"Then Ill leave." Tyrell got to his feet.

"Sit down!" Palisser walked back to the table and grabbed his chair, brushing the spilled coffee to the floor with the back of his hand. "Answer me!" he ordered, sitting down.

"Answer me," said Hawthorne, still standing.

"All right-sit down ... please." Tye did so, noting the sudden painful expression on the secretarys face. "I took advantage of my position for personal reasons that in no way compromised the State Department."

"You cant know that, Mr. Secretary."

"I do know it! What you dont know is what that man has been through and what hes done for this country!"

"If thats your explanation of why you did what you did, I think youd better tell me."

"Who the h.e.l.l are you?"

"If nothing else, someone who can answer your question.... Wouldnt you like to know what happened? Why he never got to Charlotte?"

"I d.a.m.n well better," said Palisser. "Theres an angry army brigadier in G-2 whod love to call me an intelligence screwup.... All right, Commander, Ill give it to you, but unless you can give me overriding security reasons to the contrary, it remains confidential information. I wont sacrifice a fine man and the woman he loves for unsupported intelligence garbage. Is that clear?"

"Go ahead."

"Years ago, in Europe, Nils was in a marriage that was falling apart-it doesnt matter whose fault, it was finished. He met and fell in love with a nationally known political figures wife-an abused wife, I might add-and they had a child, a girl who now, twenty-odd years later, is dying...."

Hawthorne sat back in his chair and listened, his expression neutral until the secretary had finished his tale of love, betrayal, and vengeance. Then he smiled. "My brother, Marc, would probably call it pure nineteenth-century Russian, as in Tolstoy or Chekov. I call it bulls.h.i.t. Did you ever check on that European marriage?"

"Good Lord, of course not. Van Nostrands one of the most respected-even revered-men Ive ever known. Hes been an adviser to agencies, departments, and even to presidents!"

"If there was a marriage, it was solely for the books; and if there was ever a child, he had to work like h.e.l.l for it. Van Nostrand wasnt the marrying kind. He lied to you, Mr. Secretary, and right now Im wondering how many others he flimflammed."

"Explain yourself! You havent explained anything!"

"Thatll all come later, but right now you deserve my answer to your question.... Van Nostrands dead, Mr. Secretary, shot while ordering my execution."

"I dont believe you!"

"You might as well, because its true ... and Little Girl Blood was across the road in one of his guest cottages."

"What happened, signora? Why was that man in the parking area killed?" The dock boy paused, his question angry as he briefly took his eyes off the Virginia road and stared at Bajaratt. "Oh, my G.o.d, was it you?"

"Have you lost your mind? I was writing letters while you watched television in the bedroom, the volume so loud I could barely think!... I heard the police say it was a jealous husband; the dead man was having an affair with his wife."

"You have too many words, too many explanations, Contessa Cabrini. Which should I accept?"

"You accept what I tell you or you go back to Portici and be killed on the docks, along with your mother, your brother, and your sisters! Capisci?"

Nicolo was silent, his face, unseen in the racing shadows, flushed. "What do we do now?" he asked finally.

"Drive into the woods somewhere, where its dark, and we will not be seen. Well rest for a few hours, then early in the morning you will pick up the rest of our luggage at the hotel. We will then resume our roles as Dante Paolo and his aunt, the contessa.... Look! Theres a field with tall summer gra.s.s, like the high gra.s.s at the foot of the Pyrenees. Drive into it."

Nicolo turned the wheel so sharply that Bajaratt was thrown against the door. Frowning, she studied him.

Secretary of State Bruce Palisser leapt to his feet above the butcher-block table, sending his chair crashing to the floor. "Nils cant be dead!"

"Captain Stevens is still in his office over at naval intelligence. Call your night watch and have it connect you; h.e.l.l confirm it."

"Oh, my G.o.d, you wouldnt make such an outrageous, unbelievable statement ... unless you could back it up."

"Itd be a waste of time, Mr. Secretary, and in my judgment, theres no time to waste."

"I-I dont know what to say." Like a far older man than he was, Palisser awkwardly leaned over and righted his chair. "Its all so incredible."

