“The brother who was used as a hostage while you traveled?” Sarah asked, remembering her file.
“Yes. Joseph.” She smiled at the mention of the name as she recalled his precious face to mind. She turned and took in both women as if she wanted them to understand. “I called him Flea, he was so small.”
“You had to have known the doorway was destroyed behind you. You said it yourself in your postwar debrief to the allies and then again to Israeli intelligence. So why would you make an attempt at something that was now clearly impossible?”
Sarah saw the answer first as her training dictated she would. “The first Wellsian Doorway from the previous year, the first built in Germany,” Sarah said as she watched Moira for the truth of her educated guess.
“Yes, the first doorway, built and unused for anything except for me and the initial experiments, the Nazi’s own Traveler.” She looked at the two women and smiled, a sad attempt. “The experiment was a closed one. That meant that when the bunker was evacuated after the construction of the doorway in 1942, it was left unguarded and in pristine condition for their test rat to emerge from that very first, abandoned machine. I would eventually use that first doorway and I and my team would attempt to bring my brother out of 1942 Nazi Germany. An impossible task, which was hard learned. We would go in two-week increments and search for him. First in Dortmund, and then at Bergen-Belsen, where we were all kept before the experiments had begun in 1942. We found nothing.”
Sarah was more interested in Anya’s reaction to Moira’s explanation than the Traveler’s words. Anya raised the black brow over her alternating blue-green right eye.
The door opened and Charlie stuck his crazed white head of hair inside and found Moira.
“Dr. Mendelsohn, Director Compton is ready for you.” He looked at the serious expressions in the room and immediately ducked away. After all, Charlie had been receiving dirty looks most of the day from Ryan and Collins every time they saw him. The door quickly closed. He was beginning to think that the music fiasco would kill his chances at coming along with the mission group.
Moira looked at Anya and then Sarah before she turned the wheelchair for the door where Sarah held it open for her. Without a look back or another word, Moira went back into the meeting.
“Well, you’re the Gypsy — is she lying? I thought she spoke the truth. Of course my instincts are based on nothing in particular… what does the spy in you say?” Sarah asked as she walked away from the door and faced Anya.
“No, she’s not lying, Sarah.” The former Israeli intelligence agent bit her lip once more and then looked at the door and the meeting beyond. “But she’s not being straightforward either. She’s not letting us completely inside yet.”
“Dr. Morales said that when Moira covered her tracks in the sixties and seventies she did it better than anyone he had ever seen outside of black operations people. He said it will take him and Europa months to uncover her true past. He said he will eventually dig it out, but she was that good at covering and hiding her intentions to the world in general.”
“Look, I know Jack and the security department have their hands full at the moment with this Russian mob aspect, but can you shift your duties to your assistant in geology? I think we girls need a trip into Westchester.”
Sarah looked surprised.
“What’s up in Westchester?” she asked as Anya faced her at the door.
“That is where the private home is located that our Miss Mendelsohn used as an orphanage. It’s closed down after all of these years but it’s still there. We need to see about these two hundred and thirty-seven orphans she supported. Let’s see if we can track someone down who can tell us just why Miss Mendelsohn was so generous of not only her money, but her time.”
“I’m not getting an evil, or even a bad vibe from Moira, and I usually get them from people with less-than-honorable intent.”
“Yes, but as you so brashly pointed out, Sarah, I’m a Gypsy and a spy.”
Sarah raised her brows and smiled as Anya opened the door to return to the meeting.
“Well, Jack’s already pissed at me, so, what the hell, I guess we’ll take a drive to Westchester County.”
The younger man watched the CEO place the silk scarf around his neck and then pull on the slightly heavier coat over his two-thousand-dollar British-made suit. Joshua Jodle watched the old man with ever increasing contempt. After being assisted with his coat the CEO faced the younger man. The ever-present smile was in place where it always has been. He handed him his expensive briefcase as they stood before the private elevator.
“Look, Jodle, I want you up at Lake Champlain no later than eight o’clock tonight. We have to get this ugly business sorted out soon before everyone from the FBI to the Securities and Exchange Commission starts a witch hunt.” The dark eyes warned Jodle that if he wasn’t part of the solution he could easily be made part of their problem-solving efforts in the next few days.
“Yes, sir, the helicopter will return for me as soon as I find out the disposition of our eastern friends.”
“You do that. Now, the other members of the board are already onboard.” The elevator doors opened and the CEO allowed Jodle in first simply because the chairman was just too important to push the button for the roof. Jodle did and then watched as the older man stepped inside. The doors closed and the elevator climbed to the fiftieth floor in silence.
The wind had picked up and the night had some bite to it as the elevator doors opened onto the roof of the expensive apartment building — one of the most exclusive in the city. The helicopter’s rotor started to turn as the executive Sikorsky made ready for its run to the Lake Champlain meeting house where the entire board of directors would decide on how to handle the Moira Mendelsohn problem that seemed to be getting larger the longer they waited.
“Find out what that fool Russian is playing at. We need the details so we may respond appropriately.”
“Yes, sir,” Jodle said as the old man turned and walked briskly to the idling helicopter where the other six men of the board of directors waited inside the plush helicopter. Jodle even managed to wave his hand at the pilot, who nodded as the door closed. The idling engine went to full power for its liftoff from Manhattan. The gleaming Sikorsky lifted free of the helipad and slowly started to climb. It peeled off as soon as it cleared the roof and rose even higher over the East River. Jodle watched as his left hand held the elevator doors and his grip was pure white as he waited.
The explosion was bright and reflected off the heavy rain clouds covering the skyscrapers. The Sikorsky disintegrated and the pieces floated easily toward the water far below. The last to strike was the twirling rotor blades that hit with a spectacular wash of spray that shot high into the sky. Jodle closed his eyes when he knew he wasn’t alone.
“There, that was a simple solution to a sticky problem, wasn’t it? Now look who gets to take over the firm in the number one slot.” There was laughter. “You can thank me later.”
Jodle turned and saw the hand on his shoulder as the Russian stepped free of the shadows. Three of his bodyguards were with him.
“It was a risk to take them out before we are assured of Madam Mendelsohn’s full cooperation.”
“That’s why we have you, my young friend. You were the last one of her orphans through the doorway, we just need you to turn it on for us.” Mr. Jones, as he was called at all times, smiled and slapped the younger man hard on the back. “Besides, with the stolen list of your madam’s children, the task of gaining her cooperation is made that much easier.” The Wall Street trader grimaced as the blow to the back the Russian had administered a moment before almost made him lose the air in his lungs.