The League of Night and Fog

by David Morrell

  “No. In Rome.”

  “Then how … ?”

  “From the moment I gave you the safe-deposit box key and the code words, my most-trusted assistant has been assigned to a cloister here in Zurich. He checks the box daily. When he found your message, he phoned me in Rome. I told him to arrange for several possible meetings and left at once for Zurich. My flight arrived this evening.”

  “But if your assistant knew about your plans …”

  “Exactly. As much as I trust him, prudence required me to add my own variation. By such precautions, the Fraternity has kept itself secret all these centuries. And we mustn’t forget—I recruited you, an outsider who had no choice except to help me, precisely because I have reason to believe there is an enemy within the order.” The priest sped around another corner and checked his rearview mirror. “No one behind us. It seems we’ve accomplished our purpose. Would you care to do some late-night sightseeing?”

  The priest sped north, toward the wooded hills outside the city.

  4

  “Your request for a meeting was unexpected. Indeed, from a security point of view, most distressing.” Father Sebastian continued driving. “What do you want?”

  “Information,” Drew said.

  “You couldn’t have put your questions in writing and left them at the bank?”

  “So your assistant could learn what I needed before you did? What precautions could you have taken after that?”

  “I grant your point.”

  “Besides, a great deal’s happened since we met you at the Vatican.”

  “I hope that means you’ve made progress.”

  “It means there are other players in the game.”

  Father Sebastian turned sharply toward him. “Who?”

  “If I knew, I wouldn’t have had to risk asking for this meeting. I need your resources, your network, to help me find out.”

  The priest concentrated on the road. “Explain.”

  Drew began with his decision to investigate the possibility that terrorists were responsible for Cardinal Pavelic’s disappearance. “Terrorists used to be my specialty, after all,” he said bitterly. “But Father Victor’s research seemed to indicate he hadn’t explored that possibility.”

  “Cardinal Pavelic’s disappearance might have been the first stage of a terrorist attack against the Church? My compliments. It hadn’t occurred to me.”

  “I’m not sure I’m right. But two other men had the same suspicion.” Drew explained about his conversation with Gatto and how the arms merchant, no longer privy to confidential information, had directed him to Medici. “But when Arlene and I were set to grab Medici, two men took him first. And when we returned to Gatto to ask what he knew about these men, we found his villa had been attacked. His bodyguards were dead. He’d been tortured. His throat had been slit.”

  Father Sebastian gripped the steering wheel. “Then you assume the two men forced Gatto to reveal what he’d already told you?”

  “Yes. I believe those two men tortured Gatto to learn if terrorists were involved in the cardinal’s disappearance. I think they have the same purpose I do. And I want to know who they are.”

  “Describe them.”

  Drew remembered his view from the alley as the two men subdued Medici’s bodyguard and chauffeur, then shoved Medici into his limousine. The confrontation and abduction had been amazingly quick—no longer than twenty seconds—but Drew’s expert memory envisioned it again as if he were watching a film-strip.

  “They were in their early forties,” he said. “They both wore caps. Even so, I could see hair at the back of their necks and along their ears. One man was a blond, the other a redhead. The blond was six feet tall, tanned, well-built, as if he lifted weights, big shoulders and chest, wide forehead and jaw. The redhead was taller, maybe six foot two, extremely thin and pale. His cheeks were gaunt. His face seemed squeezed together.”

  “A charming couple,” Father Sebastian said. “But without more information, I don’t see how my sources can identify them. A muscular blond and a pasty redhead. Did you get any sense of their nationality?”

  “Only in a negative sense. I had the impression they weren’t French, Spanish, or Italian. Still, we do have other information.”

  “Oh?”

  “Those men were professionals. I don’t mean just that they knew what they were doing. I mean world-class. I’ve seen few men better, and in my former life, I dealt with a lot of experts. They can’t be that good and not have a reputation. My guess is the color of their hair is part of their trademark. Ask your sources about top-of-the-line assassins. Find out if two of them are a blonde and a redhead. And something else—assuming they’re not Italian, they had to come through immigration. Check with your Opus Dei people in Italian security, Interpol, the CIA. Maybe our two friends entered Italy recently. Maybe somebody spotted them.”

