The Alexandria Link

Not sound-suppressed. High-caliber.

Then, silence.

“Hello,” a male voice called out.

He peered around the column. Standing below was a tall man with grizzled sandy blond hair. He had a broad brow, a short nose, and a round chin. He was squarely built and dressed in jeans and a canvas shirt beneath a leather jacket.

“It looked like you needed help,” the man said, gun at his right side.

The two attackers lay on the floor, blood oozing onto the marble. This man was apparently a good shot, too.

Malone retreated back behind the column. “Who are you?”

“A friend.”

“Forgive me if I’m skeptical.”

“Wouldn’t blame you. So stay there and wait for the police. You can explain about these three dead bodies.” He heard footsteps, receding. “And by the way, you’re welcome.”

Something occurred to him. “What about the cleaning crew? Why aren’t they rushing in here?”

The footsteps stopped. “They’re unconscious, upstairs.”

“Your doing?”

“Not mine.”

“What’s your interest?”

“The same as many who’ve come here in the middle of the night. I’m looking for the Library of Alexandria.”

Malone said nothing.

“Tell you what. I’m staying at the Savoy, room 453. I have some information that I doubt you possess, and you might have some I don’t know about. If you’d like to talk, come find me. If not, we’ll probably see each other again along the way. Your choice. But together we might be able to speed up the process. It’s up to you.”

Heels clacked the floor with a solid tread, fading away into the house.

“What the hell was that?” Pam asked.

“His way of introducing himself.”

“He killed two men.”

“For which I’m grateful.”

“Cotton, we’ve got to get out of here.”

“Tell me about it. But first we need to know who those men are.”

He fled from the column and rushed down the marble stairs. Pam followed. He searched all three corpses but found no identification.

“Grab the guns,” he said, pocketing six spare magazines lifted from the bodies. “These guys came ready for a fight.”

“I’m actually getting used to seeing blood,” she said.

“I told you it’d get easier.”

He thought more about the man. The Savoy. Room 453. His way of saying, You can trust me. Pam still clutched the book about St. Jerome, and he carried the leather satchel from Haddad’s apartment.

Pam turned to leave.

“Where you going?” he asked.

“I’m hungry. I hope the Savoy has an excellent breakfast.”

He gri

She caught on quick.

THIRTY-SIX

WASHINGTON, DC

STEPHANIE WASN’T SURE SHE COULD TAKE MUCH MORE. HER gaze locked onto Brent Green. “Explain yourself.”

“We allowed the files to be compromised. There’s a traitor among us and we want him. Or her.”

“Who’s we?”

“The Justice Department. It’s a top-secret investigation. Only myself and two others know. My two closest deputies, and I’d place my life in their hands.”

“Liars couldn’t care less about your faith.”

“Agreed. But the leak isn’t in Justice. It’s higher. Outside the department. We dangled bait and it was taken.”

She could not believe what she was hearing. “And you risked Gary Malone’s life in the process.”

“No one could have predicted that. We had no idea anyone, other than the Israelis and the Saudis, gave a damn about George Haddad. The leak we’re trying to plug runs straight to them, not anywhere else.”

“That you know of.” Her thoughts flooded with the Order of the Golden Fleece.

“If I had possessed any clue that Malone’s family was in danger, I would never have allowed the tactic to be used.”

She wanted to believe that.

“We actually thought Haddad’s whereabouts was a relatively harmless piece of information. Allowing the Israelis to know Haddad was alive didn’t seem that risky, especially since there was nothing in the file to indicate where he was hidden.”

“Except a trail straight to Cotton.”

“And we assumed that, if challenged, Malone would know what to do.”

“He’s out, Brent,” she almost shouted. “He doesn’t work for us anymore. We don’t place ex-operatives in danger, especially without their knowledge.”

“We weighed those risks and decided that to find our leak, they were worth taking. Having the boy kidnapped changed everything. I’m glad Cotton was able to retrieve him.”

“That’s so wonderful of you. You’ll be lucky he doesn’t break your nose.”

“This White House is an abomination,” Green muttered. “Bunch of righteous, corrupt pricks.”

She’d never heard Green speak that way before.

“They expound how Christian they are, how American, but their allegiance is only to themselves-and the dollar. Decision after decision has been made, each one clothed in an American flag, that does nothing but fatten the pockets of major corporations-entities that have contributed heavily to their party cause. It sickens me. I sit in meetings where policy is couched in terms of what’s good television, rather than what’s good for the nation. I keep silent. Say nothing. Be a team player. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to allow this country to be compromised. I took an oath, and unlike many in this administration, mine means something to me.”

“So why not expose them for what they are?”

“So far I’m not aware that anyone has broken the law. Disgusting, immoral, greedy? I’ve seen those, but they’re not illegal. I assure you, if anyone, the president included, had crossed the line, I would have acted. But no one has gone that far.”

“Except the leak.”

“Which is precisely why I’m so interested-a dam has to be cracked before it’ll break.”

She wasn’t fooled. “Let’s face it, Brent, you like being the chief law enforcement officer, and you wouldn’t last long if you went after one of them and failed.”

Green appraised her, worry in his eyes. “I like you remaining alive more.”

She brushed away his concern. “Did you find the leak?”

“I believe we-”

Cassiopeia rushed back into the kitchen. “We’ve got company. Two men just wheeled to the curb. Suits and earpieces. Secret Service.”

“My detail,” Green said. “Coming to check for the night.”

“We need to go,” Cassiopeia made clear.

“No,” Green said. “Cut me loose and I’ll handle them.”

Cassiopeia headed for the back door.

Stephanie made a decision, the kind she’d made a hundred thousand times. And even though she’d clearly chosen horribly throughout the day, like her daddy used to say, Right, wrong, doesn’t matter. Just do something.

“Wait.”

Stephanie stepped to the counter and searched a couple of drawers, finding a knife. “We’re cutting him loose.” She approached Green and said, “I hope I know what I’m doing.”

SABRE HUSTLED THROUGH THE OXFORDSHIRE WOODS TO WHERE he’d left his car. Dawn was coming to the English countryside. Mist shrouded the fields around him, the cool air damp. He was pleased with his first encounter with Cotton Malone. Just enough to whet the American’s curiosity, while satisfying any paranoia. Killing the men he’d hired to attack Malone had seemed a perfect introduction. He would have shot all three if Malone hadn’t taken down the one.

Surely Malone had searched the bodies after he left, but Sabre had made certain that not one of the men carried identification. His instructions had been for them to confront Malone and pin him down. But once Malone eliminated the first of their number, the game had changed. He wasn’t surprised. Malone had proven in Copenhagen that he knew how to handle himself.

Thank heaven for the tape recorder in Haddad’s apartment. That, combined with the information from the computer, had schooled him enough so he could entice Malone into his confidence. All he had to do now was return to the Savoy and wait.