"Professional?"

"Im an architect, remember? Ive almost forgotten."

"Your mother waited until you were twenty-five before she told you?"

"She was right. I dont think I could have handled it when I was younger. Good Lord. Noel Holcroft, American boy. Hot dogs and french fries, Shea Stadium and the Mets, the Garden and the Knicks; and college and friends whose fathers were soldiers in the big war, each one winning it in his own way. That fellows told his real father was one of those heel-clicking sadists in the war movies, Christ, that kid would flip out."

"Why did she tell you at all, then?"

"On the remote chance that Id find out for myself one day, and she didnt want that. She didnt think it would happen. She and Dick had covered the traces right down to a birth certificate which said I was their son. But there was another birth certificate. In Berlin. 'Clausen, male child. Mother-Althene. Father-Heinrich. And there were people who knew shed left him, left Germany. She wanted me to be prepared if it ever surfaced, if anyone for any reason ever remembered and tried to use the information. Prepared, incidentally, to deny it. To say thered been another child-never mentioned in the house-who had died in infancy in England."

"Which means there was another certificate. A death certificate."

"Yes. Properly recorded somewhere in London."

Helden leaned back against the booth. "You and we are not so different after all. Our lives are full of false papers. What a luxury it must be not to live that way."

"Papers dont mean much to me. Ive never hired anyone because of them, and Ive never fired anyone because someone else brought them to me." Noel finished his drink. "I ask the questions myself. And Im going to ask your brother some very tough ones. I hope to God he has the answers I want to hear."

"So do I."

He leaned toward her, their shoulders touching. "Love me a little?"

"More than a little."

"Stay with me tonight."

"I intend to. Your hotel?"

"Not the one in rue Chevalle. That Mr. Fresca we invented the other night has moved to better lodgings. You see, Ive got a few friends in Paris, too. Ones an assistant manager at the George Cinq."

"How extravagant."

"Its allowed. Youre a very special woman, and we dont know whats going to happen, starting tomorrow. By the way, why couldnt we go to Argenteuil? You said youd tell me."

"We were seen there."

"What? By whom?"

"A man saw us-saw you, really. We dont know his name, but we know he was from Interpol. We have a source there. A bulletin was circulated from the Paris headquarters with your description. A trace was put out for you from New York. From a police officer named Miles."

28.

John Tennyson walked out into Heathrow Airports crowded arrivals area. He walked to a black Jaguar sedan waiting at the curb. The driver was smoking a cigarette and reading a book. At the sight of the approaching blond man, the driver got out of the car.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Tennyson," said the man, in a throaty Welsh accent.

"Have you been waiting long?" asked Tennyson, without much interest.

"Not very," answered the driver, taking Tennysons briefcase and overnight bag. "I presume you wish to drive."

"Yes, Ill drop you off along the way. Someplace where you can find a taxi."

"I can get one here."

"No, I want to talk for a few minutes." Tennyson climbed in behind the wheel; the Welshman opened the rear door and put the luggage inside. Within minutes they had passed the airport gates and were on the highway to London.

"Did you have a good trip?" asked the Welshman.

"A busy one."

"I read your article about Bahrain. Most amusing."

"Bahrains amusing. The Indian shopkeepers are the only economists on the archipelago."

"But you were kind to the sheikhs."

"They were kind to me. Whats the news from the Mediterranean? Have you stayed in touch with your brother on board Beaumonts ship?"

"Constantly. We use a radiophone off Cap Camarat. Everythings going according to schedule. The rumor circulated on the pier that the commander was seen going out in a small boat with a woman from Saint-Tropez. Neither the boat nor the couple have been heard from in over forty-eight hours, and there were offshore squalls. My brother will report the incident tomorrow. He will assume command, of course."

"Of course. Then it all goes well. Beaumonts death will be clear-cut. An accident in bad weather. No one will question the story."

"You dont care to tell me what actually happened?"

"Not specifically; it would be a burden to you. But basically, Beaumont overreached himself. He was seen in the wrong places by the wrong people. It was speculated that our upstanding officer was actually connected to the ODESSA."

The Welshmans expression conveyed his anger. "Thats dangerous. The damn fool."

