“It’s a strange one. I’ll text it to you now.”
She waited a moment until her phone signaled receipt, then she read. “That is strange.”
“You can figure it out on your end. It shouldn’t be hard.”
“The secretary of Treasury is having me followed. Stupid me actually thought we were on the same side.”
“What do you intend to do?”
Bells in the distance chimed for 3:30 P.M.
She said, “I’m going to find what Mellon left and destroy it.”
*
Hana stayed one car ahead of the Korean who’d entered at the first stop, keeping a careful watch from afar. The train was slowing for its second stop, then it would be less than half an hour to Solaris. She assumed her father and Howell were still inside the first-class compartment. The man she was watching had yet to survey any of the other cars.
What should she do?
They were trapped, and he knew it.
For years she’d been thinking about her life, and over the past few days its future course had become clear. The Americans. The men at the hotel. The one here on the train. She resented all of their interference. What would happen here would be her choice and hers alone. So she decided to take the offensive. One man would be easy to contain.
The train stopped in another lit station.
People came and went, just like last time. Through the glass, into the next car, she saw three more Koreans enter and join the first man.
Four?
That could be a problem.
But the gun nestled at her spine reassured her.
*
Isabella sat as Luke Daniels headed forward through the cars, surveying who was coming and going on the final stop. She took a moment and checked her phone, discovering there was no service. Unlike trains at home this one did not come with any WiFi.
They were, literally, on their own.
Treasury agents were not schooled for this type of operation. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t handle herself. Daniels’ concern for her safety seemed genuine. For the first time his cocky fa?ade had dropped and the man beneath had peeked through. She told herself to cut both him and Malone more slack. They were trusting her with their lives, each of them now dependent on the other. Three against whatever was thrown their way, and she was determined to do her part.
The bell rang, signaling another station gone.
She glanced around the seat and saw Luke returning.
The train began to move.
He sat beside her.
“We’ve got four problems three cars ahead. Hana Sung is a car behind them. She has to know they’re there. This is about to get ugly.”
“You got any ideas?”
“Pappy taught me the direct approach is most times the best. So I think we need to take these guys out.”
She was ready to play with the team.
“I’m listening.”
*
Malone watched through the windshield as the car approached Solaris, the road passing through a rough defile between sharp, precipitous rocks. Dalmatia itself formed the southern part of Croatia, the coastal region a narrow strip about three hundred miles long. Shakespeare called it Illyria. Its fjords and islands had once been the haunts of pirates. Greece, Rome, Byzantium, the Turks, Venice, Russia, Napoleon, and the Hapsburgs had all left their mark. So had the 1990s civil war when thousands died. Many thousands more were slaughtered in ethnic cleansing, when Yugoslavia disintegrated into a snake pit of rivalries. Here, at the country’s extreme eastern boundary, had been ground zero.
Solaris sat on a hilltop amid a dense forest, its narrow paved streets crawling upward toward a brightly lit, twin-towered cathedral. A milky fog had formed and shrouded everything in a spooky mist. They’d driven in through one of the old city gates, a remnant from when thick walls had offered safety, a Venetian lion standing guard. Inside, he noticed lots of gray stone buildings, most in various stages of decay or renovation, signaling that Solaris just another workaday provincial town. Few people were in sight. Every shop was closed. They seemed to have chosen the right stage.
“The train station is about half a kilometer ahead,” the envoy said.
“Then let me out here.”
The car came to a stop.
He opened the door and cold, wet air invaded the cabin’s warmth. “Once you’re away from here, send that message I gave you.”
“It shall be done. Not to worry.”
“And hold on to these papers. Back at the embassy, scan and then send them electronically to the Magellan Billet. Keep the originals locked away.”
The envoy nodded his understanding.
He stepped out to the street and nestled the gun between his belt and spine, beneath a leather jacket.
“You take care, Mr. Malone,” the envoy said.
He shut the door and watched as the car eased away. He was left among the closed shops and empty streets, the cool misty air disturbed only by a solitary church bell signaling half past nine. The cobblestones beneath his shoes were slippery with moisture. Solaris was clearly not a night place. Howell had told him there were a few cafés, but they were located farther up the hill, near the cathedral. It was doubtful any were open this late. The train station sat close to the city walls, where the tracks pierced a break and skirted the highlands on their way east to the border and Bosnia, about fifty miles away.
Here he was again.
In the line of fire.
FIFTY-FIVE
Kim checked his watch and realized they were getting close to the train’s third stop at Solaris. So he asked, “Why are we going to this town?”
“All of my work is there. You’ll need to see it. This is more complicated than you realize.”
Howell still had not told him what he wanted to know, so he pointed again to the crumpled sheet. “What does this code say?”
“When I see Jelena, then you’ll know. Not until. I assure you, there’s no way you’ll ever figure it out alone.”
Unfortunately, that statement seemed accurate. And he assumed without the solution his quest would end so he decided to humor this American until they made it to Solaris.