Page 36 of The Atlas Maneuver

It was impressive, with herringbone panels inlaid between strapping timbers studded with wrought-iron bolts. As they drew closer she saw that the heavy slab hung open a few centimeters.

“The guy who lives here also never leaves a door open,” Koger said.

“Sounds like he’s paranoid.”

“When people are actually out to get you, it’s not paranoia.”

Good point.

He motioned and they fanned out, each to either side of the door, Koger nearer to the iron latch. He risked a peek into the open crack then gestured her way. She knew what to do and, with her left hand, pushed open the door.

Which eased inward on its leaf-shaped hinges—

Emitting a grinding sigh.

COTTON STOOD ABOUT THIRTY YARDS AWAY FROM THE ENTRANCEto the Japanese consulate. He realized that consulates were not embassies, which usually displayed a far higher level of security. But they were still secure locales. An electric iron gate barred entrance, obviously controlled from within the building. There was a call box that a visitor was required to use from the driver’s-side window.

He stood amid a clump of beech trees that occupied a patch of green among the other buildings lining the street. The direct approach seemed best but he’d lose the element of surprise, which could be helpful. If he didn’t handle this right he’d end up without Suzy and probably in a Swiss jail.

But Koger had his back.

Right?

A white van motored down the quiet street and approached the consulate gate. On its side was stenciled EDELWEISSCATERINGwith a local telephone number and a website address. The van came to a stop and he watched as the driver punched the call button and communicated with someone inside the consulate.

Now or never.

The gate camera angled to focus on the open driver’s-side window. Cotton used the moment to flee his hiding place, positioning himself with the van between him and the camera. He made it to the rear of the vehicle as the gate began to slide open.

The van’s engine revved.

He stepped up on the rear bumper and grabbed hold of the handles for the two doors, careful not to reveal himself in the rearview mirrors. Thankfully, the rear doors were windowless. The camera could be a problem but he noticed as they entered the compound that it had turned to where its point of view was back on the street leading up to the gate.

The van motored around to the side of the building and came to a stop. He released his grip and dropped to the pavement, hustling toward the parked BMW a few feet away where he crouched down on the far side and watched. A man emerged from the van andheaded off toward a short flight of wrought-iron-bordered stone stairs that led up to an entrance alcove, the door held open by a young Japanese male.

The two disappeared inside.

He decidedWhy not.

He hustled to the door and tried the latch.

Which turned.

He eased the door open and stepped inside, walking down a short corridor that ended at a kitchen.

Lying on the tile floor was the young Japanese male he’d just seen letting the van driver inside.

With a bullet hole in his forehead.

CASSIOPEIA STARED PAST THE OPEN DOOR INTO THE FOYER. THE FLOORwas an expensive inlaid ceramic tile over which were strewn rugs in brilliant designs. The massive furnishings were of wood. Large armoires, carved in bas-relief, added an Old World presence. Art dotted the walls. Past that space she spotted a parlor of some sort where the furniture was upended, the drawers and cabinets open, their contents strewn about. Even the heavy draperies had been ripped from the wall and lay piled on the floor like dark wet stains.

“Somebody was looking for something,” she whispered.

“You got that right,” Koger muttered.

They entered the parlor.

She took her cue from him and kept her weapon level and ready. They both heard it at the same time. A dull thump, then a scraping from somewhere far off in the house.