The Crimson Code. Rachel Lee
to the floor, half-atop him.
Mission accomplished, Uncle, Yawi thought. We killed them all.
And then the darkness swelled around him.
Frankfurt, Germany
It all sounded so simple, but Lawton knew it wasn’t. Nothing could be that simple. He drew Renate from the back room into one of the executive offices. “We need to talk.”
“About what?”
“This sounds too simple.”
“Anything sounds simple when it is laid out this way.”
Damn, she was so distant again, as if everything that made her Renate had flown away to another star system.
“Renate, listen to me.”
“I am listening, Law.”
“Then think about it. If this bank really contains the kind of information you think it does, why isn’t it better guarded? The entire Frankfurt Brotherhood could take a fall if their computer records were breached.”
She turned to face him directly. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying the only reason they’d do this is if their records are so heavily encrypted that we’ll probably be wasting our time anyway.”
She shook her head. “First we go for their communications. We hack into their computer system and view their private Internet messages. If we find what we need there, we can talk about what to do next to nail them. But trust me, if we follow the money we’ll find them.”
“But how will we break their encryption? Even the NSA can’t hack SWIFTNET. When they want the information, they get a subpoena.”
She gave him a tight smile. “You must have faith in me. And in Assif. We have done this before.”
“Why do I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me?” he asked.
“Because there are some things that it’s better not to know,” she replied, her icy eyes fixed on him. “Trust me, Lawton. I know what I’m doing here. And we will get what we need.”
She left to rejoin the others, and he followed reluctantly, thinking that he didn’t mind putting his neck in a noose if he could be certain it would serve a purpose. He wasn’t sure of that with this job yet.
Niko was regaling Assif with the story of the murder of Jürgen Ponto.
“He was the head of the Dresdner Bank, back in the 1970s. It was a terrible time in Germany, in Europe. Lots of terrorist groups active. Suzanne Albrecht was Ponto’s godchild, the daughter of a man he’d known since childhood. But he didn’t know she’d joined the Red Army Faction. She showed up at his door carrying a bouquet of roses, acting like the loving godchild. Then she and her two companions tried to kidnap him. He fought back. They shot him five times.”
“Wow,” said Assif, shaking his head. “His godchild?”
Niko nodded. “It makes you think, doesn’t it? You can know someone from the day they were born and still not know them at all.”
“He was the enemy,” Renate said quietly.
“The anger of disaffected youth,” Niko said. “So easy to twist young minds.”
Assif’s face froze as he looked at the television news. “Yes. And it’s happening again.”
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