“Shit,” Lambert said.
“Anyway, with those two strikes — expired visa and his name on a list — he was immediately deported.”
“Known associates?” Lambert asked.
“A Noel Brooks was at Northwestern the same year and the two were roommates. Brooks is also Israeli and was deported at the same time as Horowitz. He wasn’t on the terrorist watch list, but his visa had expired. Other than him, we have no other information on known associates.”
“Is there any mention in the e-mails of where this guy lives?”
“No. Only that he lives in Jerusalem and that he was going to show Sarah the sights when she got there. I think she’s pretty intimate with the guy. Some of those e-mails were… suggestive.”
Lambert sighed. “Okay, it’s a start. Get onto tracing Horowitz’s movements after his deportation. We have to find out where he lives today and get the Israeli National Police to bring him in for questioning. Or should we ask the Security Police to be involved?”
“I’ll find out.”
“Get on it. It’s tedious, I know, but it’s the only lead we’ve got.” Lambert looked at Chip Driggers and asked, “Have you heard from Fisher?”
“Not since he left Tel Aviv. I expect him in Cyprus any minute,” Driggers said. “I’ve arranged with the British military there to supply him with diving equipment and anything else he might need. Shouldn’t be a problem.”
“And what about our friends in Zurich and Baku?”
“We’ve alerted the Azerbaijan and Swiss authorities as well as Interpol and our own FBI. The local law enforcement agencies are preparing raids as we speak. We should know something by lunchtime. I’m afraid, though, that the Turkish air strike on the Shop’s stealth plane most likely tipped them off that the jig was up. They could be long gone by now.”
“Yeah, I know, it was a risk,” Lambert said. “I hope the Azeris and Swiss understand the gravity of the situation and realize who these people are.”
“I believe they do, Colonel.”
Lambert nodded and then looked at Carly. “And what have you got for me?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I’m just trying to find out everything I can about that shopping mall in Cyprus. I’m mapping routes to the place from Famagusta, pinpointing the best spot for Sam to go ashore, that kind of thing. I want to have everything he’ll need ready to go in an hour or two.”
“Good. Well, we have work to do, people. Let’s get it done.”
“Sir?”
“Yes, Carly?”
“What about the fallout with the Turks? Hasn’t our government been able to convince them that Namik Basaran is really Nasir Tarighian?”
“No. That’s why we can’t go to the police in northern Cyprus to help us. If they knew we were planning to possibly muck up their new shopping mall, they’d probably fight on Basaran’s side even if they know the truth about him. I’m afraid the secretary of defense — and the president — have ruled out letting the Turks in on what we want to do. They’re not happy about what happened to Akdabar Enterprises in Van. In hindsight I guess it wasn’t a good move on our part.”
“Hell, we got the Shop’s stealth plane,” Bruford said. “That counts for something.”
“True, but now they see Tarighian — or rather, Basaran — as a victim. One of their respected businessmen and philanthropists was irrationally attacked by a Russian terrorist organization. That’s how they see it.”
“I’ll try to put together a convincing presentation you can give to them,” Carly said.
“That might help, Carly. Thanks.”
With that, the meeting adjourned. Lambert went back to his office, eyed the large electronic map on the wall, and focused on the current trouble spots lit in red — outside of Famagusta in Cyprus, Jerusalem, Baku, and Zurich.
He hoped he could diminish the priority of these four places by the end of the day.
Andrei Zdrok hadn’t worked so hard in years.
He carried the box of file folders out of the bank, loaded them in the back of the Mercedes, and went back inside. He and his driver, Erik, had been at it for the past two hours. Zdrok didn’t dare tell the bank staff what was happening. When the authorities arrived, they would have to deal with it on their own. If he could clear out his office of any incriminating evidence, then the bank employees shouldn’t have any problems other than perhaps a night in an interrogation room. And if they were detained, well, tough luck.
Zdrok looked at his Rolex and saw that it was getting late. When Erik passed him with another box, he said, “Hurry. We have to leave.” Erik nodded and said, “There’s only one more box.”
“I’ll get it,” Zdrok replied. He went through the lobby and was suddenly confronted by Gustav Gomelsky, the bank’s assistant manager and the man who really ran everything.
“Andrei,” he said, “I demand to know what’s going on. Why are you doing this?”
“Gustav, I don’t have time to explain it to you. You’ll find out soon enough.” Zdrok attempted to push past him, but Gomelsky grabbed him by the arm.
“Are we in some kind of trouble?”
Zdrok stopped and stared at the man. Softly but with menace, he whispered, “Get your hand off of me.”
Gomelsky swallowed and released his boss. He had always been a little afraid of Andrei Zdrok because he knew so little about the man. “Sorry, sir, I was just—”
“I’m leaving this office and relocating,” Zdrok said. “That’s all you need to know for now. I’ll be in touch.” Fat chance, Zdrok thought to himself.
“What about the police investigation?” Gomelsky asked.
“What do you mean?”
“The break-in! The other night. Your safe was blown, remember?”
“Oh, that.” Zdrok had practically forgotten about it.
“The inspector will want to know where you went. The case is still under investigation, you know.”
“Tell him I’m away on business.”
“Don’t you think he’ll be suspicious that you cleaned out your office? Andrei, you’re putting us in a very awkward position.”
Zdrok lost his temper, grabbed the man by his jacket, and got into his face. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up!” He released Gomelsky and shoved him away. “Deal with it and leave me alone,” he said.
Zdrok went on past the teller windows into the back and to the remains of his office. It was a shambles. He and Erik had torn out the computer, the files, emptied the desk and the blown-out safe, and the phone. Antipov was doing the same thing in the Zurich branch and Zdrok wished he could be there to oversee it. Antipov was thorough, but Zdrok liked to make sure nothing was missed. If he could clone himself, he would do it.
How long would it be before the authorities arrived? Zdrok was certain that it would be no later than tomorrow.
Those goddamned terrorists. The so-called Shadows, Nasir Tarighian and his band of religious fanatics. Why did they have to be the Shop’s best customers? They had compromised the Shop’s cover, and now Zdrok was faced with having to reorganize under a different, unknown camouflage in another country.
And what was the cost? Zdrok had no idea what it was, but he knew it was going to be in the billions. The loss of the stealth plane was a huge blow, but having to relinquish the two banks was a disaster. The very worst part was leaving his chateau on Lake Zurich. He’d never make it back to his home to retrieve his personal belongings. Zdrok had to abandon the place and everything in it. A fucking eight-million-dollar write-off and there was nothing he could do about it. Christ, the automobiles! He had forgotten all about them. His beloved collection! And his precious yacht! At least he was fairly certain he had left nothing incriminating in the chateau. It was simply the home of an eccentric banker who had expensive tastes.