Isaac knew that this was the time to bring back the respect of his family name. Not only the wealth, but the esteem.
As the wooden door to the study opened, Isaac swiveled in his chair to see who had broken his thoughts. The maid had left for the day, so it could only be the American businessman.
"I feel like a new man," Dalton said as he limped in and took a seat. "Are you ready to make me an offer?"
Isaac studied the American. "Yes…but how is your ankle?"
"Sprained, I think. I guess I'm not much of a sailor."
They looked at each other as though a chess match had just begun-neither flinching an eyelid, the clock still ticking loudly.
Isaac broke the silence. "While you slept, I had my men check over the chips and the documents. We can use information like this, but I need more."
"That's not a problem," Dalton assured him.
"The chips are impressive…better than anything I've seen in Hungary or through other sources."
"The Russians don't even have these yet," Dalton boasted.
That brought a smile to Isaac's face. For most of his adult life his country had languished in the backdrop of left-over technology from the former Soviet Union. Now he had a chance to push his country forward into a market-based economy with high technology.
"Not even the Russians?"
"No! In fact, the Germans and the Brits have shifted their emphasis to transputer technology instead of enhancing current computer technology. So, I'm certain they don't have a chip this fast either."
"Even if they do, that's not the point!" Isaac said. "More than just the technology, I want the Eastern Europeans to have what Western Europe has had for decades. The Russians denied us that affluence after the Great War."
Dalton rose from his chair and walked over to the book shelves. Some of the titles would have surely been banned at one time or another in Moscow or Budapest, but Yugoslavia, and more recently Croatia, had allowed more freedom.
"I want to help you and your country, but I need proper compensation," Dalton said. He paused for a second and then turned and looked directly at Isaac. "I don't want cash, at least not initially. I want a partnership."
Isaac raised his brows. "A partnership? This is a surprise. I assumed you would ask for cash. Isn't that what most Americans want?" he asked.
"I'm not your normal American!" Dalton blared, his hands talking as much as his mouth. "I like to take risks, gamble. If the stakes are high, so much the better. I've worked for a lot of companies that failed to take risks, and most of them are out of business. The strong ones, those that see an opportunity and grasp it, survive and thrive."
There was an uncomfortable pause as they stared each other down. Isaac finally smiled. "I like your attitude. The Communists told us for so long that we were nothing without them…we actually began to believe them. Most of the older people accepted the inevitability of Communism. Only the young people of your generation in our country decided that enough was enough. They want more for themselves and their families. The more they know about the West, the more they want to be like Western people."
"Have you read all of these books?" Dalton asked.
"Yes! It was either that or watch the latest techniques in collective farming on the television."
"Ah, I see."
He wasn't like a normal American, Isaac thought. The patience he was now showing was either a reflection of the sleep he had just received, or perhaps a true desire for a commitment. Nevertheless, it was refreshing.
"Would you like a drink, Jason?"
"Yes, please. Whatever you're having."
Isaac Lebovitz pulled a wooden panel down from behind his desk revealing a well-stocked bar. After a few seconds of mental debate, he selected a fine French Cognac and poured two snifters to the right level.
Dalton accepted his glass and twirled the contents allowing the aroma to rise to his nose. "Exceptional…as our partnership will be."
The growth of a new aristocracy pervaded the scarcely lit room with the warmth of a fine French brandy. And the clock slowly ticked on the desk with a patience that was soon to be overcome by the will of an old aristocracy with new ideas. Isaac sat back in his chair, smiled, and tapped the side of his forehead with his finger.
CHAPTER 10
Jake Adams eased his rental Passat against the curb and cut the lights and engine. He had thrown Gunter Schecht a similar transmitter to the one he had found on his car. It allowed him to remain easily undetected far behind Gunter's Mercedes.
Thick dark clouds shrouded the gold-glassed headquarters building of Bundenbach Electronics in eerie darkness. Only a few lights on the top floor remained lit.
Gunter Schecht punched his card into a slot and a mechanical arm rose for him. He drove slowly into the underground parking ramp marked employees only.
Maybe Jake finally had a break in the case. He knew who tried to kill him, and now who that man worked for. But what type of work did Gunter do for Bundenbach Electronics? He made a mental note to check into that company later.
Gunter Schecht would have to face his boss alone. He used his credit card key to enter the executive elevator. He got off on the top floor and hesitated by a window overlooking the Rhine. The green grass that lined its banks were a stark contrast to the frozen Eifel Hills he had experienced yesterday morning.
Gunter yanked his pants up higher, tucked his shirt in, and snapped the bottom of his black leather coat. He entered the four-digit cipher code on an unmarked door, opened the door, and closed it behind him. The door led to a small, short passageway with a locked door on the other end. The walls were bare and the compartment reeked of stale cigarettes. Like all other passageways in the building, this one was monitored by closed circuit cameras. He looked up at the camera and tried to smile.
He knocked on the door three times. He couldn't remember if it was supposed to be three or four times, but he figured he was being watched anyway so why would it matter?
A large man, larger than Gunter's driver, opened the door. He said nothing as Gunter passed him. The man closed the door and propped himself against the wall next to it, guarding the exit.
Gunter sat down in one of two mahogany-red, leather chairs with gold studs. He wondered why under such tense circumstances he still found time to admire the quality of the textured leather, and the almost fresh fragrance it maintained. The boss must have smoked exclusively in that hallway, he thought.
"Would you like a beer, Gunter?" the boss asked, as he got up from behind his heavy wooden desk and went to a small cooler built into a bar in the corner of the large office.
"Yes, please. I could use one," Gunter said.
Even though Gunter knew he was the best man working special projects in the company, he also knew that no one was indispensable. The boss opened the large bottle of Bitburger Beer as if he were trying to seduce a Fraulein. His dark burgundy suit was tailored perfectly. He looked at Gunter with his light blue eyes like a hunter views his prey just before pulling the trigger. Gunter accepted the beer and took a large gulp.
"You know, Gunter, this project is the most important one we have going right now," the boss said, sitting down again. "In fact, it could change the way we do business for the next ten years. Only the strong will survive."
"I understand the consequences," Gunter said.
Gunter knew that his prior association with Jake Adams was important to the boss. His inside knowledge of Jake made him the perfect man for the job. He would get the job done-whatever was asked of him. He retired from German Intelligence with a small pension when Bundenbach Electronics offered him a substantial pay increase. But this had been the first time Herr Bundenbach had asked him to dissuade someone.