gave a knowing smile.
“I’ve heard of Bloomfield,” the older one continued. “Adams definitely knows her. They worked together in the Mideast. She’s meant to be good.”
“Why didn’t he warn us she was coming?”
Joe shrugged. “Beats me. Maybe they’re running something special.”
Roberts looked puzzled. “It still feels strange. I’m going to check again.”
“If it’ll make you feel better,” Joe Mahony said.
Roberts stood up, and left the room once more. He went to Adams’ door, tried it, and discovered it was still locked.
“Damn!” he swore. He went back into the room. “Still locked,” he said to
Mahony.
“What do you want to do?”
“I don’t like it. I’ve got a bad feeling.”
“I repeat…what do you want to do?”
“We’ve got a master key. I’m going to open the office.”
“What do you expect to find? He’s not in there having a little cosy with Mary-Ann, unless she can manage to be in two places at once. As she’s hardly in one place at a time…”
“Have your fun, Joe.”
“Check the other rooms first. Maybe he’s in there talking with the guys.”
Roberts nodded. “Right.”
He went out again.
Mahony shook his head slowly.
The Porsche was racing along the A115 to Wannsee, trailing a high plume of spray.
Carey Bloomfield glanced at the speedometer, then thought the better of it.
“What?” Müller said.
“Nothing.”
“Are you afraid?”
She looked at the ribbon of road ahead of them, made dark by the wet of the day. She glanced in the wing mirror on the passenger side, and could see the rising spray. She listened to the fierce roar of the engine behind her.
“A speedboat on land. What’s to be afraid of?”
“Part of this stretch of road,” he said, smiling at her comment, “used to be a section of the Avus…the original racetrack.”
“No wonder,” she said.
“Is there something you’re trying to tell me?”
“What makes you say that?”
“You’re thoughtful. Your remark lacked its usual bite.”
“You’re a mind reader now?”
“Only when I need to be.”
When she had made no comment to this, Müller glanced at her thoughtfully.
They drove on in silence.
Roberts came back into the room. “That’s it. I’m going to open the office. No one has seen him.”
He reached into a drawer and took out a small bunch of keys. He also took out an automatic pistol.
Mahony stared at him. “A gun? Are you nuts?”
“Just being careful,” Roberts said, going out again.
Mahony stared at the closing door. “Nuts,” he repeated.
Roberts went up to the door to Adams’ office and unlocked it. Gun at the ready, he slowly pushed the door open. He entered, and stopped in shock.
“Oh Jesus,” he said.
Adams was in his chair, mouth open, head back at a strange angle.
Roberts went forward, made a quick check. “Oh Jesus,” he repeated.
He left the office quickly, shut and locked it.
Mahony swung round as Roberts re-entered the room. He stared at Roberts’ expression. “What?”
“He’s dead,” Roberts said flatly. “Neck broken.”
Mahony’s eyes seemed to grow behind his glasses. “He what? ”
“Dead,” Roberts repeated. “Someone’s snapped his goddamed neck.”
“But how…”
“Do I look like a wizard? How the hell should I know?” Roberts tightened his lips. “I knew something was wrong…”
“Sounds like wizardry to me.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Alright. What do you want to do?”
“What do I want to do? You’re next in line, Joe. It’s your ball game now.”
Mahony sighed. “I guess it is.” He got to his feet. “I’ve got a call to make. Looks like your Colonel Bloomfield might have some questions to answer.”
“ My Colonel Bloomfield?”
“Manner of speaking. Relax. I’ll make the call from Adams’…my office.”
Mahony went out.
Pappenheim was leaning back in his chair blissfully polluting his lungs, when one of his phones rang. He blew a stream of
“I’ve heard of Bloomfield,” the older one continued. “Adams definitely knows her. They worked together in the Mideast. She’s meant to be good.”
“Why didn’t he warn us she was coming?”
Joe shrugged. “Beats me. Maybe they’re running something special.”
Roberts looked puzzled. “It still feels strange. I’m going to check again.”
“If it’ll make you feel better,” Joe Mahony said.
Roberts stood up, and left the room once more. He went to Adams’ door, tried it, and discovered it was still locked.
“Damn!” he swore. He went back into the room. “Still locked,” he said to
Mahony.
“What do you want to do?”
“I don’t like it. I’ve got a bad feeling.”
“I repeat…what do you want to do?”
“We’ve got a master key. I’m going to open the office.”
“What do you expect to find? He’s not in there having a little cosy with Mary-Ann, unless she can manage to be in two places at once. As she’s hardly in one place at a time…”
“Have your fun, Joe.”
“Check the other rooms first. Maybe he’s in there talking with the guys.”
Roberts nodded. “Right.”
He went out again.
Mahony shook his head slowly.
The Porsche was racing along the A115 to Wannsee, trailing a high plume of spray.
Carey Bloomfield glanced at the speedometer, then thought the better of it.
“What?” Müller said.
“Nothing.”
“Are you afraid?”
She looked at the ribbon of road ahead of them, made dark by the wet of the day. She glanced in the wing mirror on the passenger side, and could see the rising spray. She listened to the fierce roar of the engine behind her.
“A speedboat on land. What’s to be afraid of?”
“Part of this stretch of road,” he said, smiling at her comment, “used to be a section of the Avus…the original racetrack.”
“No wonder,” she said.
“Is there something you’re trying to tell me?”
“What makes you say that?”
“You’re thoughtful. Your remark lacked its usual bite.”
“You’re a mind reader now?”
“Only when I need to be.”
When she had made no comment to this, Müller glanced at her thoughtfully.
They drove on in silence.
Roberts came back into the room. “That’s it. I’m going to open the office. No one has seen him.”
He reached into a drawer and took out a small bunch of keys. He also took out an automatic pistol.
Mahony stared at him. “A gun? Are you nuts?”
“Just being careful,” Roberts said, going out again.
Mahony stared at the closing door. “Nuts,” he repeated.
Roberts went up to the door to Adams’ office and unlocked it. Gun at the ready, he slowly pushed the door open. He entered, and stopped in shock.
“Oh Jesus,” he said.
Adams was in his chair, mouth open, head back at a strange angle.
Roberts went forward, made a quick check. “Oh Jesus,” he repeated.
He left the office quickly, shut and locked it.
Mahony swung round as Roberts re-entered the room. He stared at Roberts’ expression. “What?”
“He’s dead,” Roberts said flatly. “Neck broken.”
Mahony’s eyes seemed to grow behind his glasses. “He what? ”
“Dead,” Roberts repeated. “Someone’s snapped his goddamed neck.”
“But how…”
“Do I look like a wizard? How the hell should I know?” Roberts tightened his lips. “I knew something was wrong…”
“Sounds like wizardry to me.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Alright. What do you want to do?”
“What do I want to do? You’re next in line, Joe. It’s your ball game now.”
Mahony sighed. “I guess it is.” He got to his feet. “I’ve got a call to make. Looks like your Colonel Bloomfield might have some questions to answer.”
“ My Colonel Bloomfield?”
“Manner of speaking. Relax. I’ll make the call from Adams’…my office.”
Mahony went out.
Pappenheim was leaning back in his chair blissfully polluting his lungs, when one of his phones rang. He blew a stream of
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