrong about her pregnancy. She knew he was. She found herself placing her hands on her belly again, where she knew a life must be growing. She knew it in her soul.
But Roger Cobb had no soul. He said, “When you’re ready to come clean and tell him the truth, better come to me first. We’ll come up with a way to break it to him the right way and at the right time. For all our sakes.”
Her mouth suddenly went dry. She pressed her hands against her stomach. “You’re a dense little man, aren’t you? I’m pregnant and it’s his.”
“My offer stands for the next two weeks. Come clean by then and we’ll let him down easy. He never has to know you lied. I’m pretty good at keeping secrets, even yours.” He took a couple of steps toward her and stopped. “But if you insist on continuing this charade, it will break his heart. I’ll be very disappointed, and I get very angry when I’m disappointed. For, you see, I don’t have any real family anymore and even fewer friends. James is sacred to me. I owe him a lot. I’d do anything to protect him.” His eyes moved over her again. “But you? You mean absolutely nothing to me. If you hurt him, I’ll hurt you.”
Tali wanted to say something clever, but her mouth had gone dry and she found it difficult to breathe. She’d been in dozens of dangerous situations. Her life had been at risk more times than she could count. She had killed men for worse reasons than insulting her the way Roger Cobb just had.
But there was something about this cold, evil man that wasn’t just insulting or even threatening. It was more specific than that. He meant every word he said. All she could manage to say was, “I hate you.”
“Then you’re in good company.” Then, as quickly as his mood had darkened, it brightened. “But let’s dispense with the threats for now, shall we?” He placed a hand on the handle of his wheelie bag. “Tell me which room is mine. I need to take a moment to freshen up. I’ve had quite a day.”
BY THE time Hicks and Scott arrived at the Penthouse, the rest of the team had already gotten there.
Rahul Patel was sitting on the couch next to Tali. Formerly India’s top counter-intelligence operative before falling on hard times, he was now in the employ of the University. He had raven-black hair, sharp features, and a natural tan some people spent a lot of time in tanning beds to get. His Bollywood good looks made him too memorable for clandestine work, but he’d killed more of India’s enemies than anyone in their service.
Mike Rivas was the only member of the team who had caught a direct flight to Berlin. Since Mike was in a wheelchair, the fewer changes of airports the better. Besides, Hicks doubted even the Vanguard’s most thorough operatives, assuming they were watching, would think a man in a wheelchair had entered the country to fight them. The false German passport would only throw them further off the scent. Before losing the use of his legs on an operation in Guatemala, Mike had been one of the most capable Faculty Members in the University. Hicks wanted him to serve as the group’s eyes and ears from the safe house while the rest of them were in the field. Jason could help remotely if needed, but he didn’t have tactical experience. Mike did.
Roger and Scott stood by the windows in the back.
It wasn’t until he examined all five faces looking back at him that Hicks realized he hadn’t given a briefing to this large a group in years. All his orders were usually given one-on-one or via his handheld or computer. The whole scene was surprisingly old-fashioned for such a cutting-edge operation like the University. Hicks supposed technology couldn’t replace everything. At least not yet.
Hicks avoided looking at Tali for too long. He would only have one chance to get the group up to speed on everything that had happened. He couldn’t afford to allow his thoughts about her or the baby distract him. The others would pick up on it and he’d lose their confidence. He needed them to trust he was as focused as they were.
“A lot has happened in the last two days. Some of you know part of what happened, but now you’re going to hear all of it. After that, you’ll understand why I called everyone to be here in person instead of spread out over Europe.”
“I was going to ask about your reasoning for that,” Patel said. His crisp British accent added just enough of an edge to his tone to border on insubordination, without actually crossing it. “If we’re under attack, isn’t it better to present as many targets as possible rather than bunch ourselves together like ducks on a pond?”
Scott answered before Hicks could. “The Penthouse was a forward base of operations during the entirety of the Cold War. No one knows it’s here, not even the oldest members of the hotel staff. You saw the security measures it takes to get in here. If you’ve got any ideas on how they could be compromised or improved, I’ll be glad to hear them.”
Hicks thought it sounded closer to a dare than a question. Coming from Scott, it probably was.
“We’ll get to that in a second,” Hicks said. “For now, we’ve got more important things to worry about. Roger has been working undercover at Der Underground nightclub here in Berlin. Two days ago, he generated a lead on someone we thought might be affiliated with the Vanguard.”
