financed the lace and weaving trades all over the Spanish Empire, which, of course, included Belgium. Just like their cousins back home, they keep pretty much to themselves.'
'That's an odd bit of information.'
'Mossad keeps track of factions of Jews that might be militant at home and abroad. But why…?'
Lang slowly nodded. 'And if we were to check out Benjamin Yadish, I'd bet he had been an Essene.'
They both thought of that before Jacob stood. 'Seeing how many these sodding bounders, if it is them, have killed, I'd say being a Jew isn't a primary requirement.' He glanced over his shoulder back into the pub. 'Too many black and tans. I've got to go to the loo.'
Lang watched him retreat inside without really noticing. Loyal. Sect. Zionist. It had happened before: silencing a member of the faction deemed disloyal. Once one was emboldened by one or two murders, killing as a means of silencing people who had no relationship to the group became progressively easier, a progression from warning shots in Underground Atlanta to permanently silencing someone.
Of course, the Essenes could be just one of many of the small and various types of Judaism, and Zwelk simply a thief or a very poor administrator.
Could be.
But Lang didn't think so.
The murdered scientists had not been killed because of what they were discovering, but because of what that discovery might include.
He was so deep in thought, he didn't notice the young boy park his bicycle at the curb, walk across the pub's lawn, and stop at the table.
'Mr. Reilly?'
Lang turned his head to see a redheaded, freckle-faced, pudgy child of eleven or twelve.
'Yes?'
The youth handed him an envelope. 'This is for you.'
Reflexively Lang reached for it. 'From whom?'
The kid pointed to a dark Audi idling at the far curb. It drove off immediately, its tag too far away to read.
Lang opened the envelope. At first he thought it was empty. Then a ringlet of red hair fell out.
It was not the messenger's.
The emerald ring Sara had mentioned and Alicia's unexplained absence from work came together in a revelation that almost made Lang gag.
He grabbed the boy's wrist. 'Who are the people who gave you this?'
The child struggled but could not break free. 'I don' know, honest I don', they give me five quid and th' envelope, point to you. You're hurting me!'
Lang realized he was telling the truth and let go. The child was rubbing his wrist as he backed away, as though afraid Lang would seize him again.
Lang was on his BlackBerry when Jacob returned, no longer caring how many people tracked the call. 'Sara? Yeah, it's me. Hate to bother you on the weekend. Listen: Monday, I want you to drop whatever you're doing. Call the DOJ, find out if Alicia Warner has been to work in the last week.' He nodded as though his secretary could see him. 'Yeah, I know, but use whatever pretext you can. Thanks.'
Jacob slid into his chair. 'A bit dodgy, y'know, using that thing. The Essenes, or whoever, could trace you here if they're still tapped into-'
'They already have,' Lang said, shoving the envelope and its contents across the table.
FIFTY
New Scotland Yard
Broadway
London
At the Same Time
Inspector Fitzwilliam was trying to control the foul mood working on weekends always produced. He recognized as irrational his feeling of guilt as he had kissed his wife, Shan- don, good-bye as he left the flat this morning. He should have been disappointed at not being able to join her on the trip to Manchester to see the new grandchild. But then, squalling, projectile-vomiting, and excreting babies were not his favorite creatures, no matter how close the kinship. Let nannies, or even the parents, do the necessary. He preferred to wait at least a year, until the child had some semblance of humanity, to make the acquaintance.
Even more illogical was the hostility he was feeling for his assistant, Patel, the author of the morning's balls- up.
Patel, eternally bright smile dividing the dark face, reeking of curry, stood behind the two chairs that faced the inspector's desk. If giving up his weekend bothered him, he didn't show it.
For the third time Fitzwilliam glanced at the report, the single paper on the faux wood of the government- issue desk. 'I don't understand how you could have lost him.'
Patel shrugged. 'He is cunning, sah. As you know, I was one of a pair observing the barrister, Annueliwitz. We saw him come out of his residence at oh-seven-twenty-one. Or at least, a person wearing a man's overcoat drove the man's vehicle out of the car park. Naturally, sah, we followed, followed all the way to Notting Hill, sah. When the vehicle stopped in another car park, a woman later identified as Rachel Annueliwitz got out. Naturally I called in, and two more men were dispatched to watch the Annueliwitz residence, sah. So far we have not observed Mr. Annueliwitz.'
Nor is it bleeding likely you will, Fitzwilliam thought, recognizing the onset of a headache. He could be out of the country with the American, Reilly, by now.
He sighed in resignation. 'Very well. Keep the observers in position and let me know if anything happens.'
'Sah!'
Patel did a near-military about-face and headed for the door.
'And Patel?'
He stopped in midstride and looked over his shoulder. 'Sah?'
'Next time, try having one man follow the family auto and one man stay in position. Or, better yet, call for backup.'
Fitzwilliam was treated to that infuriatingly good-natured smile. 'Yassah!'
The inspector watched the door shut before he began the search for the aspirin bottle he kept in a desk drawer. He was not looking forward to informing his counterpart in Vienna, Rauch, that Scotland Yard had lost contact with its only lead to Reilly.
He found the bottle and took a tablet before he picked up the telephone. As he waited for the connection to be completed, he wondered just how much of a furor he would incur if he transferred Patel to one of the Yard's more remote offices in London, Wapping, for instance. If the man were white, not a word would be said.
But he wasn't, and the diversity people denied the existence of incompetence unless it was wrapped in a white skin.
The inspector took another aspirin before a voice came on the line.
FIFTY-ONE
Bull amp; Rose Public House
Abington
At the Same Time
Jacob looked at the lock of hair, puzzled. 'I'm afraid I don't quite understand.'
