Page 76 of The Atlas Maneuver
The goshawk swung around in the bright sky. She whirled the lure, summoning the bird back to her wrist. The hawk dove, coming straight at her in a steep powered descent. At the last moment the bird’s wings arched back, slowing its speed, talons extended as it hovered above her wrist, then gently dropped onto her sheathed arm.
She offered the bird a morsel of red meat, which the hawkdevoured in short pecks from its hooked beak. She gently stroked the wings, which the bird accepted with gratitude.
Like the nations they’d already enticed.
Eager, hungry, aggressive, but trainable. Responsive to a lure. Oblivious to their own vulnerabilities. Central and South America, Eastern Europe, and Africa offered the prime initial opportunities. Economies that teetered on the brink, existing from month to month, with little to no cash reserves. In Central America, Guatemala was the largest and most stable economy. Panama and Costa Rica followed behind, with El Salvador, Honduras, and Nicaragua the least stable. South America showed more promise. Brazil, Argentina, Chile, Colombia, Peru, and Paraguay possessed natural resources and cheap labor, but not the skill and expertise to maximize those advantages. They were all like her goshawk, who continued to stand docile, perched on her arm, waiting for another handout.
Which she offered.
Most of Central and South America were now, or about to be, within the fold. The rest would soon follow. Already for those countries that had adopted bitcoin as their reserve currency there’d been economic growth. All were pleased. No complaints. So far, several multibillion-dollar contracts from bank clients had been directed toward Chile, Honduras, and Argentina. More were being negotiated. The bank possessed contacts across the globe, all looking for the best deals at the greatest return, and she intended to deliver. A win for the country, the client, the bank, and the world.
But all that was now threatened by Kelly and a spy.
Overhead, a pair of buzzards quartered the ground, drifting at about thirty meters high, crossing, one below the other as they traced the lines of some invisible grid, treating the sky as their territory. Broad wings grabbed the breeze, and she felt just as light and untrammeled as those birds. She envied the casualness of their hunting. Never in a hurry. Not like the hawk, who wasted no time circling its prey, certain of success.
In the distance across the meadow she spotted a doe. The animaldragged a hoof back and forth, dipping into the grass with gentle plunging strokes of her neck, then raising her head to full height, allowing her ears to flare wide open. Then she spotted a fawn without spots standing tautly among the trees. Coming out into the open could be foolish. But hunting was not permitted on her property, so the animals had developed an aversion to caution.
The fawn followed the doe out into the open field, both feeding on the grass. She angled the hawk so it saw both animals. The red eyes locked like radar. A gesture with her arm and the bird took to the air, soaring up into a sky that gleamed like a bright pearl. She watched as the hawk angled its flight, placing the sun behind it, shielding its presence from anything watching from the ground.
Smart.
The doe and fawn were now in the center of the meadow, still eating, oblivious to any danger that was not at ground level.
Big mistake.
Danger came from all around.
The goshawk tucked its wings and dove in a burst of blinding speed. The doe sensed something, raising her head, then rushing off in a quick run. The fawn hesitated, unsure what was happening, seemingly deciding between the delicious grass and the fast exit of what was surely its mother.
That moment would be fatal.
The hawk swooped down, wings out, talons extended, plunging them into the fawn. The deer tried to break free, but the hawk knew to go for the neck, its beak ripping into the flesh. The fawn dropped to the ground and tried to kick its way free, but the hawk worked its talons deeper, pecking away, squeezing harder, until the fawn stopped moving.
Amazing.
Such a small predator able to subdue such large prey.
Today she would be like that goshawk.
Equally certain of success.
CHAPTER 41
CASSIOPEIA SLIPPED ON THE WET SUIT, WHICH COVERED HER FROM NECKto ankles. The neoprene fit perfectly. Which made her wonder.
How far ahead of them was Rob Citrone?
Everything from Koger signaled that he wanted them to keep going, and she agreed, as she was more than curious about what lay below the surface of Lake Geneva. Was it an old wreck? Or something else entirely? Citrone seemed to think that he had them under control. So whatever he was going to do, there’d be no reason not to do it.
“The wreck is about thirty meters down.” Citrone said. “We are floating right above it.”
“And what about all that pollution you mentioned,” she asked.
“This part of the lake is quite clean. You will be fine.”
But she was not comforted by the words of a pathological liar.
She slipped her hands through the straps and lifted the air tank up and over her head, wiggling her outstretched arms and allowing the harness to settle on her shoulders. It had been a while since she’d last dived. She’d learned in her early twenties, experiencing many dives in the chilly Mediterranean off the Spanish coast. Over the past fifteen years she’d periodically enjoyed the Med, but she’d also dived in the warmer waters of the South Pacific, Hawaii, and the Red Sea.
