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She understood. “So I’m to be the bait?”
“Why not? You and I understand each other. Together, we can solve this.”
“Looks like we don’t have a choice.”
“That’s the thing I’m going to miss most about this job. People are once again going to have choices when it comes to me.”
She smiled. He was impossible.
“I actually wanted to bring you in earlier, but I’m glad I didn’t. Now that Rowan himself has focused on you, it’s perfect. He’ll never see it coming and, if he does, he wants this so bad he’ll take a chance.”
“What exactly do you want me to do?”
He pointed again at Madison’s note. “First, find whatever it is Madison left at Montpelier. I don’t want you to do it personally, though. Do you have an agent you can trust?”
“I do. He should be back here, in Washington, right now.”
She stared at him long enough that he understood.
“Can Luke handle this?” he asked.
“He’s good, Danny.”
“Okay, let him handle it. But God help him if he screws this up. I’m bettin’ the farm on that wild boy.”
“Seems like Luke’s not the only one in the firing line.”
“You’re a pro, Stephanie. You can handle this. I need you to handle this. I’m also going to want you to meet with Rowan and gain his trust.”
“And why in the world would he ever trust me?”
“Tell him you can’t respond to his subpoena. To do so would end your career. But you get why you were served. No one would ever respond to such a sweeping request without a fight or a compromise. Obviously, he wants something. So ask him what it is, then make a deal.”
“Again, there’s no way he’s going to buy that.”
“Actually, he will. Last evening we leaked through secured channels that your job is on the line.”
She was civil service, not a political appointee, and worked for the attorney general. Once Daniels’ term ended and a new AG was appointed by the next president, though she would not be fired, she could be reassigned. So far, she’d survived several changes in administrations and had many times wondered when her luck would run out.
“And why is my job in jeopardy?”
“You’ve been stealing.”
Had she heard right?
“From your discretionary account, the money used for your covert operations. I’m told, on any given day, there’s several million dollars at your personal disposal, not subject to any regular GAO audit. Unfortunately, information has come to us that that around $500,000 is unaccounted for.”
“And how did this information come your way?”
“That would be classified,” Daniels said. “But you’re going to tell Rowan that you have a problem, one his subpoena may draw attention to. Ask him what you can do to make it go away.”
“Why would he believe me?”
“Because you actually have been stealing, and I have the records to prove it.”
THIRTY-TWO
SALZBURG
SALAZAR WAS READY.
He told himself to calm down, be patient.
“Our next item,” the auctioneer said, “is an original Book of Mormon, bearing the Palmyra, New York, identification and the statement, printed by E. B. Grandin, for the author, 1830. Its provenance is detailed in the catalog, verified by experts. A rare find.”
Fair market value was 150,000 euros, give or take a few thousand. He doubted anyone here possessed the resources to outbid him as, so far, items had sold for only modest amounts. But he’d learned not to underestimate the zeal of collectors.
“The opening bid is one hundred thousand euros,” the auctioneer said. “We will work off increments of one thousand euros.”
That was common for a Dorotheum sale. The house generally started things rolling. If no one bid that amount, the item was returned to its owner. If no house floor was proffered, that meant the highest bid won, no matter what that might be.
He flicked his right hand, signaling that he opened with one hundred thousand. He’d already informed the auctioneer that he would be bidding on this item.
“We have one hundred thousand.”
“One hundred twenty thousand,” a man said from across the aisle.
“One fifty,” Salazar stated.
“The bid is 150,000 euros. Is there more?”
No one replied. He was pleased.
“One hundred sixty,” a new voice said.
He turned and saw Cotton Malone standing at the rear of the hall.
“It’s the man from earlier,” Cassiopeia said.
“That it is,” he whispered.
Malone stepped toward the chairs and sat in an empty one.
“We have a bid of 160,000 euros,” the auctioneer announced.
“One hundred seventy,” Salazar said.
“Two hundred thousand,” Malone called out.
The auctioneer seemed surprised.
So was Salazar. “I request to know if the gentleman is certified.”
That was allowed, particularly when bids exceeded market value. Otherwise, owners and speculators could run up the price through nonsensical amounts that they were not prepared to honor.
“Herr Salazar wishes to know your credentials,” the auctioneer asked.
MALONE STOOD FROM HIS CHAIR. HE’D ATTENDED ENOUGH auctions to know this might happen, which was why he’d removed from the knapsack beneath his bed back in Copenhagen his Justice Department credentials, which Stephanie had allowed him to keep. Rarely in his former occupation had he ever carried them. He fished the leather wallet from his pocket and flashed the gold badge and photo identification to the auctioneer.
“Cotton Malone. United States Justice Department. Good enough?”
The auctioneer never flinched. “So long as you can honor your bid.”
“I assure you I can.”
“Then, let us proceed. The bid is two hundred thousand euros. Herr Salazar?”
“Two fifty.”
CASSIOPEIA GRABBED SALAZAR’S ARM AND WHISPERED, “YOU told me the value of this book, which is far less than you just bid.”
“Things have changed.”
“Three hundred thousand,” Cotton said.
SALAZAR TURNED AND FACED HIS ADVERSARY. TRUE, HE’D wanted the Americans to come, even hoped that Malone himself would appear. But he’d not expected this type of challenge.
“Four hundred thousand,” he said, his eyes on his opponent.
“Four hundred fifty,” Malone quickly replied.
“Five hundred thousand.”
Silence filled the room.
He waited.
“One million euros,” Malone said.
He kept his gaze locked on his enemy.
“Satan is here. See him, Josepe. There he sits. He is an agent of the U.S. government. Wherever there is any dominion that is beneath that of the celestial world, we are to be free of it. The American continent was not designed for such a corrupt government as the United States to prosper long upon it. Let him win. Then make him pay.”
He’d never questioned the angel before and was not going to start now.
He turned toward the auctioneer and shook his head.
Ending the sale.
He watched as Malone paid the cashier an amount seven times what any other original edition would command. The Book of Mormon lay on the table, sealed in plastic, inside a stylish wooden box.
Malone lifted the prize out for a quick inspection.
Cassiopeia marched over and said, “Was it worth it?”
Malone smiled. “Every euro.”
“You are a despicable man.”
The American shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”
“You’ll regret what you just did,” she said to him.
Malone threw her a quizzical look. “Is that a threat, ma’am?”
