“What about your other projects?”
“They’re all in hand.”
Rubner sighed. “I’m not going to say no. I could do with a rest.”
“You’re not going to say anything, and you’ll do what you’re told.” Schreiber checked his watch. “Report back to me in fourteen days. I’ll put you in charge of the Budapest initiative. It’s time the prime minister knew who he was dealing with, and I want you to personally hand him the photographs while giving him a strongly worded verbal message.”
“Certainly, Mr. Schreiber.” He smiled, though he felt uneasy. “Good luck. . tonight.”
“Luck?” Schreiber laughed.
The old man opened the car door and stepped onto a cobbled street in the Bavarian capital of Munich. It was late evening, and a fine drizzle was descending over the dimly lit old town. Wearing a thick overcoat, suit, dark felt fedora hat, and rimless glasses, and carrying a stick to aide his journey, he walked into the Karlsplatz-a large square next to the Karlstor, which between the fourteenth century and 1791 was one of the main gates in the city wall. Now, its fountain had been transformed into a beautifully illuminated ice skating rink; adults and children were laughing and calling out to each other as they glided over it. Leaving the square, he walked alongside various streets, some that had remained unchanged since well before Adolf Hitler’s creation of the Nazi Party in the city and others that had been rebuilt after the allies crippled Munich with bombs. When Schreiber was in the Stasi, the city had been part of West Germany-enemy territory. But he’d spent more time in places like this than he had in East Berlin, and knew every inch of the city.
He stopped opposite Michaelskirche, the sixteenth-century Jesuit church that was the largest Renaissance church north of the Alps. It was shut for the night. Over its closed doors was a gleaming bronze sculpture of Archangel Michael fighting a demon in human form.
His heart beat fast as he approached the entrance.
The plaza around him was deserted of people.
This was the moment.
He stood within twelve feet of the magnificent church’s entrance and looked at the shadows within it. “Schreiber, looking for Kronos.”
In the doorway, he saw a man’s large boots.
“Colonel Schreiber. I arranged this meeting.”
The man said nothing.
“You got my message. I’m here, as arranged.”
Silence.
“Speak! I have little time.”
Kronos stepped forward.
The church’s lights shone down over his face. “I could have killed you ten times since exiting the Israeli’s car and coming here. I’ll speak when I wish to and your time is of no relevance to me. Where are the others?”
Though he had anticipated that Kronos would have followed him here, Schreiber had no idea how the assassin knew that the man who’d driven him to the city was Israeli. “Half of them are dead. The other half sent me.”
“You have a traitor?”
“Exactly.”
“Who?”
Schreiber gave him the name. “He intends to testify at a hearing in The Hague in two weeks’ time. I can’t let that happen. He’s currently being held in a maximum-security facility in the southern Netherlands. My sources have confirmed that he’s being moved from the facility ten days prior to the hearing and will be taken to another maximum-security complex. He’ll be under significant protection at all times. Do you think you can do it?”
“Of course. What is he testifying?”
“All you need to know is that it relates to the Berlin meeting in 1995-a secret we shared at that meeting. I can’t let that secret become public knowledge.”
A secret that was omitted from the Slingshot protocols.
One that would kill hundreds of millions of people.
“You also need to know that I’ve been pursued by a British intelligence officer called Will Cochrane and an SVR operative called Mikhail Salkov. I don’t know if they’re still after me, but it’s possible that Salkov knows about you.” He supplied Kronos with the home addresses of both operatives.
Kronos shrugged. “They won’t get in my way.”
“Good. Once the job’s completed, ten million dollars will be deposited into your account. Then, you must change identity and location. Are you married, have children?”
Kronos did not answer him.
“If you do have a family, you cannot stay with them. You must disappear.”
“The deal was that I am permitted to lead my life until I’m activated, that I must move locations after the job. There was never any mention of leaving my family.”
“Things have changed! I can’t afford for there to be any potential security leaks.”
Kronos felt anger rise within him. “You can’t afford any leaks?” He thought for a moment. “Are you sure you’re representing everyone present at the Berlin meeting?”
Schreiber grew impatient. “Everyone’s who’s alive, yes. If you’re doubting my authority to be here, then you’d better say so.”
Kronos smiled. “I doubt everything that comes out of your mouth, you little shit. But the DLB was activated correctly.” His expression grew cold. “You’ve changed the terms of the deal, so I’m forced to do the same. Five million will be paid in advance.”
“What!”
“In advance. Changing identities and locations is an expensive business and requires preparation. Presumably, you want me to slip into that new life immediately after I’ve killed the witness. Aside from that, I need guaranteed compensation if I’m to walk away from my family.”
“That’s not. .”
Kronos took three quick steps toward him. “What were you about to say?”
Schreiber stepped back, nearly tripped, fear coursed through him. “I was about to say, that’s not a problem. You’ll have half the money up front.”
“I’m glad you made that decision.” Kronos kept his cold stare fixed on Schreiber. “I’ll take care of your target. In return, stick to your side of the bargain. If you don’t, then you know what the outcome will be.”
It was nearly midnight when Stefan got back to his home on the outskirts of the Black Forest. He entered the kitchen. Plates and pans had been washed up after his family’s dinner. He knew they’d now be asleep. In the center of the table was a dinner plate, over which was foil and a note from his wife saying in German:
Three minutes in the microwave-don’t forget to take off the foil first! I love you.
He removed the packaging and smiled as he saw that his wife had prepared him konigsberger klopse-veal meatballs in a white sauce containing lemon juice and capers-with roast potatoes and schupfnudel. After placing the dish in the microwave, he looked around and felt a twinge of sadness. He’d eaten thousands of meals in here, most of them with his family. It had been his rule that mealtimes were an important part of the day for the family to sit together, share the experience of eating his wife’s wonderful cuisine, and swap stories. But the mealtimes were never a formal affair; instead they were usually filled with laughter and imaginary tales.
Removing the plate of food, he sat at the table, alone.
Fifteen minutes later, he rinsed his empty plate and placed it alongside the others to dry. His wife was a stickler for maintaining a clean and tidy household.
He arched his muscular back and yawned. Tomorrow would be a very busy day. He walked up the stairs and entered the twins’ room. Mathias and Wendell were both lying asleep on their backs, their blond hair slightly ruffled, their faces looking angelic. He stood between their beds and brushed his big hands against their cheeks. “My darling boys.”
He wished he’d been able to continue telling them his bedtime story about the forest gnomes’ search for the legendary Timestop mushrooms. He wondered if he’d ever have the chance to finish the tale.
His thoughts turned to Schreiber. Tonight, the man had made a mistake by changing the deal so that Stefan had to abandon his family. One day, he’d make him suffer for that.