“Yes, Stephanie, I am. One of the prerogatives of being the head of the free world is I can pretty much do what I damn well please.” He threw her a dissecting glance. “There’s a lot going on here. Happening fast. From several angles. I’ve done the best I can under the circumstances.”
She drew him back to the point. “What’s the vice president doing with the Blue Chair?”
“Blue Chair? Good to see you’re informed, too. I was hoping you were. The VP is selling his soul. That Order is after, of all things, the Library of Alexandria. They’re looking for proof of a theory, and though I thought the whole thing bizarre, apparently there’s more to it.”
“What do the Israelis say?” Cassiopeia asked.
“They don’t want anything found. Period. Leave it alone. Seems the Order has been squeezing the Saudi royal house for decades and now they’ve decided to just swirl everything up. Get the Jews and Arabs all riled. Not a bad play, actually. We’ve been known to do the same thing. But this will escalate. Fanatics are impossible to predict, whether they be Arab, Israeli-” He paused. “-or American.”
“What do you want me to do?” Stephanie asked.
“Let me tell you something else you don’t know. Cotton made a second call back to Green. He needed a favor. So Green approved a military airlift for Malone, his ex-wife, and a third man to, if you can believe it, the Sinai. They’re in transit now. Our guess is that this third man is the Order’s hired gun. Malone also requested an ID check from Green-which, by the way, the attorney general ignored. No inquiries at all. So we checked. The name Cotton gave was James McCollum. The description doesn’t match, but there was a guy by that name who’s ex-army, special forces, now a freelance mercenary. Seems to have the right résumé to work for the Order, wouldn’t you say?”
“How did he get connected with Malone?” Cassiopeia said.
Daniels shook his head. “Don’t know, but I’m glad Cotton’s the one with him. Unfortunately, there’s nothing we can do to help.”
“We could radio that transport,” Cassiopeia said.
The president shook his head. “No way. We can’t let anyone know we’re in the loop. I want my traitors. And to get them we have to remain silent.”
“And the finalists are,” she said, “Larry Daley and Brent Green.”
Daniels cocked his head. “The winner of that contest gets an all-expense-paid trip straight to federal prison. After I personally kick his ass.”
His habit of command seemed to return.
“You two are all I have to find out the answer to the question of the day. I can’t involve any other agency for obvious reasons. I allowed all this to stay in motion so you’d have an opportunity. Stephanie, I knew you were on to Daley, but thankfully you didn’t act on him. Now we need to find the truth.”
“You actually think the attorney general is involved?” Cassiopeia asked.
“I have no idea. Brent plays that holier-than-thou act to perfection, and maybe he is a God-fearing Bible-toting Christian. But he’s also a man who doesn’t want to leave a position of power and influence to go be ”of counsel‘ window dressing at some Washington law firm. That’s why he stayed for the second term. Hell, everyone else jumped ship-polished up their résumés with all that juicy government experience and cashed in their contacts. Not Brent.“
She felt she needed to say, “He told me that he leaked the Alexandria Link, looking for the traitor himself.”
“Hell, maybe he did. I don’t know. What I do know is that my deputy national security adviser has been bribing Congress. My vice president is plotting with one of the richest men in the world. And two nations in the Middle East, which normally despise each other, are currently working together to stop a fifteen-hundred-year-old library from being found. That about sum it up, Stephanie?”
“Yes, Mr. President. We get the picture.”
“Then find my traitor.”
“How do you suggest we do that?”
He smiled at the decisive nature of her question.
“I’ve given that a lot of thought. Let’s have something to eat, then the two of you get some sleep. Both of you look beat. You can rest here in safety.”
“This can’t wait till morning,” she said.
“Has to. You know what makes good grits? Not boiling. It’s the simmering in the pot, with the lid on and the heat down low. That’s what turns rough cornmeal into heaven. Now we’re going to let this simmer for a few hours, then I’ll tell you what I have in mind.”
SIXTY-TWO
VIENNA
THORVALDSEN RETREATED TOWARD THE WINDOW ALCOVE BUT kept his ears trained on the conversation below. That the American vice president was here, at Hermann’s château, raised a host of new possibilities. He quickly glanced at Gary and brought a finger to his lips, signaling for continued quiet.
Glasses clinked below.
“To our friendship,” Hermann said.
“That’s what I like about you, Alfred. Loyalty. It’s in short supply these days.”
“Perhaps your superior might feel the same way.”
The other man chuckled. “Daniels is a fool. He has a simplistic view of life and the world.”
“And would you say that you’re loyal?”
“Absolutely. I’ve suffered through five years of Danny Daniels. Did exactly what he wanted. Smiled. Defended him. Took some heat for him. But I can’t take it anymore. Americans can’t take it anymore.”
“I hope that time wasn’t wasted.”
“I’ve spent the years building coalitions. Making friends. Appeasing enemies. I have everything I need-”
“Except money.”
“I wouldn’t say that. I have ample commitments to get things rolling. My Arab friends are being quite generous.”
“The Order, too, is appreciative of those who show it support. Your president has not been friendly to world business. He seems to like tariffs, trade restrictions, open banking.”
“Which is a whole other problem. I assure you, there are many in Washington who feel differently from Daniels.”
Sounds from below indicated that the two men were sitting down. Thorvaldsen crept close to the railing. Hermann sat in a chair, the vice president on one of the settees. Both men held drinks.
“Israel is trying to find out what’s happening,” the vice president said. “They know the link is exposed.”
“I’ve been informed,” Hermann said. “I have an associate, as we speak, dealing with that.”
“My chief of staff told me that an Israeli surveillance team is missing in Germany and one of their Foreign Office officials was found dead in Rothenburg, suspected of selling information. An assassination squad has been sent to London. Strangely, Tel Aviv actually wanted us to know that.”
“Again, my friend, I’m aware.”
“Then you surely know that one of our former agents, Cotton Malone, is on his way to the Sinai with, of all people, his ex-wife and another man.”
Silence came in response.
“We were curious,” the vice president said. “So the other man’s fingerprints were obtained from a railing he touched while boarding the military plane in Lisbon. He’s an American. James McCollum. You know him?”
“His alias is Dominick Sabre. He works for us.”
“And because you’re my friend, Alfred, I’m going to respectfully say that you’re full of shit. I saw it in your eyes. You didn’t know your man was headed to the Sinai.”
Another pause.
“He’s not required to keep me informed. Results are all that matter.”
“So tell me. What’s he doing with Cotton Malone, and is he going to find that library?”
“You said the Sinai. They’re certainly in a location for that to be possible. Near enough to Alexandria to make transport of the manuscripts in ancient times possible, but also isolated. Trade routes existed there before and after the time of Christ. Pharaohs mined the land for copper and turquoise. Egypt knew the Sinai well.”