Calypso Directive (42 page)

Will nodded. “I studied it in college, but it's been awhile.”

AJ shook his head. “I've heard the term, but to be honest, I can't say I'm well versed on the subject.”

“Okay, let's walk through an example to refresh everyone's memories,” Albane said reassuringly. “The Prisoner's Dilemma is a simple but powerful logic game with two players. In the classic scenario, two criminals are arrested for reckless driving after committing arson. However, the police don't have sufficient evidence to convict either criminal, that is, without defecting testimony from one criminal or the other. So they place the two criminals in separate rooms for interrogation and offer them deals for their testimony in court. Both criminals find themselves to be players in a game with four outcomes; each outcome is dictated by whether the players choose to defect or cooperate with the other player.

Case One: Both criminals cooperate with each other and remain silent. Each man is sentenced to one year in jail for reckless driving. Neither is implicated in the arson.

Case Two: Criminal A defects by incriminating Criminal B in the arson, while Criminal B remains silent. Criminal A goes free. Criminal B is sentenced to ten years in jail for the reckless driving and the arson.

Case Three: Criminal A remains silent, and Criminal B defects by incriminating Criminal A in the arson. This time, Criminal B goes free and Criminal A is sentenced to ten years in jail.

Case Four: Both criminals defect and testify against the other in the arson case. Each criminal is sentenced to six years in jail.”

AJ rubbed his temples, concentrating. “Okay, so if I heard you clearly, the best scenario is for both criminals to cooperate and remain silent so that they'll receive only one year jail terms.”

“Yes, the best mutual outcome occurs when both players cooperate with each other. But remember, each player would do best for himself if he defects and his partner remains silent,” Albane explained. “Game theory says that rational self-interested players will always defect in a single iteration prisoner's dilemma. In the effort to achieve their personal best-case scenario of zero jail time, both criminals will defect. In doing so, each will end up with six years. Another way to think about it is, when the participants in a prisoner's dilemma do not trust each other implicitly, then fear of being the sucker stuck with the ten-year jail sentence will drive both players to defect.”

“What do you mean by a single iteration prisoner's dilemma?” AJ asked.

“What I mean is that cooperation only emerges as a strategy when the players both intend to participate in another round of the game. Keep in mind, prisoner's dilemmas can be redefined in an infinite number of scenarios: business, finance, military strategy, evolution . . . you get the picture. The outcomes don't have to be punishment; they can be tangible goods, currency, time, goodwill, etcetera. The point I'm trying to make, Will, is that screwing your opponent is a perfectly acceptable strategy if you plan on never seeing him again. But, if he is anyone you intend to have future interaction with—a business acquaintance or a friend, for example—then cooperation emerges as a leading strategy.”

“How does any of that relate to hostage negotiation?” Will questioned.

VanCleave interjected, “Two-party hostage negotiation is just a prisoner's dilemma with window dressing. Both parties have two choices: cooperate or defect. In hostage negotiation, both sides feign cooperation while pursuing the strategy of defection. It is important that you realize this fact in our upcoming negotiation with the bounty hunter Raimond Zurn. The laws of game theory dictate that he will defect on any promise.”

Will deflated. “Whatever Zurn promises, it will be a lie?”

“Yes.”

“Then Julie will die . . . no matter what we do?”

Albane smirked. “No. Because our strategy is also to defect.”

“May the shrewdest defector win,” Kalen cheered.

“Then what is our plan?” Will asked.

“We negotiate a hostage exchange,” Albane said, her voice velvet.

“We ask for Julie and they ask for . . .”

The four compatriots stared at him, but they said nothing.

His eyes darted from face to face to face until at last, quietly, he said, “Me.”

J
ULIE TREMBLED UNCONTROLLABLY
.

Raimond was pressing the cold, steel muzzle of his pistol against her temple so hard that her head was craned over to the limit, her ear nearly parallel to the floor. She did not know the identities of her interrogators, but she had learned that Meredith Morley had hired them. Bounty hunters, she surmised. The nature of Raimond's questions told her that they knew little about her, save her name and the fact that she was with Will. Clearly, Meredith had not told them anything substantive about her. They didn't know that she was fluent in German, because they had conducted their side conversations within earshot—a lucky break, and one that had saved her a great deal of pain.

But the phone call moments ago had changed everything.

The news of his brother's death had flipped a switch in the German boss man's head, and now he was like a rabid dog. She gave herself a 10 percent chance of survival. Since he couldn't kill the man on the black motorcycle who he blamed for his brother's death, odds were she would be an acceptable stand-in for his revenge. It didn't matter what she said. Talking only would infuriate him. For the first time in her life, she could feel Death's breath on the nape of her neck. This was not a nightmare; it was real.

She began to sob.

“WHO IS THE BLACK RIDER? WHO KILLED MY BROTHER?” Raimond screamed.

“I told you. I don't know. That wasn't part of the plan. My job was to stay close to Foster and keep him from running. Everything else was orchestrated by Meredith Morley; she didn't tell me the details. I was just supposed to get Foster to the meeting. She was in charge of transporting Foster back to Prague. I don't know anything else. I swear. I've told you everything I know.”

Raimond yearned to pull the trigger and unleash on this American girl all the hatred and fury he felt against the black rider. Against Meredith Morley. Against William Foster, and against the whole fucking world. But his index finger was noncompliant.

