- •It was a rather sensible policy, from 47’s point of view.
- •It was cool inside the dimly lit room, and a quick check of the bathroom was sufficient to confirm what Agent 47 had already sensed, that everything was the way he had left it.
- •It had been awkward, standing there like a child waiting for permission to sit, and it was a relief to take the other chair.
- •47’S record was well above average, and he was rewarded with more applause than most.
- •It was a horrible break, but there was no time to think about that as 47 heard a deep growl and turned to confront the oncoming dog.
- •It turned onto the pull-through driveway that fronted the church, where it produced a loud blat of sound as the driver braked to a stop.
- •It was a good plan, a macho plan, and the thought pleased him.
- •It was he who called the meeting to order.
- •It was a significant setback that meant the car would have to wait. But Abadati was a good man, a righteous man, who knew that Allah promised those with patience a reward without measure.
- •It was still cold enough for Marla to see her breath as she sipped hot tea and stared out across the sand-strewn runway toward the quickly rising sun.
- •It was Agent 47.
- •It took less than ten seconds to shove a long, thin pry bar in under the barrier and dislodge the wedge. Nonetheless, Diana was already firing by the time the door slammed open.
- •It wasn’t until the phone was safely on the hook that he felt it was safe to utter a celebratory “Yes!” and pump his right fist up and down.
- •In all truth, the question of what would become of the children hadn’t even crossed 47’s mind. But seeing the look of concern on Preston’s face, the operative was quick to respond.
- •Vittorio noticed that 47’s skin was darker than usual, as if he’d been spending a great deal of time in the sun, and wondered how long the agent had been in Africa.
- •Vittorio crossed himself. He could well imagine what the “something” was.
- •If so, he would be a dark angel, sent from a place other than heaven.
- •It was like opening a floodgate.
- •It felt as though the sunshine had lost all of its warmth as the Frenchman stepped out onto the terrace. The laughter sounded discordant, and the smiles looked false.
- •It was an obvious invitation—and one that Pruter planned to accept.
- •It was dark inside the cavelike recess, but by craning his neck, he could catch a glimpse of city lights below. He fumbled the penlight, but aimed it away from the entrance.
If so, he would be a dark angel, sent from a place other than heaven.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE RHINE RIVER VALLEY, NEAR COLOGNE, GERMANY A large banner had been strung between two of the weather-beaten columns that were evenly spaced along the front of the sun-splashed terrace. It read HAPPY BIRTHDAY NICOLE, in big blue letters. Colorful groupings of balloons bobbed here and there, a long narrow table occupied the center of the space, where dirty plates and the half-eaten remains of a very expensive birthday cake could still be seen.
Children squealed with excitement as they chased each other back and forth, completely unaware of the dark deeds that had been carried out within the castle during the last five hundred years, or the blood money required to purchase and maintain the fortress now. And even though some of the adults who were seated around well-set tables knew about such things, they too were lost in the moment.
Pierre Douay’s daughter, Nicole, had just turned seven, the children were enjoying themselves, and it was a lovely day.
Such was the scene when the phone in Douay’s pocket began to vibrate. The Frenchman didn’t want to answer it, but that particular number was known to less than thirty people, every one of whom was extremely important in one way or another. So Douay swore silently, went inside in order to get away from the noise, and eyed the incoming number.
The call was from Aristotle Thorakis, a man the executive had come to detest, but was still in a position to provide the Puissance Treize with valuable information. Which was the only reason Douay thumbed the device on.
It was like opening a floodgate.
“Pierre?” Thorakis demanded emotionally. “It’s a disaster, I tell you. An unmitigated disaster! A man named Agent 47 captured one of your people, a Moroccan I think, and found out about me!
“Agent 47 reported in and he’s on his way to kill me! I need protection, Pierre. Lots of protection—and I need it now.”
Douay had always been able to remain calm, even when those all about him were losing their nerve, and began his analysis by cross-checking the known facts.
Al-Fulani was missing, and had been for more than a week, which seemed to lend credence to the story. Couple that with the failed attempt on Agent 47’s life, and that individual’s reputation for tenaciousness, and there was the very real possibility that the Greek was correct.
But why protect him? Especially given how annoying the shipping magnate had become.
The answer was glaringly obvious. Thorakis was into the Puissance Treize for 500 million euros. A significant sum that might go unrecovered if the Greek was killed. And what then? the executive wondered. Who would the partners blame? That, too, was glaringly obvious.
Besides which, there still might be a great deal of valuable information to extract from the annoying man’s brain before they decided whether or not to kill him.
“Stay where you are,” Douay ordered. “I’ll send a team. A good team. They’ll kill 47. Then, with him out of the way, we’ll pull you out of Sintra. The Agency will be angry, but we’ll cut a deal with them.”
“Really?” Thorakis inquired hopefully. “You can do that?”
“Of course I can,” Douay replied confidently. “Don’t worry about it. Just stay where you are and wait for my people to arrive.”
The shipping magnate was grateful, almost too grateful, and the Frenchman felt a sense of disgust as the Greek told him where the assassin would be staying. Then the line went dead.
The next part was easy, as a two-person hunter-killer team was taken off an assignment in Prague and redirected to Sintra.
Once that chore was out of the way, Douay had to face something more difficult. He needed to activate the alternate identities that had been established for his wife and children, years before. Once that was accomplished he would send them to the retreat in French Polynesia and prepare for the reprisals that were sure to follow. Even if the Puissance Treize were able to eliminate 47 and protect Thorakis, The Agency would come looking for someone to kill. And Pierre Douay’s name would appear near the top of the list. While Legard, ironically enough, would be relatively safe in prison!