They were everywhere.
Once taken, Wolfsschanze would kill her before she could say what she knew.
Death was acceptable; stilling her voice was not. She turned to the bearded pilot. «How do you know about this bulletin?»
The man shrugged. «How do I know about the radar vectors? You pay me; I pay others. There’s no such thing as a clear profit these days.»
«Does the bulletin say why this … old woman … is wanted?»
«It’s a strange alert, madame. It states clearly that she is traveling with false papers, but she is not to be picked up. Her whereabouts are to be reported to Interpol-Paris, where they will be relayed to New York.»
«New York?»
«That’s where the request originated. The police in New York, a detective-lieutenant named Miles.»
«Miles?» Althene frowned. «I’ve never heard of him.»
«Perhaps this woman has,» said the pilot, shifting the cigar in his mouth.
Althene closed her eyes. «How would you like to make a very clear profit?»
«I’m no communist; the word doesn’t offend me. How?»
«Hide me in Geneva. Help me reach someone.»
The pilot checked his panel, then banked to the right. «It will cost you.»
«I’ll pay,» she said.
Johann von Tiebolt paced the hotel suite, a graceful, angry animal, consumed. His audience was composed of the brothers Kessler; the first deputy of canton Genève had left minutes ago. The three were alone; the tension was apparent.
«She’s somewhere in Geneva,» said Von Tiebolt. «She has to be.»
«Obviously under an assumed name,» added Hans Kessler, his medical bag at his feet. «We’ll find her. It’s merely a question of fanning men out, after giving them a description. Our deputy has assured us it’s no problem.»
Von Tiebolt stopped his pacing. «No problem? I trust you and he have examined this ‘no problem.’ According to our deputy, the Geneva police report an Interpol bulletin on her. Quite simply, that means she’s traveled a minimum of four thousand miles without being found. Four thousand miles through banks of computers, on aircraft crossing borders and landing with manifests, through at least two immigration points. And there’s nothing. Don’t fool yourself, Hans. She’s better than we thought she was.»
«Tomorrow’s Friday,» said Erich. «Holcroft is due tomorrow, and he’ll get in touch with us. When we have him, we have her.»
«He said he was staying at the d’Accord, but he has changed his mind. There is no reservation, and Mr. Fresca has checked out of the George Cinq.» Von Tiebolt stood by the window. «I don’t like it. Something’s wrong.»
Hans reached for his drink. «I think you’re overlooking the obvious.»
«What?»
«By Holcroft’s lights, a great deal is wrong. He thinks people are after him; he’ll be cautious, and he’ll travel cautiously. I’d be surprised if he did make a reservation in his own name.»
«I assumed the name would be Fresca, or a derivation I’d recognize,» said Von Tiebolt, dismissing the younger Kessler’s observation. «There’s nothing like it in any hotel in Geneva.»
«Is there a Tennyson,» asked Erich softly, «or anything like it?»
«Helden?» Johann turned.
«Helden.» The older Kessler nodded. «She was with him in Paris. It’s to be assumed she’s helping him; you even suggested it.»
Von Tiebolt stood motionless. «Helden and her filthy, wandering outcasts are preoccupied at the moment. They’re scouring the ODESSA for the killers of Herr Oberst.»
«Falkenheim?»
Hans sat forward. «Falkenheim’s dead?»
«Falkenheim was the leader of the Nachrichtendienst—the last functioning member, to be precise. With his death, Wolfsschanze is unopposed. His army of Jews will be headless; what little they know, buried with their leaders.»
«Jews? With Nachrichtendienst?» Erich was exasperated. «What in God’s name are you talking about?»
«A strike has been called on the kibbutz Har Sha’alav; Rache terrorists will be held responsible. I’m sure the name ‘Har Sha’alav’ has meaning for you. At the last, the Nachrichtendienst turned to the Jews of Har Sha’alav. Garbage to garbage.»
«I should like a more specific explanation!» said Erich.
«Later. We must concentrate on the Holcrofts. We must …» Von Tiebolt stopped, a thought striking him. «Priorities. Always look to priorities,» he added, as if talking to himself. «And the first priority is the document at La Grande Banque de Genève, which means the son takes precedence. Find him; isolate him; keep him in absolute quarantine. For our purposes, it need only be for thirty-odd hours.»
«I don’t follow you,» interrupted Hans. «What happens in thirty hours?»
«The three of us will have met with the bank’s directors,» Erich said. «Everything will have been signed, executed in the presence of the Grande Banque’s attorney, all the laws of Switzerland observed. The money will be released to Zurich, and we assume control Monday morning.»
«But thirty hours from Friday morning is—»
«Saturday noon,» completed Von Tiebolt. «We meet with the directors Saturday morning at nine o’clock. There was never any question of our acceptance—except in Holcroft’s mind. Manfredi took care of that months ago. We’re not only acceptable; we’re damn near holy men. My letter from MI Five is merely a final crown. By Saturday noon it will have been accomplished.»
«They’re so anxious to lose seven hundred and eighty million dollars they will open the bank on a Saturday?»
The blond man smiled. «I made the request in Holcroft’s name, for reasons of speed and confidentiality. The directors didn’t object—they look for crumbs— and neither will Holcroft when we tell him. He has his own reasons for wanting everything over with. He’s stretched to the limits of his capacities.» Von Tiebolt glanced at Erich, his smile broader. «He looks upon us both as friends, as pillars of strength, as two men he desperately needs. The programming has exceeded our hopes.»
Kessler nodded. «By noon Saturday he’ll have signed the final condition.»
«What final condition?» asked Hans, alarmed. «What does that mean? What does he sign?»
«We each will have signed it,» answered Von Tiebolt, pausing for emphasis. «It’s a requirement of Swiss law for the release of such accounts. We’ve met, and fully understand our responsibilities; we’ve come to know each other and to trust each other. Therefore, in the event one of us predeceases the others, each assigns all rights and privileges to his coinheritors. Except, of course, the stipend of two million, which is to be distributed to the individual’s heirs. That two million—legally assigned and prohibited from being given to the other executors—removes any motive for double-cross.»
The younger Kessler whistled softly. «Utterly brilliant. So this final condition—this death clause wherein you each assign to the others your responsibility—never had to be made part of the document… because it’s the law. If it had been included, Holcroft might have been suspicious from the beginning.» The doctor shook his head in respect, his eyes bright. «But it never was because it’s the law.»
«Precisely. And every legality must be observed. A month—six weeks—from now, it’ll be irrelevant, but until we’ve made substantive progress, there can be no alarms.»