Grob Mitzer was amongst the mourners. The wealthy industrialist finished speaking to the priest before he moved away to a small huddled group who still lingered by Kushmann's grave.
'A tragedy,' said one of the mourners, a bald headed stooped man in a threadbare suit.
'It's over now. We must move on,' replied Mitzer.
'Always it happens. Always so close and something happens.'
'Nothing comes easy. It only needs more effort, one more push,' urged the wire haired man to Mitzer's left.
'He's right,' added Mitzer. 'Now is not the time to lose heart.'
'Who will replace Willi?' asked the bald headed man.
'Whoever.'
'Frick is the only one.'
'That's up to the Council.'
'It must be soon.'
'It will be.'
'We will have to have meetings. That'll draw attention to ourselves.'
'Not if we're careful.' Mitzer's anger suddenly flared and he turned his fury on the bald headed man. 'Now is not the time to panic. We will replace Willi. We will succeed. Our enemies will not find out about us. Not if we keep our mouths shut.'
The others were silent, cowed by Mitzer's outburst. He suddenly took a deep breath, brought his temper under control.
'We are amongst old friends here,' he went on, calmer in his tone. 'Those who are alive and those who died, many in our cause. Let us not be disrespectful to them. '
He turned to lead the group towards the headstones when the bald headed man spoke.
'Und die Lucie Geists?'
Mitzer swung round sharply, his venom obvious but hushed so that no-one else near the group would hear him.
'Die Lucie Geists. I have told you. Never mention them in public. It is more than your life is worth.'
Ch. 15
As the mourners left the Dresden cemetery, The Deputy Director of Administration sat down to his meeting with the DDI, Phil Tucker and Carter. Due to the time differences it was still Christmas evening on the East Coast, and the festivities were in full swing.
Unlike Dresden, Washington is the most modern of cities and Georgetown its cultural and residential jewel.
Just north of Foggy Bottom, it is the oldest part of the city, having started its life as a tobacco port in 1751. Along its picturesque commercial centre there is a diverse and exciting selection of restaurants and shops designed to entice the many cultured habitants of the area. Mainly those who spend their working hours in the embassies and government agencies.
The DDA lived near Massachusetts Avenue, the thoroughfare that houses most of the embassies in Washington. Unlike most of his colleagues who lived outside the city, the DDA was never slow to flaunt his position and usually had a house full of guests, many of them diplomats from the foreign missions.
Christmas Day had been no different. Ostensibly a day for children, the DDA saw it as an opportunity to entertain and impress, an opportunity to pander to the whims of Washington society. Not much had been seen of his children all day. He didn't know they had gone to his wife's mother after lunch and wouldn't be returning until the following morning.
He had received Nowak's report at eight o' clock that morning. It had stunned him.
He opened the meeting with that information. There was little said. He knew they wanted time to absorb it before they responded. All except the DDI, who was furious that his colleague hadn't rung him earlier and passed the report on.
'Anything new on West Wing?' the DDA asked Tucker.
'Nothing concrete. He got married fifteen years ago, sort'a late in life. Had no kids. Liked his liquor and disappeared on the occasional bender. No idea where he came from, how we got him his identity. That's all locked up in the computer. We searched his home. Found nothing. Except he'd been a Corporal in the Waffen SS during the War. Still had his identity papers. Stashed away in his bedside drawer. We checked back, but there was no war crimes stuff.'
'Reindeer was in the SS, wasn't he?'
'Different outfit. We couldn't find any link between them.'
'That's all?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Anything on that virus?'
'No.'
'I think we should be addressing the point about why someone's knocking out our asset base…as well as the Russians?' interrupted the DDI, changing tack on the discussion.
'If you believe what they say?' answered the DDA.
'They always were tricky bastards.'
'Still can't see what they hope to achieve.'
'Unless they're after Trimmler.'
'What for?' asked the DDA sharply.
'Who knows. But they could've been after him. Christ, he could be a double?'
' He's a scientist, not a…I doubt that. We got anything on that Kraut who was shot, whatsisname, uh, Kushmann?' The DDA swung round to Carter.
'Nothing,' answered the security man. 'Another East German lawyer who moved to Frankfurt. He was important, in a corporate way. But not that important, not enough to be taken out.'
'And the other guy?'
'Mitzer. Big industrialist. In defence. Aerospace. Big supporter of us in Germany. He could've been a target for kidnapping by a terrorist faction. But they wouldn't have gone after him in such a public place.'
Tucker suddenly understood that the security man had been given his own responsibilities, independent and classified from Tucker. He would have to be more careful in future as he realised all his thoughts and actions would be reported back to his superiors. He watched Carter lean back when he had finished and knew he was deliberately avoiding eye contact.
'Go back on it. Dig deeper into each one. Including the women. And Trimmler. There could be something there, something we missed,' ordered the DDA.
'Can we get some help on it? I've only two guys here in Langley. There's a lot of legwork that…'
'Shit no,' interjected the DDI. 'Even the President doesn't know what's happening.' He realised he had gone further than he should in front of the two subordinates. 'Look, you two better understand where we're coming from. This whole thing is just conjecture. It makes us look bad if we run to the White House with every rumour we come across. All we know for certain is that our computer's partly fucked, which is being dealt with; that we lost two agents, which is now under investigation; and that someone may have tried to take out one of our top scientists. Which is also being investigated. And while we're doing that we're also going to protect him. That's all there is to go on. We don't report this to anyone until we get some more facts. Okay?'
'There is also one other slight problem,' added the DDA. 'We don't know who planted that virus. Which means we don't know how much they've infiltrated our intelligence system. If we start sharing this information with anyone else, including any special advisers to the President, can you guarantee it won't get out?'
'Anyway, who can we go to? The Puzzle Palace is out.' The DDI referred to America's National Security Agency, the most secret agency within the US government. The NSA has a budget estimated to be far greater than the CIA and has a complex of electronic eavesdropping stations and satellites that cover both America and the globe. Its Director is probably the most powerful executive in the American intelligence community.
'Why?'
'Because they could be involved up to their fucking necks and maybe just happened to forget to tell us.'