'No. Let's not drag up the past. This isn't a right wing effort, and they're a harmless bunch anyway.
'I'll report back as soon as I've something more concrete.'
An hour later the worst was known.
Seven people had died in the explosion.
The bomb had ripped the conference room of the hotel to shreds. The Gravenbruch Kempinski, was an exclusive conference hotel in its own private 37 acre park on the outskirts of Frankfurt. The Euro-Israeli Trade Conference was such a group, where the delegates could stay in the hotel and attend the conference without leaving the premises. Perfect for security.
It was later found the bomb had been planted in the air conditioning some time earlier.
When the firemen had brought the blaze under control they found the Star of David painted on the outside walls in white with a red hammer and sickle daubed over it. 'Death to Jews and Israel' was another slogan painted on the garage wall at the rear of the building.
Nobody had noticed the slim man with the raw scar on his left cheek. He had left the scene of devastation two hours before the explosion.
It was considered fortunate that only seven had died. Of the other forty-two delegates, three were still critically ill in hospital while the rest had minor injuries.
Of the seven dead, three were Israeli, one was an Irish Jew, one Italian and two German.
One of the Germans was identified as Grob Mitzer, a leading industrialist.
He was the last to be identified.
Ch. 42
'Things're moving too fast.'
Traffic jams are the same the world over. Moscow and Washington, for all their difference in styles and distance, suffered from the same traffic congestion. The whole thing was made worse by the thawing snow, the dirt grey slush and the drip drip of the water that fell everywhere. It was winter at its most boring.
The black government limousine, a Lincoln Town Car, was beached between a 1964 Toyota Corolla and a 1990 Ford Turbo Mustang. The drivers of both cars, one a seedy long haired college student in a torn T-shirt and leather jacket, the other a dark suited woman business executive, both stared into the limousine, trying to make out who was inside.
The DDA, on his way to brief the Executive Director on the latest developments, ignored them both. He was a tidy man with a liking for tidy things. The Trimmler affair wasn't only untidy, it was rapidly going out of control. That is, if it ever had been in control.
'Just too damn fast,' he repeated.
The student, the driver of the Mustang, leant towards the Town Car and tapped on the window. The DDA ignored him. If this had been Russia, he would probably have had him lined up against the nearest wall and shot. He supposed there were some advantages his counterparts in the KGB enjoyed. Not a lot, but some.
The student knocked again, then turned and shouted something obscene to the woman in the Toyota. She shrugged and turned away. In frustration she banged her horn and added to the general cacophony of the stilled traffic; tempers were rising as rapidly as was the heat in the automobile engines.
The DDA, through his darkened glass, saw the student turn away and go back to picking his nose, obviously something he enjoyed from the enthusiastic and aggressive way he went about his task.
'Little shit,' said the DDI, sitting next to him. 'You notice how everyone in parked cars always ends up picking their noses. Shitty habit, that.'
'And who the hell are the Lucy Ghosts?' snapped the DDA, wanting to change the subject.
'Code name, I guess. That is if the English guy heard right.'
'His report to Tucker was pretty thorough. He definitely heard the words, Lucy Ghosts.'
'And Frick?'
'Haven't traced that one yet.'
The traffic edged forward and stopped again.
'Have we passed it on to the Russians?'
'Yes. But nothing's come back yet,' the DDA responded. 'They drew a blank on Mitzer. And Goodenache was one of their top people on their space programme. Was, being the operative word. He's seen more as a figurehead now. They couldn't find any link between him and Mitzer, or with Trimmler. But Goodenache's file was in the room that caught fire.'
'Was it destroyed?'
'Didn't say.'
'We getting anywhere with this virus thing?'
'No. But it points to Mitzer. It was easy for one of his teams to introduce a virus into the system. They've been working with us for over twenty years.’
'So why go at our asset base?'
