by By Jon Land
“Because they were blackmailing him.”
“Blackmailing him?”
“With a threat to reveal the existence of Lot four-sixty-one to the world, and offer what they had learned about it to rival pharmaceutical companies.”
Paul Hessler suddenly looked unsteady on his feet. He pulled them together and leaned against the glass for support. “I don’t believe you. I believe you are the blackmailer, here to extort something out of me with these bizarre claims. Yes, that’s what it must be.”
“It isn’t, believe me.”
“I can’t. I won’t.”
“Then believe this: A month ago your son received a confidential report someone named Tess Sanderson, here in New York, sent via e-mail. He downloaded the contents of an attachment onto the hard drive of a digital office machine in your Tel Aviv headquarters. One of these high school students, with a part time job as a technician, removed the machine’s circuit board and downloaded its contents. He and the others then threatened to sell what they had learned about Lot four-sixty-one to the highest bidder if their ransom demands weren’t met. They thought they would find plenty of takers among leading pharmaceutical companies and I’d say they were right. So your son paid them a million dollars.”
“A million dollars?”
“But it didn’t stop there. Lot four-sixty-one’s existence was still in jeopardy. Your son couldn’t be sure the money would keep the students silent and so long as they were alive they remained threats to his project. He must have felt he had no choice. So he had them tracked down and killed, Mr. Hessler. I’m sorry to have to tell you this.”
“You, you walk in here and expect me to believe all this, take such a ridiculous, scandalous story at your word? You expect me to believe a ...”
“A Palestinian, an Arab?” Ben finished when Hessler’s words tailed off in a breathless huff. “No, sir, I don’t. That’s why I brought along a disc which proves my allegations.”
Hessler’s face had begun to redden. A vein throbbed in his neck. “And does this disc prove that my son had these children killed as well?”
“Not in a court of law. But that’s not the court that matters, is it, sir?”
Hessler regarded Ben curiously. “Then I’m right, aren’t I, Inspector? Now you’ve come here to blackmail me.”
“No. I’ve come here to make a deal.”
“A deal?’
“You make them all the time, Mr. Hessler. This is just another one. Bottom line: I’m the only one right now who knows what I just told you. You and your family can be spared the disgrace, the embarrassment of your son’s complicity in at least eight murders.” .
“I don’t give a damn about disgrace or embarrassment! This is my son we’re talking about!”
“And his good name. The murdered heir to the Hessler fortune linked to the execution of four children, connected to terrorists and killers he hired to carry out their executions. Is that how you want his legacy to read?”
“It’s a lie!”
“Watch the disc, sir. You’ll see it’s anything but.”
Ben could see Hessler’s mind working logically again. “And you’re the only one who knows about all this?”
“I did take a few precautions.”
“Go on.”
“The man you can find no record of—Colonel al-Asi—I left a copy of the disc with him. If anything happens to me, he will release it to the international media along with my full report. And since you can’t find al-Asi, it’s safe to assume you’ll never be able to find his copy of the disc.”
Hessler nodded slowly, rage under control now. “So you want me to buy your silence, is that it, Inspector?”
“Not with money,” Ben told him.
“With what then?”
“Lot four-sixty-one.”
* * * *
B
en stopped for a moment to compose himself, afraid to show any sign of weakness or hesitation to Paul Hessler.
“I don’t understand,” the old man said, sounding confused and almost relieved.
“The confidential report your son received from Tess Sanderson was rather specific as to Lot four-sixty-one’s remarkable capabilities. Advanced genetic therapy. Nano-technology. Biological computers. Organic machines. I wish I understood these things....”
“I only want to understand what happened here, how everything went so wrong.”
As best as he could, Ben summarized the steps Ari Hessler had taken. From the clever murders of the four students in question, to stealing the hard drive from Shahir Falaya’s computer, to smuggling a disc containing the information relevant to him out of the West Bank to an intermediary in Athens who was to deliver it to Ari in New York.
“Impossible! Where would my son find the men, the killers, to do such a thing? He didn’t know such people.”
“I can’t tell you that, sir.
“Then tell me what it is you are getting at, what’s brought you halfway across the world to offer me your silence.”
“Birth defects,” Ben said, taking a deep breath.
“What?”
“Theoretically, Lot four-sixty-one could, should, be able to repair them in the fetus so the child can be born healthy and whole.”
“I suppose you’re right. Theoretically. But I’m no expert. I only learned of Lot four-sixty-one’s potential myself a few days ago.”
