There was not much time.
Wally tugged his winter gloves from his coat pockets and slipped them on. The boy in leather looked up, eyes blank with fear.
“I'd get out of here,” Wally told him in German. “Unless you want to talk to the police.”
The kid stumbled to his feet and ran.
Wally stepped over Anatolys body and looked into the stall. There should have been a bag some sort of overnight piece but there was nothing. No luggage to suggest he had been traveling from Budapest. Wally studied the stall. The lid of the tank was slightly askew.
He jumped up and lifted the porcelain cover. Groped inside with his gloved fingers. And then his expression changed.
The two-note klaxon of an ambulance siren rent the night air.
Wally pulled the sheaf of papers out of the toilet tank and slid them inside his coat.
Two
Budapest, 1:23 a.m.
Tonio was snoring by the time Michael drove up to the underground garage. He punched a key code into a remote-control device mounted on the dashboard and the electronic doors slid open. He pulled inside, and the doors closed automatically behind him. It was then he saw that the space reserved for Mian's Mercedes was empty.
He killed the Audi's engine, feeling his skin prickle. Krucevic was still mobile. Had he been arrested at the Budapest checkpoint? Or had he abandoned the two of them, Michael and Tonio, now that the Hungarian job was done?
The door to the compound was probably wired to blow.
He glanced over his shoulder at the sealed electronic garage doors, fighting the urge to panic, to gun the Audi in reverse right through them. Think. Think.
Krucevic had said nothing about an errand tonight. That was hardly unusual. He never shared his plans until they were ready to activate.
But maybe he had learned at last who Michael really was. Maybe he, Michael, had been betrayed. By an overeager Sophie Payne, or perhaps .. . He thought suddenly of Bela Horvath, of the unhappy Mirjana. Obvious risks, to themselves and him. His message might have come too late.
You've had too much time, you son of a bitch!
Tonio muttered in an alcoholic dream, his head lolling toward the armrest.
Michael eased open the door. There was a chance he could discover whether the compound was sabotaged before it killed them.
He crept up to the entrance, every nerve in his body screaming. There was no red pinpoint beam of a laser to break, just the camera focused as usual, recording his stealth; he would have to explain that later. He ran his fingers around the doorjamb — no thin copper wire. And no discernible sound from within.
The only way he would know was to attempt it.
He pressed a second code into a keypad by the door, held his finger against a print detector, and waited for the electronic verification.
The door slid open.
Whatever fate awaited him, it was not on this threshold. He went inside.
Jozsef's good-luck charm was resting forgotten on the table in the main room. A curious lapse; he was never without it. Michael pocketed the rabbit's foot and walked down the corridor to his door. It was sealed shut.
“Jozsef? Jozsef?” He raised his hand to knock just as the boy's voice came groggily from beyond.
“Is that you, Michael? What time is it?”
“Nearly two. Go back to sleep. There's nothing to be worried about.”
So Krucevic had abandoned them, locked into their windowless cells, the boy and Sophie Payne. Necessity must have driven him. Michael felt a stab of fear for Bela Horvath. If Mian were to suspect — He strode back to the main room. Tonio was still snoring in the car. Now for the computer. The payment for Caroline's lost years. He understood far less about the files than Tonio, of course, but he had been watching, secretly, how the man manipulated his data. He knew how to unlock the keyboard's secrets. Mian changed the password every day, and only Tonio was privy to it; but Michael had watched his fingers that morning. He thought he could repeat the strokes.
He sat down in front of the laptop. The password was chaos today, he was certain — but entry was denied. Had he inverted the a and the o? Michael swore aloud. Three failed attempts, and the computer would destroy its own hard disk.
He willed his fingers to stop shaking and tried again.
This time, like the door to All Baba's cave, the way opened. He began to search among the treasures scattered haphazardly on the thieves' floor.
“Michael,” the voice said behind him.
He jumped involuntarily and snapped the computer lid shut. Stupid! Stupid not to be more on my guard.
“Mrs. Payne. You should be asleep. How did you get out of your room?”
“Jozsef. He has a remote, did you know?”
She swayed and clutched at the jamb. That quickly he was at her side. She looked ghastly.
“Here. Sit.” He helped her to a chair.
“I wish you would tell me why you're pretending to be a terrorist,” she said plaintively as she sank into his seat.
“I'm almost dead. I deserve to know.”
“You're not going to die.”
“You don't know what you're talking about. I'm puking pieces of my stomach.”
“The medicine,” he said. “I'll get you some. He'll never know.”
“Don't,” she called after him; but he was already in the passage, he had the code punched into the supply-room pad, and it was only when the door had slid open that he understood what she meant. Twelve dozen ampules lay smashed to powder on the floor.
“My God,” he groaned, and leaned against the doorjamb.
“What have you done, Mrs. Payne?”
Her eyes blazed at him.
“I've placed that boy's life in jeopardy, and he helped me do it. I almost lacked the courage. But it had to be done. I had to force Krucevic's hand. Jozset says there's no more medicine here. If he wants to save his son's life, Krucevic must go back to Berlin. He'll abort this insane campaign.”
Michael stared at her in wonder and pity.
“He'll slit your throat for this.”
“But not the throats of a million Muslims, and that is all that matters. I've been a dead woman since Tuesday.” She sank down to the floor, her back against the wall, and took a shuddering breath.
“Would you kill me now? Like that little girl in Bratislava? Before he gets back?”
“Mrs. Payne — ”
“My name is Sophie. I do not think yours is really Michael, somehow.”
“Let me take you back to your room — ”
“I'd rather die where I am,” she interrupted. “Now get out your gun, God damn it.”
“I can't.”
“You must. I order you as the second in command of your country!”
He knelt down before her.
“I told you once I would not let you die at this man's hands. I'm certainly not going to kill you myself.”
“You won't have to. Krucevic will.” Her eyes closed tightly; she drew a rattling breath.
“Give me your gun, then.”
Michael put his hand under Sophie's elbow.
“Come on. Let's get Jozsef. We'll leave now.”
Her eyes flew open.
“Can you get out? Once you're inside?”
“Of course.”
“Jozsef couldn't.”
“Jozsef's a prisoner,” he reminded her brutally. “I'm a jail”
He crossed to the boy's door and pounded on it, hard.
“Jozsef. Hurry up and get dressed.”
“I can't walk anywhere,” Sophie protested faintly. “I'll just hold you back.”
“There's a car in the garage. We'll take that to the U.S. embassy. You'll be in a hospital in an hour.”
The flash of joy that crossed her face was almost too painful to watch.