The Charlemagne Pursuit (30 page)

FIFTY-SIX

WASHINGTON, DC
7:24 AM

R
AMSEY MARCHED BACK TOWARD HIS OFFICE
. H
E WAS WAITING FOR
a report from France and had made clear to the men overseas that he wanted to hear only that Cotton Malone was dead. After that he’d turn his attention to Isabel Oberhauser, but he had not, as yet, decided how best to handle that problem. He’d thought about her during the entire briefing he’d just attended, recalling something he’d once heard.
I’ve been right and I’ve been paranoid and it’s better being paranoid.

He agreed.

Luckily he knew a lot about the old woman.

She married Dietz Oberhauser in the late 1950s. He was the son of a wealthy, aristocratic Bavarian family, she the daughter of a local mayor. Her father had been associated with the Nazis during the war, used by the Americans in the years after. She assumed full control of the Oberhauser fortune in 1972, after Dietz disappeared. Eventually, she had him declared legally dead. This activated his will, which left everything to her, in trust, for the benefit of their daughters. Before Ramsey had dispatched Wilkerson to make contact, he’d studied that will. Interestingly, the decision as to when financial control passed to the daughters had been left entirely to Isabel. Thirty-eight years had elapsed and still she remained in charge. Wilkerson had reported that great animosity existed between the sisters, which might explain a few things, but until today the Oberhauser family discord had meant little to him.

He knew that Isabel had long been interested in
Blazek
and made no secret of her desire to learn what had happened. She’d retained lawyers who’d tried to access information through official channels, and when that failed, she attempted covertly to learn what she could through bribery. His counterintelligence people had detected the attempts and reported them. That’s when he assumed personal responsibility and assigned Wilkerson.

Now his man was dead. How?

He knew Isabel employed an East German named Ulrich Henn. The background report noted that Henn’s maternal grandfather had commanded one of Hitler’s reception camps and supervised the tossing of 28,000 Ukrainians down a ravine. At his war crimes trial he denied nothing and proudly stated,
I was there.
Which made it easy for the Allies to hang him.

Henn was raised by a stepfather who assimilated his new family into communist society. Henn served in the East German military, former Stasi, his current benefactor not all that dissimilar from his communist bosses, both making decisions in the calculating manner of an accountant, then executing them with the unquestioning remorse of a despot.

Isabel was indeed a formidable woman.

She possessed money, power, and nerve. But her weakness was her husband. She wanted to know why he died. Her obsession had been of no real concern until Stephanie Nelle accessed the file on NR-1A and sent it across the Atlantic to Cotton Malone.

Now it was a problem.

One that he hoped was being solved, right now, in France.

M
ALONE WATCHED AS
C
HRISTL SPOTTED HIM AND STRUGGLED
against her restraints. Tape sealed her mouth. She shook her head.

Two men showed themselves from the behind the columns. The one on the left was tall, lanky, and dark-haired, the other stout and fair-headed. He wondered how many more were lurking.

“We came for you,” Dark said to him, “and found these two already here.”

Malone stayed behind a column, gun ready. They didn’t know he was limited to three rounds.

“And why am I so interesting?”

“Beats the hell out of me. I’m just glad you are.”

Fair brought a gun barrel close to Dorothea Lindauer’s skull.

“We’ll start with her,” Dark said.

He was thinking, assessing, noting that there’d been no mention of Werner. He faced Lindauer and whispered, “Ever shot a man?”

“No.”

“Can you?”

He hesitated. “If I had to. For Dorothea.”

“Can you shoot?”

“I’ve hunted all my life.”

He decided to add to his growing résumé of stupid things and handed Werner the automatic.

“What do you want me to do?” Werner asked.

“Shoot one of them.”

“Which one?”

“I don’t care. Just shoot, before they shoot me.”

Werner’s head bobbed in understanding.

Malone sucked a few deep breaths, steeled himself, and stepped away from the column, his hands exposed. “Okay, here I am.”

Neither of the assailants moved. Apparently, he’d caught them by surprise. Which had been the whole idea. Fair withdrew his gun from Dorothea Lindauer and completely emerged from behind his column. He was young, alert, and on guard, automatic rifle leveled.

A shot popped and Fair’s chest exploded from a direct hit.

Werner Lindauer apparently could shoot.

Malone dove right, seeking cover behind another column, knowing Dark would take only a nanosecond to recover. A swift blast of automatic fire and bullets pinged off the stone a few inches from his head. He glanced across the nave at Werner, who was safe behind a column.

Dark hissed a string of obscenities, then screamed, “I’m going to kill them both. Right now.”

“I don’t give a damn,” he called out.

“Really? You sure?”

