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“Anything so far?”
“Nope. And to be honest I wasn’t expecting to. I’ve read his file. These Stasi guys were pretty good, and this one seems above average. He’s a smart little fucker but we’ll catch him.”
“The apartment was a bust?”
“Yep, but we had to cover it.”
“The office?”
“First thing in the morning.”
“Expectations?”
Milt shrugged. “We might find something, but I’m thinking the banks will be the key. This guy likes nice things. He just bought a brand-new hundred-plus-
thousand-dollar Mercedes.” Milt smiled. “When he finds out you drained his accounts he’s going to come unhinged. If he calls the banks to sort it out, we’ll be on him. If he doesn’t, he’s going to be low on money and he’ll have to surface sooner rather than later.”
Rapp thought about that. “What about putting the word out? Unofficially of course. Offer a million dollars for him and see if he contacts any of his old Stasi buddies for help.”
“I thought about that, but I think we should wait a few days. Let’s see where tomorrow takes us and then we’ll decide. In the meantime, I want you to get some sleep. You look like shit.”
“I feel like shit.”
“That’s to be expected.” Milt put a hand on his shoulder. Sleep was a strange thing. The more you needed it, the harder it was to get. And Milt could see that Rapp desperately needed some sleep. “Mitch, have I ever let you down before?”
Rapp shook his head.
“And I’m not going to let you down now. I’m not going to stop until I find this Abel guy, and then I’m going to find the people he hired. You can count on it. Now go to bed. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a big day.”
72
T ayyib had met the woman on two occasions, both times in Abel’s office. Rashid had sent him there unannounced, for no other reason than to make Abel uncomfortable and to let him know that the six-foot-four Tayyib with his haunting eyes and impassive demeanor knew where Abel worked. Rashid had made up some inconsequential reason for the visits, but the message was clear enough. Tayyib did not like women. Especially large-breasted blond women who were trying to make him stray from the path. That was what he remembered most about Greta Jorgensen—her impossibly large breasts and the tight sweaters she had worn on both occasions. He would not have known her name if it hadn’t been displayed on a placard sitting on top of her desk.
The men he sent to find Abel had reported that he was not at the office on Monday. Tayyib asked them what excuse the secretary had given them and they reported that there was no secretary. The office was closed. No one was there. Tayyib asked them if Monday had been a holiday. They said it wasn’t. That meant Abel had talked to her and told her not to come into work. And that meant she knew how to communicate with him. Finding out where she lived did not prove difficult. Outside of the Kingdom, the Saudi Intelligence Service was strongest in Vienna, the home of OPEC. There were only two Greta Jorgensens in the phone book and three G. Jorgensens. Tayyib estimated the woman to be in her late thirties and either divorced or single. She hadn’t been wearing a ring. The intelligence people at the embassy eliminated three of the Jorgensens straightaway and with a little more checking they eliminated the fourth.
The fifth and final woman lived in a bland apartment building north of the Danube not far from the Wiennord train station. They had one of the interpreters from the embassy call her apartment to see if she was in. She answered on the fourth ring and in perfect Austrian German the interpreter asked for Johan. She explained that no Johan lived there and the interpreter told her he was sorry.
Twenty minutes later Greta Jorgensen was sitting in front of her computer making the final arrangements for her trip. That was what her boss wanted her to do, and she loved to travel. Her bags were packed and she was leaving in the morning. It was almost midnight when she heard a faint knock on her door. She had a neighbor who was a waitress. Sometimes when she got off work, she’d stop by to see if Greta wanted a glass of wine and a cigarette. Greta had told her about her sudden trip and asked her to come along. The friend had said she couldn’t afford it. Greta hoped she had changed her mind. She opened the door without bothering to look through the peephole and was surprised to find a very tall serious man standing there instead. Greta tilted her head to the left and studied the face that she vaguely recognized, but couldn’t place. Before she could make the connection, the man punched her in the jaw and everything went black.
73
R app and Coleman stood shoulder to shoulder behind Milt and watched him orchestrate the movements of his team. On the desk in front of him, three laptops were open and powered up. The one on the left showed the exterior of Abel’s office building, the one in the middle was a live feed through the windshield of a car that was moving through morning traffic, and the last one had a map of Vienna on the screen. Everyone on Milt’s team wore a transponder. Each agent’s location was marked on the screen with a neon green dot and a number. This way Milt knew where all of his people were at every moment and like an air traffic controller he could look at the screen and vector them into position as was needed.
The plan this morning was simple. The building where Abel’s office was located was near Parliament, which meant there would be a fair amount of cops in the neighborhood. The building was five stories, made out of stone, and like nearly everything else in Vienna, it was in immaculate shape considering it had been built a full century ago. Abel’s office was on the third floor, sandwiched between two attorneys. The place was well organized and occupied mostly by professionals. That was why Milt had wanted to wait until morning. There was no need to push it if they didn’t have to. Buildings like this received visitors all day long, but overnight they shut down. The place had decent security and was staffed by a watchman. It would be far easier to walk in under their nose in broad daylight.
Standing in front of a fountain across the street, one of the agents called in that everything was clear. It was two minutes before nine and people were streaming into the building. The sky was patchy with clouds and the temperature was mild. It looked like rain was likely.
Milt flipped the mike arm up on his headset and announced to the two men standing behind him, “The weather is perfect.”
He yanked the mike back down and asked, “Sarah, how are you feeling?”
“Good.” The voice came out of a small black speaker
on the left of the desk.
“All right. Why don’t you head in. Nothing fancy. No big risks. We’ve got all morning.” Milt never liked to rush unless he had to.
THE HOTEL WAS only a few blocks from the office. A black A-4 Audi pulled out into traffic and less than a minute later it stopped in front of Abel’s building. A brunette with dark, horn-rimmed glasses got out of the car and closed the door. Milt never worked with blondes. They stood out too much. The agent’s shoulder-length black hair had a slight wave to it and on her right side it partially covered her face. She was wearing a stylish black nylon trench coat that stopped midthigh and could be reversed to light gray. Underneath, she was wearing a dark gray pantsuit with a white blouse. Very monochrome. Very forgettable. At least that was the intent.
