"Dysart might make a mistake," Stephanie said.
"This has to go way beyond Dysart." Elizabeth swerved to avoid a pothole in the road. "War between the Muslims and Israel could go nuclear. Who would want to see that happen?"
Stephanie mused out loud. "Qui Bene? Who benefits? Not Israel. Not the Muslims either."
"No one in the Middle East benefits, except the ones who don't want peace," Elizabeth said. "The Islamic fundamentalists would never destroy al-Aqsa. It can't be them."
"Profit? War is going to disrupt the financial markets. There could be big profit in that."
"That's an idea. We could look at the markets in the last six months and see if someone is about to get rich if a war starts up. We can ignore little trades, just look at the big ones. If we see a pattern, perhaps we can track it back to whoever it is that 'commands' Dysart."
"Yes. 'At your command'. Dysart doesn't strike me as the kind of man who'd take orders from just anyone."
"Israel could be destroyed, and half of the Middle East with it. That's bigger than money. The Iranians, perhaps? The Syrians? But they're Muslim, too. No way they'd blow up the Mosque."
They turned into the drive leading up to the house. A minute later they were inside the garage, the door closing behind them.
Safe.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
In one of the windowless detention cells below Shin Bet Headquarters, Khalid recited his prayers. Even here, imprisoned by the Jewish occupiers, he could still face Mecca and find the strength that had deserted him earlier. He shuddered, remembering the look in the eyes of the Jew as he whispered the things he would do to Khalid's family. Surely the Jew was a demon, a jinn sent to test him. Allah, the All Compassionate and All Merciful, would forgive Khalid for his cowardice. He rose from his prayers. A metal view slot opened in the steel door of his cell.
Someone peered in. The slot shut. Khalid heard bolts being drawn, a murmured conversation. He sat down on the bare metal ledge bolted to the wall that served as table, chair and bunk and waited. Khalid was passive. He knew it was futile to think of physical resistance. He swallowed and thought of his family, and prepared to be interrogated.
Ín'sh'allah. As God wills.
The man who entered the cell wore an army uniform. He closed the door behind him. His face was bland, almost featureless, almost kind. He held a covered box in his left hand.
"You are hungry?" the man said.
Khalid shrugged, ready for a blow, a lie, a trick. There was no trusting these Israeli dogs. The man's Arabic was fluent, with a hint of an accent.
"You have been helpful," the man said. "I've brought something to show our appreciation." He reached into the box with his right hand.
The silenced pistol spat once and a small, dark hole appeared in Khalid's forehead. He never felt the second shot that entered his ear.
The Visitor replaced the pistol in the box. He lifted Khalid's body onto the narrow bunk and turned his face to the wall. Anyone looking in would see a sleeping prisoner. The Visitor left the cell and closed the door, bolting it after him. Five minutes later he had disappeared into the crowds on the street outside. Another soldier, hurrying to his appointment with the god of war.
Back in his apartment, the Visitor made a call.
"It's done."
"Good. Your time there is finished." A brief silence. "You failed with the agent."
"It was unavoidable. I lost three people. He is a worthy adversary."
"It doesn't matter. Return to Washington. Call when you are settled."
The Visitor could hear an opera playing in the background, something by Wagner.
"Yes."
The Visitor broke the connection, smashed the phone with his heel. He began packing. When he was done, he sat on the edge of the bed. He closed his eyes, his mind soaring to a summer meadow high in the Bavarian Alps.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
At Andrews, Rice ordered the Secret Service to provide Nick with transportation. They gave him a shiny black Suburban with armor reinforced doors and wheels, tinted bullet proof glass and a Remington pump twelve gauge set upright between the front seats. The vehicle was fast, too. He watched for anyone following and took a circuitous route around the city. When he was sure no one was behind, he headed for the safe house.
He pulled into the garage and went inside. Ronnie and Selena were at the kitchen table. Ronnie was flashing cards filled with diagrams and data at Selena, teaching her to store essential information in her mind with only a brief look.
"Hey, Mr. TV personality himself. Welcome home, Nick." Ronnie put the cards on the table.
"TV Personality?"
Selena said, "You've been on the news all day. The networks can't get enough of you jumping into that hole and protecting the President. Over here, you're a hero. In the Mid East, you're a murderer. You've even been hung in effigy. They've made a martyr out of the man who tried to shoot you and Rice."
Nick felt a headache starting. Harker and Stephanie came into the room. Director Harker wore casual sweats. The outfit was black and white, if not up to her usual standard of elegance. She looked tired, more frayed around the edges than he'd ever seen before.
"Nick, I know you just got here, but we need to go over what we've found out."
"You mean Dysart?"
"That and more. Let's sit down."
The silver pen came out and Harker began tapping. The sound echoed in his head like a ball ratcheting around a pinball machine.
"Dysart mentioned Antarctica in his emails. A German research station in Antarctica burned to the ground two nights ago. The fire was set with phosphorous grenades and all personnel were shot and killed. A plane landed and took off around the time of the raid. The German government has sealed the whole thing off and clamped the lid down on inquiries."
"If they aren't talking, how come we know about it?"
"Stephanie hacked into Berlin's intelligence network looking for reaction to the Jerusalem bombing. She found the Antarctica reports."
Steph made a mock curtsey.
Nick rubbed his forehead, then the back of his neck. The headache was kicking in big time. "What's got them going?"
"Nazis."
"Nazis? As in Hitler, swastikas, all that stuff? How do Nazis come into it?"
"Two scientists found an old bunker complex in the mountains the day before the station was attacked. No one knew it was there. They discovered a radio station, barracks, generators and crates marked with swastikas. They opened one of the crates and found rare paintings missing since the war. The radio had swastikas on it and one of those Enigma coding machines next to it. There was also a vault they couldn't open.
"They called it in to Berlin. That was on Wednesday afternoon. Early Thursday morning someone showed up, blew the door off the vault and cleaned the place out. It looks like a military op. They didn't leave anyone behind to talk about it. Berlin thinks this was a secret Nazi base rumored to exist since the war, built to research experimental weapons. Everyone thought it was a myth, until now."
"What was in the vault?"
"No one knows. The only things left behind were files. Inventories of jewelry, gold teeth, wedding rings and other property stolen from Holocaust victims. All neatly cataloged."
Carter thought about that. Gold teeth and wedding rings. Who could fathom the pathological cruelty of the Nazi mind?
Harker continued. "Inside the vault were two mummified bodies in World War II German naval uniforms. They'd been shot at close range with a pistol. One of them had ID that showed they came off a submarine, U-886."
"You think this is what Dysart was referring to in his email?"
"It must be. There's not much happening in Antarctica. The email said the 'key' to Parsifal had been found there, whatever that is."