That sum was greater than the gross domestic product of Botswana.
'I am not convinced that we're witnessing the unfolding of a master plan,' Fujima went on. 'Nonetheless, I was hoping you might have some information on Genet, Beaudin, or their colleagues. We cannot ignore the potential for at least a financial assault on international economies.'
Fujima's use of the term 'at least' suggested his greater worry: that the European money, along with Beaudin technology, would be used to enhance the already formidable Chinese military machine. It was a justifiable concern.
What troubled Hood more was whether the events in Botswana were connected to the activities of Genet. Shaking up the flow of diamonds from the south of Africa would be significant to a portion of the world economy, but it would not be enough to help wage a 'financial assault.'
Hood received an instant message from Bugs Benet. Emmy Feroche was on the line. Hood wrote back and asked him to have her hoJd on.
'Mr. Fujmia, I'm going to look into these developments for you,' Hood said. 'Bob Herbert or I will keep you informed. I hope you will do the same.'
'I will,' Fujima promised. **
128
OP-CENTER
The Japanese intelligence officer thanked him. Hood told Bugs to forward the personnel files of the Beaudin board to Mr. Fujima. Then he grabbed the call from Emmy.
'Sorry to keep you waiting, Emmy,' Hood said.
'Not a problem, Paul,' she said. 'It's great to hear from you! How has life been?'
'Eventful,' he replied.
'I can't wait to catch up,' she said. 'God, it's amazing how 'Let's stay in touch' can turn into 'Has it really been that long?' '
'I know,' Hood said. 'How is the world of white-collar crime?'
'Overall, it's very busy,' Emmy told him. 'At the moment, it's completely insane.'
'Why?' Hood asked.
'We're checking to see if there were any improprieties in several major stock deals,' Emmy told him. 'Have you ever heard of a German stockbroker named Robert Stiele?'
Hood felt a chill. 'It so happens I have,' he replied. 'What did he do?'
'Stiele quietly pulled the trigger on some major deals early this morning, Euro time,' she said. 'He dumped one hundred and fourteen million dollars in blue-chip stock holdings, companies that were doing well, and put the money into three separate, privately held operations.'
'Do you have their names?' Hood asked.
'Yes,' she replied. 'The first one is VeeBee Ltd., the second one is Les Jambes de Venus-'
'And the third is Eye At Sea,' Hood said.
'Yes!' Emmy replied. She was obviously impressed. 'How do you know that?'
'I can't tell you,' Hood said.
'Well, Mr. Wizard, what can you tell me?' she asked. 'Look into Albert Beaudin,' he said. 'Why?'
'Can't tell you that either,' Hood said, 'what are you doing about Stiele?'
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129
'We're trying to find out if Mr. Stiele knows something about the blue chips that we don't.'
'I wouldn't worry about the blue chips,' Hood said. 'This is about Stiele. He needed to get liquid.'
'Why?' she pressed.
'That,' Hood replied, 'is a damn good question.'
NINETEEN
Okavango Swamp, Botswana Thursday, 6:00 P.M.
It was ironic. After being given food and rest, Father Bradbury's own tactics were used against him.
The priest had recalled the missionaries, as instructed. Then he was taken outside. He was not bound or hooded, and it felt strange to see the morning light, to feel fresh air on his face. He was allowed to use the little island's outhouse. After that, he was not returned to 'the cage,' as his captors called it. He was taken to a small hut. The window was shuttered, the walls were made of logs, and the roof was corrugated tin. Near the ceiling, a series of four small holes had been cut two feet apart in the walls on every side. They provided the small room's only light and ventilation. The door was bolted from the outside, and the floor was concrete. But there was a cot against the back wall, and Bradbury was given bread and water. After saying grace, he ate and drank greedily.
The air was humid and extremely hot. Following his modest meal, Father Bradbury stood on the cot and sucked the relatively cool morning air through one of the openings. Then, his eyes heavy, he lay down on his belly. He put his head on the towel that passed for a pillow. He reeked of dried perspiration and the smells of the swamp. Marsh flies scouted his sticky hands and cheeks. But the heat, the stench, the bugs, all of that vanished when the priest shut his eyes. He was asleep within moments.
