Джозеф Файндер - Extraordinary Powers

This morning , Eisler thought.

He squeezed his eyes tighter. Droplets of perspiration rolled down his nose, onto his lips.

This morning.

And then I said, lowering the gun, “Well. I can see you are a man of steel will.”

Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked directly at me. There was great fear in them, of course, but there was something more. A glint of triumph, it seemed; a flash of defiance.

Finally, he spoke. His voice cracked. “If you will leave my office at once—”

“You haven’t talked,” I said. “I admire that.”

“If you will leave—”

“I do not plan to kill you,” I went on. “You’re a man of honor; you’re doing your job. Instead, if we can agree that this never happened — if you agree not to report this, and agree to let both of us leave the bank undisturbed, we will call an end to this. We will leave.”

I knew, of course, that the moment we left the bank he would call the police — in his position, I’d have done the same thing — but this would buy us a few much-needed minutes.

“Yes,” he said. His voice cracked again. He cleared his throat. “Leave here immediately. And if you have any sense at all, which I seriously doubt, you will leave Zurich at once.”

We strode quickly out of the bank and then accelerated to a run down Bahnhofstrasse. Eisler seemed to have abided by his agreement to let us out of the bank (for his own safety and that of his employees), but by now, I calculated, he had certainly called in both bank security and the municipal police. He had our real names, though not our cover names, which was an encouragement, but it was probably only a matter of hours — if that long — before we were apprehended. And once the Wise Men’s forces knew that we were here, if they didn’t already — but I didn’t want to think along those lines.

“Did you get it?” Molly asked as we ran.

“Yes. But we can’t talk now.” I was hyper-alert, keeping a close watch on all passersby, searching for that one face that I recognized, the washed-out face of the blond would-be assassin I’d first seen in Boston.

Not here.

But a moment later I sensed that we once again had company.

There are dozens of different techniques employed to follow a man, and the really good operatives are seldom caught. The problem for the blond man was that I had “made” him, in surveillance argot: I’d recognized him. Except in the loosest sort of tail, he couldn’t hope to follow me unnoticed. And indeed, I didn’t see him anywhere near us.

But, as I was to learn soon, there were others, tails I didn’t recognize. In the crowded foot traffic of Bahnhofstrasse, it would be difficult if not impossible to spot a tail.

“Ben,” Molly began, but I gave her a fierce look that shut her up at once.

“Not now,” I said under my breath.

When we came to Barengasse I turned right, and Molly followed. The plate-glass storefronts provided a good reflecting surface for me to study who was following us, but no one seemed conspicuous. They were professionals. It was likely that since the moment I’d spotted him as we entered the bank, the blond man was determined not to be seen. Others, confederates, were now in play.

I would have to flush them out.

Molly let out a long, quavering sigh. “This is crazy , Ben. This is just fucking dangerous !” Her voice grew softer. “Look, I really hated seeing you hold a gun to that guy’s head. I hated seeing what it did to him. Those things are so vile.”

We walked along Barengasse. I was keenly aware of pedestrians on either side of us, but wasn’t yet able to get a fix on anyone.

“Guns?” I said “They’ve saved my life on more than one occasion.”

She heaved a heavy sigh. “Dad always said that, too. He taught me to shoot a gun.”

“A shotgun or something?”

“Handguns. A .38 and a .45. Actually, I was pretty good at it. An ace, if you must know. Once I was able to hit the bull’s-eye on one of those police silhouette target things at a hundred feet, I put down my dad’s gun and never fired it again. I also told him never to keep one in the house again.”

“But if you ever have to use a gun to protect yourself or me—”

“Of course I’d do it. But don’t ever make me.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Thanks. But was all that necessary with Eisler?”

“Yes, I’m afraid it was. I have a name now. A name and an account that will likely tell us where the gold disappeared to.”

“What about the Banque de Raspail in Paris?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what that note’s supposed to mean. Whoever was meant to see it.”

“But why would my father have left that note there?”

“Don’t know.”

“But if there’s a safe-deposit box, there has to be a key, right?”

“Generally, yes.”

“So where is it?”

I shook my head again. “We don’t have it. But there must be a way of getting into the box. But first, Munich. If there’s any way of intercepting Truslow before anything happens to him, I’ll find it.”

Had we eluded them?

Doubtful.

“What about Toby?” Molly asked. “Shouldn’t you notify him?”

“We can’t risk contacting him. Or anyone at CIA now.”

“But we could use his help.”

“I don’t trust his help.”

“How about trying to reach Truslow now?”

“Yes,” I said. “He may be on his way to Germany. But if I can stop him—”

“What?”

In mid-sentence I swiveled around toward a public telephone on the street. It was far, far too risky to place a call to Truslow’s office in the CIA, of course. There were other ways, however. Even on short notice; even improvised on the spot. There were ways.

Standing on the street, Molly next to me, I kept a close watch on my surroundings. No one — yet.

With the assistance of an international operator I called a private communications facility in Brussels, whose number I, of course, was able to recite easily. Once connected, I entered a sequence of numbers, which shifted the call to a rather complicated telephone switch-back system, a dead-end loop. The next call I direct-dialed would appear, in a trace, to originate in Brussels.

Truslow’s executive assistant took my call. I gave him a name that Truslow would immediately recognize as signaling me, and asked him to pass it on to the director.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the assistant said. “At this moment the director is aboard a military aircraft somewhere over Europe.”

“But he’s accessible by satellite link,” I insisted.

“Sir, I’m not permitted—”

“This is an emergency !” I half shouted at the assistant. Truslow had to be reached, to be warned against entering Germany.

“I’m sorry, sir—” he replied.

And I hung up. It was too late.

And then I heard my name.

I turned toward Molly, but she hadn’t said anything.

At least I thought I heard my name.

Quite an odd sensation. Yes, definitely my name. I glanced around the street.

There it was again, thought , not spoken, unquestionably.

But there was no man anywhere near us who could possibly—

Yes. It wasn’t a man at all, but a woman. My pursuers were equal-opportunity employers. Very politically correct.

It was the lone woman, standing at a newsstand a few feet away, seemingly absorbed in a copy of Le Canard Enchainé , a French satirical newspaper.

She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, with short reddish hair, wearing a no-nonsense olive business suit. Powerfully built, from what I could tell. No doubt she was very good at her job, which I suspected was to do more than simply follow.