The Alexandria Link

SIXTY-TWO

VIENNA

THORVALDSEN RETREATED TOWARD THE WINDOW ALCOVE BUT kept his ears trained on the conversation below. That the American vice president was here, at Hermann’s château, raised a host of new possibilities. He quickly glanced at Gary and brought a finger to his lips, signaling for continued quiet.

Glasses clinked below.

“To our friendship,” Hermann said.

“That’s what I like about you, Alfred. Loyalty. It’s in short supply these days.”

“Perhaps your superior might feel the same way.”

The other man chuckled. “Daniels is a fool. He has a simplistic view of life and the world.”

“And would you say that you’re loyal?”

“Absolutely. I’ve suffered through five years of Danny Daniels. Did exactly what he wanted. Smiled. Defended him. Took some heat for him. But I can’t take it anymore. Americans can’t take it anymore.”

“I hope that time wasn’t wasted.”

“I’ve spent the years building coalitions. Making friends. Appeasing enemies. I have everything I need-”

“Except money.”

“I wouldn’t say that. I have ample commitments to get things rolling. My Arab friends are being quite generous.”

“The Order, too, is appreciative of those who show it support. Your president has not been friendly to world business. He seems to like tariffs, trade restrictions, open banking.”

“Which is a whole other problem. I assure you, there are many in Washington who feel differently from Daniels.”

Sounds from below indicated that the two men were sitting down. Thorvaldsen crept close to the railing. Hermann sat in a chair, the vice president on one of the settees. Both men held drinks.

“Israel is trying to find out what’s happening,” the vice president said. “They know the link is exposed.”

“I’ve been informed,” Hermann said. “I have an associate, as we speak, dealing with that.”

“My chief of staff told me that an Israeli surveillance team is missing in Germany and one of their Foreign Office officials was found dead in Rothenburg, suspected of selling information. An assassination squad has been sent to London. Strangely, Tel Aviv actually wanted us to know that.”

“Again, my friend, I’m aware.”

“Then you surely know that one of our former agents, Cotton Malone, is on his way to the Sinai with, of all people, his ex-wife and another man.”

Silence came in response.

“We were curious,” the vice president said. “So the other man’s fingerprints were obtained from a railing he touched while boarding the military plane in Lisbon. He’s an American. James McCollum. You know him?”

“His alias is Dominick Sabre. He works for us.”

“And because you’re my friend, Alfred, I’m going to respectfully say that you’re full of shit. I saw it in your eyes. You didn’t know your man was headed to the Sinai.”

Another pause.

“He’s not required to keep me informed. Results are all that matter.”

“So tell me. What’s he doing with Cotton Malone, and is he going to find that library?”

“You said the Sinai. They’re certainly in a location for that to be possible. Near enough to Alexandria to make transport of the manuscripts in ancient times possible, but also isolated. Trade routes existed there before and after the time of Christ. Pharaohs mined the land for copper and turquoise. Egypt knew the Sinai well.”

“You know your history.”

“Knowledge is a good thing. Especially here.”

“Alfred, this is not some intellectual exercise, I’m trying to fundamentally change American foreign policy. Daniels and I have fought over this. Now I can do something about it. It’s time we show the Arabs the same consideration we’ve always given Israel. And like you with the hired help, I, too, am only interested in results. You and your cohorts want to profit. I want to be in charge.”

“And we want you to have the job.”

“Then tell me, Alfred. When does the president of the United States die?”

Spindly fingers tickled Thorvaldsen’s crooked spine as the vice president’s words sank in.

“You seem to be warming to the idea,” Hermann said.

“You’ve convinced me.”

“And it’s arranged,” Hermann said. “Daniels’s unannounced trip to Kabul will come to a spectacular end.”

“Once he’s in the air,” the vice president said, “I’ll have everything confirmed through the means we discussed. As of now, he leaves next Thursday. Only four people know. Him, me, and our chiefs of staff. Even the Afghan president doesn’t know he’s coming. He’ll be told right before they land. The whole thing is a PR stunt by the White House communications people. Prop up the poll numbers with a rousing trip to the troops.”

“The missiles are already there,” Hermann said. “The deal was made with one of bin Laden’s main deputies. He was most appreciative. This will be their first significant strike at America in several years. We’ve dealt with these devils before, always at arm’s length and with caution, but successfully.”

“I still have my concerns. Arabs killing Daniels. But my friends in Arabia tell me most of them are sick of bin Laden, too. They’d love to take him out. His antics make changing world opinion infinitely more difficult. They just can’t link up with us so long as it’s ”Israel’s way or no way.“ But with Daniels gone and a change in policy made clear, they’ll join with us in getting bin Laden.”

“My Political Committee thinks the Arabs will be more than negotiable.”

“They know about this?” the vice president asked, surprise in his voice.

“Of course not. They simply explore scenarios-with a change in American foreign policy being one. We’ve long wanted that to happen.”

“Now, Alfred, you know what’s on my mind?”

Hermann chuckled. “There’s no trail. The emissaries used to negotiate the deal with bin Laden will be sent to Allah next week. That associate you mentioned will handle the matter personally. Nothing will link anybody.”

“Lot of trust you place in that man,” the vice president said.

“He’s never disappointed us.”

“It’s imperative he doesn’t start now. I’ll be in Chicago the day Daniels leaves. The White House announces nothing. It’s like the president is in Washington, working, and the next thing you know he’s on the news in Afghanistan. Then they hide me until he gets back. Standard post-9/11 procedure.”

“What will you do after the plane is brought down?” Hermann asked.

“Take the oath and govern for the next three years. Then I’ll run, get four more, and walk away.”

“I want you to understand that if we are successful in locating the lost library, then what we have planned will immediately start.”

“Damn right. Sooner the better. I need Israel and the Arabs kept off base. I’ll stroke them-you’ll smack them. The Saudis will have to deal. They can’t afford for their country to implode. And I want oil prices down just as badly as you do. A few dollars a barrel changes our GNP by billions. I’ll be mobilizing America to retaliate for Daniels’s death. No one will fight me on that one. The whole world will join us. The Arabs will be dangling, begging for friends. That’s when they’ll climb aboard and we all win.”

“My Political Committee believes there could be widespread destabilization.”

“Who cares? My poll numbers will be through the roof. Nothing energizes Americans more than a rally around the flag. And I plan to lead one for the next seven years. Arabs are dealers. They’ll see that the time for cooperation has come, especially if it hurts Israel.”

“You seem to have thought this through.”

“I’ve thought of little else the past few months. I’ve tried to get Daniels to shift, but he won’t bend when it comes to Israel. That damn nation the size of some American counties will be the ruin of all of us. And I don’t plan to let that happen.”

“The next time we meet,” Hermann said, “you’ll be president of the United States.”

“Alfred, besides the terrorists who’ll actually do it, you and I are the only two people on this planet that know what’s coming. I made sure of that.”

“As have I.”

“So let’s make it happen and both enjoy the reward.”