  “It still isn’t much of a lead.”

  “It’s all we’ve got,” Drew said. “All you’ve got. I’m handing the case over to you for now.”

  “For now? Or is this your attempt to bow out completely? You haven’t forgotten your bargain, I hope. If you cooperate, we’ll pardon your sins against us.”

  “I haven’t forgotten. All I want is the chance to be with Arlene. I know if I betray you I’ll never get that chance. But how can I cooperate if I don’t get the information I’ve asked for?”

  Father Sebastian debated. “As you say, it’s in my hands for now. Check the safe-deposit box every morning at ten, every afternoon at three.”

  Exhausted by the discussion, Drew leaned back. Next to him, in the rear of the shadowy car, he felt Arlene gazing at him searingly.

  “I’ll try to have an answer for you soon,” the priest said.

  5

  The Langenberg Wildlife Park, off a scenic road southwest of Zurich, allowed its visitors an intimate glimpse of chamois, marmot, deer, and boar. Drew and Arlene drove from the park’s two acres of rocky forested hills and proceeded farther south along a series of rising switchbacks until they stopped at the top of Albis Pass. From its 2,600 feet, they had a view of rolling countryside. More important, their position gave Father Sebastian a chance to see if they’d been followed from the park.

  Ten minutes later, Father Sebastian pulled up beside them. After Drew and Arlene got in, the priest sped down the road from the pass. He soon turned onto a wooded side road and checked his rearview mirror. It was the afternoon after their late-night meeting. The sky was cloudy, with a threat of rain.

  “Icicle and Seth.”

  Drew didn’t understand. “Icicle and … ?”

  “Seth,” the priest repeated. “Those are their cryptonyms. I confess I didn’t think I’d learn anything about them. But as soon as I mentioned a blonde and a redhead, I got an immediate reaction from my Opus Dei contacts in Interpol. I’m embarrassed I hadn’t heard about these two men before. The only excuse I can think of for my ignorance is they haven’t made a move against anything that involves the Church. They’re not terrorists; you wouldn’t have known about them either.”

  “What about them?” Drew asked.

  “They’re extremely expensive, extremely skilled, extremely deadly. They don’t work often, but when they do, it’s a major job. They’re experts at hiding. No one knows where they live.”

  “By definition,” Drew said. “Otherwise there’d have been reprisals against them.”

  “One Interpol theory is that they use a major proportion of their income to buy protection. But even so, they’ve made a few mistakes. Along the line some security cameras took photographs of them. Only a couple. The images are blurred. But these days, computers can do wonders to add high-resolution to murky photographs. And those enhanced photographs were used to identify two men who came through Rome’s airport two days ago from Canada. Each man alone might not have triggered interest. But both of them on one plane …”

  “Sure. They attracted attention to each other. The watcher was bound to notice.”r />
  “That’s part of the reason they were spotted,” Father Sebastian said. “But there’s a stronger reason for both of them on one plane to be unusual. I told you their code names are Icicle and Seth. Both are appropriate to killing.”

  “Death is an iceman. Seth is the red-haired Egyptian god of the underworld.”

  “And forty years ago, the men with those code names were mortal enemies,” Father Sebastian said.

  “That’s impossible! Forty years ago, the men I saw would have been infants!”

  “I’m talking about the fathers whose code names the sons inherited. In the Second World War, Icicle and Seth were Hitler’s personal principal assassins. Each tried to outdo the other’s body count—to gain approval from the Führer. And after the Third Reich collapsed, the favored assassins continued to challenge each other. On several occasions, they tried to kill each other. Because of a woman, some sources say. Do the sons of old enemies consort with each other? Travel on the same plane? Cooperate to kidnap an informant? That’s what attracted Interpol’s attention. Whatever’s happening is more disturbing than I feared. Icicle and Seth working together?”

