“You see why I tried to contain this,” he said. “If the president was to know any of this, then he’d be part of the conspiracy. As it is now, he’s got deniability.”
“I get it, Joe.” She pointed at the shredder. “You planning on a purge?”
He nodded. “Every piece of this is becoming confetti. That’s what should have happened to it long ago.”
She did not necessarily disagree. “Not yet. Okay? Let’s finish this, first. In the meantime we’re going to keep this between you and me.”
“What about Kim? If he’s got that original crumpled sheet, he might be able to find whatever it is Mellon left for Roosevelt.”
“He might, but Kim has a problem. He’s four thousand miles away, in Croatia, and what he wants isn’t there. The trick will be to contain him long enough so we can locate it here first.”
“But he has the only clue to know where to look.”
She smiled. “Maybe not.”
Then there was that other problem.
And with Justice and Treasury now being allies—
“Joe, I’m going to need your help to end this.”
FORTY-THREE
CROATIA
Malone waited inside the Zadar city library, a grayish-blue, single-story building that—back in the 1920s, he was told—had served as an officers’ club for the Italian military. During a recent remodeling its three wings had been connected with all-glass corridors that, at their center, accommodated a pavilion-like cafeteria forming a transparent inner courtyard. The library sat on the mainland, facing the old town peninsula. Beyond the glass, the fog was gone but rain continued to fall, though not with the intensity of earlier. In the distance, the ferry still sat docked at the north end of the peninsula.
He’d managed to ease the lifeboat back to shore, ditching it on a stretch of beach near one of the hotels north of the town center. Fog and the squall had limited his choices, the important thing being to get back to dry land and on Kim’s trail. He’d spoken to Stephanie and reported everything that happened, including that Luke and Isabella Schaefer might need some help. He had no doubt she’d take care of things. His problem was Howell and Kim. During a return call from Stephanie he’d reported where he and Howell had landed. They’d stayed put until a car arrived, driven by an odd-looking fellow in a bow tie, who produced State Department credentials and drove them straight to the library, explaining why along the way.
Tucked in one of the wings inside was a section that contained books, biographies, novels—anything and everything American for the uninitiated. Also, there were three desktop computers, connected to the Internet, that the envoy said were at their disposal. That had been nearly an hour ago. Howell was sitting off to himself, still shaken up over Jelena. He, too, was bothered by what happened and sat quietly watching as a dozen or so birds arrived in the bay. They wheeled low, then hurled themselves into the water with closed wings and out-thrust heads forming a spear-beaked missile in search of food. To the west, where the sky met the sea, the pale watery gray shaded to a sepia haze.
He heard movement and turned. The envoy had returned with Luke Daniels and Isabella Schaefer.
“I can’t leave you two alone for more than five minutes without you getting arrested?” he asked.
“It was all his fault,” Isabella said, pointing to Luke.
Which he believed. He explained all that had happened on the ferry, then said, “We couldn’t find Jelena. Kim tossed her out, just to slow me down.”
“She didn’t have to die,” Howell said. “She wasn’t part of this.”
“Until you involved her,” Isabella said. “You sent her on that cruise.”
Howell’s eyes widened. “To get some documents from a crazy old man. I had no idea North Koreans were involved in this.”
“That’s what happens when people stick their noses where they don’t belong.”
“Lay off him,” Malone said. “His girlfriend just died.”
“I don’t take orders from you.” Schaefer pointed a finger at Howell. “You’re going to jail.”
“Actually, he’s not. He’s got a presidential pardon coming.”
“For what?”
He shrugged. “Why don’t you call Danny Daniels and ask him. All I know is he told me this guy has a free pass. Done. So back off.”
Howell stared at him. “What does he want? My help? Or silence?”
Malone nodded. “This is more serious than you just not filing tax returns. You, more than anyone else, should realize that. And I think you owe Kim Yong Jin.”
Howell stood. “You’re damn right. What do you want me to do?”
He liked the younger man’s spunk. “You told me that you have a scan of that solicitor general’s memo and the page with numbers.”
Howell nodded. “They’re in a secured email account under a false name.”
“Can you access that account from here?”
Howell nodded.
He pointed to one of the computers. “Do it.”
As Howell sat and began to type he faced Luke. “Kim has enough of the puzzle to connect the dots. But not enough, I don’t think, to hit pay dirt. I’m betting he doesn’t understand the whole picture. That’s why he needed Howell. We know things he doesn’t and, most important—”
“He’s on the wrong side of the ocean to actually find anything,” Luke said.
He nodded. “And if we can contain him here then we can keep this under control.”
“But you’re assuming he’s working alone,” Isabella said. “What if he has people in the U.S., waiting to hear from him.”
“There it is again,” Luke said. “That ray of sunshine I’ve come to love. Unfortunately, she’s right. We don’t know that.”
“I’m betting he doesn’t. Nothing about this guy signals team player. So I’m assuming Kim is here with only that woman who jammed a needle in my leg.” Malone faced Isabella. “I don’t suppose you have any idea who she might be?”