Noel leaned forward, relieved. "It may not be as difficult to understand as you think. She told me she married him for the security he could give her."

"And you believed her?"

"Her behavior would seem to confirm what she said."

"Then I cant believe you met my sister."

"She was your sister. You look alike: both beautiful."

"Its my turn to ask you a question. Given that beauty, do you really think she would settle for a naval officers salary and the restricted life of a naval officers wife? I cant. I never have."

"What do you think, then?"

"I think she was forced to marry Anthony Beaumont."

Noel leaned back in the chair. If she was right, the connection was in Rio de Janeiro. With her mother, perhaps. With her mothers murder.

"How could Beaumont force her to marry him? And why?"

"Ive asked myself both questions a hundred times. I dont know."

"Have you asked her?"

"She refuses to talk to me."

"What happened to your mother in Rio?"

"I told you: She manipulated men for money. The Germans despised her, called her immoral. Looking back, its hard to refute."

"Was that why she was shot?"

"I guess so. No one really knows; the killer was never found."

"But it could be the answer to the first question, couldnt it? Isnt it possible that Beaumont knew something about your mother that was so damaging he could blackmail your sister?"

Helden turned her palms up in front of her. "What could possibly be so damaging? Accepting everything that was said about my mother as being true, why would it have any effect on Gretchen?"

"That would depend on what it was."

"Theres nothing conceivable. Shes in England now. Shes her own person, thousands of miles away. Why should she be concerned?"

"I have no idea." Then Noel remembered. "You used the words 'children of hell. Damned for what you were, and damned for what you werent. Couldnt that apply to your sister as well?"

"Beaumont isnt interested in such things. Its an entirely different matter."

"Is it? You dont know that. Its your opinion he forced her to marry him. If it isnt something like that, what is it?"

Helden looked away, deep in thought now, not in a lie. "Something much more recent."

"The document in Geneva?" he asked. Manfredis warning repeated in his ears, the specter of Wolfsschanze in his mind.

"How did Gretchen react when you told her about Geneva?" asked Helden.

"As if it didnt matter."

"Well?..."

"It could have been a diversion. She was too casual-just as you were too casual when I mentioned Beaumont a few minutes ago. She could have expected it and steeled herself."

"Youre guessing."

It was the moment, thought Noel. It would be in her eyes-the rest of the truth she would not talk about. Did it come down to Johann von Tiebolt?

"Not really guessing. Your sister said that her brother told her a man would 'come one day and talk of a strange arrangement. Those were her words."

Whatever he was looking for-a flicker of recognition, a blink of fear-it was not there. There was something, but nothing he could relate to. She looked at him as if she herself were trying to understand. Yet there was a fundamental innocence in her look, and that was what he could not understand.

" 'A man would come one day. It doesnt make sense," she said.

"Tell me about your brother."

She did not answer for several moments. Instead, her eyes strayed to the red tablecloth; her lips parted in astonishment. Then, as if she were coming out of a trance, she said, "Johann? Whats there to say?"

"Your sister told me he got the three of you out of Brazil. Was it difficult?"

"There were problems. We had no passports, and there were men who tried to stop us from obtaining them."

"You were immigrants. At least, your mother, brother, and sister were. They had to have papers."

"Whatever papers there were in those days were burned as soon as they served their purpose."

"Who wanted to stop you from leaving Brazil?"

"Men who wanted to bring Johann to trial."

"For what?"

"After mother was killed, Johann took over her business interests. She never allowed him to do much when she was alive. Many people thought he was ruthless, even dishonest. He was accused of misrepresenting profits, withholding taxes. I dont think any of it was true; he was simply faster and brighter than anyone else."

"I see," said Noel, recalling MI-Fives evaluation-"overachiever." "How did he avoid the courts and get you out?"

"Money. And all-night meetings in strange places with men he never identified. He came home one morning and told Gretchen and me to pack just enough things for a short overnight trip. We drove to the airport and were flown in a small plane to Recife, where a man met us. We were given passports; the name on them was Tennyson. The next thing Gretchen and I knew we were on a plane for London."

Holcroft watched her closely. There was no hint of a lie. "To start a new life under the name of Tennyson," he said.

"Yes. Completely new. Wed left everything behind us." She smiled. "I sometimes think with very little time to spare."

"Hes quite a man. Why havent you stayed in touch? You obviously dont hate him."

Helden frowned, as if she were unsure of her own answer. "Hate him? No. I resent him, perhaps, but I dont hate him. Like most brilliant men, he thinks he should take charge of everything. He wanted to run my life, and I couldnt accept that."

"Why is he a newspaperman? From all Ive learned about him, he could probably own one."

"He probably will one day, if thats what he wants. Knowing Johann, I suspect its because he thought that writing for a well-known newspaper would give him a certain prominence. Especially in the political field, where hes very good. He was right."

"Was he?"

"Certainly. In a matter of two or three years, he was considered one of the finest correspondents in Europe."

Now, thought Noel. MI Five meant nothing to him; Geneva was everything. He leaned forward.

"Hes considered something else, too.... I said in the Montmartre that I would tell you-and only you-why the British questioned me. Its your brother. They think Im trying to reach him for reasons that have nothing to do with Geneva."

"What reasons?"

Holcroft kept her eyes engaged. "Have you ever heard of a man they call the Tinamou?"