He needed to force a mistake. He motioned at Werner that he intended to advance forward, down the transept, using the columns for cover.

Now for the true test. He motioned for Werner to toss him the gun.

The man lobbed the weapon his way. He caught it and signaled to stay put.

Malone swung left and darted across the open space to the next column.

More bullets streaked his way.

He caught a glimpse of Dorothea and Christl, still tied to their column. Only two rounds remained in the gun, so he grabbed a softball-sized rock and hurled the stone toward Dark, then crossed to the next column. The projectile crashed into something and thudded away.

Five more columns remained between him and Dorothea Lindauer, who was tied on his side of the nave.

“Take a look,” Dark said.

He risked a glance.

Christl lay on the rough pavement. Ropes dangled from her wrists but they’d been cut, freeing her. Dark kept his body hidden, but Malone spotted the end of the rifle pointed down.

“You don’t care?” Dark called out. “You want to watch her die?”

A burst of bullets ricocheted off the pavement just behind where Christl lay. Fear sent her scrambling forward across the lichen-infested flooring.

“Stop,” Dark yelled at her.

She did.

“Next volley and her legs are gone.”

He paused, attuning his senses, wondering about Werner Lindauer. Where was he?

“I guess there’s no way we can discuss this?” he asked.

“Toss your weapon away and get your ass out here.”

Still no mention of Werner. The gunman surely knew there was someone else here. “Like I said. I don’t give a damn. Kill her.”

He pivoted right as he spoke the challenge, his angle better now that he was closer to the altar. In the unearthly greenish light that filtered in from the fading afternoon, he saw Dark drift a couple of feet back from his column, seeking a better shot at Christl.

Malone fired but the bullet missed.

One round left.

Dark retook cover.

Malone darted to the next column. He spotted a shadow approaching Dark from the row of columns that spread to the back of the nave. Dark’s attention was on Malone, so the shadow was free to scoot ahead. Its shape and size confirmed its identity. Werner Lindauer was gutsy.

“Okay, you’ve got a gun,” Dark said. “I shoot her, you shoot me. But I can take the other sister without giving you a crack at me.”

Malone heard a grunt, then a thud as flesh and bones pounded something that had not given way. Malone peered around the column and saw Werner Lindauer on top of Dark, a fist raised. The two struggling men rolled out into the nave and Dark shoved Werner away, both hands still gripping the weapon.

Christl had sprung to her feet.

Dark started to stand.

Malone aimed.

The crack of a rifle reverberated across the cavernous walls.

Blood poured from Dark’s neck. The gun dropped from his grip as he realized he’d been shot and reached for his throat, struggling to breathe. Malone heard another crack—a second shot—and Dark’s body stiffened then fell, landing hard, spine first.

Silence engulfed the church.

Werner lay on the ground. Christl stood. Dorothea sat. Malone glared to his left.

In an upper gallery above the church’s vestibule, where centuries ago a choir may have sung, Ulrich Henn lowered a scoped rifle. Beside him, grim and defiant, gazing down from her vantage point, stood Isabel Oberhauser.

FIFTY-SEVEN

WASHINGTON, DC

R
AMSEY WATCHED AS
D
IANE
M
C
C
OY OPENED THE CAR DOOR AND
slipped into the passenger seat. He’d been waiting outside the administrative building for her to arrive. Her call fifteen minutes ago had signaled alarm.

“What the hell have you done?” she asked.

He wasn’t about to volunteer anything.

“Daniels ordered me into the Oval Office an hour ago and reamed my ass.”

“You going to tell me why?”

“Don’t play that coy crap with me. You leaned on Aatos Kane, didn’t you?”

“I spoke with him.”

“And he spoke with the president.”

He sat patient and quiet. He’d known McCoy for several years. He’d studied her background. She was careful and deliberate. The nature of her job demanded patience. Yet here she was outright mad. Why?

His cell phone, resting on the dashboard, lit up, signaling an incoming message. “Excuse me. I can’t be unavailable.” He checked the display, but did not respond. “It can wait. What’s wrong, Diane? I simply asked for the senator’s assistance. Are you telling me that no one else has made contact with the White House trying the same thing?”

“I’m telling you that Aatos Kane is a different animal. What did you do?”

“Not all that much. He was thrilled that I communicated with him. He said that I would make an excellent addition to the Joint Chiefs. I told him that if he felt that way, then I would appreciate any support he could show.”

“Langford, it’s just you and me here, so cut the speeches. Daniels was flaming mad. He resented Kane’s involvement, blamed me. Said I was in league with you.”

He screwed his face into a frown. “In league for what?”

“You’re a piece of work. You told me the other day that you could deliver Kane and you damn well did. I don’t want to know how or why, but I do want to know how Daniels tied me to you. This is my ass here.”

