Doe. No ID on him, no prints in the system.’
‘Which is weird. Most hired guns would have some kind of record.’
‘Unless…’
‘Unless, what?’
Payne rubbed his chin. ‘Unless he was a soldier.’
‘Trust me, I considered that. Unfortunately, my computer doesn’t have access to everything. Certain databases are beyond my clearance.’
‘And, what?’
‘And what do we do when something is above our pay grade?’
Jones grinned. ‘We call Randy.’
As a computer researcher at the Pentagon, Randy Raskin was privy to many of the government’s top secrets, a mountain of classified data that was just there for the taking if someone knew how to access it. His job was to make sure the latest information got into the right hands at the most appropriate time. Over the years, Payne and Jones had used his services on so many occasions they had developed a friendship.
‘Is it my turn to call, or yours?’ Payne won dered.
Jones laughed. ‘It doesn’t matter. He’ll give us shit no matter what.’
Raskin was known to get cranky, especially when they asked him to break the law and track down data they weren’t supposed to have. It never stopped him from helping, though. Raskin was a hacker at heart, always looking to circumvent the rules.
‘Actually, before we call, there’s something else we need to discuss. Something that will take longer than a computer search.’
Payne nodded. ‘Prior to last night’s shooting, I was more than willing to ask some Pitt professors for help, but not now. Not if it’s going to put them in danger.’
Jones agreed. ‘Do you have someone else in mind?’
‘As a matter of fact, I do. Someone far away from here.’
‘How far?’
He leaned back in his chair. ‘I was thinking Switzerland.’
20
Kusendorf, Switzerland
(82 miles south-east of Bern)
‘Hello,’ he blurted, completely out of breath. ‘This is Petr.’
‘Hey, Petr, it’s Jonathon Payne.’
Ulster beamed. Even though he was in his mid-forties, he came across as boy-like, due to the twinkle in his eye and his zest for life. ‘Jonathon, my boy, it’s wonderful to hear your voice.’
‘Yours, too.’
Payne grimaced at the wheezing. ‘Did I catch you at a bad time?’
‘No, not at all.’
‘Are you sure? Because it sounds like you’re having a heart attack.’
‘Sorry,’ he apologized, ‘I ran to the phone.’
‘How far did you run?’
‘From the kitchen.’
‘Wow. No comment.’
‘I assure you, it’s not
Payne laughed at the explanation, realizing Ulster’s shortness of breath was more about the size of his belly than the elevation of Kusendorf, a small village in the southernmost canton of Switzerland. But Payne was willing to cut him some slack. As director of the Ulster Archives, the finest private collection of documents and antiquities in the world, Ulster spent most of his time sitting down, studying important books and relics, not exercising in the Alps.
During the early 1930s, Austrian philanthropist Conrad Ulster, an avid collector of rare artefacts, sensed the political instability in his country and realized there was a good chance that the Nazis would seize his prized library. To
For the past decade, the Archives had been run by his grandson Petr. Petr had befriended Payne and Jones a few years ago when they had sought his expertise during one of their missions. Since that time, their friendship had evolved into a mutually beneficial partnership.
After making their startling discovery in Greece, Payne and Jones realized an outside expert should be brought in to catalogue the massive treasure, someone they could trust to protect their personal interests. Thanks to his sterling reputation in the academic community, Ulster was approved by the Greek government. He had been handling their affairs ever since.
‘Petr,’ Payne asked, ‘do you have a moment to talk?’
‘If it’s okay with you, I’d like to put you on speakerphone with DJ.’
‘Yes, of course, put him on.’
Payne handed the phone to Jones, who pressed the appropriate button on the unit. As he did, Jones asked, ‘Can you hear me, Petr?’
‘Hello, David, what a pleasant surprise! It’s been far too long.’
‘I couldn’t agree more. How were things in Greece?’
‘Wonderful, just wonderful! I will be sending you another cheque in January. I know how you Americans are. Always deferring your money until next tax year. Isn’t that correct?’
‘You got that right,’ Jones said.
‘One of these days,’ Ulster suggested, ‘perhaps you’ll wise up and allow me to deposit your funds directly into a Swiss bank account. It can be our little secret.’
Payne smiled. ‘Millions of dollars is
Ulster chuckled. ‘Perhaps you’re right. However, if you change your mind, I have several
‘Great. We’ll keep that in mind.’
‘Speaking of discretion,’ Jones said, ‘there’s something that Jon and I would like to discuss with you, but only if you’re willing to keep it confidential.’
‘Colour me intrigued,’ Ulster whispered as he closed his office door. ‘What have you fellows stumbled onto now?’
Payne spoke next. ‘Just so you know, there have been two attempts on our lives during the last twenty-four hours. If you don’t want to be a part of this, we’ll completely understand.’
Ulster trembled slightly. ‘Now you’ve done it; I’ve got goose bumps!’
‘We’re serious, Petr.’
‘I am, too. You guys are so much fun!’
Payne grinned. He knew Ulster would react this way. ‘Consider yourself warned.’
‘Yes, yes, I’ve been warned. Now tell Uncle Petr all about it.’
Jones glanced at his computer screen and clicked the SEND button on his e-mail. He had been so confident that Ulster would be interested in the project he had already scanned in the document and typed his message. ‘I’m