'That's what doesn't fit in. Maybe there just was a big network there, something beyond Fuchs and the atom ring. Just like the Brits had people left behind when Philby escaped to Moscow. Shit, we could be sitting on the biggest spy ring in history, right to the top, and it's taken us working with the Russians to dig it out.'
‘So whose spy ring is it, if it isn't theirs?'
'I think it's to do with these damn scientists. We're getting a breakdown of Goodenache's career. Maybe we'll find a link there.'
The DDI shook his head. 'It's crazy. Us having to protect war criminals as if they're heroes. Stupid. We shoulda got everything we wanted out of Trimmler and his cronies after the War, then turned them in.'
'Well we didn't. And we got to the moon. They're our responsibility now. Hell, can you imagine what would happen if all this got out.'
'That reminds me. I gotta stay with the Exec after this meeting. My car's picking me up, so no need to wait.'
'What’s up?'
'Oh, nothing. The President's trip to Berlin. Just briefing them on the situation over there. With all this trouble on the streets we need to make sure there's no problems.'
'You seeing the President?' It was something the DDA rarely did. He hoped the DDI didn't sense the envy in his question.
'Yeah. I think so.' The DDI didn't know whether or not he would be seeing the President, but it didn't do any harm for the others to think he was.
The carphone warbled and the driver picked it up.
'It's your office, sir,' he said to the DDA.
The DDA took the phone. 'Yes,' he said, then listened. When his secretary had finished he spoke again. 'Okay. If anything else comes through get me straight away.'
He put the phone down and slowly blew the air out of his lungs as he gathered himself. 'Fucking traffic!' he said.
'What's wrong?' asked the DDI, sensing that the news affected them both.
The DDA paused before replying. He would have preferred to wait until he got to the Exec Director's office.
'There's been an explosion in Germany. According to Associated Press, one of those killed was Grob Mitzer.'
'Shit!' swore the DDI. 'Fucking traffic!' he added.
The student in the turbo Mustang, bored with excavating his nose with his index finger, turned back and once again stared into the limousine.
'Shit to them all,' said the DDA.
Ch. 43
The conference had started well.
Billie was on morning shift. She sat at the back of the conference room where she could keep an eye on both Trimmler and Goodenache. She tried to follow the gist of the conference, but lost interest.
Goodenache enthusiastically applauded each speaker when he had finished. Trimmler seemed strangely quiet and had positioned himself in a dark corner away from the rest.
Adam slipped into the empty chair next to her just before lunch.
'You really can do without sleep, can't you?' she remarked.
He grinned. 'Trick of the trade. How's it going?'
She told him about Trimmler's lack-lustre interest. 'Probably tired after his late night.'
'I'll take over. You grab some lunch. Give yourself a couple of hours.'
'All right. I'll be back before then.'
The conference broke for lunch twenty minutes later and Adam followed Trimmler into the lobby where he was joined by Goodenache. They huddled together, away from the main group, and Trimmler excitedly jabbed his finger at his companion as he made his point. Goodenache tried to answer, but Trimmler wouldn't be interrupted. It soon took on the look of a heated argument and Trimmler suddenly walked away. Adam followed him into the lift. Trimmler stared angrily at the Englishman, but Adam ignored him as they swished up to the eighteenth floor. The scientist stormed down the hallway to his suite. When he'd slammed the door, Adam went into his own room, left the door ajar and waited for the scientist.
An hour later Trimmler emerged and went back to the conference hall, Adam once more following. The German totally ignored Adam.
The afternoon watch was taken over by Tucker. While Tucker stayed in the conference hall, Billie and Adam went up to the gym where Adam once again set about his rigorous exercises. It reminded her of Gary and excused herself while she went to call him.
Still no answer. She ignored the panic in her stomach, and then she rang her lawyers. There had been no further response from Peter with regard to the divorce and they advised her to sit and wait it out. She slammed the phone down, her emotions now at a raw edge, and immediately dialed Peter to shout at him. No answer… Damn it. She decided to stop thinking at that stage, showered and went down to wait for Adam in the lobby.