Free Pinnacle Event by Richard A. Clarke

perhaps all of it,” Konrad replied.
    The Deputy Director of the BVT lived in a house that looked too small for the tall iron gate and fence around it. Indeed, it had been an out building, a carriage house, for the larger villa next door. The fencing had been part of the original estate. Now it was a small home in a neighborhood of large homes, many of which had been divided up into multiple units. Konrad had an electronic gate opener that worked at his boss’s house. He was obviously a regular visitor. “I often drive him to work,” he explained as they parked.
    Inside, the former carriage house seemed spacious and warm. A wing addition provided a large, open plan dining room and kitchen. Bowman heard music coming from the second floor. “My sons,” Gunter Rosch said, pointing upstairs. “They say they cannot study without their music. I think it is why their mother volunteers at the hospital in the late afternoon.”
    At home, the Deputy Director of the Austrian domestic intelligence service looked more like a farmer: unfashionable blue jeans, a plaid short-sleeved shirt, and a tall beer in one hand. “So you had a successful meeting with Potgeiter?”
    â€œNo we didn’t, I’m afraid,” Bowman said, taking a proffered glass of the local brew. “He was uninformative.”
    Konrad Voltke joined them. “I’ve been out at the car, using the radio to chat with my boys down at the Polizei. The charred wreck of the late Potegeiter’s car was crushed after the investigation. We will not be able to examine its computers.”
    â€œ Ach, so,” Rosch smiled. “Well, if Johann was not informative, his neighborhood was very interesting. My countersurveillance team on you detected two, amazing, two distinct sets of people looking at the house while you were in it. You are quite a magnet, Raymond.”
    â€œThe U.S. Embassy boys and who else?” Ray asked.
    â€œThat’s what is so fascinating. Neither one of them were the Americans from this morning. We waved them off at the Palais Modena and they stayed away after that.”
    Rosch was smiling, hardly able to contain his enthusiasm that his team had stumbled into something fascinating. “My countersurveillance unit on you was not big enough to handle such a surprising situation, but they got enough information that we should be able to track down your tails and identify them. It was a good drill for my boys. They had never caught a double surveillance before.”
    The enthusiasm was contagious. “Well, maybe we are flushing the birds we wanted to find. Maybe I should stay a few more days before I go to Israel,” Ray thought aloud.
    â€œMay I suggest you do consider altering your travel plans, Ray? I talked to a friend today, after you left my office, my counterpart in South Africa,” Rosch said. “They knew all about the Trustees and they, too, are suspicious about their deaths. In fact, the investigation is apparently their number one priority. They would very much like to compare notes with you as soon as possible, in Cape Town.”
    â€œNever been to Cape Town,” Ray replied. “Well, I can delay the trip to Israel a couple of days if the South Africans have been investigating all this and think they have something to share. Tell him I accept his invitation.”
    Gunter Rosch emitted a good belly laugh. “You are booked in First on the Qatar flight tomorrow morning out of Schwechat to Doha and then on to Cape Town, courtesy of my friend Mbali, but, Raymond, make no mistake, Mbali Hlanganani is definitely not a him.”

 
    7
    THURSDAY, OCTOBER 20
    ABOARD QATAR AIR FLIGHT #808
    DOHA TO CAPE TOWN
    The din was gone. Cocooned by the J. S. Bach from the Bose headphones, mesmerized by the clouds catching the sunset’s rays below, he felt a clarity as he moved south toward Africa. His mind had been blank for almost an hour. Rarely was he ever fully in a