“And a nice ass it is.”

She exhaled. “How is that productive?”

“It’s not. Just a truthful observation.”

“Are you going to offer anything to help? I’ve worked a long time to get this far.”

“What exactly did the president say?” He needed to know.

She slapped away his question with the back of her hand. “Like I’m going to tell you that.”

“Why not? You’re accusing me of something improper, so I’d like to know what Daniels had to say.”

“Mighty different attitude from when we last talked.” Her voice had dropped.

He shrugged. “As I recall, you thought I’d make a fine addition to the Joint Chiefs, too. Is it not your duty, as national security adviser, to recommend good people to the president?”

“Okay, Admiral. Play the part, be a good soldier. The president of the United States is still pissed and so is Senator Kane.”

“I can’t imagine why. My conversation with the senator was most pleasant, and I haven’t even spoken to the president, so I can’t understand why he’s angry with me.”

“You going to Admiral Sylvian’s funeral?”

He caught the subject shift. “Of course. I’ve been asked to participate in the honor guard.”

“You’ve got balls.”

He threw her his most charming smile. “I was actually touched to be asked.”

“I came because we needed to talk. I’m sitting here in a parked car, like a fool, because I got myself entangled with you—”

“Entangled in what?”

“You know damn well what. The other night you made it clear that there was going to be a vacancy in the Joint Chiefs. One that didn’t exist at the time.”

“That’s not what I recall. You’re the one who wanted to speak to me. It was late, but you insisted. You came to my house. You were concerned about Daniels and his attitude toward the military. We spoke of the Joint Chiefs, in the abstract. Neither of us was aware that any vacancy would arise. Certainly not the next day. It’s a tragedy that David Sylvian died. He was a fine man, but I fail to see how that has entangled us in any way.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “I have to go.”

He didn’t stop her.

“Have a nice day, Admiral.”

And she slammed the door.

He quickly replayed the conversation in his mind. He’d done well, delivering his thoughts in a casual manner. The night before last, when he and Diane McCoy had talked, she’d been an ally. Of that he was sure. But things had changed.

Ramsey’s briefcase sat on the rear seat. Inside was a sophisticated monitor used to determine if electronic devices were either recording or broadcasting nearby. Ramsey kept one of the monitors in his house, which was how he knew no one had been listening.

Hovey had canvassed the parking lot, using a series of mounted security cameras. The call to his phone had been a text message.
HER CAR PARKED IN WEST LOT. ACCESSED. RECEIVER AND RECORDER INSIDE
. The monitor in the backseat had also sent a signal, so the final part of the message had been clear. she’s wired.

He exited the car and locked the doors.

Couldn’t be Kane. He’d been too interested in benefits coming his way and could not risk even the possibility of exposure. The senator knew that a betrayal would mean quick and devastating consequences.

No.

This was pure Diane McCoy.

M
ALONEWATCHED AS
W
ERNER UNTIED
D
OROTHEA FROM THE COLUMN
and she yanked the tape from across her mouth.

“What were you thinking?” she yelled. “Are you insane?”

“He was going to shoot you,” her husband calmly said. “I knew Herr Malone was here, with a gun.”

Malone stood in the nave, his attention toward the upper gallery and Isabel and Ulrich Henn. “I see you’re not as ignorant of things as you wanted me to believe.”

“Those men were here to kill you,” the old woman replied.

“And how did you know they’d be here?”

“I came to make sure my daughters were safe.”

Not an answer, so he faced Christl. Her eyes gave no indication as to her thoughts. “I waited in the village for you to arrive, but you were way ahead of me.”

“It wasn’t hard to find the connection between Einhard and Brightness of God.”

He pointed up. “But that doesn’t explain how she and your sister knew.”

“I spoke with Mother last night, after you left.”

He walked toward Werner. “I agree with your wife. What you did was foolish.”

“You needed his attention drawn. I didn’t have a gun, so I did what I thought would work.”

“He could have shot you,” Dorothea said.

“That would have ended our marriage problem.”

“I never said I wanted you dead.”

Malone understood the love–hate of marriage. His own had been the same way, even years after they separated. Luckily he’d made peace with his ex, though it had taken effort. These two, though, seemed a long way from any resolution.

“I did what I had to,” Werner said. “And I’d do it again.”

Malone glanced back up at the choir. Henn fled his post at the balustrade and disappeared behind Isabel.

“Can we now find whatever there is to find?” Isabel asked.

Henn reappeared and he saw the man whisper something to his employer.

“Herr Malone,” Isabel said. “There were four men sent. We thought the other two would not be a problem, but they just entered the gate.”