«Everywhere …» repeated the man.
«The code is ‘Wolfsschanze.’»
«Wolfsschanze?… Oh God, it’s come!»
«It’s here. Update a final master list of district leaders, one copy only, of course. Take all the microdot files—country by country, city by city, each political connection—and seal them in a steel case. Bring the case personally to me, along with the master list, one week from today. Wednesday. We’ll meet on the street outside my flat in Kensington. Eight o’clock at night.»
«A week from today. Wednesday. Eight o’clock. With the case.»
«And the master list. The leaders.»
«Of course.» The Welshman brought the knuckle of his index finger to his teeth. «It’s really come,» he whispered.
«There’s a minor obstacle, but we’ll surmount it.»
«Can I help? I’ll do anything.»
«I know you will, Ian. You’re one of the best. I’ll tell you next week.»
«Anything.»
«Of course.» Tennyson slowed the Jaguar at the approach of an exit. «I’d drive you into London, but I’m heading toward Margate. It’s imperative that I get there quickly.»
«Don’t worry about me. God, man, you must have so much on your mind!» Ian kept his eyes on Tennyson’s face, on the strong, chiseled features that held such promise, such power. «To be here now; to have the privilege to be present at the beginning. At the rebirth. There’s no sacrifice I wouldn’t make.»
The blond man smiled. «Thank you,» he said.
«Leave me anywhere. I’ll find a taxi… I didn’t know we had people in Margate.»
«We have people everywhere,» said Tennyson, stopping the car.
Tennyson sped down the familiar highway toward Portsea. He would reach Gretchen’s house before eight o’clock, and that was as it should be; she expected him at nine. He’d be able to make sure she had no visitors, no friendly male neighbors who might have dropped in for a drink.
The blond man smiled to himself. Even in her mid-forties, his sister drew men as the proverbial flame drew moths: they, scorched into satiety by the heat, saved from themselves by their inability to reach the flame itself. For Gretchen did not fulfill the promise of her sexuality unless told to do so. It was a weapon to be used, as all potentially lethal weapons were to be used—with discretion.
Tennyson did not relish what he had to do, but he knew he had no choice. All threads that led to Geneva had to be cut, and his sister was one of them. As Anthony Beaumont had been one. Gretchen simply knew too much; Wolfsschanze’s enemies could break her—and they would.
There were three items of information the Nachrichtendienst did not have: the timetable, the methods of dispersing the millions, and the lists. Gretchen knew the timetable; she was familiar with the methods of dispersal; and, as the methods were tied to the names of recipients all over the world, she was all too aware of the lists.
His sister had to die.
As the Welshman had to make the sacrifice he spoke of so nobly. Once the airtight carton and the master list were delivered, the Welshman’s contributions were finished.
He remained only a liability; for, except for the sons of Erich Kessler and Wilhelm von Tiebolt, no one else alive would ever see those lists. Thousands of names, in every country, who were the true inheritors of Wolfsschanze, the perfect race, the Sonnenkinder.
PORTSEA—15 M
The blond man pressed the accelerator; the Jaguar shot forward.
«So, at last it’s here,» said Gretchen Beaumont, sitting next to Tennyson on the soft leather couch, her hand caressing his face, her fingers darting in and out between his lips, arousing him as she was always able to do since they were children. «And you’re so beautiful. There’s no other man like you; there never will be.»
She leaned forward, her unbuttoned blouse exposing her breasts, inviting his caress. She opened her mouth and covered his, groaning in that throaty way that drove him wild.
But he could not succumb. When he did, it would be the last act of a secret ritual that had kept him pure and unentangled … since he was a child. He held her shoulders and gently pushed her back on the couch.
«It’s here,» he said. «I must learn everything that’s happened while my mind’s clear. We have lots of time. I’ll leave about six in the morning for Heathrow, for the first plane to Paris. But now, is there anything you forgot to tell me about the American? Are you sure he never made the connection between you and New York?»
«Never. The dead woman across from his apartment was known to be a heavy smoker. I don’t smoke, and made a point of it when he was here. I also made it clear that I hadn’t been anywhere in weeks. If he questioned that, I could have proved it, of course. And, obviously, I was very much alive.»
«So when he left, he had no idea that the highly erotic, straying wife he went to bed with was the woman in New York.»
«Of course not. And he didn’t leave,» said Gretchen, laughing. «He fled. Bewildered and panicked, convinced I was unbalanced—as we had planned—thus making you next in line for Geneva.» She stopped laughing. «He also fled with Tony’s photograph, which we had not planned. You’re getting it back, I assume.»
Tennyson nodded. «Yes.»
«What will you tell Holcroft?»
«He believes Beaumont was an ODESSA agent; that I was somehow embroiled with Graff and had to escape from Brazil or be shot. That’s what he told Kessler. The truth is, he’s not at all sure what happened in Rio except that I killed someone; he’s worried about it.» Tennyson smiled. «I’ll play on his assumptions. I’ll think of something startling, something that will stun him, convince him I’m holier than John the Baptist. And, of course, I’ll be grateful that our partner has caused the removal of the terrible Beaumont from our concerns.»
Gretchen took his hand, pressing it between her legs, rubbing her stockings up and down against his flesh. «You are not only beautiful; you’re brilliant.»
«Then I’ll turn the tables, make him feel he must convince me he’s worthy of Geneva. He will be the one who must justify his part of the covenant. It’s psychologically vital that he be put in that position; his dependency on me must grow.»
Gretchen locked her legs against his hand and held his wrist; the grip was abrupt and sexual. «You can excite me with words, but you know that, don’t you?»
«In a while, my love … my only love. We’ve got to talk.» Tennyson dug his fingers into his sister’s leg; she moaned. «Of course, I’ll know more what to say after I’ve spoken to Helden.»
«You’ll see her before you meet with Holcroft, then?»
«Yes. I’ll call her and tell her I’ve got to see her right away. For the first time in her life, she’ll observe me in the throes of self-doubt, desperately needing to be convinced my actions are right.»
«Brilliant again.» She took his hand from between her legs and placed it under her breast. «And does our little sister still run with the flotsam and jetsam? The self-imposed Verwünschkinder, with their beards and bad teeth?»
«Of course. She has to feel needed; it was always her weakness.»
«She wasn’t born in the Reich.»
Tennyson laughed derisively. «To compound her striving for adequacy, she’s become a nursemaid. She lives in Herr Oberst’s house and cares for the crippled bastard. Two changes of cars each evening, so as not to lead the assassins of the Rache and the ODESSA to him.»
«One or the other may kill her one day,» mused Gretchen. «That’s something to think about. Soon after the bank frees the account, she’ll have to go. She’s not stupid, Johann. One more murder laid at the foot of the Rache. Or the ODESSA.»