The Columbus Code (11 page)

“Precisely.”

“They will be intrigued by this. But they will not act on it until something forces their hand, and in the meantime they will bleed Catalonia for as much as they can get.”

“I have something in mind that will motivate them.”

“And that is?”

Tejada closed his eyes. “We each have our part of the plan to carry out, do we not? There is a reason why the left hand does not know what the right hand is doing.”

He didn't add that only he had control over both hands. He had promised Abaddon he would not reveal that.

“Simply present the plan to Beijing,” he said. “And get them to agree. I will take care of motivating them to act quickly.” He pressed his hand on Prevost's shoulder. “
Nos comprometemos nuestras vidas y nuestras fortunas con el maestro.”

Maria pushed her chair back from the desk and looked across the office at Elena, who sat at the table collating the report for that afternoon's meeting. “Would you take a look at this? I don't think I'm reading it right.”

“That would be a first,” Elena said.

“I'm serious. Something's weird here. Grab a chair.”

Elena joined her at the desk. “What's up?”

“I'm reading over these notes I typed up for Snowden. Now that I'm looking at it, this doesn't make sense.”

“Snowden actually took notes?” Elena pretended shock. “Wait—did I say that?”

“You did. I'm a bad influence on you. Read this sentence out loud, starting after, ‘The matter can be concluded without reservations.'”

“Let me get the context first.”

Maria watched Elena's eyes scan the paragraph she'd just written.
We are satisfied with the progress of the acquisition thus far. The matter can be concluded without reservations
 . . .

“You want me to read the rest out loud?”

“Yes. I need to hear it.”

“‘The matter can be concluded without reservations and expectations can be met. An agreement will be in the hands of Catalonia
Financial by the anticipated date, at the price agreed upon, as long as the projected reserves hold up. Tejada will make certain that they do.'”

Maria watched Elena's eyes. As they scanned the paragraph again, her face blotched—the now-familiar signal that she was anxious.

“You see it, too,” Maria said.

“What are
you
seeing?”

“That either Snowden wrote this after a two-Madeira lunch or something . . . not quite right is going on.”

“You're talking about this.” Elena pointed to the sentence
Tejada will make certain that they do
.

“Yeah. How does he have any control over the projected reserves? They're projected. As in, not there yet.”

“It has to be a mistake,” Elena said. “
Señor
Tejada has an impeccable reputation. I can't imagine he'd try to deceive a colleague . . . make him think there is real money on the books when it does not exist.”

“So you think this was a mistake on Snowden's part?”

Elena shrugged, something Maria had never seen her do. “What's this?” Maria said, imitating her.

“I can't really say, Maria. You know Mr. Snowden better than I do.”

“I don't know him
that
well. He plays it pretty close to the vest.” She looked at Elena and waited for her to meet her gaze. “It's only a mistake if he didn't mean to put it in here. Right?”

“There's one other possibility. What if you read his original notes wrong?”

Maria shook her head. “I've been doing almost nothing
but
reading the man's hen-scratchings for the last nine months.”

“It's worth looking again. Where's the original?”

“You have it. I gave it to you to file.”

“Perfect. I'll go pull it. The files are in the other office.”

“Thanks,” Maria said. “And Elena?”

“Yeah.”

“This thing is just between us for now.”

“What thing?” Elena said. “Relax. We'll get it figured it out.”

Maria hoped so. Because time could be running out on this deal. And on her job.

Abaddon was in a black mood when Tejada arrived in El Masnou two days after his meeting with Prevost. He'd seen his lord in that state before, though few others had. Abaddon made it a point not to speak with anyone when the darkness descended within. At least, not with anyone other than Tejada.

This was one circumstance in which Tejada was not grateful for his closeness to the man. He would prefer to avoid the unpredictable state of mind that turned the very air to lead. Tejada could hardly breathe when he entered Abaddon's private chamber and squinted his way to the chair by the window where Lord Abaddon sat. The candle on the small wooden table was the only light except for the weak sunlight that showed through the cracks around the window frame.

“You have made me wait,” the Master said, his voice gravelly and hoarse.

Tejada didn't say he'd come as soon as he'd been summoned. Abaddon brooked no defense even in the best of moods. Instead, he kissed Abaddon's hand and lowered himself obediently onto a cushion near the chair. He didn't have to see Abaddon's face to know he was scowling.

“You have reached an impasse with one of our players.”

“As I explained,” Tejada replied, “it is only a temporary issue. Prevost is in Beijing as we speak.”

