The Book of Spies

by Gayle Lynds

  “Delighted. Move, Chapman.” Then she warned, “I’ll be right behind you, and it’d be such a pleasure to shoot you.”

  “Let me go,” Chapman said, his cool gaze assessing their weakened position. “I’ll call off my men and get you out of here.”

  “My ass,” Eva retorted. “You’re alive. Don’t try for more. As Horace said, ‘Semper avarus eget.’ That means a greedy man’s always in need, you greedy bastard.”

  She hurried him off, and Judd ran past them, pushing the cart. Tucker was on one side of the big garage door, Domino on the other. Both were peering out carefully. Judd glanced over his shoulder at the door to the corridor to make certain it remained closed and Eva still controlled Chapman.

  But as he neared the garage door and felt the night air cool on his skin, he heard the shouts of men out on the hillsides. He parked the cart off to the side, against the wall. That explained the rest of Chapman’s men. More would be coming through the house after them.

  “Stay there,” he told Yitzhak and Roberto. Before they could respond, he joined Domino, who moved aside so he could take the lead. “See anything?”

  “They’re closing in,” Domino said through bruised lips. His jaw was swelling.

  Abruptly fusillades of gunfire raked through the garage’s opening, whining past and spitting into the concrete floor. Judd dropped, rolled, and came up on his elbows, sending bursts out toward the flashes of light. Instantly Domino was lying beside him, shooting, too. Dark shadows of men were moving down to join the shooters, far more than the number of Chapman’s men Judd had thought were left. Had Chapman put on more security than he realized?

  In his peripheral vision he saw Eva push Chapman to Tucker’s side of the door. Now that they had arrived, Tucker dropped to fire, too.

  As Judd squeezed off bursts, he glanced up in time to see Chapman take in the scene, his gaze calculating. Only Eva was left standing to guard him.

  “Eva!” Judd warned. “Chapman’s going to—”

  Too late. The tall man whirled and lashed out a foot, kicking away her M4. She lunged for it, and he fell on her. Fighting back, she kneed him in the groin, and they rolled, their legs and arms tangled. Judd could not get a clear shot.

  Enraged, he jumped up and ran toward her as gunfire continued to slash into the garage. Rounds crazed his back, burning.

  Suddenly he heard the door to the corridor behind them burst open. In the shelter of the wall, he turned, firing blindly, raking blasts toward it.

  “Stop, Judd!” Tucker bellowed. “It’s our people!”

  A paramilitary team dressed in black with black combat gear was streaming around the door, crouching, M4s up.

  At the same time, Domino announced tiredly, “Your people are wiping out the security guards on the hills, too.”

  Judd said nothing, looking out quickly as he listened to the blistering gunfire. Fusillades no longer streamed into the garage. The gunshots came from all over the dark slopes, muzzle flashes bright and fast as the paratroopers fought the guards.

  Judd sprinted to Eva. “Get off her, you asshole!” But before Chapman could move, Judd kicked him in the head.

  THE HILLS were quiet at last. Shadows moved as paratroopers rounded up the last of Chapman’s security men. Inside the garage, Eva waited beside Judd, his closeness comforting, as he and Tucker filled in the lieutenant in charge of the operation. At a distance, Chapman sat on the floor, hands cuffed behind him, head cocked as he tried to hear what they said. Blood matted his white hair from Judd’s blow. Refusing to speak, he was alert, his expression angry, his lips thin and tightly closed.

  A medic had examined Yitzhak and pronounced a profound case of exhaustion. Roberto and Yitzhak held hands in the cart as one of the soldiers pushed them across the floor toward the house.

  Domino took off his tuxedo jacket, and the medic ripped his shirt, gave him shots of antibiotics and painkillers, and cleaned his wound.

  “Looks as if the bullet missed your lungs, but you’ve got a broken rib, I think,” the medic decided. “I’ll bandage you until I can get you to a hospital. The painkiller should be kicking in now.”

  “Give that to me.”

  Domino grabbed packets of sterile bandages. Pushing the medic away, he stood, ripped open two, and slapped one bandage onto the entrance wound in back and the other in front.

