neck, his left hand around her nape, his right hand pulling up her skirt. He mounted her, his knees parting her thighs. Paula quivered, breathing rapidly.
*
Wednesday, October 25, 1995
“ My father will recover.” Paula sat in front of the vanity in the corner of their bedroom. “He won’t give up. I know him.”
“Armande is strong,” Lemmy agreed while tying his shoes.
Paula started her morning makeup routine. “I should have convinced him to work less, to spend more time with Junior. Maybe now he’ll agree to work part-time. You could run the bank day-to-day, right?”
“I’m not his son.”
Any reference to her dead brother, even indirectly, made Paula’s eyes moisten. She no longer cried, and most people would not even notice it, but Lemmy saw her reaction and regretted it. She smiled, which was her way of telling him it was okay to discuss this painful subject. “You’re like a son to him.”
“ Not exactly. He doesn’t mind it when I go skiing, but when Junior wanted to learn how to ski, your father flipped.”
“ We’re going to do it this year. We have to.”
“ That’s right. I mean, what kind of a Swiss kid doesn’t ski?” Lemmy watched her face, which lit up when discussing their son. “The winter is coming. Should I make reservations?”
“ As long as it’s not Chamonix.”
The Alpine ski resort had taken the life of Klaus V.K. Hoffgeitz in the twilight hours of a sunny day in the winter of 1973. He was found in a crevasse near an easy blue-diamond slope. An expert skier, he must have taken a wrong turn, confused by the shadows so typical of the western face of the mountain. Autopsy revealed that his injuries had not been severe, except for a stab wound, likely caused by the unlucky fall on a sharp icicle, which entered his brain through the throat, melting away long before the body had been found.
“ I miss my brother,” Paula said. “He was fun.”
Lemmy held her hand. “I’m sorry.”
“ I’ve accepted it. God wanted him by His side.” She wiped her eyes. “And my mother’s real illness, what really killed her, was a broken heart, which I also understand. But for my father, losing Klaus V.K. has been the tragedy of his life-not just the grief over a wonderful, loveable son, but the loss of his heir. I think it’s like the world went out of order for him. It was the breaking of continuity, an end to generations of family tradition. My father feels that he failed in his hereditary duty to groom a male heir.”
“It’s tragic.”
“I tried to convince him it wasn’t like this anymore. It’s the twentieth century. Families hire professional managers to run inherited businesses. No one cares about bloodlines any longer. It’s so old fashioned.”
“Your father is not easy to convince. He takes everything very seriously.” Lemmy had not told Paula about the phone call that had instigated her father’s heart attack or about the huge sum in the inactive account. She was safer not knowing. “I think he was hoping to run the bank until Junior is ready to take over.”
“He’s ten!” She laughed, and the light from the window glistened in her eyes.
“ It will take twenty years before-”
“Not necessarily. If we expedite his schooling, he could graduate university at twenty, while spending each summer at the bank to learn the ropes. Theoretically, in twelve or thirteen years he could take over as president. And I’ll be there to help him.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Paula brushed her hair. “My father is already eighty-four.”
“ He’s as sharp as a young man, and if he recovers from this heart attack-”
“ Our son is not the banker type.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? He’s good with numbers.”
“Klaus Junior would be miserable as a banker. It’s too boring.”
“Am I miserable and boring?”
She laughed. “You’re delightful and fascinating.”
“In what way?”
“ I can show you.” She came into his arms, smelling fresh and enticing. “If you want.”
“ I’ll be late to work. But if you won’t allow Klaus Junior to become a banker, then we have to-”
“Make a banker.”
“It’s our hereditary duty.” Lemmy began to undress. “A matter of generational traditions. The board of directors expects no less from us!”
Paula’s body shook with laughter. “We’re going to make the rabbits jealous-”
Pop! The window exploded, raining slivers of glass all over them.
Lemmy pushed Paula down and lay on top of her, sheltering her with his body. He glanced up at the ceiling and saw a bullet hole. His mind digested the incredible fact: Elie had acted on his threat!
*
Gideon listened as Prince Abusalim called room service to order breakfast for two. A half-hour later, Abu Yusef called. The prince put the Palestinian terrorist on hold and, after a moment, picked up one of the phones in the bathroom. “The money is ready,” he said without a preamble. “It will arrive at the bank in Senlis later today.”
“The freedom of Palestine shall belong to you!”
“ Insha’Allah. Call me in three days. I’ll give you the time and place for the job. Make sure you have enough firepower. He will be well protected.”
“Don’t worry, Excellency. It will be executed successfully.”
“Don’t underestimate your target. In Saudi Arabia we have a saying: A man whom the desert failed to kill is immortal.”
“We also have a saying,” Abu Yusef said. “A man who feels immortal is easier to kill.”
*
Lemmy expected a second bullet, but none came right away. He heard the Porsche’s alarm whining and recalled leaving it out in the driveway last night. “Stay down! I’ll get Junior.”
Paula tried to rise. “I’m coming-”
“Down!”
Staying low, he headed for the door. The bullet had come through the front of the house. Why had the shooter aimed at the window, when he could have shot them later outside? Was it a diversion while another assassin broke down the front door? Or the rear patio glass? Or was a lone sniper hiding in the woods across the street, waiting to take a second shot when a face appeared in the window? But the angle was too steep, as if the shooter was close to the house!
He ran downstairs, reached the kitchen, and crouched under the counter. “Klaus! Where are you?”
No response.
A sense of terror flooded Lemmy. Was the boy injured? Was he bleeding? But there had been only one shot, and the bullet was stuck in the bedroom ceiling. The boy must be listening to music with headphones.
“ Klaus!”
Nothing. Where was he?
The Mauser! Lemmy knew he had to get it from the car and shoot back. By now he was doubting that this attack was Elie’s doing. It was too imprecise, even illogical considering that Elie’s threat had been directed at Paula and the boy. Elie would not have sent a shooter to attack while Lemmy was in the house, ready to defend them or get killed himself. Without him, how would Elie gain control of the Nazi funds at the Hoffgeitz Bank?
All these thoughts rushed through his mind while the professional assassin within him coldly planned the run for the Mauser and the ensuing shootout. It would be hard to take proper aim at the sniper, but mounting a counter- attack was the best defense. He crouched by the front door, focusing on the task at hand. The Mauser had been in the car since the Paris job. It had taken two bullets to finish off the Arab. Nine left. He would have to run to the Porsche, break the windshield, pull the storage cover, get the gun out of the box, load it, cock it, aim, and start shooting. Even with the car between him and the sniper, Lemmy knew he’d likely get hit at least once. But there was no other way to scare off the attacker before Paula or Klaus got hurt.
He grabbed the knob and realized the front door wasn’t locked. Why? Had Junior gone outside?
