The Alexandria Link

“Apparently it’s potent enough that the Saudis, and the Israelis, both acted on it five years ago.”

“And that’s significant. The Israelis aren’t prone to capriciousness. Something made them want Haddad dead.”

“Cotton’s in a mess,” she said. “His boy is at risk and he’s not going to get a bit of help from us. In fact, officially we’re going to sit back and watch, then take advantage of him.”

“I think Daley is underestimating his opposition. There’s been a lot of pla

She agreed. “That’s the problem with bureaucrats. They think everything is negotiable.”

The cell phone in Stephanie’s pocket startled her with its vibration. She’d left word not to be disturbed unless it was vital. She answered the call, listened for a moment, then clicked off.

“I just lost an agent. The man I sent to meet Malone. He was killed at Kronborg Castle.”

Green was silent.

Pain built behind her eyes. “Lee Durant had a wife and children.”

“Any word from Malone?”

She shook her head. “They haven’t heard from him.”

“Perhaps you were right earlier. Maybe we should involve other agencies?”

Her throat tightened. “It wouldn’t work. This has to be handled another way.”

Green sat still, lips pursed, eyes unwavering, as if he knew what had to be done.

“I intend to help Cotton,” she said.

“And what could you do? You’re not a field agent.”

She recalled how Malone had told her the same thing not long ago in France, but she’d handled herself well enough. “I’ll get my own help. People I can trust. I have a lot of friends who owe me favors.”

“I can help, too.”

“I don’t want you involved.”

“But I am.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” she said.

“You might be surprised.”

“And what would Daley do then? We have no idea who his allies are. It’s better I do this quietly. You stay out of it.”

Green’s face registered nothing. “What about the briefing this morning on Capitol Hill?”

“I’ll do it. That way Daley should be placated.”

“I’ll give you whatever cover I can.”

A smile bent the edges of her mouth. “You know, this may have been the best few hours we ever spent together.”

“I’m sorry that we didn’t spend more time like this.”

“Me, too,” she said. “But I have a friend who needs me.”

SIXTEEN

MALONE LEFT THE CAR AND WORKED HIS WAY CLOSER TO THE house where the Volvo sat parked. He could not approach from the front-too many windows, too little cover-so he detoured into a grassy alley adjacent to the house next door and approached from the rear. The dwellings in this part of Copenhagen were like his neighborhood in Atlanta-shady lanes of compact brick residences surrounded by equally compact front and rear yards.

He shielded the Beretta at his side and used the foliage to mask his continued advance. So far he’d seen no one. A shoulder-high hedge divided one yard from the next. He maneuvered to where he could see over the hedge and spotted a rear door into the house where the shooter had gone. Before he could decide on what course to take, the rear door was flung open and two men emerged.

The shooter from Kronborg and another man, short and stumpy with no neck.

The two were talking, and they walked around to the front of the house. He obeyed his instincts and rushed from his hiding place, entering the backyard through an opening in the hedge. He darted straight for the rear door and, with gun ready, slipped inside.

The one-story house was quiet. Two bedrooms, a den, kitchen, and bath. One bedroom door was closed. He quickly surveyed the rooms. Empty. He approached the closed door. His left hand gripped the knob, his right held the gun, finger on the trigger. He slowly twisted, then shoved open the door.

And saw Gary.

The boy was sitting in a chair, beside the window, reading. His son, startled, glanced up from the pages, then his face beamed when he realized who was there.

Malone, too, felt a surge of elation.

“Dad.” Then Gary saw the gun and said, “What’s going on?”

“I can’t explain, but we have to go.”

“They said you were in trouble. Are those men who are trying to hurt me and Mom here?”

He nodded as panic swept over him. “They’re here. We have to go.”

Gary stood from the chair, and Malone couldn’t help himself. He hugged his son hard. This child was his-in every way. Screw Pam.

He said, “Stay behind me. Do exactly as I say. Understand?”

“There going to be trouble?”

“I hope not.”

He retraced his route to the rear door and peered outside. The yard was empty. He would need only a minute for them to make their escape.

He exited with Gary close at his heels.

The opening in the hedge loomed fifty feet away.

He maneuvered Gary in front of him, since the last he’d seen of the two men they were heading toward the street. Gun ready, he bolted straight for the yard next door. He kept his attention to their flank, allowing Gary to lead the way.

They passed through the opening.

“How predictable.”

He whirled and froze.

Standing twenty feet away was No Neck, Pam in his grasp, a sound-suppressed Glock jammed into her neck. The Kronborg Shooter stood off to the side, gun aimed directly at Malone.

“I found your ex wandering this way,” No Neck said with a Dutch twang. “I assume you told her to stay in the car?”

His gaze locked on Pam’s. Her eyes pleaded with him to forgive her.

“Gary,” she said, unable to move.

“Mom.”

Malone caught the desperation in both their voices. He repositioned Gary behind him.

“Let’s see how you did, Malone. You tracked my man over there from the castle into town, waited for him to leave, then followed, thinking your boy would be here.”

Definitely the voice from the cell phone last night. “Which all turned out to be right.”

The other man was unmoved. A sickening feeling invaded Malone’s stomach.

He’d been led.

“Pop the magazine out of that Beretta and toss it away.”

Malone hesitated, then decided he had no choice. He did as told.

“Now let’s trade. I’ll give you your ex and you give me the boy.”

“What if I say keep the ex?”

The man chuckled. “I’m sure you don’t want your son to watch while I blow his mother’s brains out, which is exactly what I’ll do, because I don’t really want her.”

Pam’s eyes widened at the prospects that her foolishness had spawned.

“Dad, what’s going on?” Gary asked.

“Son, you’re going to have to go with him-”

“No,” Pam yelled. “Don’t.”

“He’ll kill you,” Malone made clear.

No Neck’s finger lay firmly on the Glock’s trigger, and Malone hoped Pam stood still. He stared at Gary. “You have to do this for Mom. But I’ll be back for you, I swear. You can count on it.” He hugged the boy again. “I love you. Be tough for me. Okay?”

Gary nodded, hesitated an instant, then stepped toward No Neck, who released his grip on Pam. She instantly hugged Gary and started crying.

“You okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Let me stay with him,” she said. “I won’t give you any trouble. Cotton can find whatever it is you want and we’ll be good. I promise.”

“Shut up,” No Neck said.

“I swear to you. I won’t be a problem.”

He leveled the gun at her forehead. “Take your tight ass over there and shut up.”

“Don’t push him,” Malone said to her.

She gave Gary one more hug, then slowly retreated his way.

No Neck chuckled. “Good choice.”

Malone stared his adversary down.

The man’s gun suddenly swung right and three sound-suppressed bullets left the barrel and plowed into the Kronborg Shooter. The body teetered, then dropped, spine-first, to the ground.

Pam’s hand covered her mouth. “Oh, Jesus.”

Malone saw the shocked look on Gary’s face. No fifteen-year-old should be forced to watch that.