Page 114 of The Atlas Maneuver

She nodded.

He came close and studied her phone. The site was in English and advertised the company’s expert services for high-impact corporate and private events all over Morocco. He noticed the images. Some of indoor and outdoor parties, an elegant meeting room, a banquet hall full of red-clothed tables, an outdoor wedding, and a large tent set up among palm and cypress trees.

He glanced over at the poles.

Then he stepped back to the workbench.

From the number of discarded wrappers a lot of C-4 had been used. He counted the discarded wrappers. Thirty-two for the M112. Along with a dozen plastic sleeves for the M118.

“M112 could turn a metal pole like those over there into flying shrapnel. The M118 can level a building. Together, that’s one powerful bomb loaded with ball bearings.”

“Something is wrong here,” she said.

He agreed. “It’s all so obvious. As if it was left to be found. No disposal of anything. No cleanup.” He pointed at the waste bin. “They even left the wrappers for us to count. I suspect the CIA wants the world to think someone else is to blame for whatever they’re doing. Do you have anyone at Gledhill’s estate?”

She nodded. “One operative. Another inexperienced local. Not trained for anything other than watching and listening.”

“You seem to have a lot of those.”

“This was thought to only involve surveillance. Locals are the best to hire for that.”

“This is way beyond a look-see. We need to get to Gledhill’s place.”

“You think that C-4 and those ball bearings were stuffed into those poles?” she asked.

His sixth sense tapped away at his brain and he nodded. “If there’s an event tent there, it could now be one huge bomb.”

“You in there,” a voice yelled from outside.

Both he and Aiko reacted and turned for the door.

“Come out, with your hands in the air. This is the Moroccan security police. We have you surrounded. There is no escape.”

CHAPTER 64

CASSIOPEIA STEPPED FROM THE ELEVATOR. SHE WAS BACK ON THElower level, the same refrigerated wine vaults stretching out before her on either side of the wide corridor.

Koger, Citrone, and Kristin Jeanne followed her.

The corridor ended about twenty meters ahead at the familiar steel door with an electronic lock. She walked straight to it and entered the code from yesterday. The lock released and she pushed it open. Lights sprang to life and fluorescent ceiling fixtures brightly illuminated the space.

Still empty.

“Do you think the other vault is adjacent to this one?” she asked.

“It’s doubtful,” Citrone said. “Too obvious. But it is definitely on this level. Somewhere.”

“I anticipated this problem,” Jeanne said. “So I came prepared. We have the schematics for every vault in Switzerland in our files, including the floor plan when this was a bullion vault, along with the revised plans when it was converted to this refrigerated site. I compared them, and there is some missing space beyond that room there.” She pointed at one of the refrigerated wine rooms to their right. “I’m assuming they believed no one would notice. After all, this was going to hold wine, not gold. And they were correct, no one did notice. Until now.”

Koger headed for the door and entered the room.

Cassiopeia and the others followed.

The air inside was cold and dry, perfect conditions for wine storage. The rectangle had solid walls on the two short sides. One long wall was of plate glass, and the other held about a hundred numbered wooden cabinets, each with its own keyed lock. The doors were a latticework with screening. Beyond, the necks of bottle after bottle lay on their sides each in its own individual slot. Probably hundreds of thousands of dollars of wine, chilling away in comfort and safety.

“The unaccounted-for space is beyond that wall,” Jeanne said, pointing at the wine.

“It could have simply been eliminated,” Cassiopeia said.