"The assassin? Certainly. Who hasnt?"

There was nothing in her eyes. Nothing but vague bewilderment. "I, for one," said Noel. "Ive read about killers for hire and assassination conspiracies but Ive never heard of the Tinamou."

"Youre an American. His exploits are more detailed in the European press than in yours. But what has he got to do with my brother?"

"British Intelligence thinks he may be the Tinamou."

The expression on Heldens face was arrested in shock. So complete was her astonishment that her eyes were suddenly devoid of life, as noncommittal as a blind mans. Her lips trembled and she tried to speak, unable to find the words. Finally, the words came. They were barely audible.

"You cant be serious."

"I assure you, I am. Whats more to the point, the British are."

"Its outrageous. Beyond anything Ive ever heard! On what basis can they possibly reach such a conclusion?"

Noel repeated the salient points analyzed by MI Five.

"My God," said Helden when he had finished. "He covers all of Europe, as well as the Middle East! Certainly the English could check with his editors. He doesnt choose the places they send him to. Its preposterous!"

"Newspapermen who write interesting copy, who file stories that sell papers, are given a very free hand when it comes to the places they cover. Thats the case with your brother. Its almost as though he knew hed gain that prominence you spoke of; knew that in a few short years hed be given a flexible schedule."

"You cant believe this."

"I dont know what to believe," said Holcroft. "I only know that your brother could jeopardize the situation in Geneva. The mere fact that hes under suspicion by MI Five could be enough to frighten the bankers. They dont want that kind of scrutiny where the Clausen account is concerned."

"But its unjustified!"

"Are you sure?"

Heldens eyes were angry. "Yes, Im sure. Johann may be a number of things, but hes no killer. The viciousness starts again: The Nazi child is hounded."

Noel remembered the first statement made by the gray-haired MI-Five man: For starters, you know about the father.... Was it possible Helden was right? Did MI Fives suspicions come from memories and hostilities that went back thirty years to a brutal enemy? Tennyson is the personification of arrogance.... It was possible.

"Is Johann political?"

"Very, but not in the usual sense. He doesnt stand for any particular ideology. Instead, hes highly critical of them all. He attacks their weaknesses, and hes vicious about hypocrisy. Thats why a lot of people in government cant stand him. But hes no assassin!"

If Helden was right, Noel thought, Johann von Tiebolt could be an enormous asset to Geneva, or, more specifically, to the agency that was to be established in Zurich. A multilingual journalist whose judgments were listened to, who had experience in finance ... could be eminently qualified to dispense millions throughout the world.

If the shadow of the Tinamou could be removed from Johann von Tiebolt, there was no reason for the directors of La Grande Banque de Geneve ever to learn of MI Fives interest in John Tennyson. The second child of Wilhelm von Tiebolt would be instantly acceptable to the bankers. He might not be the most personable man alive, but Geneva was not sponsoring a personality contest. He could be an extraordinary asset. But first the Tinamous shadow had to be removed, British Intelligence suspicions laid to rest.

Holcroft smiled. A man would come one day and talk of a strange arrangement.... Johann von Tiebolt-John Tennyson-was waiting for him!

"Whats funny?" said Helden, watching him.

"I have to meet him," answered Noel, ignoring the question. "Can you arrange it?"

"I imagine so. Itll take a few days. I dont know where he is. What will you say to him?"

"The truth; maybe hell reciprocate. Ive got a damn good idea he knows about Geneva."

"Theres a telephone number he gave me to call if I ever needed him. Ive never used it."

"Use it now. Please."

She nodded. Noel understood that there were questions left unanswered. Specifically, a man named Beaumont, and an event in Rio de Janeiro that Helden would not discuss. An event connected to the naval officer with the heavy black-and-white eyebrows. And it was possible that Helden knew nothing about that connection.

Perhaps John Tennyson did. He certainly knew a lot more than he told either sister.

"Does your brother get along with Beaumont?" asked Holcroft.

"He despises him. He refused to come to Gretchens wedding."

What was it? wondered Noel. Who was the enigma that was Anthony Beaumont?

17.

Outside the small inn, in the far corner of the parking area, a dark sedan rested in the shadow of a tall oak tree. In the front seat were two men, one in the uniform of the English navy, the other in a charcoal-gray business suit, his black overcoat opened, the edge of a brown leather holster visible beneath his unbuttoned jacket.

The naval officer was behind the wheel. His blunt features were tense. The eyebrows of black-and-white hair arched just noticeably every now and then, as if prodded by a nervous tic.

The man beside him was in his late thirties. He was slender but he was not thin; his was the tautness that comes with discipline and training. The breadth of his shoulders, the long muscular neck, and the convex line of a chest that stretched his tailored shirt were evidence of a body honed to physical precision and strength. Each feature of his face was refined and each coordinated with the whole. The result was striking, yet cold, as if the face were chiseled in granite. The eyes were light blue, almost rectangular, their gaze steady and noncommittal; they were the eyes of a confident animal, quick to respond, the response unpredictable. The sculptured head was covered by a glistening crown of blond hair that reflected the light of the distant parking-lot lamps; above this face, his hair had the appearance of pale-yellow ice. The mans name was Johann von Tiebolt, for the past five years known as "John Tennyson."