entirely for his research.
Once the door was closed behind them, Renke swung around to face his much larger colleague. “Well?” he demanded. “Apart from collecting the next HYDRA variants, what else brings you here from Moscow so urgently?”
“Two things,” Brandt told him. “First we face a significant security breach.”
Renke’s face froze. “Where?”
“In Prague, tracing back to Moscow,” the bigger man said flatly. He ran through what he had learned about the successful attack on Petrenko and the second failed attempt to kill the American doctor, Lieutenant Colonel Smith.
The frantic emergency signals from the shocked survivors of his Prague team had reached him shortly after his arrival in Rome the night before.
As Renke listened closely, his lips curled downward in a frown of displeasure. He shook his head in disgust. “Liss was sloppy,” he said. “Unpardonably sloppy.”
“True. He was both imprecise and overconfident.” Brandt’s gray eyes were ice-cold. “At least his death at the hands of the American saves me the effort of eliminating him as an example to Ilionescu and the others.”
“Has this man Smith turned up yet?”
“Not yet,” Brandt said shortlv. He shrugged his massive shoulders. “But he missed his scheduled flight to London and now the Czech authorities are searching for him, too. If they find him, I have other sources in Prague who will alert me.”
“It’s been nearly twenty-four hours,” the scientist pointed out. “By now Smith could easily be across the Czech border. In fact, he could be almost anywhere in the world.”
Brandt nodded grimly. “I am well aware of that.”
Renke frowned again. He stroked his neat white beard. “What do you know about this American?” he asked at length. “Despite their appalling errors, Liss and his men were professionals. How could an ordinary doctor have disposed of them so easily?”
“I do not know,” the taller man admitted slowly. “But clearly Smith is far more than he appears on the surface.”
“An agent, you mean? For one of the American military intelligence organizations?”
Brandt shrugged. “Perhaps.” The blond-haired man scowled. “I’ve had people digging into Smith’s background, military service record, and medical credentials ever since Liss first reported his meeting with Petrenko, but the work is necessarily slow. If he is connected to one of the American intelligence agencies, I don’t want to risk revealing our interest in him. That could tip our hand prematurely.”
“If he is a spy, your caution may come too late,” Renke said coldly. “The Americans could already be probing deeper into our field tests in Moscow.”
Brandt stayed silent, holding his temper in check. No useful purpose would be served by reminding the scientist of his own role in pushing for those first experiments.
“Have you notified Alexei Ivanov?” Renke asked after a moment. “After all, the Thirteenth Directorate may have a file on Smith. At a minimum, our friends in the FSB should be alerted to tighten their security in and around Moscow.”
Brandt shook his head. “I’ve told Ivanov nothing about the American thus far,” he said quietly. “He knows that Petrenko and Kiryanov are dead, nothing more.”
The scientist raised an eyebrow. “Keeping Ivanov in the dark? Is that wise, Erich? As you say, this is a very serious breach of operational secrecy. Surely that overrides any question of professional jealousy or embarrassment?”
“And direct orders from our patron trump all other considerations,” Brandt reminded him coolly. “He expects us to clean up our own messes without running to the Kremlin like frightened children. In this case I feel inclined to obey him. The Russians are too heavy-handed. Their intervention might only make matters worse. As it is, I have enough manpower to handle the situation if the Americans start poking and prying.”
Renke pursed his lips. “What do you need from me, then?”
“A complete list of those in Moscow whose knowledge of the first HYDRA outbreak could prove dangerous to us or to the project. With Smith still on the loose, we can’t take the chance that Petrenko and Kiryanov were the only ones inclined to disobey the orders to keep silent.”
Renke nodded slowly. “I can prepare such a list.”
“Good. Send the names to me as soon as possible.” Brandt flashed his perfect teeth in a tight, cold smile. “We must be read}’ to remove any remaining loose ends, should the need arise.”
“Yes, that is true,” Renke agreed. He looked up at the bigger man. “And the second development you wanted to discuss?”
Brandt hesitated. He turned slowly, suspiciously examining the crowded bookshelves and plain furniture around him. Then he glanced back at the scientist. “You’re sure this office is clean?”
“My security team sweeps it even dav,” Renke said calmly. “They are loyal to me and to no other. You may speak freely.” He smiled primly. “From your uneasiness, I presume you have news concerning our secondary venture?
This so-called ‘insurance policy’ against treachery that our Russian friends are so interested in possessing?”
Brandt nodded. “That’s right.” Despite the scientist’s assurance, he lowered his voice slightly. “Zurich has confirmed the first payment to our accounts.
But I need to have the special material we promised him in hand before Ivanov will approve the second funds transfer.”
Renke shrugged. “That isn’t a problem. I finished the required variant weeks ago.” He crossed the room and touched a stud on one of the bookcases.
It swung back noiselessly, revealing a hidden wall safe and freezer. He entered a code and then pressed his right thumb to a fingerprint scanner built into the safe door. It cycled open in a puff of condensation. The scientist put on an insulated glove and then reached inside. He drew out a single clear vial. “Here it is. You can pick up a carrier and some more dry ice on your way out.”
Brandt noticed a rack containing other vials inside the safe. His gray eyes narrowed.
Renke saw him looking and smiled. “Come now, Erich. We have known each other for years. Surely by now you have realized that I always take precautions to assure my own safety?no matter for whom I work.”
Chapter Eleven
Jon Smith drained the last of his coffee and set the cup back down on the round, cloth-covered table. Out of habit, he discreetly studied the people seated around him in the Hotel Askanischer Hofs quiet, tastefully furnished breakfast lounge. This was his first real chance since arriving late last night to
take a closer look at some of his fellow guests. Most were somber-faced business travelers, busy reading the morning newspapers or jotting down notes between distracted bites of toast, muesli, or soft sweet rolls, for upcoming meetings. There were two older couples sitting together, tourists taking advantage of reduced winter rates in the German capital. No one in the elegant little room raised any warning bells in his mind.
Momentarily reassured, he left a couple of euros on the table as a tip, rose to his feet, and walked toward the door. Black-and-white-framed photos of the famous authors and actors who had stayed at the Askanischer Hof during its long history?including Arthur Miller and Franz Kafka ?stared down at him from the wall behind a highly polished bar.
Outside in the lobby, the desk clerk intercepted him. “A package has just arrived for you, Herr Martin,” he murmured politely. “By special courier.”
Smith signed for the sealed legal-size envelope and took it back up to his room. The address label showed that it had been sent from Brussels by Wald-mann Investments, LLC, one of a number of front companies Covert- One used for clandestine shipments around the world. He whistled softly at the sight of the time stamp on the