  6

  The sky became grayer. A light rain started falling as Father Sebastian let them off at the top of Albis Pass. “And now the case is yours again,” the priest said. “I don’t know how you can use the information I’ve given you. But I recruited you precisely because I didn’t want to risk involving the Fraternity in the investigation. If you need me to do your work for you, why should I have bargained with you? I’m becoming impatient.” With an angry glare, the priest sped away.

  Drew watched him disappear down the pass. The rain was like a heavy mist. It drifted across his face. Despondent, he and Arlene got into their car.

  “What now?” Arlene asked. “Even with what he told us, I feel helpless. Where do we go?”

  “I think back to Rome.” He tried to sound confident. “Where Cardinal Pavelic disappeared, where Father Victor was shot, where Seth and Icicle went after Gatto and Medici.”

  Her gaze became hopeful. “But what’s the connection?”

  “Between the sons of Hitler’s private assassins and the disappearance of Cardinal Pavelic? I’m not sure there is a connection, not a direct one anyhow. Seth and Icicle didn’t abduct the cardinal—otherwise they wouldn’t be looking for him. They want answers the same as we do. Why, though? Why are they so interested? What would make the sons of Nazi executioners—and remember their fathers were enemies—want to join forces to find a missing cardinal? From the start, we overlooked the obvious. The cardinal’s the key to this. But we are thinking of him only as a figurehead, a Church luminary, not as a man. Who was he? We hardly know anything about him.”

  Drew turned the ignition key and steered toward the road. At once he saw a Renault go by, driven by a man speeding down the pass toward Zurich. Behind the Renault, another car, a Volkswagen Golf, followed closely. In it, a woman stared at the car ahead with intensity, as if the worst thing that could happen would be for her to lose sight of the Renault. Drew was positive he’d never seen them before, yet he felt a puzzling kinship. He pulled onto the road and drove behind them down the pass, but wherever they were headed, he and Arlene were going toward Zurich’s airport and the next flight back to Rome.

  7

  Saul found a space in a crowded parking lot near Zurich’s railway station. The skin on his face felt taut from exhaustion. I tried to do too much, he thought. I should have rested longer at the cave. Mustering strength, he stepped from the Renault and locked it. The drizzle persisted. He glanced at the Renault’s closed trunk, which he’d discovered contained automatic weapons and plastic explosives as well as three sets of passports, credit cards, and driver’s licenses providing alternate identities for the men who’d used this car.

  They wouldn’t have risked bringing that stuff through Swiss customs, Saul thought. They got everything after they entered the country. Which means they weren’t alone; they had contacts, an organization to back them up. They must have thought we wouldn’t be suspicious and run. Otherwise they’d have come after us sooner.

  Their mistake.

  Erika pulled up in the Volkswagen. He got in beside her.

  “A couple of times, you wavered on the road,” she said. “Your eyes look dull. Your skin’s pale. Are you sick?”

  His raw throat made him cough. “Let’s not worry about it till I make a phone call.”

  “After that, this Jewish lady’s going to pamper you.”

  “I’ll hold you to that promise.” Saul smiled. “Drive toward the lake.”

  He could have used a telephone in the train station, but by habit, he avoided all phones in public transport terminals—security agencies frequently tapped them. Halfway along the Bahnhofstrasse, he pointed toward a phone booth. “It’s as safe as any, I suppose.”

  Erika stopped at the curb.

  “Keep circling the block,” he said, then darted from the Volkswagen. He picked up the receiver, inserting Swiss coins.

  A gruff voice answered in German. “Zurich Flower Shop.”

  “This is a priority order. Put me through to your international dispatcher.”

  “Have you dealt with us before? To expedite delivery, I’ll need an account number.”

  “My account was listed under a name.”

  “What is it?”

  “Romulus.”

  The German voice hesitated only briefly. “I’ll check your invoice file and see if the dispatcher’s available.”

  “Tell him I’ve found a flower shop I don’t think he knows about.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be interested—if I can reach him.”

  “I’m sure you can.”

