“I’m glad you could come,” he said. “I didn’t want to leave you at the estate.”
“I’ve never been to Austria.”
“A lovely place. Dense forests. Snowy mountains. Alpine lakes. Spectacular scenery.”
He’d watched closely all yesterday and it seemed Gary was dealing well with his ordeal, especially considering he’d watched as two men were shot to death. When Malone and Pam left for England, Gary had understood why they needed to go. His mother had to return to her job and his father needed to discover why Gary was at risk. Christiangade was a familiar place and Gary had eagerly stayed. But yesterday, after talking to Stephanie, Thorvaldsen knew what had to be done.
“This meeting you have to attend,” Gary said. “Is it important?”
“It could be. I’ll have to appear at several sessions, but we’ll find things for you to do while I’m there.”
“What about Dad? He know we’re doing this? I didn’t tell Mom.”
Pam Malone had telephoned a few hours before and spoken briefly with Gary. But she’d hung up before Thorvaldsen had been able to talk with her. “I’m sure one of them will call back and Jesper will let them know where we are.”
He was taking a chance bringing Gary with him, but he’d decided it was the smart play. If Alfred Hermann was behind the original kidnapping, which Thorvaldsen firmly believed was the case, then having Gary at the Assembly, surrounded by influential men and women from around the world, each with their supporting cast of staff and security, seemed the safest course. He wondered about the kidnapping. From the little he’d been told about Dominick Sabre, the American was a professional, not prone to employing such sloppy help as the three Dutchmen who’d botched Gary’s abduction. Something wasn’t right. Malone was good, he’d give him that, but things had unfolded with uncanny precision. Had the entire thing been staged simply for Malone’s benefit? A way to spur him forward? If so, that meant Gary was truly no longer in any danger.
“Remember what we talked about,” he said to Gary. “Careful with your words. Lots of listening.”
“I got it.”
He smiled. “Excellent.”
Now he could only hope he’d read Alfred Hermann correctly.
THIRTY-EIGHT
VIENNA
8:00 AM
HERMANN SHOVED HIS BREAKFAST ASIDE. HE DETESTED EATING, particularly amid a crowd, but he loved the château’s dining hall. He’d personally chosen its design and neo-Gothic décor, the window casements and ceiling coffers bearing the coats of arms of illustrious Crusaders, the walls sheathed in canvases that depicted the Christian capture of Jerusalem.
Breakfast was spectacular, as usual, and a cadre of white-jacketed stewards attended to his guests. His daughter sat at the opposite end of the long table, the remainder of the twelve seats filled by a select group of Order members-the Political Committee-who’d arrived yesterday to attend the weekend Assembly.
“I hope everyone is enjoying themselves,” Margarete said to the assemblage. Crowds were what she handled best.
Hermann noticed her frowning at his untouched plate, but she said nothing about it. Hers would be a private rebuke-as if an appetite, in and of itself, brought a long life and good health. If only it were that easy.
Several of the committee members rattled on about the château and its exquisite furnishings, noting some of the changes he’d made since the previous spring. Even though these were men and women of wealth, together they were not worth even a quarter of the Hermann fortune. Each, though, was useful in some way. So he thanked them for noticing and waited. Finally he said, “I’m interested in what the Political Committee plans to tell the Assembly on Concept 1223.”
That initiative, adopted three years ago at the spring Assembly, involved a complex plan for the destabilization of Israel and Saudi Arabia. He’d embraced the concept, which was why he’d cultivated sources within the Israeli and American governments-sources that had unexpectedly led him to George Haddad.
“Before we do that,” the chairman of the committee said, “can you tell us whether your labors are bearing fruit? Our plans will have to be altered if you’re not successful.”
He nodded. “Events are unfolding. And quickly. But if I succeed, has a market for the information been secured?”
Another committee member nodded. “We’ve made inquiries with Jordan, Syria, Egypt, and Yemen. All are interested, at least in arranging talks.”
He was pleased. He’d learned that an Arab state’s enthusiasm-whether for goods, services, or terror-increased in direct proportion to its neighbor’s interest.
“It’s risky ignoring the Saudis,” another said. “They have ties to many of our members. Retaliation could be costly.”
“Your negotiators,” he said, “will have to ensure that they stay calm until it’s to our advantage to deal with them.”
“Isn’t it time you tell us exactly what’s involved?” one of the committee members asked.
“No,” he said. “Not yet.”
“You’re involving us deeply in something that, quite frankly, Alfred, I have questions about.”
“What is it you question?”
“What could possibly be so enticing to Jordan, Syria, Egypt, and Yemen to the exclusion of Saudi Arabia?”
“The elimination of Israel.”
Silence gripped the room.
“Granted, that’s a common goal for all those nations, but it’s also impossible. That state is here to stay.”
“That’s what was said about the Soviet Union. Yet when its purpose was seriously challenged, then exposed for the fraud that it was, look what occurred. Dissolution in a matter of days.”
“And you can make that happen?” asked another.
“I wouldn’t be wasting our time if I didn’t think it possible.” One of the other members, a friend of long standing, seemed frustrated with his obliqueness, so he decided to be a bit conciliatory. “Let me offer this. What if the validity of the Old Testament were called into question?”
A few of the guests shrugged. One asked, “So what?”
“It could fundamentally shift the Middle Eastern debate,” Hermann said. “The Jews are intent on upholding the correctness of their Torah. The Word of God and all that. Nobody has ever seriously challenged them. There’s been talk, speculation, but if the Torah was proven wrong, imagine what that does to Jewish credibility. Think how that could incite other Middle Eastern states.”
He meant what he’d said. No oppressor had ever been able to defeat the Jews. Many had tried. The Assyrians. Babylonians. Romans. Turks. The Inquisition. Even Martin Luther loathed them. But the so-called children of God had stubbornly refused to surrender. Hitler might have been the worst. And yet, in his wake, the world merely granted them their biblical homeland.
“What do you have against Israel?” one of the committee members asked. “I’ve questioned from the beginning why we’re wasting time on this.”
The woman had indeed dissented, joined by two others. They were clearly in the minority, and relatively harmless, so he’d allowed their discourse simply as a way to add a semblance of democracy to the process.
“This is about far more than Israel.” He saw he held their collective attention, even his daughter’s. “Played correctly, we may be able to destabilize both Israel and Saudi Arabia. On this, the one is linked to the other. If we can create the appropriate amount of turmoil in both states, control it, then properly time its release, we may be able to irrevocably topple both governments.” He faced the Political Committee chairman. “Have you discussed how our members can exploit that process once we set it into motion?”
The older man nodded. He’d been a friend for decades and was near the top of the list for a place in the Circle. “The scenario we envision is based on the Palestinians, Jordanians, Syrians, and Egyptians all wanting whatever we provide-”