The Alexandria Link

NINE

KRONBORG SLOT

10:20 AM

MALONE PAID THE SIXTY-KRONER ADMISSION FOR HIM AND Pam to enter the castle. They followed a group that had poured off one of three buses.

Inside, a photographic exhibit, which showed glimpses from the many productions of Hamlet, greeted them. He thought about the irony of the location. Hamlet had been about a son avenging his father, yet here he was, a father, fighting for his son. His heart ached for Gary. Never had he wanted him placed in jeopardy, and for twelve years, while he’d worked for the Billet, he’d always kept a clear line between work and home. Yet now, a year after he’d voluntarily walked away, his son was being held captive.

“This what you used to do all the time?” Pam asked.

“Part of it.”

“How did you live like this? My guts are a wreck. I’m still shaking from last night.”

“You get used to it.” And he meant it, though he’d long ago tired of lies, half-truths, improbable facts, and traitors.

“You needed this rush, didn’t you?”

His body was heavy with fatigue, and he wasn’t in the mood for this familiar fight. “No, Pam. I didn’t need it. But this was my job.”

“Selfish. That’s what you were. Always.”

“And you were just a ray of sunshine. The supportive wife who stood by her husband. So much so that you got pregnant by another man, had a son, and let me think it was mine for fifteen years.”

“I’m not proud of what I did. But we don’t know how many of your women became pregnant, do we?”

He stopped walking. This had to end. “If you don’t shut up, you’re going to get Gary killed. I’m his only hope and, right now, playing with my head is not productive.”

That truth produced a momentary flash of understanding in her bitter eyes, an instant when the Pam Malone he’d once loved reappeared. He wished that woman could linger but, as always, her guard flew up and dead eyes glared back at him.

“Lead the way,” she said.

They entered the ballroom.

The rectangular hall stretched two hundred feet. Windows lined both sides, each set deep in alcoves of thick masonry, the oblique light casting a subtle spell across a checkerboard floor. A dozen or so visitors milled about admiring huge oil canvases that dotted the pale yellow walls, mainly battle scenes.

At the far end, before a hearth, Malone spotted a short, thin man with reddish brown hair. He recalled him from the Magellan Billet. Lee Durant. He’d talked with Durant a few times in Atlanta. The agent caught sight of him, then disappeared through a doorway.

He headed across the hall.

They passed through a series of rooms, each sparsely decorated with European Renaissance furniture and wall tapestries. Durant stayed fifty feet ahead.

Malone saw him stop.

He and Pam entered the room identified as the Corner Chamber. Hunting tapestries adorned plain white walls. Only a few pieces of furniture dotted the dull black-and-white tile floor.

Malone shook Durant’s hand and introduced Pam. “Tell me what’s happening.”

“Stephanie said to brief you, not her.”

“As much as I’d like for her not to be here, she is, so don’t sweat it.”

Durant seemed to consider the situation, then said, “I was also told to do whatever you ask.”

“Glad to hear Stephanie’s being so accommodating.”

“Get to the point,” Pam said. “We’re under a deadline.”

Malone shook his head. “Ignore her. Tell me what’s happening.”

“Access was gained to our secured files. No evidence of hacking or forced entry through the firewalls, so it had to be by password. That’s changed at regular intervals, but there are several hundred people with access.”

“No traces to a particular computer?”

“Zero. And no fingerprints in the data. Which indicates that whoever did it knew what they were doing.”

“I assume somebody is investigating.”

Durant nodded. “The FBI, but so far nothing. About a dozen files were viewed, one of which was the Alexandria Link.”

Which might, Malone thought, explain why Stephanie had not immediately alerted him. There were other possibilities.

“Here’s the interesting part. The Israelis are super-hyper right now, particularly during the last twenty-four hours. Our sources tell us that information was learned yesterday out of the West Bank from one of their Palestinian operatives.”

“What does that have to do with this?”

“The words Alexandria Link have been mentioned.”

“How much do you know?”

“I was just told this an hour ago by one of my contacts. I haven’t even fully reported to Stephanie yet.”

“How is any of this helping?” Pam asked.

He said to Durant, “I need to know more.”

“I asked you a question,” Pam said, her voice rising.

His civility ended. “I told you to let me handle this.”

“You have no intention of giving anything to them, do you?” Her eyes blazed and she seemed ready to pounce.

“My intention is to get Gary back.”

“Are you willing to chance his life? All to protect some damn file?”

A group of camera-clad visitors wandered into the room. He saw that Pam had the wisdom to hush, and he was grateful for the interruption. Definitely a mistake bringing her. He’d have to ditch her as soon as they left Kronborg, even if it meant locking her in a room at Thorvaldsen’s manor.

The visitors wandered off.

He faced Durant and said, “Tell me more about-”

A bang startled him, then the ceiling-mounted camera in the corner exploded in a shower of sparks. Next came two more bangs. Durant lurched backward as blood roses blossomed from punctures in his olive-colored shirt.

A third shot and Durant collapsed to the floor.

Malone whirled.

A man stood twenty feet away, holding a Glock. Malone stuffed his right arm under his jacket to find his own weapon.

“No need,” the man calmly said, and he tossed the gun.

Malone caught it. He gripped the pistol’s stock, finger on the trigger, aimed, and fired.

Only a click came in response.

His finger worked the trigger.

More clicks.

The man smiled. “You didn’t think I’d give it to you loaded.”

Then the shooter fled the room.

TEN

WASHINGTON, DC