  Saul studied his watch. Forty seconds later, another voice—speaking English—came on the line.

  “What kind of flowers did you wish to send?”

  “Roses. I’m calling from a Zurich phone booth. I want to send the order to the Black Bread Bakery in Vienna. My friend there was nicknamed Pockmark. This is the number in the booth.” Saul dictated it. “I don’t have an alternate phone. Tell Pockmark to call as soon as possible. Tell him I want to discuss the favor he wanted.”

  “This might take a while.”

  Saul knew they would use the number he’d given them to locate this phone and verify by sight that he was who he claimed to be. “I understand. Just make sure Pockmark calls me.”

  Saul hung up and glanced out the rain-streaked window of the booth. He saw Erika drive the Volkswagen past him and gestured reassuringly to her.

  He waited. Through the phone booth’s window, now misted by his breath, he saw Erika drive past several more times.

  Ten minutes later, the phone rang. He grabbed for it.

  A German voice again, but this one sounded as if its accent had been learned in New England. “I’m calling about some flowers you want to send to me.”

  “Your accent’s terrible, Pockmark.”

  “And you’re as discourteous as ever. You agreed not to get in touch with us.”

  “I want to discuss my near-accident in Vienna.”

  Pockmark spoke quickly. “We had nothing to do with that.”

  “I know. I found out who was involved. You’ll be surprised. Do we talk about it now or switch to another phone?”

  The line became silent.

  “Romulus?”

  “I’m listening.”

  “You’re sure I’ll be surprised?”

  “Utterly fascinated.”

  “How would you like to rent a hotel room? Our treat.”

  “Which hotel?”

  “By now, the flower shop should have found the booth you’re using.”

  “A man’s been standing outside for the past five minutes. He looks cold in the rain.”

  “I’ll try to get back to you by tonight.”

  The phone went dead. Saul stepped from the booth. A gray-haired man stood close to a building, trying to avoid the rain.

  “You
like flowers?” Saul asked.

  “Roses.”

  “Know any good hotels?”

  “Oh, indeed!” the man said.

  Erika drove around the corner.

  8

  “Ouch! It’s too hot!”

  “We have to sweat the cold out of you.”

  “I liked it better the way you got me warm last night.”

  “How’d you guess my backup plan? Now take off the rest of your clothes and get in the tub.”

  He stripped and sank slowly into the steaming water. She scrubbed his back. He couldn’t help smiling when she toweled him dry. “Now about that backup plan of yours.”

  She shook her head. “We’ll have company soon.”

  He made a face.

  “Besides, you need your strength,” she said. “You have to eat.”

  It was evening. They’d already called for room service. By the time Saul dressed—there’d been clothes in various sizes in the hotel room’s closet—they heard a knock on the door. Saul confirmed that the knock was from room service. He opened the door. The waiter who wheeled a cart into the room had a pockmarked face.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Pockmark said and closed the door. “I ordered for three. I haven’t had anything since breakfast.”

  “It’s all on the company’s tab,” Saul said.

  “Exactly. And all of us hope what you’re offering is worth our hospitality.”

  “I wouldn’t have called if I didn’t think it was worth more than that.” Five minutes earlier, Saul had been hungry. Now he barely glanced at the dishes on the cart.

  “And this must be Erika,” Pockmark said. “I’ve never had the pleasure.” He shook hands with her and poured three cups of coffee. Neither Saul nor Erika picked theirs up.

  Pockmark tasted his. “So. Let’s review the situation. Rules were established. We ignored your violation of the exile we agreed upon. In exchange, you promised us a favor. But to get the maximum effect from your favor, we wanted you to keep a distance from us … and from every other network. You had to appear to be disaffiliated. Would you say that your call this afternoon was in keeping with that promise? We constantly monitor our communication system, on guard against eavesdroppers. But no safeguards are foolproof. It’s possible other networks know about your call. You identified yourself by your cryptonym. There’s a chance … slim but of concern … that unfriendly ears overheard. You’ve jeopardized the nature of the favor we wanted from you.”