"The first, absolutely; but not the second. Not yours."

"Youre lying!"

"Think! Why havent I pulled this trigger? Geneva is stopped; you are stopped; no funds are transferred. If Im your enemy, what prevents me from blowing your head off? I cant use you as a hostage; theres no point. You have to be there. So I gain nothing by letting you live ... if I am your enemy."

Holcroft tried to grasp the words, tried to find the meaning behind them, but he could not. He wanted only to strike out at the man holding him captive. "What do you want? Where have you got my mother? You said you had a letter."

"Well take all things in order. What I want first is to leave here. With you. Together we can do what Wolfsschanze never believed possible."

"Wolfsschanze?... Do what?"

"Make the laws work for us. Make amends."

"Make-Whoever you are, youre out of your mind!"

"Its the option of Har Shaalav. Control the millions. Fight them. Everywhere. Im prepared to offer you the only proof I have." Yakov Ben-Gadz took the pistol away from Noels head. "Heres my gun." He offered it to Holcroft.

Noel studied the strangers face in the odd shadows produced by the macabre green light. The eyes above him belonged to a man who was speaking the truth.

"Help me up," he said. "Theres a back staircase. I know the way."

"First we have to straighten up anything thats out of place. Everything must be as it was."

Nothing is as it was....

"Where are we going?"

"To an apartment in rue de la Paix. The letters there. So is the girl."

"The girl?"

"Von Tiebolts sister. He thinks shes dead. He ordered her killed."

"Helden?"

"Later."

45.

They raced out of the alley and down the rue des Granges to the Israelis car. They climbed in, Ben-Gadz behind the wheel. Holcroft held his throat; he thought the veins were ruptured, so intense was the pain.

"You left me no choice," said Yakov, seeing Holcrofts agony.

"You left me one," replied Noel. "You gave me the gun. Whats your name?"

"Yakov."

"What kind of name is that?"

"Hebrew.... Jacob, to you. Ben-Gadz."

"Ben who?"

"Gadz."

"Spanish?"

"Sephardic," said Yakov, speeding down the street, across the intersection, toward the lake. "My family immigrated to Krakow in the early nineteen hundreds." Yakov swung the car to the right in a small, unfamiliar square.

"I thought you were Kesslers brother," said Holcroft. "The doctor from Munich."

"I know nothing about a doctor from Munich."

"Hes here somewhere. When I got to the dAccord, the front desk gave me Von Tiebolts key, then asked if I wanted Hans Kessler."

"Whats that got to do with me?"

"The clerk knew that the Kesslers and Von Tiebolt had dinner together in Johanns suite. He thought Kesslers brother was still there."

"Wait a minute!" broke in Yakov. "The brother is a stocky man? Short? Strong?"

"Ive no idea. Could be; Kessler said he was a soccer player."

"Hes dead. Your mother told us. Von Tiebolt killed him. I think he was injured by your friend Ellis; they couldnt carry him any longer."

Noel stared at the Israeli. "Are you saying he was the one who did that to Willie? Killed him and knifed him like that?"

"Its only a guess."

"Oh, Christ!... Tell me about my mother. Where is she?"

"Later."

"Now."

"Theres a telephone. I have to call the apartment. Heldens there." Ben-Gadz swung the car to the curb.

"I said now!" Holcroft leveled the gun at Yakov.

"If you decide to kill me now," said Yakov, "I deserve to die, and so do you. Id ask you to make the call yourself, but we havent time for emotion."

"Weve all the time we need," answered Noel. "The bank can be postponed."

"The bank? La Grande Banque de Geneve?"

"Nine oclock this morning."

"My God!" Ben-Gadz gripped Holcrofts shoulder and lowered his voice; it was the voice of a man pleading for more than his life. "Give the option of Har Shaalav a chance. It will never come again. Trust me. Ive killed too many people not to have killed you twenty minutes ago. We must know every moment where we stand. Helden may have learned something."

Again Noel studied the face. "Make the call. Tell her Im here and I want explanations from both of you."

They sped down the country road past the gates of the estate, driver and passenger oblivious to the sounds of an angry dog suddenly disturbed from its sleep by the racing car. The road curved to the left. Gradually, Yakov coasted to a stop off the shoulder, into the underbrush.

"Dogs ears pick up engines that stop quickly. A diminuendo is much more difficult for them."

"Are you a musician?"

"I was a violinist."

"Any good?"

"Tel Aviv Symphony."

"What made you-"

"I found more suitable work," interrupted Ben-Gadz. "Get out quickly. Remove your overcoat; take your weapon. Press the door closed; make no sound. The guest house will be back quite a way, but well find it."

There was a thick brick wall bordering the grounds, a string of coiled barbed wire on the top of it. Yakov scaled a tree to study the wire and the wall. "There are no alarms," he said. "Small animals would trigger them too frequently. But its messy; the coils nearly two feet wide. Well have to jump."