  He looked at Judd. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Eva was about to say something, then thought better of it. She joined Domino, Judd, and Tucker as they walked across the garage. She felt their weariness and was suddenly aware of her own.

  “So you work for the Carnivore, Domino?” she asked.

  “I do occasional jobs for him. He felt I’d be appropriate for this particular task.” He had a calm, untroubled expression now.

  “Who is the Carnivore, really?”

  He chuckled and ran a finger along his red nose. “He told me you might ask. The answer is he’s a man without a face. He employs me only through e-mail.” He gazed at Judd a moment. “I owe you for killing Preston. Saved my hide.”

  “A pleasure, believe me.”

  “Nevertheless, I won’t forget.”

  They rode the elevator up one floor, to the ground level. The living room showed the effects of a gun battle. Furniture and vases were shattered, and bullet holes riddled paintings. They walked out through the double glass doors onto the marble pathway.

  Moonlight shone down, casting the grounds in a soft glow. A half-dozen corpses were laid out beside the tennis courts. Chefs and staff members were sitting on the ground, guarded by two members of the paramilitary teams. Ahead, three sleek Black Hawk helicopters were parked on and around the helipad. One’s rotors were turning. Yitzhak and Roberto were climbing on board.

  The four passed two cottages.

  “This one was your husband’s,” Domino told Eva. “In case you want to see it.”

  She stopped and gazed at the white walls, then at the carved wood door, much like the one into the Library of Gold. “Yes, you’re right. I’d like to go inside.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Judd offered.

  “We need to talk about the Carnivore and how you found out about Gloria Feit,” Tucker told Domino.

  “Of course. I’ll fill you in completely, but give me a few moments to rest. How about on the helicopter ride back?”

  Tucker gave an understanding nod. “Agreed.”

  As the pair waited outside, Judd and Eva entered the small foyer of Charles Sherback’s cottage and walked into a spacious living room. It had been searched. Books piled haphazardly on the floor, the shelves that lined the walls empty. The cushions on the sofas and easy chairs were upended, and the drawers on the writing desk left open. Eva clasped her throat.

  Judd followed her into the bedroom. The cover and sheets on the king-size bed were torn off. Clothes from the bureau and closet lay on the floor. Men’s clothes—and women’s clothes.

  Eva walked up to a framed needlepoint above the dresser. It was a quotation:

  I cannot live without books.

  —Thomas Jefferson, letter to John Adams, 1815

  “I gave that to Charles,” she said quietly, her back to Judd. “It was in his office at the Moreau Library. I’d forgotten about it.”

  Judd had seen no photos in the living room, but there were several hanging on the wall in the bedroom of Charles and Robin—working together in the library, walking on the beach, picking oranges in a grove. He watched Eva turn to gaze at them.

  “Maybe he took the Jefferson quotation to remember you,” he said kindly.

  “Or maybe he wanted it because he liked the quotation. Did I tell you I can needlepoint?”

  He put an arm around her shoulders. “I imagine there are a lot things you haven’t told me. I’d like to know all of them.”

  She smiled up at him but said nothing, full of emotions she could not name.

  He felt a moment of disappointment, then he led her to the door. They walked out i
nto the night. Another helicopter’s rotors were turning, the motor sending waves of sound across the fresh sea air.

  “Where are Tucker and Domino?” Judd looked quickly around.

  They ran. Tucker was pushing himself up off the ground behind a bush.

  “Tucker, what happened?” she said.

  “The bastard got me while I wasn’t looking.” He grimaced and dusted off his trousers. “Obviously he didn’t want to answer my questions.”

  “There he is,” Judd said, peering far up the hill behind them.

  Domino was a solitary figure, climbing swiftly. He had peeled off his white shirt and was wearing a long-sleeve black T-shirt. With his black tuxedo trousers, he was difficult to see. Then he turned, and moonlight illuminated his face. Cradling his M4, he caught sight of them.

  “Come back, dammit!” Tucker shouted.