"Theres something I must tell you," said Tennyson. "Its almost time."

The Welshman replied in awe. "Its happened, then?"

"Within two weeks, Id guess."

"I cant believe it!"

"Why?" asked Tennyson. "Everythings on schedule. The cables must begin to go out. Everywhere."

"Everywhere ..." repeated the man.

"The code is 'Wolfsschanze. "

"Wolfsschanze?... Oh God, its come!"

"Its here. Update a final master list of district leaders, one copy only, of course. Take all the microdot files-country by country, city by city, each political connection-and seal them in a steel case. Bring the case personally to me, along with the master list, one week from today. Wednesday. Well meet on the street outside my flat in Kensington. Eight oclock at night."

"A week from today. Wednesday. Eight oclock. With the case."

"And the master list. The leaders."

"Of course." The Welshman brought the knuckle of his index finger to his teeth. "Its really come," he whispered.

"Theres a minor obstacle, but well surmount it."

"Can I help? Ill do anything."

"I know you will, Ian. Youre one of the best. Ill tell you next week."

"Anything."

"Of course." Tennyson slowed the Jaguar at the approach of an exit "Id drive you into London, but Im heading toward Margate. Its imperative that I get there quickly."

"Dont worry about me. God, man, you must have so much on your mind!" Ian kept his eyes on Tennysons face, on the strong, chiseled features that held such promise, such power. "To be here now; to have the privilege to be present at the beginning. At the rebirth. Theres no sacrifice I wouldnt make."

The blond man smiled. "Thank you," he said.

"Leave me anywhere. Ill find a taxi.... I didnt know we had people in Margate."

"We have people everywhere," said Tennyson, stopping the car.

Tennyson sped down the familiar highway toward Portsea. He would reach Gretchens house before eight oclock, and that was as it should be; she expected him at nine. Hed be able to make sure she had no visitors, no friendly male neighbors who might have dropped in for a drink.

The blond man smiled to himself. Even in her mid-forties, his sister drew men as the proverbial flame drew moths: they, scorched into satiety by the heat, saved from themselves by their inability to reach the flame itself. For Gretchen did not fulfill the promise of her sexuality unless told to do so. It was a weapon to be used, as all potentially lethal weapons were to be used-with discretion.

Tennyson did not relish what he had to do, but he knew he had no choice. All threads that led to Geneva had to be cut, and his sister was one of them. As Anthony Beaumont had been one. Gretchen simply knew too much; Wolfsschanzes enemies could break her-and they would.

There were three items of information the Nachrichtendienst did not have: the timetable, the methods of dispersing the millions, and the lists. Gretchen knew the timetable; she was familiar with the methods of dispersal; and, as the methods were tied to the names of recipients all over the world, she was all too aware of the lists.

His sister had to die.

As the Welshman had to make the sacrifice he spoke of so nobly. Once the airtight carton and the master list were delivered, the Welshmans contributions were finished. He remained only a liability; for, except for the sons of Erich Kessler and Wilhelm von Tiebolt, no one else alive would ever see those lists. Thousands of names, in every country, who were the true inheritors of Wolfs-schanze, the perfect race, the Sonnenkinder.

PORTSEA-15 M The blond man pressed the accelerator; the Jaguar shot forward.

"So, at last its here," said Gretchen Beaumont, sitting next to Tennyson on the soft leather couch, her hand caressing his face, her fingers darting in and out between his lips, arousing him as she was always able to do since they were children. "And youre so beautiful. Theres no other man like you; there never will be."

She leaned forward, her unbuttoned blouse exposing her breasts, inviting his caress. She opened her mouth and covered his, groaning in that throaty way that drove him wild.

But he could not succumb. When he did, it would be the last act of a secret ritual that had kept him pure and unentangled ... since he was a child. He held her shoulders and gently pushed her back on the couch.

"Its here," he said. "I must learn everything thats happened while my minds clear. We have lots of time. Ill leave about six in the morning for Heathrow, for the first plane to Paris. But now, is there anything you forgot to tell me about the American? Are you sure he never made the connection between you and New York?"

