Lynne Heitman - The Pandora Key aka The Hostage Room

“Thorne told me.”

He blinked a couple of times. “You met Cyrus Thorne?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Wow. He’s kind of a legend around the Bureau. No one I know has ever met him, though.”

“A legend in a good way or a bad way?”

“Good way. I don’t know much about his company, but Thorne was the best analyzer of intelligence anyone has ever known. All this stuff that’s happening now, the terrorism, attacks on the U.S., he saw it coming. What’s he like?”

“Commanding. Listen, I’ll do what I can to help you, but things are very complicated.”

He hooked an index finger over the inside curve at six o’clock position on the steering wheel. “Can you say where the money is?”

I had to think about that. I assumed Kraft had it, but I didn’t know for sure. I also didn’t want to give Kraft up to the FBI, even if we were off the record…if that’s what we were. After making such an issue out of protecting Lyle, I owed him that much. “I’m not sure where it is. I’m working on that.”

Ling was smart. He knew I was lying, but I was determined not to feel guilty about it.

“All right.” He straightened up, did as much of a stretch as the car would allow, and yawned. He put his cup back in the holder. He had downed two strong cups of Dunkin’ Donuts brew, and he still looked as if he’d just rolled out of bed. “I have no leverage over you,” he said. “I probably never did. But if you have his money, then you have leverage over Drazen, probably more than you know. All I’m asking you to do is to use it to help me get Drazen. He’s a bad man. I think you know that.”

He didn’t wait for an answer before firing up the engine.

“Is that it?”

He put on his shades and turned to face me. With his dark glasses on, it was hard to read his expression. “I don’t want you talking to anyone at Blackthorne again without letting me know, even if it’s the man himself.”

“Why not?”

“Because if they’re working for the CIA, they could be playing you, and I’m not getting this close to Drazen just to have the goddamn Agency run in again and take my score.”

“I see nine-eleven has done a lot to bring you guys together.”

“Not really.”

Ling dropped me off at my place. My running clothes were just sweaty enough to have to wash, which didn’t seem fair given how far I hadn’t run. I tossed them into the hamper, showered, and was getting into jeans when my cell phone rang. I followed the sound to my backpack and dug it out.

“Hello?”

“You are one lying, scheming bitch.” Nothing like a friendly greeting from Max Kraft first thing in the morning.

“I guess you got my message. It’s good to hear that you made it out of France.”

“From what I hear, so did you. On the Blackthorne private jet.” This wasn’t how I’d envisioned our conversation starting off. It seemed he had spies of his own. “That whole thing in Paris where you pretended to save my life, what was that? A way to gain my trust?”

“Yeah. Also getting arrested and thrown in jail. Look, you’re the one who dragged me into the Blackthorne portion of the program. I had my own problems to deal with, and now, because of you, I have to deal with Cyrus Thorne, and I have to deal with him because he has a copy of the video, the one you promised I had the only copy of.”

“You asked for the video, I gave it to you. If you let it get away, that’s your problem.”

“I didn’t let it get away. He got it from your translator. He knows you and I have talked, and he’s willing to trade it back if I set you up. If I don’t, I’m pretty sure he’ll give it to Drazen. For a whole lot of reasons too tedious to go into, I can’t have that.”

“Is that-is that what this is?” He certainly wasn’t in Paris anymore, but that’s where I pictured Kraft, in his hotel on the Left Bank, peering out from behind closed curtains. That was what his voice sounded like. “Are they listening now? Are you setting me up right now?”

“I didn’t call to set you up. I called to talk about a way I think we can all get through this, but you have to help.”

“I’ll help you. Sure. Why wouldn’t I? You’re working for the organization that wants me dead. Do you even hear yourself? What do you take me for?”

“It costs you nothing to listen.”

“Unless Cyrus Thorne has someone triangulating the signal.” I heard the sound of him sucking on a bottle and wondered if he was having beer for breakfast. Then I realized I had no idea if it was breakfast time where he was. He didn’t hang up, so I forged ahead.

“We were right about Roger’s computer-Roger’s other computer, the one that belonged to Vladi. Rachel stole it. Roger took it from her because he knew there were files on it worth a billion dollars. The files are like a…” What was the term Ling had used? “A financial map. Directions to the money.” I waited for some sign that he was there. Talking on the phone to Kraft was a lot like talking to him over the Internet. He gave nothing away. “Grunt if you’re still alive.”

“You’re saying there really is a billion dollars that has just been sitting out there for four years because, what…the account numbers have been lost? I thought that story was bullshit when you told me. You’re saying it’s true?”

“The moral of the story is, always back up your files. Do you have the Dell or not?”

“What if I do? What would a billion dollars buy me?”

“Your life, for one thing. I might be able to swing it so that Drazen forgets about who killed Vladi in exchange for his money. That way, the video means nothing, and Thorne loses his leverage, and I don’t have to do what he says, and you can go on doing whatever it is you do.”

Measured pauses were not part of his speech pattern, so when I heard one, it felt significant. I knew the wheels were turning. “Let’s just say for the hell of it that I have a Dell. We can’t really know if it’s the right one-”

“We can if you open it up and find a game of Russian Solitaire on it.”

“Let me finish. The reason these laptops have value to me is not because John or Joe or Mary’s four-year-old grocery list is still on it.”

“A billion dollars that will save someone’s life is not a grocery list.”

“That’s not my point. It’s because they were taken to Afghanistan and used by the Martyr’s Brigade for years after the hijacking.”

“So?”

“So there are hundreds of e-mails on those machines, and those e-mails are the foundation of my story. There is no way I’m giving this stuff up to you.”

“I thought your story was on Blackthorne. Why would e-mails from the Martyrs be important?”

“If you knew that, you would have my story.”

“I’m not trying to steal your story, Max. I’m trying to help you with it and I have a proposal.”

“What?”

“You give me Vladi’s Dell, and I’ll give you the name of my Blackthorne source.”

There was another long silence. “I’ll think about it.” Click.

I sat for a long time with the phone in my hand, trying to figure out what to do. The good news was that he had the Dell. At least a Dell. The bad news was that Lyle Burquart had made it clear he never wanted to see me again, and I had made him that promise. But it had been just as clear to me that the Salanna 809 survivors did not want Max Kraft to have their contact data. I had given it to him anyway. Why had I done that? I went into the bathroom and thought about it while I brushed my teeth. While I was flossing, I figured it out. It was because of what was at stake. The Salanna 809 survivors were trying to protect their privacy. I was trying to save Rachel’s life. There had been too much at stake not to have used the manifest to get the video, just as there was too much at stake not to at least ask Lyle if he would speak to Kraft. It sounded as if Kraft and he were both after the same thing anyway. Besides, what was one more betrayal?