The Sinai Secret

THIRTY-SIX

Sudbahnhof Police Station

Wiedner Gurtel

Vienna

The Next Afternoon

Haupt Inspector Karl Rauch was in mid -Jause, that afternoon break the Viennese took to enjoy coffee and pastry. Today the inspector was alternately nibbling at Bischofsbrot as he sipped coffee from Eils, the coffeehouse patronized largely by government officials and lawyers. Where else but in Vienna would such places exist, separate from establishments frequented by such diverse groups as writers, actors, bridge players, musicians, students, artists, and athletes?

He had cleared a space on his desk for three pieces of paper: the artist's drawing, a copy of a bill for a room at the Imperial Hotel, and a reproduction of an American passport issued to one Langford Reilly from the hotel's guest registry. The quality of the latter was too poor to definitely match the passport photo and the sketch. He swiveled his desk chair to face a computer monitor and sighed, knowing his next cup would be the swill from the machine downstairs, and licked his fingers free of the last trace of sponge cake filled with nuts, raisins, fruit glace, and chocolate chips.

It took only a few minutes of searching the international crime database before Herr Langford Reilly's name appeared. Kidnapped in Belgium? Involved in a shooting in Amsterdam? All within a week or so of having dinner with a murder victim in Vienna? Herr Reilly seemed to tow violence behind him like the wake of a ship.

A few more taps of the keyboard brought up the American FBI's criminal data index. Rauch was less than surprised to see Reilly's name there, too. Over the last four or five years a number of people in the world had wanted Mr. Reilly dead.

Why?

Half an hour in cyberspace provided no answers. Langford Reilly was… What was the American word? A lawyer-a lawyer who defended people accused of high- dollar crime: embezzlement, fraud, bribery. That might incite someone to try to kill him. But half a dozen people? Reilly also headed the Janice and Jeff Holt Foundation, a charity specializing in medical care for children in third-world countries and, lately, doing research in alternatives to fossil fuel.

Laudable goals.

Hardly an inspiration to murder.

So, what was it about the American that brought death and chaos?

The Dutch and Belgian authorities had had no reason to detain him, but Rauch did: He was possibly the last person to see Dr. Shaffer alive. Unfortunately, Herr Reilly had concluded whatever business he had in Vienna and, according to the desk clerk at the Imperial, checked out in the late evening, even though he would be charged for the night. The doorman remembered the generous tip he received for summoning a cab to take Reilly to the airport.

An abrupt departure from an expensive hotel was hardly a crime, but certainly suspicious.

Rauch swung back around to gaze out of the window at nothing in particular. Was that suspicion sufficient to start the mass of bureaucratic paperwork for an extradition warrant? If Reilly proved innocent, Rauch would have to justify the cost of a round-trip ticket from America to tightfisted superiors. Alternatively, he had no other leads and was unlikely to uncover any.

Rauch knew the answer of government employees worldwide: Let his immediate superior make the decision.