Chapter V

THE NEXT DAY AROUND NOON, Maddux left his office at Opel to check in with Pritchett. Maddux wanted to debrief about the previous night’s plan and what went wrong, but he also wanted to deliver some news.

“They’re sending you to Belgrade? What on earth for?” Pritchett asked.

“Our embassy there set up a meeting between the Yugoslavian minister of commerce and Opel in an attempt to discuss building a plant in Belgrade to create some new jobs,” Maddux said.

Pritchett furrowed his brow and looked at his coffee in disgust. “But why do you have to go? That seems out of your area of expertise.”

“I’m part of the advance team that goes to these types of meetings. However, if you don’t think it would be in my best interest, you could make a phone call.”

Pritchett waved dismissively. “No, it’ll be fine. I’m afraid of how it might look for you if someone has suspected you as a spy. But just be careful.”

“I will,” Maddux said. “It might give me a chance to meet with Kensington again and get an update on the search for Cordell.”

“That would be helpful, but if you do meet with him, make sure it’s a place where you’d naturally see him, like at the embassy perhaps.”

* * *

THE NEXT MORNING, Maddux boarded a plane for Belgrade with the rest of the team members from Opel. When they landed, they were met by a liaison from the embassy who escorted them to their hotel. As they were unloading their luggage, Maddux asked the embassy worker to pass a note along to Walt Kensington.

“I’ll see what I can do,” the man said. “Mr. Kensington didn’t come in this morning.”

“Is that unusual?”

“He has an irregular schedule, but he always makes an appearance in the office for at least some portion of the day. I’ll make sure he gets this, no matter when he comes in.”

Maddux grabbed his bag and headed to the registration desk to check in. After getting his room key, he took the elevator upstairs to settle in. He spent the next hour preparing for their dinner meeting with Yugoslavian government officials scheduled for later that evening.

At the restaurant, Maddux engaged Yuri Gaspar, the Yugoslavian minister of commerce, in a wide-ranging conversation. They discussed the most recent Olympic games as well as the revolution of personal transportation thanks to the booming automobile industry.

“I really believe our country’s economy could be revitalized if we had more transportation solutions,” Gaspar said. “There are certain communities that are thriving because their economy in insulated. But the rest of Yugoslavia—even here in Belgrade—suffers.”

“And you think making the people more mobile will change the economic outlook?” Maddux asked.

“It would not hurt. Right now, the Yugoslavian people have two choices for their lives: more or leave the country.”

“From what I understand, the second option doesn’t really exist.”

Gaspar nodded. “Some people make it out alive, but we are losing some of our best and brightest, lured away by the success offered beyond our borders.”

Maddux wanted to ask Gaspar about the draw of freedom as well but decided against stirring the pot any further.

“Well, if there’s one thing I know about Opel, it’s that we make some damn fine automobiles at an affordable price. If we partner with you, we’ll put people to work and give the great people of this country more opportunities with better mobility.”

Gaspar laughed heartily before tipping back the rest of his wine glass. “Now that is what I like to hear.”

Maddux excused himself from the table to use the restroom. Once inside, he was met by the embassy liaison who had picked the team up from the airport.

Maddux eyed the man closely. “If anyone sees us talking—”

“Don’t worry,” the man said. “I’ve been watching and when I saw you get up, I made sure the restroom stayed empty.”

“So, why are you here?” Maddux asked as he washed his hands.

“There’s been a development with Mr. Kensington.”

Maddux arched his eyebrows. “A development?”

“Mr. Kensington never came in today. We sent someone by his apartment, but he never answered. We spoke with several other agents at the Belgrade station, and they said he was supposed to be there for a meeting with them but never showed up.”

“So, what are you trying to say?”

The man looked down. “Mr. Kensington is missing.”