prevented electronic penetration. There was a document shredder, a combination safe, a few plants dying under fluorescent light, and a silver-framed picture of Brenda on Wally's desk.
“The developmental wouldn't be your 30 April safecracker, would it?” Caroline asked.
He raised an eyebrow at her, looking for all the world like a satanic Puck.
“Do you need to know?”
“I'd like to know. If he's calling from Buda and hanging up in a hurry, maybe he's on to something.”
“Maybe he is,” Wally said smoothly. “If that was the developmental. But it's not like Anatoly to be spooked by Mrs. Saunders. We'll just have to wait until he calls back.”
“What time is it in Washington?” Shephard demanded. He was, Caroline saw, still obsessed with stopping the destruction of evidence in the street below.
“I don't think it matters, Tom.” Wally turned on his computer terminal. “You're not calling. Shut up and start thinking for once.”
To Caroline's surprise, Shephard submitted to the abuse. He slumped into a chair and fixed his eyes on his shoes.
“You need a car and a good driver.” Wally stuck his head into Mrs. Saunders's province.
“Oh, Gladys?”
“Yes, Walter?” she replied acidly. “Any of the FSNs report for duty?”
FSNs — Foreign-service nationals — were local folk who served as support staff for the U.S. embassy.
“There's Ursula.”
“Ursula would stick out like a sore thumb at a construction dump. Get me Tony.”
“Tony was killed in the bombing, dear,” said Mrs. Saunders imperturbably.
Wally was silent for a moment.
“Okay. How about Old Markus?”
“Old Markus it is.” She leaned on an intercom button and buzzed.
“Old Markus is perfect,” Wally told them.
“You're sending him out after the dump truck,” Shephard said.
“Why not? Got a better idea?”
“And then what — he sifts through the debris in the dead of night?”
“I doubt he'd know what to look for.” Wally took off his suit jacket and reached for a cable.
“You're the forensics nut, Tom. You've got all those Bureau teams twiddling their thumbs over at the Hyatt. Why not put 'em to work?”
“It might be considered against the law.”
“German or U.S.?” Wally tore the cable in half and stuck it in a burn bag. “But I see your point. Whereas if I got involved, it'd still be against the law, but you'd feel better, right?”
Shephard said nothing. Wally smirked at Caroline.
“There it is in a nutshell, Mad Dog. The Agency avoids evidence like the plague, because evidence is admissible in court, where sources and methods never go. But we love to help other people find evidence. It makes our little day. And are they grateful?”
“Once in a while,” Shephard muttered.
“Not often enough.”
“Okay, Wally,” he said in exasperation. “I'm grateful for Old Markus. Let him follow the damn truck, and we'll decide later how to deal with whatever he finds.”
And at that moment, the secure phone rang.
“Suicide,” Wally said in disbelief. He sank down into his chair, fingers gripping the receiver. “Why commit suicide if you've just embezzled the nation?” His eyes were fixed on Caroline's face, but there was no expression in them; he might have been looking at a featureless wall.
“All right, Vie. I understand. I'll get back to you tonight.”
He hung up.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Vie Marinelli, from Budapest.”
“And?”
“Istvan Lajta committed suicide last night. Or early this morning.”
Shephard looked up.
“The Hungarian Minister of Finance?”
“Lajta killed himself?” Caroline was shocked. “But he's young — a rising star in the Liberal Party! People talked about him as a future prime minister.”
“His assistant found him this morning. One bullet through the temple, gun lying on the floor.” Wally grimaced. “His wife identified it as Lajta's.”
“He had a doctorate in economics from the University of Chicago,” Shephard protested.
“Even that, it seems, is no shield against bullets.”
“They're sure it was suicide?” Caroline persisted.
“There was a note — or a confession, I guess — typed on the guy's computer screen.”
She snorted.
“Anybody can type, Wally. What'd Lajta confess to?”
“Embezzling the Hungarian treasury.”
Shephard whistled.
“That includes at least a hundred million in IMF loans. The ministry is scrambling to sit on the news and trace the funds.”
“So they called Vie Marinelli.” Caroline immediately understood. The CIA's Chief of Station was usually declared to a friendly host country, and depending on the relationship, he could serve as a governments sounding board in times of crisis.
“Vie has asked for Secret Service assistance. The Treasury guys are pretty good at chasing down electronic transfers.”
“But why?” she asked, working it out. “Why put a bullet in your brain if you've just pulled off the heist of the century?”
“Remorse?”
She groaned.
“Oh, come on, Wally.”
“He was murdered,” Tom Shephard said brusquely.
Caroline caught his meaning and threw it back. “The only reason to kill Lajta —”
“Is if he didn't do it,” Tom finished. “Whoever stole the cash left Lajta holding the bag.”
“Vie seemed certain it was suicide,” Wally objected, “and he's not stupid. The building hadn't been broken into—” He stopped short and went very still.
“Your friend Anatoly,” Caroline said grimly. “No wonder old what's-his-acronym hung up on Gladys.”
Wally didn't reply. Instead, he reached for the phone and dialed a number. But before it rang, he slammed down the receiver.
“If Lajta died sometime during the night, Anatoly won't even be back in Hamburg yet. Shit. I've got to get to him —”
“Before Krucevic does.” Caroline picked up a silver letter opener and studied the engraving a message of thanks from one of Wally's previous postings. “Do you seriously think Krucevic will let him go?”
“I don't know.” Wally sank back into his chair, defeated.
“Why would 30 April steal from the treasury?” Tom Shephard asked. “If you're going to rob a bank, rob one in Switzerland. Not Hungary. I don't get it.”
But Caroline did.
“Fritz Voekl doesn't want Switzerland,” she said. “Switzerland is clean and well ordered and more efficient than ten Germanys. Fritz wants a reason to clean up the wrong side of the tracks.”
“What are you saying?”
“Voekl needs a cause. A crisis. He wants a plausible reason to send German troops throughout the neighboring countries. The countries that can't stop the Muslim hordes from invading the German sphere of