"Thats why its real," said Hawthorne. "Because theyre all so incredible. Here and in London, Paris, and Jerusalem. Theyre not going for the big bomb, a nuclear weapon or anything like that; they dont have to, its counterproductive. Theyre out to vent their rage with instability, with chaos. And whether we want to accept it or not, they can do it."

"They cant, she cant!"

"Times on her side, Mr. Secretary. The President cant live in a deep freeze. Sometime, somewhere, h.e.l.l show up where she can get to him, kill him, and while the waiting begins, London, Paris, and Jerusalem are building their a.s.saults against the others. Theyre not stupid, get that through your head!"

"Nor am I, Commander. What is it? What have you left out?"

"Van Nostrand alone couldnt have done what he tried to do with you. There had to be others."

"What do you mean?"

"You said he was leaving the country and wasnt coming back."

"Thats true. Its what he said."

"And everything had happened so fast, in a matter of a couple of days, you implied."

"He implied, and it was d.a.m.n near hours, was hours. He had to get to Europe immediately, before that son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h husband knew he was there. That was the story he gave me! He had to reach his child before she died and take the mother of that child away, to be with the woman he loved at all cost."

"Thats part of what bothers me," said Hawthorne. "The cost. Lets start with that not-so-minor San Simeon of Van Nostrands-its worth millions."

"I think he said he sold it-"

"In a couple of days, forget hours?"

"He wasnt terribly clear, nor did I expect him to be."

"And the a.s.sets he must have had all over the place, more millions, multi-millions. A man like Van Nostrand doesnt leave all that behind him without making arrangements, and those arrangements take time, a h.e.l.l of a lot more than a couple of hours."

"Youre out of your depth, Commander. These are the days of computers and legalized memoranda of intent sent across the world instantly. Lawyers and financial inst.i.tutions take care of such matters every day, funds cross and recross the oceans in increments of millions every minute."

"Arent they all traceable?"

"The vast majority, yes. Governments are loathe to forgo the taxes due them."

"But you said Van Nostrand was going to disappear, had to disappear. Traceability sort of louses that up for him, doesnt it?"

"G.o.dd.a.m.n it, I imagine it does. So ...?"

"So he needed someone to bury whatever transactions could lead to him and his whereabouts.... In my former life, Mr. Secretary, I learned that the smart ones avoided making deals with criminals who could easily expedite their needs, not from any moral postures, simply to avoid future extortion. Instead, they went after the highly respectable, either convincing them or corrupting them to do their bidding."

"You unmitigated b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Palisser uttered contemptuously as he moved back his chair, his eyes glaring. "Are you for a second suggesting that I was corrupted-"

"Oh, h.e.l.l, no, you were convinced," Tyrell interrupted. "Youre not lying, you bought the whole barnyard, manure and all. What Im saying is that someone else as legitimate as you made it possible for him to disappear, really disappear, the paper trail eliminated."

"Who the devil could do that, would do that?"

"Another Secretary Palisser, perhaps, convinced he was doing the right thing.... By the way, did you issue him a false pa.s.sport?"

"Good heavens, no! Why would I? He never asked for one."

"I did-in my former life-dozens of times. False names, false occupations, false backgrounds, false photographs. I needed them because the real me had to disappear."

"Yes, Captain Stevens said you were an exceptional undercover intelligence officer."

"It must have turned his stomach to say it, but do you know why I needed all those fake doc.u.ments?"

"You answered that yourself. Commander Hawthorne had to disappear, another in his place." Palisser nodded in recognition. "Van Nostrand needed another pa.s.sport," he said. "Because to disappear he had to have one."

"Two points for the secretary of state."

"You are an insolent young man."

"I intend to be. Im being very well paid and I do the best I can when people pay me well."

"I wont try to comprehend your malodorous justifications, Mr. Hawthorne, but I think Ive got you on this one. No one but the State Department can issue a legitimate pa.s.sport, and since you rule out illegitimacy where Van Nostrands concerned, where would he get one?"

"To answer your question, a high-level parallel government agency or department who can access your technology sufficiently to override it."

