pipe from his mouth and he smiled; when he smiled you could believe anything he said and forgive him for it, no matter how outrageous. “I admit, General Stride, that my first reaction was frustrated rage.
I wanted your head, and your guts also. Then suddenly I began using my own head instead. You had just proved you were the man I wanted, my soldier capable of unconventional thought and action. If you were discredited and cast adrift, there was just a chance that this new direction of militancy would recognize the same qualities in you that I had been forced to recognize. If I allowed you to ruin your career, and become an outcast an embittered man, but one with vital skills and invaluable knowledge, a man who had proved he could be ruthless when it was necessary-” Parker broke off and made that gesture of appeal. I am sorry, General Stride, but I had to recognize the fact that you would be very attractive to-” he made an impatient gesture I do not have a name for them, shall we just call them “the enemy”. I had to recognize the fact that you would be of very great interest to the enemy. I endorsed your resignation.” He nodded sombrely. “Yes, I endorsed your resignation, and without your own knowledge you became an Atlas agent at large. It seemed perfect to me.
You did not have to-act a role you believed it yourself.
You were the outcast, the wronged and discredited man ripe for subversion.”
“I don’t believe it,” Peter said flatly, and Parker went back to the work table, selected an envelope from a Japanese ceramic tray and brought it back to Peter.
It took Peter a few moments to realize that it was a Bank Statement Credit Suisse in Geneva the account was in his name, and there were a string of deposits. No withdrawals MAde or debits. Each deposit was for exactly the same amount, the net salary of a major-general in the British Army.
“You see,” Parker smiled “you are still drawing your Atlas salary. You are still one of us, Peter. And all I can say is that I am very sorry indeed that we had to subject you to the pretence but it seems it was all worth while.” Peter looked up at him again, not entirely convinced, but with the hostility less naked in his expression.
“What do You mean by that, Doctor Parker?”
“It seems that you are very much back in play again.”
“I am Sales Director for Northern Armaments Company,” he said flatly.
“Yes, of course, and Narmco is part of the Altmann Industrial Empire and Baron Altmann and his lovely wife are, or rather were, an extraordinarily interesting couple.
For instance, did you know that the Baron was one of the top agents of Mossad in Europe?” impossible,” Peter shook his head irritably. “He was a Roman Catholic. Israeli intelligence does not make a habit of recruiting Catholics.”
“Yes,” Parker agreed. “His grandfather converted to Catholicism and changed the name of the family home to La Pierre Brute. It was a business decision, that we are certain of, there was not much profit in being Jewish in nineteenth-century France. However, the young Altmann was much influenced by his grandmother and his own mother. He was a Zionist from a very early age, and he unswervingly used his enormous wealth and influence in that cause right up until the time of his murder. Yet he did it so cunningly, with such subtlety that very few people were aware of his connections with uda ism and Zionism.
He never made the mistake of converting back to his ancestral religion, realizing that he could be more effective as a practising Christian.” Peter was thinking swiftly. If this was true, then it all had changed shape again. It must affect the reasons for the Baron’s death and it would change the role of Magda Altmann in his life.
“The Baroness?” he asked. “Was she aware of this?”
“Ah, the Baroness!” Kingston Parker removed his pipe from between his teeth, and smiled with reluctant admiration. “What a remarkable lady. We are not certain of very much about her except her beauty and her exceptional talents. We know she was born in Warsaw. Her father was a professor of medicine at the university there, and he escaped to the West when the Baroness was still a child. He was killed a few years later, a traffic accident in Paris. Hit and run driver, while the professor was leaving his faculty in the Sorbonne. A small mystery still hangs around his death. The child seems to have drifted from family to family, friends of her father, distant relatives. She already was showing academic leanings, musical talent, at thirteen a chess player of promise then for a period there is no record of her. She seems to have disappeared entirely. The only hint is from one of her foster mothers, a very old lady now, with a fading memory. “I think she went home for a while she told me she was going home.”” Parker spread his hands. “We do not know what that means. Home?
Warsaw? Israel? Somewhere in the East?”
“You have researched her very carefully,” Peter said. What he had heard had left him uneasy.
“Of course, we have done so to every contact you have made since leaving Atlas Command. We would have been negligent not to do so but especially we have been interested in the Baroness. She has been the most fascinating, you understand that, I am sure.” Peter nodded, and waited. He did not want to ask for more. Somehow it seemed disloyal to Magda, distrustful and petty but still he waited and Parker went on quietly.
“Then she was back in Paris. Nineteen years of age now a highly competent private secretary, speaking five languages fluently, beautiful, always dressed in the height of fashion, soon with a string of wealthy, influential and powerful admirers the last of these was her employer, Baron Aaron Altmann.” Parker was silent then, waiting for the question, forcing Peter to come to meet him.
“Is she Mossad also?”
“We do not know. It is possible but she has covered herself very carefully. We are rather hoping you will be able to find that out for us.”
“I see.”
“She must have known that her husband was a Zionist.
She must have suspected that it had something to do with his abduction and murder. Then there are the missing six years of her life from thirteen to nineteen, where was she?”
“Is she Jewish?” Peter asked. “Was her father Jewish?”
“We believe so, although the professor showed no interest in religion and did not fill in the question on his employment application to the Sorbonne. His daughter showed the same lack of religious commitment we know only that her marriage to the Baron was a Catholic ceremony followed by a civil marriage in Rambouillet.”
“We have drifted a long way from international terrorism,” Peter pointed out.
“I do not think so.” Kingston Parker shook his big shaggy head. “The Baron was a victim of it, and almost as soon as you one of the world’s leading experts on militancy and urban warfare as soon as you are associated with her there is an assassination attempt, or an abduction attempt made on the Baroness.” Peter was not at all surprised that Parker knew of that night on the road to La Pierre Benite it was only a few days since Peter’s arm had been out of the sling.
“Tell me, Peter. What was your estimate of that affair? I have seen an excerpt of the statement that you made to the French police but what can you add to that?” Peter had a vivid cameo memory of the Citroen that had followed him out of Paris, and then almost simultaneously the tearing sound of automatic fire in the night.
“They were after the Baroness,” Peter said firmly.
“And you were driving her car?”
“That’s right.”
“You were at the place at the time that the Baroness usually passed?”
“Right “Who suggested that? You?”
“I told her that the car was too conspicuous.” “So you suggested taking it down to La Pierre enite that night.” “Yes.” Peter lied without knowing why he did so.
“Did anybody else know that the Baroness would not be driving?” “Nobody.” Except her bodyguards, the two chauffeurs who had met them on their return from Switzerland, Peter thought.
“You are certain?” Parker persisted.
“Yes,” Peter snapped. “Nobody else.” Except Magda, only Magda. He pushed the thought aside angrily.
“All right, so we must accept that the Baroness was the target but was it an assassination or an abduction attempt?
That could be significant. If it was assassination, it would indicate that it was the elimination of a rival agent, that the Baroness was probably also a Mossad agent, recruited by her husband. On the other hand, an abduction would suggest that the object was monetary gain. Which was it, Peter?”
“They had blocked the road-” he said, but not completely he remembered. “And the police impersonator signalled me to stop-” or at least to slow down, he thought, slow down sufficiently to make an easy target before they started shooting ” and they did not open fire until I made it clear that I was not going to stop.” But they had