He withdrew the pistol muzzle from Julie's temple. Her death would revenge nothing. Her murder would not quench the fire raging in his soul. Julie Ponte would serve his needs better as a bargaining chip. He threw the weapon onto the concrete floor of the warehouse, raised his fists toward the sky, and unleashed a bloodcurdling scream. When he was done, Raimond collapsed to his knees and buried his head in his hands.

Stefan looked down at Raimond. His older brother's reaction to Udo's death had been immediate and visceral. Raimond had spared Ponte, but he would unleash hell on whomever he ultimately deemed responsible for Udo's death. Stefan's mind had not yet internalized the news of his brother's death. He was in denial, but it was a denial that he was strangely conscious of. He would not start to mourn his dead brother for days, maybe even weeks. Pain would find him, but later. Grief would overwhelm him suddenly and completely. During a subway ride, or while he was having a beer at a pub. For now though, he felt nothing.

The sound of a mobile phone ringing pierced the silence.

Julie lifted her head instinctively. The ringing phone was hers. Raimond jumped to his feet.

“That's your phone, isn't it?” he asked her.

“Yes.”

“Where is it?”

“My right jacket zipper pocket,” she replied.

Raimond walked around her and retrieved the phone from her pocket. He looked at the LCD screen. The caller ID was “BLOCKED”.

Raimond pressed the Talk button on the phone and raised it to Julie's ear. “Answer it.”

“Hello,” she said.

“Julie?”

“Will!”

Raimond pulled the phone from her ear and raised it to his own.

“You are causing a great deal of trouble for everyone.”

“Funny, I was going to say the same thing about you and your mercenary brothers. You took someone I care about. I want her back.”

“You're going to get her back in little pieces in a garbage bag unless you give me what I want.”

“Then I propose a trade.”

Raimond cackled. “A trade! What could you possibly trade that I want?”

“Me.”

“Interesting. What are your terms?”

“Release Julie unharmed, and I will turn myself over to you. After that, you can do with me what you will.”

“No deal.”

Silence persisted on the line for several moments.

“What do you mean no deal?”

“I will only release the girl in exchange for you
and
the motorcycle rider who stole you away from the Café Sacher.”

“That is going to be impossible.”

“Then the girl dies.”

“It's impossible because the motorcycle rider you are talking about is dead.”

Raimond held the line in silence. His mind was racing. Maybe the police had made a mistake. Maybe his brother Udo was alive and it was the other motorcycle driver who was killed. Maybe this was a trick.

“There was an accident during the chase. Both motorcycle drivers were killed. I was thrown from the bike and managed to hobble away from the accident before the police arrived. I'm tired of running. I'm ready to end this.”

Raimond rubbed his temples. He could not decide if the American was deceiving him. Foster spoke with confidence and without hesitation. His answers were logical, and they did not sound rehearsed. Unless he was an accomplished liar, odds were that he was telling the truth. Raimond decided that it didn't matter anyway. He occupied the position of advantage. As long as he had control of the American woman, he could manipulate Foster. After the trade, he could torture Foster for the truth about the black rider. Raimond smiled. He would enjoy torturing Will Foster.

“I agree to your terms.”

“Meet me at the Karlskirche Catholic cathedral at ten o'clock. I want to make my peace with God first.”

“At this hour? The church will be locked,” Raimond said.

“I have never known a priest to turn away a man requesting his last rites.”

“Leave the church when you're done. We'll make the trade outside.”

“No deal. I don't trust you. If you want me, then this exchange is going to happen in front of God's witness. When I leave with you, Julie stays behind with the priest.”

Raimond had not anticipated this little wrinkle. A man of faith he certainly was not, but the idea of killing a priest did not sit well with him. Then the voice in his head reminded him that his brother Udo was dead; unless he was a coward, nothing should stand in the way of his revenge. Raimond shrugged. He would see how it played out, and do what was necessary in the end. If a priest needed to die, then a priest would die. Karlskirche would serve his needs well. The surrounding area would be deserted so late at night. The thick marble walls would conceal the sound of any gunshots, should things get out of hand.

“Ten o'clock. Come alone or the girl dies.” Raimond hung up the phone. He turned to Julie and studied her face a moment before speaking. “It seems your charms were quite effective. Will Foster just agreed to trade his life for yours. You must have quite a mouth on you to seduce a man so completely.” He turned to Stefan. “What do you think, Stefan? Should I let her try to earn her freedom?” he said and unzipped the fly on his pants.

Stefan laughed. “Careful, women are unpredictable. And this one has teeth.”

“I can solve that problem; teeth are removable. I just need a good set of pliers.”

Julie looked up at him in terror, and he met her gaze. He took pleasure in her fear. He let her mind churn. Her skin was pale, and she looked nauseous. He smirked and then zipped up his fly.

“Come, Stefan. We haven't much time. We need to plan for this meeting,” Raimond said as he turned and walked toward the van.

“What do you have in mind, Brother?” Stefan asked, speaking in German and trotting to catch up.

“I want you to take the sniper rifle and go to the Karlskirche in advance. Find a position in one of the balconies. Choose your location carefully. Pick a balcony where you have a clear line of fire to all locations in the congregation area below. If Foster brings help, then you know what to do.”