HE TOOK THE long way back through the Tiergarten. It didn’t take her long to find him. The light was cold and snow had begun to fall, making the dreary, pre-springtime park appear suddenly fairytale-like. Few people were around during the workday, so when Stag saw her, in her scarlet coat and pale blue gloves, she was impossible not to notice.
“Beautiful, is it not?” she said, stopping a few feet in front of him.
“Yes.”
A long silence ensued. Finally, he said, “Aren’t you taking a chance here? If Tarnhelm—”
“Portier sends his greetings.”
“Ah. Today you must be the messenger, not the assassin.”
“He wants to talk about the second bomb. And about what you found in the closet at 12A.”
“Ah, so he knows. Not to be petty but there is the rest of the money he owes me.” He arched one brow.
She almost smiled. “He would like to make the payment and discuss further negotiations.”
Stag nodded. “You know with the price of this bomb, I think I undervalued it.”
“They are watching me.”
“Yes.”
“Shall I tell him you will meet him in Zurich?”
“He’ll meet me in Bali, in my own time.”
“The bomb’s new owner is American. I thought you should know.”
“They told me about NATO’s White Rose. Will TWR be able to stop it?”
Her face went hard. “Portier is very ill. He wants to see the world burn.”
“But you have your daughter …”
“My daughter is being held at his home, Eisschloss.”
Stag felt the punch to his heart. “He suspects.”
“Yes.”
“You can choose the world or your daughter.”
“For me, there is no world without her.”
“He demands suicide missions from everyone, doesn’t he?” His fury rose. “Why not just kill the bastard?”
“It won’t stop the company. They need to be exposed. This is why I have to play both sides.”
“I want more than to just expose the company. I want them, each and every one personally. After Jake and Harry—”
“We must stop this bomb. And the only way to do that is to let Portier feel he still has all the control.”
“Yes.”
“We’re looking for any flight plan over Barvikha, but …” Her words dwindled. She started again. “I believe he has additional plans.”
“Why do you think that?”
“I’ve been able to intercept his messages. He’s been in touch with Moscow lately. And he hates Sadler. He doesn’t care for DC and would love to see it on its knees. If Moscow believes the US was behind the Sputnik Luxe bombing, they will retaliate.”
“Any outcome is possible. Especially when a man is dying.”
“Would my meeting with him delay the flight?”
“No.”
“Plan the meeting anyway. That way he won’t suspect.”
“Portier needs to show the client he’s dropping their five-billion-dollar bomb where he said he would. The leak of the flight plan to Moscow will be his signature.”
“Does TWR know to watch for it?”
She nodded. Then looked nervously behind her. “I must go. I’ll tell him you wish for the meeting as soon as possible, but the diary is in Bali.”
“Yes.”
“Stag.”
He met her gaze.
“I … I like the man you are.”
“Save your daughter. Save yourself. Maybe then we can save the world and get the hell out of it.”
She tried to smile.
“Do you like Bali?” he asked. “I’m thinking of retiring there.”
The smile finally came.
The crated “ball bearing” was slowly lifted by crane and placed on the flatbed of the truck. Men worked diligently to see to the straps holding it down. They signaled the all clear, and the truck took off toward the airport.
The Global 7000 was in the private hangar, ready to go. The cargo doors had been significantly widened, but the paperwork didn’t show any of the modifications. As long as the doors closed properly, the ground crew would clear it for takeoff. It now just waited for its payload.
The hangar supervisor opened the doors for the Iveco flatbed, which trundled in slowly, crate intact.
“How are they going to make that fit?” the supervisor asked, eyeing the large crate and the new cargo doors.
“They’ve got a team. That’s all I know.” The Iveco driver jerked his head in the direction behind him.
“All right. Not my problem. But if it’s not secure, the plane won’t take off.”
“It’s a ball bearing. They’ve got engineers. They’ll get it right.”
The Iveco flatbed stopped next to the plane. By the time the driver had descended, there were armed men entering the plane hangar like they were readying for an assault on Entebbe.
“That’s a lot of gun power for a ball bearing,” the supervisor remarked.
“I told you they’d get it right.”
The supervisor shrugged. He began ticking off items on his clipboard, and walked by the crate, which said only: Contents FRAGILE.