The Rembrandt Affair

burn but managed a smile of her own.
    “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced, Zoe.” Monique extended her hand. “Martin’s told me so much about you. He admires your work a great deal.”
    “If there were more businessmen like your husband, Mrs. Landesmann, I’m afraid I wouldn’t have much to write about.”
    Zoe was not sure from where she summoned these words, but they seemed to please Monique.
    “I hope you enjoyed the film. Martin’s very proud of it.”
    “He should be.”
    Monique placed a jeweled hand lightly on Zoe’s arm. “There’s something I need to discuss with you, Zoe. Might we have a brief word in private?”
    Zoe hesitated, unsure of what to do, then agreed.
    “Wonderful,” said Monique. “Come this way.”
    She led Zoe across the ballroom through a pair of towering doors, then down a marble hallway lit by chandeliers. At the end of the hallway was a small, ornate parlor that looked like something Zoe had seen on a tour of Versailles. Monique paused at the doorway and, with a smile, gestured for Zoe to enter. Zoe never saw the hand that immediately clamped over her mouth or the one that ripped the clutch from her grasp. She tried to struggle, but it was useless. She tried to scream but could barely breathe. As the bodyguards carried Zoe from the room, she managed to twist her head around and cast a pleading glance toward Monique. But Monique never saw it. She had already turned and was making her way back to the party.

    M ARTIN WAS standing at the center of the main reception room, surrounded as usual. Monique went to his side and slipped an arm proprietarily around his waist.
    “Is everything all right?” he asked.
    “Everything’s fine, darling,” she whispered, kissing his cheek. “But if you ever betray me again, I’ll destroy you myself.”

66
    MAYFAIR, LONDON
    A chapel silence had fallen over the London ops center by the time Gabriel’s last message arrived. Adrian Carter and Graham Seymour, Anglicans both, sat with heads bowed and eyes closed as if in prayer. Shamron and Navot stood shoulder to shoulder, Navot with his wrestler’s arms folded across his chest, Shamron with his cigarette lighter twirling anxiously between his fingertips. Chiara was in the fishbowl, scrolling through the contents of Martin Landesmann’s hard drive.
    “Martin wouldn’t dare kill them in the house,” said Carter.
    “No,” Shamron agreed. “First he’ll have them driven into the Alps. Then he’ll kill them.”
    “Perhaps your team can intercept them on the way out of Villa Elma,” Seymour said.
    “May I remind you that there are almost two hundred black luxury automobiles lined up in Martin’s drive, all of which will be departing at roughly the same time? And then, of course, Martin has access to the lake and several very fast boats.” Shamron paused. “Anyone know where we can get a boat on a freezing December night in Geneva?”
    “I have friends in the DAP,” Carter said without much conviction. “Friends who’ve occasionally been helpful in our efforts against al-Qaeda.”
    “They’re your friends,” Navot said, “not ours. And I can assure you that the DAP would love nothing more than to rub our noses in a very big pile of shit.”
    “Consider the alternative, Uzi. It might be better for you and your service to lose a little face than one of your best agents and one of Britain’s most famous journalists.”
    “This isn’t about pride, Adrian. This is about keeping several of my best people out of a Swiss jail.”
    “If I handle it, they might not have to go to jail.”
    “Have you forgotten the name of the man who’s sitting in a room in the Grand Hotel Kempinski right now?” Greeted by silence, Navot continued, “I’m not willing to place the fate of Gabriel and the rest of the team in the hands of your friends from the DAP. If there’s a deal that has to be made, we’ll do it ourselves.”
    “It’s your show, Uzi. What do you suggest?”
    Navot turned to Shamron.
    “How much of Martin’s hard drive did we get before the feed was intercepted?” Shamron asked.
    “Roughly ninety percent.”
    “Then I’d say the odds of finding something interesting just increased dramatically. If I were you, I’d get our computer technicians down here from Highgate and tell them to start looking through that data as if their lives depended on it.”
    Navot glanced at Seymour and asked, “How long will it take to get them here?”
    “With a