Page 49 of The Atlas Maneuver
“And you didn’t see them coming?” Koger asked.
The big man grinned. “They caught me napping.”
“A lot of good all these cameras do you asleep,” she had to say.
“Where’s the house staff?” Koger asked.
“Most are on their day off. The others were out on errands.”
“What did the PSIA want?” Koger asked, his tone suggesting he needed an answer.
“They demanded the map. I told them no. They searched, found nothing, then took me prisoner.”
“And where were they taking you?”
“That wasn’t mentioned.”
“Why did they think you had the map?” Koger asked.
“I suppose my inquiries to certain Japanese sources seeking help with its deciphering did not go unnoticed.”
Koger shook his head. “Does Langley know you have the map?”
“Not that I’m aware. But I doubt they care. Having the map is one thing. Digging any gold from the ground in the Philippines is another matter entirely, bordering on the impossible.”
That she could believe. Once, the country was an American ally, with Marcos heavily under Washington’s thumb. But in recent years the politics there had veered to the far right and were openly anti-American. The last thing anyone would want was to reveal the locations of huge amounts of buried gold for that regime to enjoy.
“The vault in Basel was empty,” Koger said. “Not a speck of gold. And they knew we were coming.”
“Not surprising. But you had to take a look. Catherine Gledhill is a careful, careful woman.” Their host waddled across the room, his gate oddly undulating, stopping at the windows. “This situation is escalating, Derrick. Operation Neverlight in full swing. Everybody is expendable. No untidy ends will be left.”
“I need you to explain things to Cassiopeia,” Koger said.
“Really?” Citrone said, beaming.
“Yeah. No more secrets.”
“It’s classified.”
“Yet you, retired, know all about it,” Koger said.
Citrone smiled. “I still have friends. And I told you this wasn’t going to be easy.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“My dear,” Citrone said to her. “How are you with stories?”
She knew the right answer. “I love them.”
CHAPTER 28
6:00P.M.
CATHERINE HAD SHOWERED AND CHANGED, NOW SPORTING Astrapless, pale-blue evening gown, her trademarked hair bun replaced by free-flowing, stylish curls. She’d never considered herself attractive. Her features lacked the symmetry of perfect beauty, her mouth too wide and full-lipped, the nose a fraction strong. But when she smiled all of the pieces fit. That smile had always served her well.
This evening was important, but it also demanded a certain informality. Pressure, but not too much. Enthusiasm, yet tempered with caution. The consuls had been working toward this day for several years. Tonight would be the culmination of some intense lobbying and liberal bribing. The trick came in balancing the right measure of each ingredient. Too much of one, too little of another, and nothing would materialize. Thankfully, she was an expert in the art of political persuasion.
She lived an hour north from Luxembourg City, near the village of Esch-sur-Sûre, one the most picturesque spots in all of Europe. The estate sat on a rocky loop in the Sûre River Valley, surrounded by distant hills that dropped from steep cliffs down to the river. Not far away stood the crumbly ruins of a 10th-century castle, a place that conjured up images of knights, horses, and invadingarmies. Belgium bordered on one side, Germany the other, a mere twenty kilometers of dense Luxembourg forest in between.
