Tess Gerritsen - In Their Footsteps

Leitner didn’t speak.

“Surely the name is familiar, Herr Leitner. Over the years, Delphi must have passed on invaluable documents. He was your link to NATO operations. Don’t you remember?”

“That was twenty years ago,” murmured Leitner. “The world has changed.”

“We want only his name. That’s all.”

“So you may put Delphi in a cage like this? Shut away from the sun and air?”

“So we can stop the killing,” said Richard.

Leitner frowned. “What killing?”

“It’s going on right now. A French agent, murdered in Paris. A man, shot to death in Greece. It’s all linked to Delphi.”

“That cannot be possible,” said Leitner.

“Why?”

“Delphi has been put to sleep.”

Hugh frowned at him. “Are you saying he’s dead?”

“But that makes no sense,” said Richard. “If Delphi’s dead, why is the killing still going on?”

“Perhaps,” said Leitner, “it has nothing at all to do with Delphi.”

“Perhaps you are lying,” said Richard.

Leitner smiled. “Always a possibility.” Suddenly he began to cough again; it had the gurgling sound of a man drowning in his own secretions. When at last he could speak, it was only between gasps for oxygen. “Delphi was a paid recruit,” he said. “Not a true believer. We preferred the believers, you see. They did not cost as much.”

“So he did it for money?” asked Richard.

“A rather generous sum, over the years.”

“When did it stop?”

“When it became a risk to all involved. So Delphi ended the association. Covered all tracks before your counterintelligence could close in.”

“Is that why my parents were killed?” asked Beryl. “Because Delphi had to cover his tracks?”

Leitner frowned. “Your parents?”

“Bernard and Madeline Tavistock. They were shot to death in a garret in Pigalle.”

“But that was a murder and suicide. I saw the report.”

“Or were they both murdered? By Delphi?”

Leitner looked at Hugh. “I gave no such order. And that is the truth.”

“Meaning some of what you told us is not the truth?” Richard probed.

Leitner took a deep breath of oxygen and painfully wheezed it out. “Truth, lies,” he whispered. “What does it matter now?” He sank back in his chair and looked at the commandant. “I wish to rest. Take these people away.”

“Herr Leitner,” said Richard, “I’ll ask this one last time. Is Delphi really dead?”

Leitner met his gaze with one so steady, so unflinching, it seemed that surely he was about to tell the truth. But the answer he gave was puzzling at best.

“Dormant,” he said. “That is the word I would use.”

“So he’s not dead.”

“For your purposes,” Leitner said with a smile, “he is.”

“A sleeper. That’s what Delphi must be,” said Richard. They had not dared discuss the matter in the limousine-no telling whom their driver really worked for. But here, in a noisy restaurant, with waiters whisking back and forth, Richard could finally spell out his theories. “I’m sure that’s what he meant.”

“A sleeper?” asked Beryl.

“Someone they recruit years in advance,” said her uncle. “As a young adult. The person may be kept inactive for years. They live a normal life, try to gain influence in some trusted position. And then the signal’s sent. And the sleeper’s activated.”

“So that’s what he meant by dormant,” said Beryl. “Not dead. But not active, either.”

“Precisely.”

“For this sleeper to be of any use to them, he’d have to be in a position of influence. Or close to it,” said Beryl thoughtfully.

“Which describes Stephen Sutherland to a T,” said Richard. “American ambassador. Access to all security data.”

“It also describes Philippe St. Pierre,” said Hugh. “Minister of Finance. In line for French prime minister-”

“And extremely vulnerable to blackmail,” added Beryl, thinking of Nina and Philippe. And of Anthony, the son born of their illicit affair.

“I’ll contact Daumier,” said Hugh. “Have St. Pierre vetted again.”

“While he’s at it,” said Richard, “ask him to vet Nina.”

“Nina?”

“Talk about positions of influence! An ambassador’s wife. Mistress to St. Pierre. She could’ve heard secrets from both sides of the bed.”

Hugh shook his head. “Considering her double digit IQ, Nina Sutherland’s the last person I’d expect to work for Intelligence.”

“And the one person who’d get away with it.”

Hugh glanced around impatiently for the waiter. “We have to leave for Paris at once,” he said, and slapped enough marks on the table to pay for their coffees. “There’s no telling what’s happening to Jordan.”

“If it is Nina, do you think she could get at Jordan?” asked Beryl.

“All these years, I’ve overlooked Nina Sutherland,” said Hugh. “I’m not about to make the same mistake now.”

Daumier met them at Orly Airport. “I have reexamined the security files on Philippe and Nina,” he said as they rode together in his limousine. “St. Pierre is clean. His record is unblemished. If he is the sleeper, we have no evidence of it.”

“And Nina?”

Daumier gave a deep sigh. “Our dear Nina presents a problem. There was an item that was not addressed in her earlier vetting. She was eighteen when she first appeared on the London stage. A small part, quite insignificant, but it launched her acting career. At that time, she had an affair with one of her fellow actors-an East German by the name of Berte Klausner. He claimed he was a defector. But three years later, he vanished from England and was never heard from again.”

“A recruiter?” asked Richard.

“Possibly.”

“How on earth did this little affair make it past Nina’s vetting?” asked Beryl.

Daumier shrugged. “It was noted when Nina and Sutherland were married. By then she’d retired from the theater to become a diplomat’s wife. She didn’t serve in any official capacity. As a rule, security checks on wives-especially if they are American-are not as demanding. So Nina slipped through.”

“Then you have evidence of possible recruitment,” said Beryl. “And she could have had access to NATO secrets by way of her husband. But you can’t prove she’s Delphi. Nor can you prove she’s a murderer.”

“True,” admitted Daumier.

“I doubt you’ll get her to confess, either,” said Richard. “Nina was once an actress. She could probably brazen her way through anything.”

“That is why I suggest the following action,” said Daumier. “A trap. Tempt her into making a move.”

“With what bait?” asked Richard.

“Jordan.”

“That’s out of the question!” said Beryl.

“He has already agreed to it. This afternoon, he will be released from prison. We move him to a hotel where he will attempt to be conspicuous.”

Hugh laughed. “Not much of a stretch for our Jordan.”

“My men will be stationed at strategic points in the hotel. If-and when-an attack occurs, we will be prepared.”

“Things could go wrong,” said Beryl. “He could be hurt-”

“He could be hurt in prison, as well,” said Daumier. “At least this may provide us with answers.”

“And possibly a dead body.”

“Have you a better suggestion?”

Beryl glanced at Richard, then at her uncle. They were both silent. I can’t believe they’re agreeing to this, she thought.

She looked at Daumier. “What do you want me to do?”

“You’d complicate things, Beryl,” said Hugh. “It’s better for you to stay out of the picture.”