"That is corruption!"

"Or conviction, sir. You werent corrupted." Tyrell paused. "A last question, Mr. Secretary, and maybe one I shouldnt ask, but I will, I have to. Have you any idea how I landed in Van Nostrands private plane from Puerto Rico, walking into, as I said a few minutes ago, my own execution?"

"I havent even considered it. I a.s.sume Captain Stevens was involved; hes apparently your liaison, if not your superior, here in the States."

"Henry Stevens was in shock when I told him I was here because he couldnt understand how it happened. Every move Ive made has been monitored, when I wanted it to be monitored, by the closed circle of Little Girl Blood hunters. But this should have been known because it was expedited by one of your major players. He went around you and the entire intelligence community to have Van Nostrand reach me with a letter I had to follow up. I grabbed the bait, and if it werent for two extraordinary people, Id be a corpse in Fairfax and your Saint Van Nostrand would be landing in Brussels, leaving Bajaratt to operate from his compound."

"Who did it? Who reached you?"

"Howard Davenport, secretary of defense."

"I cant believe it!" Palisser shouted. "Hes one of the most honorable men Ive ever known! Youre lying. Youve gone too far. Get out of my house!"

Hawthorne reached into a pocket of his safari jacket and pulled out Van Nostrands letter, the cracked blue tape on the sealed side apparent. "Youre the secretary of state, Mr. Palisser. You can call anybody anywhere in the world. Why not reach the chief of naval intelligence at the base in Puerto Rico? Ask him how this letter got to me and to whom he had to report that it did."

"Oh, my G.o.d ...!" exclaimed Bruce Palisser, his gray-haired head arched back over the chair, his eyes pressed tight. "Were a government of opportunists or benign reformers, of inconsequential minds, too often predators who have no right to govern. But that isnt Davenport! Howard could never have done what he did for personal gain, he just didnt know!"

"Neither did you, sir."

"Thank you for that, Commander." The secretary of state drew himself up and looked penetratingly at Tyrell. "I accept what youve told me-"

"I want it on the record," Hawthorne cut in.

"Why?"

"Because Van Nostrands our only link to Bajaratt, and on the a.s.sumption that she doesnt know hes dead, sh.e.l.l try to reach him."

"That doesnt answer my question, not that I wont agree to call Captain Stevens to verify everything youve told me, but again, why?"

"Because I want to use your name around this town to climb down a ladder to Little Girl Blood, and I dont relish thirty years in Leavenworth for illegal impersonation."

"Then I believe we should discuss your proposed agenda, Commander."

The telephone rang, startling both men. The secretary rose from the chair, his eyes on the walled console as he crossed rapidly to the instrument. "Palisser here, what is it?... He what?" The color drained from the secretary of states face. "It doesnt make sense!" Palisser turned to Hawthorne. "Howard Davenport just committed suicide! The maid found him-"

"Suicide?" broke in Tyrell softly. "Want to make a bet on that?"

22.

Bajaratt, her face veiled in dark lace, sat alone at a desk in the room of a cheap, out-of-the-way country motel, hastily chosen. She had reached the senator from Michigan, pleading exhaustion from the onslaught of calls and callers at the previous hotel, adding that her one-day move to an acquaintances estate was, if possible, more trying, as her friend proved to be the monarch of social b.u.t.terflies.

"I believe I mentioned that youd be swamped," Nesbitt had said. "Its why I suggested an office and a staff."

"And I believe I told you why that was impossible."

"Yes, you did, and I cant blame the baron. This citys a whirlpool, perhaps a cesspool, of intruders, intruding where they shouldnt."

"Then perhaps you might help Dante Paolo and myself."

"In any way I can, Countess, you know that."

"Is there a hotel you could recommend thats, shall we say, not in the center of activity but has the appointments we require?"

"One comes to mind immediately," replied the legislator from Michigan. "The Carillon. Its usually fully booked, but these are the summer months and tourists can hardly afford it. Ill make the arrangements if you like."

"The baron will be apprised of your kindness and cooperation."

"Id appreciate it. In your own name or would you prefer to be incognito?"