Chapter 84

Musikverein Concert Hall


Thursday, May 1st-4:22 p.m.

In the operations room at the back of the concert hall Tom Paxton scanned the bank of monitors showing the hall’s strategic exits and entrances, as well as all the areas Global’s team had designated as “at risk.” Other than the false alarm, nothing had happened to suggest any suspicious activity. Four and a half hours from now, this would be over and Global would be swimming in contracts and on the upside of financial stress.

A few feet away from him, Kerri talked on the phone and checked names on a list of the attending press corps. Clicking off one call, she made another, listened to it ring, waited till it went to voice mail and then clicked off again.

Paxton read the look on her face and asked: “What’s wrong?”

“The press are all checked in except for David Yalom, and he’s still not picking up his cell.”

“I don’t care how good his answers were on Tuesday about protecting his sources. On Monday he meets with someone carrying enough Semtex to blow up an airplane and now he’s MIA? Tonight’s concert isn’t something he’d miss, unless he was following a bigger lead.”

Kerri frowned. “Let me find out if he picked up his press pass.”

“You also might want to call some of the other reporters and check around,” Paxton ordered. “When was the last time anyone saw him? He’s infiltrated too many damn terrorist cells for his own good. His entire family was blown up because of his reporting, for God’s sake. Where is Ahmed Abdul?”

“Which is why I don’t think this is connected to us,” said Vine, who’d been listening to the exchange. “From what I’ve heard he’s still a target, and it’s likely he was followed to Vienna and is being set up.”

“Killing his family wasn’t enough revenge?” Kerri asked.

“And why now?” Paxton asked.

“He went underground for a long time and has been very careful about not being seen,” Vine answered. “This is the first time he’s surfaced for any length of time.”

“Almost as if he was using himself like a target.” There was so much sympathy in Kerri’s voice that Paxton shot her a questioning glance.

“I want to assume it is connected. I know explosives move in and out of Eastern bloc countries on a daily basis but this buy moved into this city, this week, and showed up in the vicinity of this particular reporter, and now he’s missing. I don’t like the coincidences. We all know a journalist like Yalom makes for a great hostage. When it’s one of their own, the media go crazy. Damn it, Vine, if Yalom is really missing…” Paxton’s jaw muscles clenched. “Has there been any chatter intercepted from Interpol or any other major government agency in the last two hours?”

“You’d be the first to know it,” Vine said.

“Let’s make double sure. Then triple sure.”

Activity resumed at an accelerated pace, exacerbated by the increased tension in the room. Paxton stared at the monitor showing the empty stage as if he’d find the answers they were looking for there. He had the power to shut down the concert but he had to be one hundred percent sure before he took such drastic steps. Vine was right. Explosives did move all the time. And just because Yalom was here to cover ISTA didn’t mean that was all he was doing here. He glanced at Kerri, who, sensing his eyes on her, looked over at him. Pencil poised, phone in hand she was ready for whatever request he was going to make. Paxton motioned toward the monitor. For the first time he wondered about the concert he’d been paid to protect. “You’re the music lover, you’ve heard the rehearsals? How good is this going to be?”

“We’re in Vienna, and this is the Vienna Philharmonic playing one of their most beloved composers. A once-in-a-lifetime experience for a lot of people.”

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