Ben chose his next words carefully, stumbling over them a little. “I have a good friend, a very good friend. She’s pregnant and her baby has a genetic, er, I think the doctor called it a genetic anomaly.” He tried not to sound pleading. “I want you to treat my friend with Lot four-sixty-one. I want you to try and save her baby. I’m afraid this is her last chance.”
“Inspector, what you’re asking would be extremely dangerous, perhaps even fatal. Lot four-sixty-one hasn’t been tested on a person that way yet, not even in the preliminary stages.”
Ben remained adamant, undeterred. “My friend cannot afford to wait until it has been, Mr. Hessler. Treat her with four sixty-one and the truth about your son being a murderer remains between us. Refuse and ...” He let his voice fade out, having said enough.
Paul Hessler regarded him with a gaze that flickered his eyebrows. “This must be a very good friend of yours, Inspector.”
“She is.”
“It occurs to me how prominently your name surfaced in that report I ordered on Pakad Danielle Barnea.”
Ben ignored Hessler’s suggestion. “Do we have a deal or not?”
“This drug could kill your friend, Inspector.”
Ben swallowed hard. “That will be her decision to make.”
“And assuming she says no ...”
“Giving her the choice fulfills your side of the bargain.”
Hessler’s face suddenly paled. He looked woozy and once more leaned against the wall of the skybridge for support, his fingers dragging across the glass. “My son should have come to me, told me of the problem with these high school students.”
“What would you have done?”
“There are other ways to assure silence, far more subtle ways.”
“I’m sorry he didn’t give you the chance, sir.”
“You’re missing the point. He didn’t give me the chance because the project was his. He wanted to surprise me, to make me proud. And I would have been; God, how I would have been. He couldn’t let anything get in the way of that.” Hessler’s voice settled into a low monotone. “Perhaps you should arrest me instead.”
“I’m not here to arrest anyone. I’m here to save a woman I love.”
“Her baby, you mean.”
“No, I mean her. She can’t lose this baby, sir. You know that... and so do I.”
Hessler looked at Ben differently, as if they shared something neither quite understood. “And why should I trust you?”
“Because if you agree and I release the disc anyway, there’ll be nothing to stop you from killing me... and Pakad Barnea.”
Hessl
er frowned, weighing the prospects. “I’ll need to see this disc of yours first.”
“I expected as much.”
“Come, Inspector,” Hessler said, raising a quivering hand to Ben’s elbow. “There’s a computer in my office. I’ll make sure we’re not disturbed.”
* * * *
CHAPTER 82
T
he three rented Ford Explorers reached New York City after dark, each driven by an American member of the Gatekeepers who was familiar with the streets and traffic laws. Anna Krieger rode in the passenger seat of the lead Explorer, glad no one could see the weariness on her expression. These moments should have been full of fresh resolve and reinvigorated purpose. Instead Anna greeted them with the acknowledgment that her very reason for being was ebbing. An era had past; she was the last remnant. With Abraham Vorsky gone, Anna wondered if there was even anyone else who could recall her parents and the courageous, selfless acts that had cost them their lives.
She knew that Paul Hessler, really Karl Mundt, had to die for her, not so much for punishment, as vindication of everything she had always believed. He was no real villain and no great victory lay in his execution. It was over and had been for a long time. So she had greeted Vorsky’s call last week summoning her to Israel with a hope of purpose regained, her reason for being restored. Another lie. Anna had done it to herself and this was the price she would pay: after Paul Hessler, the terrible acknowledgment that there were no others.
Anna couldn’t imagine how she could live with no one to pursue. The passing years had become a greater threat than all the enemies of the Gatekeepers combined, stealing her targets and filling Germany with a compassionate populace that was forever seeking, to make amends. Her country had finally agreed on financial compensation for the survivors of the Holocaust. Had even forced the Swiss banks that had absconded with Jewish family fortunes to make reparations to the proper heirs. There was no longer a reason to deny the past because, finally, it was over.
For Anna Krieger, though, there remained one last task to complete.
* * * *
CHAPTER 83
I
t’s all right,” Paul Hessler said to his blazered security guards, after leading Ben into his private elevator. “My guest and I are going up to my office.”
The guards stiffened, clearly uneasy over not being allowed to accompany their employer.
“Alone,” Hessler added for emphasis. “Assuming I agree to this, Inspector,” he continued after the elevator door had closed, “Pakad Barnea will have to come here to the Hessler Institute for the treatments.”
Ben felt the car racing upwards, picking up enough speed to make his ears pop. “That can be arranged.”
“You think she will go along with you? A great detective helping to cover up the murders of three Israeli citizens? Letting their killers go free?”
