Daley seemed unmoved. “Which is why the Saudis and the Israelis wanted Haddad dead. He said proof of his theory was to be found within the lost Library of Alexandria. And he was told that this was the case by someone called a Guardian.”
“As were those other three individuals,” Dixon said. “Each one visited by an emissary called a Guardian, who offered a way to find the library.”
“What kind of proof could there possibly be?” Stephanie asked.
Daley seemed impatient. “Haddad told the Palestinian authorities five years ago that he believed ancient documents could be used to verify his conclusions. Just an Old Testament, written before the time of Christ, in its original Hebrew could prove decisive. None older than the tenth century exist today. Haddad knew from other writings that have survived that there were biblical texts in the Library of Alexandria. Finding one may be the only way to prove anything, since the Saudis will not allow archaeological research in Asir.”
Stephanie remembered what Green told her early Tuesday morning. “That’s why they bulldozed those villages. They were afraid. They didn’t want anything found. Nothing that might be associated with the Jewish Bible.”
“And it’s why they now want you dead,” Dixon said. “You’re interfering in their business. No chances are going to be taken.”
Stephanie stared out into the Space Hall. Rockets on display reached for the ceiling. Excited schoolchildren wove their way through the exhibits. She glared at Dixon. “Your government believes all this?”
“That’s why those three men were killed. It’s why Haddad was targeted.”
She pointed at Daley. “He’s not a friend of Israel. He’d want to use whatever he found to bring your government to its knees.”
Dixon laughed. “Stephanie, you’re losing it.”
“There’s no question that’s his motive.”
“You have no idea of my motives,” Daley said, his indignation rising. “I know you’re a liar.”
Daley stared back at her with uncertainty. He almost seemed confused, which surprised her, so she asked, “What’s really going on, Larry?”
“More than you can possibly realize.”
FIFTY-THREE
LISBON
8:45 PM
MALONE RETREATED INTO THE GIFT SHOP BUT KEPT HIS ATTENTION on the three armed men, who were advancing in trained movements across the lower gallery. Pros. Great.
He used one of the glass cases adjacent to the open door as a shield, Pam beside him, and continued to peer out into the cloister. McCollum was crouched behind the center table.
“They’re down and we’re up. Should buy us a few minutes. The church and galleries are big. It’ll take time to search. Those locked?” he asked McCollum, motioning to the other set of glass doors leading out of the shop.
“Afraid so. They lead down and out. So they must lock them as a precaution.”
He didn’t like their position. “We need to get out of here.”
“Cotton,” Pam said, and he turned his attention back out into the upper gallery. One of the men had emerged from the stairway leading down and started advancing toward the gift shop.
McCollum slipped up behind him and whispered, “Take her over to the register and get behind the counter.”
Anyone who could shoot two men in the head and then enjoy his breakfast warranted some respect. So he decided not to argue. He grasped Pam’s arm and led her to the far side of the counter.
He saw McCollum palm the knife.
The three glass display cases nestled beside one another with a gap between wide enough to accommodate McCollum. Darkness would shield him, at least until it was too late for his prey to react.
The armed man drew closer.
STEPHANIE WAS LOSING PATIENCE WITH LARRY DALEY. “WHAT do you mean
“There are some within the administration who want to prove Haddad’s theory,” Daley said.
She recalled what Daley had said to Brent Green when he thought they were alone. “Including you.”
“That’s not true.”
She wasn’t buying it. “Get real, Larry. You’re only here because I have the dirt on you.”
Daley seemed unfazed. “Time for a reality check, Stephanie. Our media people will spin whatever you do into a tale of fabricated evidence by an out-of-control employee trying to save her job. Sure, there may be some embarrassment, questions from the press, but you don’t have enough to take me or anyone else down. I didn’t give a dime to anyone. And those lobbyists? It’s a swearing contest. A battle you’ll lose.”
“Maybe. But you’d be radioactive. Your career over.”
Daley shrugged. “Occupational hazard.”
Cassiopeia was studying the exhibit hall and Stephanie sensed she was anxious. So she said to Daley, “Get to the point.”
“The point,” Dixon said, “is that we want all this to go away. But somebody within
“That’s right. Him.” And she pointed at Daley.
Cassiopeia drifted toward the Lunar Module exhibit and the flurry of teenagers crowded around its base.
“Stephanie,” Daley said, “you blamed me for the Alexandria Link being leaked. But you don’t know your friends from your enemies. You hate this administration. You think the president is an idiot. But there are others who are far worse. Dangerous people.”
“No,” she said. “They’re all fanatics. Party loyalists who’ve shot off their mouths for years. Now they’re in a position to do something.”
“And for the moment, Israel is at the top of their agenda.”
“Skip the riddles, Larry. Tell me what you want me to know.”
“The vice president is behind this.”
Had she heard right? “Get real.”
“He’s connected to the Saudis. They’ve financed him for a long time. He’s been around. A few terms in Congress, three years as treasury secretary, now the second seat. He wants the top job, makes no secret, and the party faithful have promised him the nomination. He has friends who need good relations with the Saudis, and those friends will be the ones supplying him with money. He and the president disagree on the Middle East. He’s tight with the Saudi royal family, but keeps that quiet. Publicly he’s climbed their asses a few times. But he made sure the Saudis knew about the Alexandria Link. His token for their goodwill.”
What she was hearing rang contrary to what Brent Green had said, since the attorney general himself had taken the blame for the leak.
Cassiopeia returned.
“What is it?” Stephanie asked her.
“Finish this.”
“Problem?”
“Bad feeling.”
“Too much intrigue in your life,” Dixon said to Cassiopeia.
“Too much lying in yours.”
Stephanie faced Daley, her thoughts arguing. “I thought you said a few minutes ago that some in the administration
“Stephanie, what you took from my house would finish me. I work in the shadows. Always have. But somebody has to do it. Do you want to get me, or do you want who’s really behind all this?”