The Israeli came down, crouched next to the wall, and cupped his hands. "Step up," he ordered Noel.

The ring of wire barbs on the top of the wall was impossible to avoid; there was no space on the ledge untouched by it.

Straining, Holcroft managed to get his left toe on the edge, then sprang up, vaulting the ominous coil and plummeting to the ground. His jacket had been caught, his ankles badly scraped, but he had made it. He stood up, only vaguely aware that he was breathing heavily, the pain in his throat and shins merely irritations. If the stranger had given Helden the right information on the phone, he was within a few hundred yards of Althene.

On top of the wall, the silhouette of the Israeli loomed like a large bird in the night sky; he vaulted over the coiled wire and spun down to the ground. He rolled once, as a tumbler might roll to break a fall, and sprang up next to Noel, raising his wrist in front of him to look at his watch.

"Its nearly six. Itll be light soon. Hurry."

They sliced through the forest, sidestepping branches, leaping over the tangled foliage, until they found the dirt road that led toward the guest house. In the distance they could see a dim glow of lights that shone from small cathedral windows.

"Stop!" Ben-Gadz said.

"What?" Yakovs hand gripped Noels shoulder. The Israeli fell on him, dragging Holcroft to the ground. "What are you doing?"

"Be still! Theres activity in the house. People."

Noel peered through the grass at the house no more than a hundred yards away. He could see no movement, no figures in the windows. "I dont see anyone."

"Look at the lights. Theyre not steady. People are moving in front of lamps."

Holcroft saw instantly what Ben-Gadz had seen. There were subtle changes of shading. The normal eye-especially the normal eye of an anxious runner-would not notice them, but they were there. "Youre right," he whispered.

"Come," said Yakov. "Well cut through the woods and approach from the side."

They went back into the forest and emerged at the edge of a small croquet course, grass and wickets cold and rigid in the winter night. Beyond the flat ground were the windows of the house.

"Ill run across and signal you to follow," Yakov whispered. "Remember, no noise."

The Israeli dashed across the lawn and crouched at the side of a window. Slowly he stood up and peered inside. Noel got to his knees, prepared to race out from the foliage.

The signal did not come. Ben-Gadz stood motionless at the side of the window, but made no move to raise his hand. What was wrong? Why didnt the signal come?

Holcroft could wait no longer. He sprang up and ran over the stretch of grass.

The Israeli turned, his eyes glaring. "Get away!" he whispered.

"What are you talking about? Shes in there!"

Ben-Gadz grabbed Holcroft by the shoulders, pushing him backward. "I said go back! We must get out of here...."

"The hell we will!" Noel swung both arms up violently, breaking the Israelis grip. He leaped to the window and looked inside.

The universe went up in fire. His mind burst open. He tried to scream, but no scream would come, only pure, raw horror, beyond sound, beyond sanity.

Inside the dimly lit room he saw the body of his mother arched diagonally in death across the back of a chair. The graceful, wondrous head was streaked with blood, scores of red rivers over wrinkled flesh.

Noel raised his hands, his arms, his whole being in the process of exploding. He could feel the air. His fists plunged toward the panes of glass.

The impact never came. Instead, an arm was around his neck, a hand clasped over his mouth; both were giant tentacles pulling his head back viciously, lifting him off his feet, his spine arching, his legs crumbling beneath him as he was forced to the ground. His face was being pushed into dirt until there was no air. And then a sharp agonizing pain shot through his throat, and the fire returned.

He knew he was moving, but he did not know how or why. Branches kept slapping his face, hands hammered at his back, propelling him forward into the darkness. He could not know how long he was in the suspended state of chaos, but finally there was a stone wall. Harsh commands barked into his ear.

"Get up! Over the wire!"

Cognizance began to return. He felt the sharp metal points stabbing him, scraping his skin, ripping his clothes. Then he was being dragged across a hard surface and slammed against the door of an automobile.

The next thing he knew he was in the seat of a car, staring through the glass of a windshield. Dawn was coming up.

He sat in the chair, drained, numb, and read the letter from Althene.

Dearest NOEL- It is unlikely that we shall see each other, but I beg you, do not mourn me. Later, perhaps, but not now. There is no time.

I do what I have to do for the simple reason that it must be done and I am the most logical person to do it. Even if there were another, Im not at all sure I would allow him to do what has been reserved for me.

Ill not dwell on the lie I have lived for over thirty years. My new friend, Mr. Ben-Gadz, will explain it fully to you. Suffice it to say I was never aware of the lie, nor-God in heaven-the terrible role you would be called upon to play.

I come from another era, one in which debts were called by their rightful name, and honor was not held to be an anachronism. I willingly pay my debt in hopes that a vestige of honor may be restored.

If we do not meet again, know that you have brought great joy to my life. If ever man needed proof that we are better than our sources, you are that proof.