Ben hadn’t considered the prospects of that. “I know how much she wants this baby, Mr. Hessler,” he said simply. “She’ll go along.”
The door slid open into Hessler’s office on the top floor, the sound of soft rushing water from an artfully fashioned waterfall replacing the mechanical whir of the elevator. Paul Hessler emerged first and headed toward his desk across the room.
Ben saw there was a computer set upon it, had begun to reach into his pocket for the disc, when a huge shape lunged out from the cover of the waterfall in Hessler’s path.
* * * *
N
o! “ Danielle screamed the moment she saw the gun in Hans Mundt’s hand.
‘Passion, rather than instinct, pushed her forward between the pistol and Paul Hessler. If his long-festering rage led Mundt to shoot his father now, she would never know the truth about her own father.
Danielle had barely planted herself in front of the old man, flinching against the fear of the bullet splitting her own flesh, when she saw Hessler shoved aside by another man who halted abruptly and threw his hands up in the air.
* * * *
S
top! “ Ben yelled , realizing with shock that the woman standing before him was Danielle.
“Get out of my way!” the huge man ranted.
He lifted his free hand to brush her aside, but Danielle blocked the swipe and tried to go for his gun hand. Equal to the task, the huge man tripped her up and leveled his gun on Ben now who stood rigid in front of the stunned Paul Hessler.
* * * *
D
anielle Barnea glanced at Paul Hessler and then looked up from the floor at Hans Mundt
“I need to speak to him first,” she said fiercely. “We both do. You know that.”
The pistol trembled in Mundt’s hand. “I have to do this!”
“You can’t. Not this way.”
“It’s what I came here to do!”
“Look at him. What does he mean to you?”
“Nothing!”
“Exactly,” Danielle said, climbing back to her feet slowly.
“Get out of my way!” Mundt ordered Ben. “I’ll shoot you too!”
“Who is this man, Pakad?” Ben asked Danielle.
“You two know each other?” Mundt posed disbelievingly.
“I guess I should have left you on the case, Chief Inspector Barnea,” said Paul Hessler between heavy breaths, “since you’ve found your way here anyway.”
She glanced his way. “This is about me now, too, Mr. Hessler.”
“Who is this man you brought with you?”
“You don’t recognize me, do you?” Mundt charged, spitting the words at him.
“Should I?”
“No. That’s the point. I’m your son.”
Hessler’s eyes bulged in disbelief. “My what?”
“Pakad Barnea,” Ben started, struggling to keep his voice even, “I have informed Mr. Hessler of his late son’s complicity in the murder of four high school students: three Israelis and one Palestinian.”
Danielle tried very hard not to look surprised.
“I have also made an arrangement whereby this information will remain only with us once he performs a certain service on your behalf.”
“What the fuck is he talking about?” Mundt demanded. Then, to Ben, “Who are you?”
“Inspector Bayan Kamal of the Palestinian police.”
“Palestinian police ...” Mundt motioned Ben away with his gun. “Get out now and you can live.”
“I can’t do that.”
Danielle almost casually planted herself once again in front of Hans Mundt. “We had an arrangement. Put the gun down.”
“I don’t know what any of you are talking about!” Hessler insisted.
Mundt kept his eyes on Danielle and finally lowered the pistol to his hip. “Ask your questions quickly.”
Ben dropped his hands and stepped aside, as Danielle swung toward Paul Hessler. “We know who you are and what you are. What you did.”
“I need to sit down,” Hessler said, and dropped into one of the chairs in a grouping near the waterfall. He fought to steady himself, resumed speaking even though he clearly was still shaken. “After so many years ... It was the gunman in Tel Aviv who gave the truth away, wasn’t it? The sergeant whose men rescued me in the woods.”
“Trying to right that wrong!” Mundt seethed.
“Who is this animal?” Hessler wondered, dumbfounded.
“You call me an animal?” Mundt came forward until he was even with Danielle. “You still haven’t figured it out? I’ve been to the grave. I know the truth. I know everything.”
Hessler looked confused, anguished. “How is that possible?”
“The commandant of your camp filled in much of the story,” Danielle told him, picking up where Mundt left off.
“But he’s, he’s dead.”
“Close to it, but not quite.”
“I was sure that he was executed....” Hessler’s voice drifted off wearily. He closed his eyes and opened them again to find Danielle Barnea standing over him now.
“I want to know abou
t my father,” she demanded. “I want to know if he was one of you.”
“One of who?”
“No more games!” Mundt ordered, storming forward until Ben Kamal stepped before him to block his advance.