“I suppose it will not be a waste of time to continue as you are. The heart of a man is at times unpredictable.”

“You're not referring only to the Chinese.”

“I am referring to the Americans and their lunatic debates.”

“I have placed Snowden on that,” Tejada said. “I have no reason to believe he will fail.”

“I don't trust him.”

“He does have his limitations, but—”

“He has brought you a temptation.”

“I don't understand.”

“A woman.”

A
woman?
Tejada was glad the old man couldn't see his face clearly. He didn't like to be completely defenseless in his presence, but what was he talking about?

“Why does Snowden bring an associate to close the deal with the Belgians?”

“It is a large transaction.”

Abaddon swept that away with a stiff hand. “Snowden could handle it himself with a few clerks. Is she beautiful, Emilio?”

“She has her good qualities.”

“Full of feminine wiles?”

“Hardly. Quite the opposite.”

“Smart.”

“She is that, yes.”

“Then watch yourself, Emilio.”

Tejada nodded.

“We are close to our goal. You
must
maintain focus!”

“You have my word, Lord Abaddon,” Tejada said quickly.

“See that I do! Do not fail me! You cannot fail
us!
”

Even in the dark, Tejada saw the angry flash in his eyes. And not anger only. Something else. Something far more sinister. Something Tejada would do all in his power to avoid.

Julia Archer pushed her glasses farther down her nose and looked at Winters over the top of the black frames. “Please tell me you did not just say you're going to Barcelona.”

“Is that a problem?” he asked.

“Not
a
problem, John. A
number
of problems, starting with the fact that you'll miss . . . how many meetings with me?”

“I don't know how many. I bought a one-way ticket. I have no idea how long this is going to take.”

Archer dropped her pen onto the pad that rested in her lap and took off her glasses. He'd known she wasn't going to applaud the decision, but he didn't expect her to be this unsettled by it.

“Let me be clear about this,” she said. “You haven't made a lot of forward progress, but this move is going to take you backward.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Because you aren't facing your demons. You're running away from them. Emotionally before. Now physically with this trip.”

Winters shook his head. “Look, this is the first thing I've been motivated to do. I'm starting to feel like my old self again.”

Archer raised an eyebrow. “Which self?”

Here they went with the psycho-talk. Winters just looked at her.

Archer put the glasses back on and studied the pad. When she
looked at him again, her gaze was searching. Winters felt as if he were being frisked.

“All right, here's the deal,” she said finally. “If you take this trip—against my best advice—I'm going to have to report to Rebhorn that I've given this my best shot, you have been noncompliant, and I have to recommend that you not be reinstated.”

Winters opened his mouth but Archer put up a finger to stop him. “Unless in this session right now you tell me exactly what happened in that raid, as you remember it.”

The tightening of Winters' jaw sent piercing pain into his ears. “You're looking for some connection to my
deeper
self?”

“That's for us to discover as we talk.”

“This reeks of blackmail. You know that, don't you?”

Winters' voice was low, almost menacing. Archer gave him a wry smile.

“Whatever it takes, John.”

Sweat already dampened his palms and he rubbed them nervously against the arms of the chair.

“I'm not saying it's going to be easy,” she said. “But that's the only way I'll agree to keep quiet about the trip.”

Winters knew he could wait her out for the remainder of the session, but where was that going to get him? Not to Barcelona. And not back to his job. Not back to his identity.

He examined his knuckles. Archer still waited.

“All right,” he said at last. “Where do you want me to start?”

There was no triumphant gleam in her eye. She simply adjusted her glasses and said, “In the last dream, you were about to kick down the door. Pick it up from there.”

Winters fixed his gaze on a spot just above Archer's head, at the lower left corner of her framed certification. “I hesitated at the bottom
of the steps to make sure Jamison and Stevens were in position at the rear of the house.”

“They were other agents.”

“Right. I motioned for Donleavy—computer forensics—to go to the corner of the house. We'd gone through it all before but he's not a field agent, so I pretty much had to hold his hand.”

“Did that make you nervous?”

Winters shifted his gaze to meet hers. “Can we just get through this without you asking me how I felt?”

“It's what I do,” Archer said. A trace of amusement crossed her face. “Go on.”

“Donleavy ducked out of sight.” Winters closed his eyes. He could see it as if it were happening right then. He had turned in a quick, forceful motion. As his body pivoted, his right foot came around in a sweeping arc, striking the door near the frame. It flew open with a sharp
crack
and Winters charged inside. He sensed Jamison and Stevens behind him.