matter of national security, and I'm under direct orders from Washington's Consular Operations."
"Yes, this is Ambassador Courtland. What can be so urgent at this hour?"
"Is this phone secure, sir?" asked Latham, lowering his voice to a whisper.
"I'll put you on hold and take it in another room. It's constantly swept, and besides, my wife is asleep." Twenty seconds later Courtland continued on an upstairs telephone.
"All right, who are you and what's this all about?"
"It's Drew Latham, sir-"
"My God, you're dead! I don't understand-" 4 "You don't have to understand, Mr. Ambassador. just find our computer whizzes and order them down to the underground super stuff." "That's pretty heavy-my God, you were killed!"
"Sometimes we get too complicated, but please, do as I ask.. . Also, you have the capability. Break into Witkowski's phone and order him to call me."
"Where are you?"
"He knows. Do it quickly. I'm expected to leave here in fifteen minutes, but I can't until I speak to him." ,
"All right, all right, whatever you say.. .. I guess I should mention that I'm glad you're alive."
"So am I. Go to it, Mr. Ambassador."
Three minutes later Latham's phone rang.
"Stanley?"
"What the hell's going on?"
"Get Karin and me to the embassy as soon as possible." Drew explained in a few emphatic words what De Vries told him about Alan Reynolds.
"A couple of minutes won't change the scenario, young man.
Stick to the schedule I've set, and I'll reroute you to the embassy and meet you both there."
Latham waited; Witkowski's marine, in civilian clothes, arrived and took his suitcase and attache case.
"Come down in four minutes, sir," said the man courteously.
"We're prepared."
"Are you people always so polite in these situations?" asked Latham.
"It doesn't help to be uptight, sir. It blurs your focus."
"Why do I think I've heard that before?"
"I don't know. See you downstairs."
Three minutes later, Drew walked out the door and went to the elevators. At that hour the ride down was swift, the lobby practically deserted except for a few late night revelers, Japanese and Americans, by and large, all of whom disappeared into the bank of elevators. Latham strode across the marble floor, every inch the military man, when suddenly, ear-shattering gunshots exploded, echoing off the walls, emanating from the mezzanine balcony. Drew lunged toward a space between the lobby furniture, his eyes riveted on the two men behind the concierge's desk. He saw the chest and stomach of one literally explode, a monstrous detonation that sent the man's bloody intestines hurling across the lobby; the other raised his hands as his head blew apart, skull tissue flying everywhere. Madness!
Additional gunfire then filled the huge ornate enclosure, followed by voices, shouting in English with American accents.
"We've got him!" yelled a man, also on the mezzanine level.
"In the legs!"
"He's alive!" roared another.
"We've got the son of a bitch! He's nuts! He's crying and moaning in German!"
"Take him to the embassy," said a calmer voice in the lobby, turning to the terrified clerks behind the front desk.
"This is an antiterrorist operation," he continued.
"It's over now, and you may assure the owners that all expenses for damages will be covered, as well as generous compensation for the families of your personnel who tragically lost their lives. However meaningless it may appear to you now, they died heroes, and a grateful Europe will honor them.. .. Hurry up!"
The horrified clerks stood frozen behind the marble counter.
The man on the left began to weep as his colleague slowly, as if in a trance, reached for a telephone.
Latham and De Vries embraced under the disapproving eyes of Colonel Stanley Witkowski and Ambassador Daniel Courtland in the latter's office at the American Embassy.
"May we get to the issue-the issues-at hand, if you please?" said the ambassador.
"Dr. Gerhardt Kroeger will survive and our two man computer team will arrive shortly. Actually one of them is here now, and his superior is being flown in from his holiday in the Pyrenees. Will somebody now tell me what the hell is going on?"
"Certain intelligence operations are beyond your purview, Mr.
Ambassador," replied Witkowski, "for your own deniability, sit."
"You know, I really find that phrase rather obscene, Colonel.
Since when did civilian intelligence, or military intelligence, or any of the clandestine exercises take precedence over the State Department's ultimate control?"
"That's why Consular Operations was created, sir," answered Drew.
"The purpose was to coordinate between State, the administration, and the intelligence services."
"Then I can't say that you have, have you?"
"In crises we can't afford a bureaucratic delay," said Latham firmly.
"And I don't give a goddamn