Page 68 of The Atlas Maneuver

An evening when she was younger and just out of university. An impressionable twenty-two-year-old. Her mother took her to see a bull, a huge, sleek, powerful beast confined to a corral. She’d watched as a man with a rifle calmly shot the animal in the head. The bull fell to the ground with a thud, kicked the air, then lay still. More men then tied its legs with ropes and lifted the carcass into the air by a hoist supported on steel bars. A butcher plunged a knife into the chest and dragged the blade down, releasing a cascade of blood and guts that stained the ground. The body of the skinned animal had glistened white in the hard-edged glare from pole lights.

Strangely, she’d not been revolted.

“Look closely,” her mother said. “That bull, the embodiment of male vitality one moment, is nothing but beef for the table in the next.”

A dichotomy.

Life and death.

Two parts of one existence. Yet separable.

She’d learned that keeping those two extremes apart wasn’t callous insensitivity. More mental compartmentalization, a skill she’d mastered, one that had served her well. Along with remembering that bull. Over the past twenty-four hours she herself had gone from beast to beef.

There’d been many other lessons from her mother through the years. Some helpful, others not so much. Sometimes she daydreamed about a fictitious Greek island, sunny, tropical, where a woman with money and charm could open a small, elegant inn, the sort of place where people would come to retreat and relax. Her inn. Where she could live at her leisure and never deal with the decisions she now faced. But that was unrealistic. And boring. She was going to change the world. But was she getting too old to feel the thrill of the dangerous games she’d long played?

Not in the least.

In fact, her nerve was solid, her resolve even more so. She’d meant what she said to Kelly. She was fully prepared to do whatever was necessary. She was a Luxembourger, born and raised, tough and resilient. But not reactionary. Nor was she an anachronism. Her eloquence, confidence, and empathy were widely known and respected. And she’d need all three of those attributes in the days ahead.

Along with courage.

She glanced over at the floor clock her grandfather had bought at the turn of the 20th century: 10:09A.M.

Her cell phone vibrated.

The same number from a few minutes ago.

She answered.

“All right,” Kelly Austin said. “You win. What now?”

She closed her eyes and breathed a silent sigh of relief. Thankfully, she’d already thought about the next steps in the event Kelly took the bait.

They spoke a little more, then she ended the call.

So many parts were moving all at once across the globe. Representatives were working to convince governments on three continents that it was in their best interest to ditch the dollar, avoid gold, and stake their national treasuries on bitcoin. Kyra Lhota was in Switzerland, ready. And now Kelly seemed back under control. She had to trust the people working for her. All were consummate professionals, well paid and motivated.

Only one thing though.

They have a spy in your midst. They know all about the Atlas Maneuver.

One of her people was a traitor.

And that had to be dealt with.

Right now.

By her.

CHAPTER 37

COTTON STOOD INSIDE THE GROCERY STORE AND WATCHED THE WHITEvan still parked in the lot. He’d arrived a few minutes ago and come inside. So far it appeared no one was interested in the vehicle. Suzy was safe back at thegasthaus. He’d spoken to Koger and reported the situation. The big man told him to hang tight, transportation was on the way. But it would be a few hours. More than enough time for this errand and a little food.

He was a boots-on-the-ground guy. Always had been. The inside scoop, a firsthand look, was preferable to anything else. To really understand you had to be there to hear and see and, if that wasn’t possible, then you needed someone who could be there for you. All the intel in the world only provided a partial picture. The whole picture came from knowledge that could only be gained on the ground.

Like here.

He grabbed some cheese, bread, and orange juice and headed for the checkout line. Through the front plate-glass window he saw a car park and a woman emerge.