  Instead Domino lifted two fingers and deliberately touched his forehead in a brisk salute. Eva vaguely recalled the gesture . . . And then it was vivid: A moonlit night like this, the Thracian coast in Turkey. She and Judd were sitting inside the small plane, about to take off for Athens, and Judd had saluted back.

  The men cursed as Domino’s silhouetted form ran off lightly and vanished over the hill’s crest.

  But Eva felt a strange thrill. “My God, it was him all along. The assassin without a face. There is no Domino. That was the Carnivore.”

  EPILOGUE

  Georgetown, D.C.

  EVEN IN the long shadows of twilight the June evening was sultry, typical for a District summer. The sidewalks and granite buildings radiated heat, while the scents of blooming flowers mixed with the stench of oily concrete as Eva Blake hurried along Wisconsin Avenue in downtown Georgetown.

  She was full of memories. It had been two months since the discovery of the Library of Gold on the Isle of Pericles, and at last she had a sense of what she wanted for her future. With her conviction for Charles’s murder scrubbed, she had collected his life insurance, leased a condo in Silver Spring, and moved to be near Washington.

  Headlines had echoed around the world with the revelation the Library of Gold had been found at last. Included in the news was the Greek government’s arrests of Martin Chapman and the other surviving members of the book club—all international businessmen—on charges of kidnapping Yitzhak Law and Roberto Cavaletti, the only charges they had a hope of making stick. The men were quickly out on bail, claiming Yitzhak and Roberto had simply been visiting. Since Yitzhak had told his Rome university he was going out of town on business just before he and Roberto disappeared, there was some credence to the book club’s defense. In any case, the seven men had a world-class team of lawyers working around the clock for them, while the CIA needed to keep its role secret and was going to be of little help supporting any charges against them. At least Yitzhak and Roberto were back home and safe in their familiar routines.

  A footnote to worldwide news, but a headline-grabber in Los Angeles, was that Charles Sherback had been found on the island, dead. Full of curiosity, former friends and colleagues had called, giving Eva condolences. At the same time the media had swarmed, packing her voice mail with pleas for interviews and camping out outside her hotel. She could not go to the drugstore, pick up her dry cleaning, or eat in a café without being peppered with questions. Thankfully here in Washington she was out of the fish bowl.

  As was the way of politics in Afghanistan, Syed Ullah was no longer warlord. The Kabul government had sent its army to force him to give his region to an up-and-coming young rival, and now Ullah was running for the next parliamentary election. It appeared as if he would win, but Kabul gave no indication it was worried. Its ties to Pakistan remained tangled. The film of the two Pakistani newsmen had been confiscated, and the Islamabad government had ordered them to forget anything they saw, so the U.S. military base was safe. It was in Pakistan’s best interest to keep Afghanistan as stable as possible, at least for now.

  As she walked down the busy street, Eva watched the dusky shadows. She still felt the bone-weary exhaustion of being hunted, of the roller-coaster ride of terrifying failures and exhilarating successes. And she deeply missed her friend Peggy Doty. Several times she had talked on the phone with Peggy’s longtime beau, Zack Turner, who remained inconsolable.

  She fought back anger as she remembered Charles’s faked death, her incarceration, and the still unidentified corpse in Charles’s grave. Betrayal after betrayal. She wondered who she had been before prison and the Library of Gold operation. Clearly she had changed. It was time to find out who she was now.

  Judd and Tucker were waiting at a table in Five Guys Famous Burgers and Fries on the corner of Dumbarton Street. They sat across from each other, the older academic-looking man in his tortoiseshell glasses and the battered athlete in his sports jacket and turtleneck. She smiled as they spotted her.

  Motioning them to stay seated, she kissed each on the cheek. “You have my hamburger. Thanks, Tucker.”

  “You look good, Eva,” Judd said. “Rested.”

  “I feel rested.” She smiled as she sat between them.

  The men were already eating, so she dove into the hamburger and fries they had ordered for her. She had not seen Tucker since her return to the United States, and she had been with Judd only when they were being debriefed. His face still looked troubled occasionally. Not only had his father been killed, but he had discovered his deep involvement in the powerful and immoral book club.

