then you must have expected we would take such precautions. And yet you came to see me all the same. Which piqued my curiosity further."
"Anything to alleviate the dull tedium of your days," Anna said.
"Put yourself in my position, Ms. Navarro. A rogue U.S. agent takes a very peculiar interest in me this isn't something that happens every day. Naturally I wonder: Have you come across someone or something that is a threat to me? Have you broken ranks and come to tell me about some hostile intrigue within American intelligence? I know our investigations of Operation Paper Clip have earned me enemies in some American circles. Have you come to warn me of some imminent menace? The imagination whirls. The mind boggles. So how could I resist meeting with you? You knew I could not."
"We're getting off the subject," Anna broke in. "None of this "
Lenz talked over her. "So you'll appreciate how sorely disappointed I was when I learned that you're here only to hurl absurd, unfounded, and easily discredited accusations. From all indications, you're not only off the reservation, as your countrymen like to say you're out of your mind." He pointed to his desk. "I need only pick up this phone and call a friend of mine in the Justice Ministry and you would be remanded to the tender mercies of the U.S. authorities."
You want a fight, she thought, you got it. He was not going to intimidate her. Not with what she knew about him.
"You're perfectly right," she said calmly. "You could pick up that phone and do that. But I wonder whether it would best serve your interests."
Lenz had turned his back on her and was heading toward the exit. "Miss Navarro, your silly games really don't interest me. Now would you please leave my office this moment, or shall I be forced to "
"Just before I came here I stopped at the local DHL office, where a document was waiting for me. It contained the results of a search I requested. I had submitted a set of your fingerprints and asked the lab to identify them. It took a long time. Our Latent Fingerprints Section had to dig deep to find a match. But they did." She took a breath. "Dr. Lenz, I know who you are. I don't understand it. I really can't fathom it, to be quite honest. But I know who you really are."
She was terrified, more frightened than she'd ever been before. Her heart was hammering; blood rushed in her ears. She knew she had no backup.
Lenz stopped short, a few feet from the exit, and closed the door. When he turned around, his face had gone dark with rage.
Chapter Forty
Ben joined the modest crowd of journalists and cameramen assembled outside the Wiener Stadthalle Civic Center, the large, beige stone structure where the International Children's Health Forum was to be hosted. He made eye contact with a cold and miserable-looking man-paunchy, middle-aged, dressed in a fraying tan trench coat. Ben extended a hand. "I'm Ron Adams," he said. "With American Philanthropy magazine. Been standing out here long?"
"Too damn long," the rumpled man said. He spoke with a cockney accent. "Jim Bowen, Financial Times. European correspondent and pathetic wretch." He shot Ben a comic, mock-baleful glance. "My editor sweet-talked me into going with promises of schnitzel and strudel and Sachertorte, and I thought to myself, "Well, that's a bit of all right then." Higgins will never hear the end of it: there's a solemn vow. Two days of standing around in this lovely frigid rain, my little piggies turning into popsicles, down to practically my last fag, and all we get are the same damn press releases they're faxing all the bureaus."
"But you must be seeing some pretty grand poobahs sauntering in and out. I've looked at the guest list."
"Well, that's the thing-wherever they are, they're not here. Maybe they're just as bored with the program as everybody else. Probably all decided to nip out and take a quick skiing vacation. Strictly B-list, the only people I've caught sight of. Our photographer's taken to drink, he has. I think he's got the right idea, too. I've got half a mind to pop down the corner for a pint, except they serve the ale too damn cold in this country. Ever notice that? Plus which, the stuff they make tastes like piss."
The big names weren't here? Did that mean that the Sigma conclave was taking place elsewhere? Ben's stomach plummeted: Had