"Never. The dead woman across from his apartment was known to be a heavy smoker. I dont smoke, and made a point of it when he was here. I also made it clear that I hadnt been anywhere in weeks. If he questioned that, I could have proved it, of course. And, obviously, I was very much alive."

"So when he left, he had no idea that the highly erotic, straying wife he went to bed with was the woman in New York."

"Of course not. And he didnt leave," said Gretchen, laughing. "He fled. Bewildered and panicked, convinced I was unbalanced-as we had planned-thus making you next in line for Geneva." She stopped laughing. "He also fled with Tonys photograph, which we had not planned. Youre getting it back, I assume."

Tennyson nodded. "Yes."

"What will you tell Holcroft?"

"He believes Beaumont was an ODESSA agent; that I was somehow embroiled with Graff and had to escape from Brazil or be shot. Thats what he told Kessler. The truth is, hes not at all sure what happened in Rio except that I killed someone; hes worried about it." Tennyson smiled. "Ill play on his assumptions. Ill think of something startling, something that will stun him, convince him Im holier than John the Baptist. And, of course, Ill be grateful that our partner has caused the removal of the terrible Beaumont from our concerns."

Gretchen took his hand, pressing it between her legs, rubbing her stockings up and down against his flesh. "You are not only beautiful; youre brilliant."

"Then Ill turn the tables, make him feel he must convince me hes worthy of Geneva. He will be the one who must justify his part of the covenant. Its psychologically vital that he be put in that position; his dependency on me must grow."

Gretchen locked her legs against his hand and held his wrist; the grip was abrupt and sexual "You can excite me with words, but you know that, dont you?"

"In a while, my love ... my only love. Weve got to talk." Tennyson dug his Angers into his sisters leg; she moaned. "Of course, Ill know more what to say after Ive spoken to Helden."

"Youll see her before you meet with Holcroft, then?"

"Yes. Ill call her and tell her Ive got to see her right away. For the first time in her life, shell observe me in the throes of self-doubt, desperately needing to be convinced my actions are right."

"Brilliant again." She took his hand from between her legs and placed it under her breast "And does our little sister still run with the flotsam and jetsam? The self-imposed Verwnschkinder, with their beards and bad teeth?"

"Of course. She has to feel needed; it was always her weakness."

"She wasnt born in the Reich."

Tennyson laughed derisively. "To compound her striving for adequacy, shes become a nursemaid. She lives in Herr Obersts house and cares for the crippled bastard. Two changes of cars each evening, so as not to lead the assassins of the Rache and the ODESSA to him."

"One or the other may kill her one day," mused Gretchen. "Thats something to think about. Soon after the bank frees the account, shell have to go. Shes not stupid, Johann. One more murder laid at the foot of the Rache. Or the ODESSA."

"Its crossed my mind.... Speaking of murder, tell me: While Holcroft was here, did he mention Peter Baldwin?"

"Not a word. I never thought he would, not if I was playing my part right. I was an unbalanced, resentful wife. He didnt want to frighten me; nor did he wish to give me information dangerous to Geneva."

Tennyson nodded; they had projected accurately. "What was his reaction when you talked about me?"

"I gave him very little time to react," said Gretchen. "I simply told him you spoke for the Von Tiebolts. Why did Baldwin try to intercept him in New York? Do you know?"

"Ive pieced it together. Baldwin operated out of Prague, an MI-Sixer whose allegiance, many said, was to the highest bidder. He sold information to anyone, until his own people began to suspect him. They fired him, but didnt prosecute, because they couldnt be sure; hed operated as a double agent in the past and claimed it as his cover. He swore he was developing a two-way network. He also knew the name of every British contact in Central Europe, and obviously let his superiors know that those names would surface if anything happened to him. He maintained his innocence, said he was being punished for doing his job too well."

"Whats that got to do with Holcroft?"

"To understand, you have to see Baldwin for what he was. He was good; his sources, the best. In addition to which he was a courier specialist; he could track anything. While in Prague, he heard rumors of a great fortune being held in Geneva. Nazi spoils. The rumor wasnt unusual; such stories have been around since Berlin fell. The difference with this rumor was that Clausens name was mentioned. Again, not completely startling; Clausen was the financial genius of the Reich. But Baldwin checked out everything to the finest point; it was the way he worked."