  “How’s your mother, Judd?” Tucker was asking.

  “Much better. Busy again with her philanthropies. She doesn’t know the truth about Dad and the Library of Gold.”

  “No reason she should know,” Eva said quickly.

  Judd nodded. “What’s the latest with the book club, Tucker?”

  Tucker chewed a moment. “I can’t go into specifics, of course, but I can tell you the Justice Department has investigators working in the various countries in which the club members do business. The problem is, the members are effectively out of our control, even if we discover criminal activity—unless it’s in the United States or in a foreign country where the government is willing to cooperate.”

  Judd shook his head in disgust. Then he changed the subject. “Have we made peace with the Greeks?”

  Tucker chuckled. “H. L. Mencken wrote something to the effect that nations get along with one another not by telling the truth but by lying gracefully. We made a deal. In exchange for the Greeks’ forgetting we sent our paratroopers into their territory, we let them take credit for finding the Library of Gold.”

  “That explains the news stories. Charles would’ve been furious.” Eva laughed. Greece’s renowned government historian Nikos Amourgis had received the credit. “What’s going to happen to the library now?”

  Finished eating, Tucker pushed his plate away. “It’s vanished. The word is it will remain private.”

  “You don’t know where it is?” she asked, surprised. “The Greeks don’t?”

  “They ended their investigation on the island last month. The next week our flyovers told us it was gone. There are no buildings on the mesa now. The underground levels have been filled in, and a fruit orchard planted. Even the wharf’s been carted away. The bottom line is the island’s private, and the collection is privately owned, so they can do whatever they want. The library’s hardly a national security issue for us, so we won’t devote manpower to locating it again.”

  They were silent with disappointment.

  “What about the Carnivore?” Eva asked eagerly. “Did you track him down?”

  She knew Gloria had sent out word to all Catapult operatives, asking them or any of their sources who had contact with Tucker or Judd to tell them to phone her for help. That was how the Carnivore must have known to have them call Gloria while they were trapped in the Library of Gold. Then when the Carnivore escaped on the island, Tucker sent paratroopers out to look for him. They reported a small dark speedboat on the west side, taking off into the night. I
t was possible the Carnivore was on it, but they had needed the helicopters to transport the injured off the island and so had not pursued.

  Tucker shook his head. “No. I had Gloria send out another notice to our people after I got back, this time asking whoever had told the Carnivore about us to let us know. No one owned up to it. Frustrating as hell.”

  “You’ve got someone in Catapult who knows the Carnivore,” Judd said, “or can reach him somehow.”

  “Right. And no one’s talking.”

  “Still, his help was critical,” Eva said. “In fact, I think it’s safe to say he was instrumental in saving our lives.”

  “Yes, and I’m not going to hunt him,” Tucker said. “Bad things happen when one goes after the Carnivore, but that doesn’t bother me. I just don’t see much point to it, at least for now.”

  “Oddly, I’m glad,” Eva said.

  Tucker peered around the lively fast-food joint. Two middle-age men had arrived with their burgers and sat at the next table.

  “Let’s get out of here.” Tucker stood and led Judd and Eva out of the restaurant.

  As they walked down Wisconsin Avenue, Tucker, between them, glanced at one, then the other. “I know the Library of Gold operation was rough on you. You uncovered very unpleasant facts about people you loved. On the other hand, I’ve always believed illusions are overrated. Consider a great ballet. From the audience you see extraordinary dancers seemingly light as air, leaping, pirouetting, and generally moving like sylphs in ways most of us can only dream. But if you go backstage you find sweat, torn muscles, and mangled feet. Which is better?” Before they could respond, he went on: “My take is backstage. That’s where you learn what it takes to create something extraordinary. It shows the human spirit at its most indomitable. And the next time you sit in the audience the illusion is gone and you start to see that with effort all of us can achieve a sort of glory in our lives.”

  “Are you talking about Judd’s father and Charles?” Eva asked.

  “Yes. Both did despicable things, but they did good things as well. Remembering that will help you to live with the facts.”