Steve Berry - The Alexandria Link

“I saw it in your eyes. You wanted him to shoot. But you knew he wouldn’t.”

“Men like Sabre are stingy with their courage. They save it for when it’s really needed. Like right now.”

“You knew all this was going to happen?”

He shrugged. “Knew, thought, hoped. I don’t know. We’ve been watching for Sabre. We knew he was planning something in Copenhagen, and when he took Gary we realized he was trying to find me. That’s when I decided to involve myself. My second call to the West Bank was discovered by Israel’s spies, which finally spurred them to move. Then, in Lisbon, I saw how I could lead all three of you here without the Israelis.”

“You did this all so you could die?”

“I did this to protect the library. Sabre works for an organization that surely wants this knowledge for its own political and economic uses. They’ve been investigating us for some time. But you heard him. He’s here for himself. Not them. Stop him and we stop everything.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Not me. You have to do this, too.”

“Me?”

“Cotton needs you. You going to walk away?”

He watched as she rolled the inquiry through her mind. He knew she was smart, gutsy, and brash. But also vulnerable. And prone to mistakes. He’d spent a lifetime reading people, and he hoped that he’d read Pam Malone correctly.

“No way,” she said.

SABRE FLED THE ROOM OF PROVINCE AND ENTERED THE READING Room, which was filled with more tables and fewer shelves. He knew from his first excursion that the next hall, the Room of Eternity, led to the last hall, the entire library U-shaped. Fake windows and alcoves adorned with faraway landscape paintings and special lighting created an outdoor effect. He had to keep reminding himself that he was underground.

Inside the Reading Room, he stopped.

Time to make use of what he’d noticed earlier.

MALONE KEPT ADVANCING, GUN READY. HE’D CHANGED THE magazine for his last fresh one, but at least he had nine shots. Three more remained in the one in his pocket, so he now had twelve chances to stop McCollum.

His gaze darted from wall to wall and ceiling to floor, his senses alert. His chest and spine were damp with perspiration and the subterranean air chilled him. He passed through the second hall and started down the corridor to the next lighted room, which right-angled. He heard nothing and the silence unnerved him. What kept him moving forward was what Haddad had said-McCollum had been the one who took Gary. The son of a bitch had touched his son. Taken him away. Forced Malone to kill a man. No way those violations were going unanswered. McCollum wanted a fight. He was about to get one.

He came to the entrance to the third hall.

The Reading Room.

Maybe twenty tables of thick, rough-hewn planks, dark and worn, dotted the room amid the shelving.

He spotted the exit on the opposite wall.

The room was larger than the other two, rectangular and maybe sixty feet along its length. The walls supported slabs and lintels of Byzantine origin, along with mosaics, this time scenes devoted to women, some spinning and weaving, others engaged in athletics. He ripped his gaze from the artistry and concentrated on the problem.

He expected McCollum, at any moment, to spring up from between the tables. He was ready. But nothing happened.

He stopped.

Something was wrong.

Then, across the room, at the base of the far wall, he spotted a dark reflection in the shiny red granite. A shadowy image, like looking through a soda bottle, rippling across the mirrorlike qualities of the finish.

From the floor.

Beneath the tables.

And then he realized.

WASHINGTON, DC

STEPHANIE HEARD THE GUNFIRE, BUT NO BULLET STRUCK HER. Then she saw the hole in the side of Brent Green’s head and realized what had happened.

She turned.

Heather Dixon stood, gun in hand.

Green’s body thudded to the hardwood floor, but she continued to watch Dixon, who lowered her weapon.

Cassiopeia walked up behind the Israeli.

“That’s the end of that,” Dixon said.

Stephanie caught Cassiopeia’s attention. “What happened?”

“When you and Green went back to the office, she appeared. We were right. Green brought a few friends, who were waiting out back. The Secret Service grabbed them and then”-Cassiopeia pointed at Dixon-“she came inside.”

Stephanie understood. “You’re working with the president?”

“Had to be done. This bastard was going to sell us all out. He and your vice president could well have started a world war with what they planned.”

She sensed something from the tone and wanted to know, “What about you and Daley?”

“I liked Larry. He approached us for help, told us what was happening, and he and I got to be close. Believe it or not, he was trying to stop things. You have to give him that.”

“Been a whole lot easier if you both had just come to me with what you had.”

Dixon shook her head. “That’s your problem, Stephanie. You live in this idealistic bubble. You hated Larry. You didn’t like Green. You thought the White House didn’t like you. How were you going to be able to do anything?”

“But she made the perfect bait,” Cassiopeia said. “Didn’t she?”

“Every line needs a lure, and you two were this one’s.”

Stephanie still held the CD she’d planted in Daley’s office. The disk was blank. Just something to get Green to react. “They get everything on tape out there?” She’d been wired before they left Camp David.

Cassiopeia nodded. “All of it.”

“What about the Saudis?” she asked Dixon. “You were working with them when we first talked.”

“Typical Arabs. Playing both sides. They were originally in league with the vice president, thinking he was going to help stop anything relating to the Alexandria Link. Then they figured out that was bullshit. So they back-channeled to us and we made a deal. On the mall that day, they were there just to spur you on, nothing more. Of course, none of us was aware that you’d acquired a partner.” Dixon motioned with the gun at Cassiopeia. “I still owe you one for that dart.”

“Maybe one day you’ll get the chance to repay me.”

Dixon smiled. “Maybe.”

Stephanie stared at the body of Brent Green. She recalled how he’d suggested that he might be interested in her and how, for a moment, she’d liked the possibility. He’d actually defended her, supposedly been willing to resign in order to stand with her, and she’d found herself questioning all the doubts she’d harbored about him.

But it had all been an act.

“The president sent me to end this,” Dixon said, interrupting her thoughts. “No trials. No press. The attorney general was a troubled man who took his own life. His body will be cremated and a death certificate issued by military medical examiners. Suicide. He’ll be given a lavish burial and remembered fondly. End of story.”

“And the Alexandria Link?” she asked.

“George Haddad has disappeared. We’re hoping Malone has him. Haddad called Palestine months ago, then again a few days ago. After the first time, and after Larry told me things, we latched on to Pam Malone. The Mossad planned to take Gary Malone. But our prime minister balked. Then the Order beat us to it. With Pam Malone tagged, we just followed. But that didn’t work out so well. Then all this happened. Daniels has assured us that nothing will come of anything. My government trusts him.”

“Has anyone heard from Cotton?”

Dixon shook her head. “The last we heard he parachuted down somewhere in the Sinai. But it doesn’t matter. If anything is found, the deal is we never hear about it.”