Hicks tapped a button on his handheld and the Penthouse’s flat screen monitor came alive with the bald, bespectacled mug shot and arrest form of Tessmer. “This led us to investigate this man, a criminal by the name of Wilhelm or Willus Tessmer. I ran his face and name through every database in the Western hemisphere and came up with nothing except this old arrest record in Bonn. All the links you see on this image are dead. No court documents, no arrest records, nothing before or after this record was made. Someone worked very hard to scrub this man’s identity from every database in Europe, possibly elsewhere.”
Mike Rivas asked, “What about Asia? Didn’t Jabbar’s information prove the Vanguard was working out of Russia and China?”
“Since Roger’s lead had links to Spetsnaz,” Hicks went on, “I asked the Mossad’s office in Moscow to do some digging. A few hours after I spoke with them, the entire Moscow office went CROATOAN.”
“Ronen Tayeb?” Tali asked. “All of his people gone?”
“Taken out by a hit squad we assume were sent by Tessmer’s people.” Hicks said the words, but still couldn’t believe it. He noticed even Roger looked somber.
But Mike didn’t. “Did Moscow police get anything from the crime scene?”
“Only that Mossad people were in the office,” Hicks told him.
“Impossible,” Tali said. “Ronen wouldn’t go down without a fight.”
“He didn’t,” Hicks told her. “Moscow cops estimate there were at least three dead on the street, but the hitters took their dead and dying with them.”
He paused to let the gravity of that sink in. A group with the ability and presence of mind to take their dead away showed military precision.
“At almost the same time,” Hicks continued, “a University facility on 23rd Street was hit by a Hellfire-type missile delivered by a Valkyrie-type drone. This facility was my main base of operations in New York, so we have to assume I was the target and that it was related to the attack on Tayeb’s people in Moscow. Digging around about Tessmer must’ve set off a lot of alarm bells.”
He heard all of them begin to ask questions at once and held up a hand to quiet them. “Our facility was taken out by similar equipment used in Syria and Iran. There’s evidence that people working with the Vanguard sold it to them.”
Mike asked, “Did you make it out okay?”
“No,” Roger sneered. “He died, but is risen.” He raised his hands and looked at the ceiling. “It’s a miracle!”
None of the others laughed, least of all Rivas, who kept looking at Hicks. “I mean, were you shot? Were you hurt by falling debris? Did you sprain an ankle or dislocate a shoulder or break some ribs? Did you receive a concussion?” He turned his wheelchair enough to glare at Roger. “Meaning did he receive any damage that might affect his capacity to work in the field. I’m going to need to know these things if I’m helping to coordinate the operation
, you fucking sarcastic faggot.”
Roger blew him a kiss.
“Enough,” Hicks said. He had known assembling a team of alpha-types was a risk, but he needed every single one of them. “Doc Fischer checked me out at the Annex, Mike. I probably had a concussion, but I’m okay. A little sore, but I’m fine.” He looked at Scott. “He’ll vouch for me if anyone needs him to. All of you know he’s not exactly president of my fan club.”
Scott remained leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest. “Doc said he’s fine, so he’s fine.”
Tali ignored the banter. “Two simultaneous attacks on two separate continents. Nothing in Jabbar’s information led us to believe the Vanguard was this proficient.”
“Or aggressive,” Patel added. “Funding a proxy war is one thing, but this is something else entirely.”
“Which is why I started Moscow Protocol and shut everything down until we knew what we were dealing with.”
Mike turned his wheelchair back toward Hicks. “Has OMNI been compromised?”
“No. It would’ve helped explain how they tracked me down to the 23rd Street facility, but that’s still a mystery. None of you knew where it was located and no one else did either. I plan on asking those Vanguard bastards personally once we find them.” Hicks looked at Patel. “Rahul has been working with our people in London to track the group’s financial activities. Tell us what you’ve found so far.”
Rahul said, “We used the Jabbar information to analyze all the suspected transactions associated with possible Vanguard companies. They’re almost impossible to track. The money flows from one company to another account in microseconds, then disappears in government securities or other types of accounts. Whoever they’ve got working for them knows how to game the system, and they know how to cover their tracks almost instantly.”
A Conspiracy of Ravens Page 12