“There was no way for the Brotherhood to make money on the communist system. They looked at the Soviets and saw huge resources and a huge labor pool they couldn’t take advantage of until after the communist government collapsed. Now there are investment opportunities. It may take decades, but the Brotherhood is patient. Very patient. They can wait centuries, if necessary.”
Then she went back to work, leaving Lawton to mull that over.
Niko went out to get them a meal, and while they ate, Assif stood next to a whiteboard and began to outline what they would need to do. “First, we have to get into the bank.” He wrote swiftly, then snagged another bite of his sandwich.
“Could we pose as an international business seeking access to SWIFTNET?” Niko asked, glancing down at a file folder full of research data. “It says here that banks are offering businesses access to the network.”
“No, we can’t,” Assif said. “First, only a handful of businesses have purchased access to SWIFTNET, and they are all major players in international finance. Second, these business clients are offered only limited access, and they are blocked from the areas of the network I need.”
“And most important,” Renate added, “our target is a private bank. Like most private banks, it has no public access, no lobby. Clients do not come in off the street. The bank solicits them…personally.”
“How can we get on their list?” Lawton asked.
“We can’t,” Renate answered simply. “The target’s clients are very wealthy families, many of them present or former nobility, and huge private trusts. These are not the sort of bona fides that can be manufactured.”
“So if I understand correctly, we have no legitimate way to enter that bank,” Niko said.
“Correct,” Renate answered.
“Utility access tunnels?” Lawton asked. “If we can find their network cables, can we tap in from there?”
“Of course,” Assif said. “If we could isolate the network cables. But the only way to do that would be to sample all their communications cables at a time when we know they are making a SWIFTNET transmission. And it has to be a transmission whose content we already know, so I can be sure I have the right lines.”
“Which brings us back to getting inside the bank,” Renate said. “With no legitimate way to do so.”
“A black bag job,” Lawton said. Renate arched a brow in a silent question, and he continued. “Covert entry.”
“Yes, precisely,” she said. “A black-bag job.”
“Then we need to know their security,” Niko said. “Working hours. How many people are in the building at what times of day. Whether there are guards at night, and how many. Electronic security, both external and internal. I’m sure their computers are password protected. If we are going to send a transmission, we will need a password.”
“In short,” Assif said, staring at the whiteboard as if it might reveal the secrets of the universe, “we need to know their security as well as their security chief does.”
Late that night, while Niko and Assif worked steadily in the back room to create what Assif insisted would be an ideal configuration of equipment for the job ahead, Lawton found Renate at the large glass windows in an unlighted executive office.
With her arms wrapped around herself, she was staring out pensively at the Frankfurt night. Beyond the glass, lights sparkled in the cold air. Traffic had almost disappeared, leaving the streetlights starkly alone along the roads. A few offices in the surrounding buildings remained lit, probably for cleaning crews. At any other time, it would have been beautiful.
Right now all Lawton could see was a threat, and he suspected Renate was seeing the same thing.
He moved to her side, joining her perusal of the night beyond the glass.
“You hate these people,” he said quietly.
“Wouldn’t you?” she asked, her German accent more in evidence than usual. “They tried to kill me. They killed my best friend. Now they have killed my family. What had my family ever done to them?”
“They produced you.”
She glanced at him, and in the light from without, he thought he detected a flicker of mordant humor in her face. Even that was an improvement over her favored glacial aspect.
“I want to know,” she said finally. Her voice seemed thick.
“Know what?”
“Who betrayed me.” She faced him briefly. “Someone betrayed me. How else do they know I’m still alive?”
“Perhaps your father…”
“My father knew as much about me being alive as your Miriam in Washington knows.”
“Not my Miriam,” he reminded her.
She shrugged. “She knows. Would she ever reveal that?”
Lawton thought about it. “No.”
“My father knew my life was at risk. After all, he had received word of my death long before I was able to tell him I still lived. Think about it, Lawton. He had already grieved for me. Do you think he would do anything to make that happen a second time?”
“No.”
She nodded once, shortly, then returned her attention to the night.
“What the hell did you do to these swine?”
He thought he saw a faint upward tip of the corner of her mouth, but it was so fleeting it might have been an illusion of the odd lighting.
“Well,” she said slowly, “at one time I worked for the Bundeskriminalamt, the BKA. Like your FBI.”
“Yes, you told me about that when we were in Idaho.”
“I was…I think the English phrase is ‘a forensic accountant.’ Fraud and money laundering.”
For a second Lawton was surprised. “In the field, you sure don’t act like any accountant I’ve ever known.”
“And you don’t act like a lawyer, yet you graduated from law school. We both had to…face difficult and dangerous people. So our training went beyond accounting or law.”
“And the Frankfurt Brotherhood?”
“Very quiet, very well concealed. I was not looking for them at first. But then I began to notice strange things. Little fingerprints on affairs reaching far beyond Frankfurt, far beyond Germany. The movement of money can reveal so much.”
“It certainly can.”
“So I set up a task force. I admit I was the most dedicated. In fact, I admit I became obsessed, especially when it became apparent these people could never be exposed publicly or tried for their crimes. In time I knew more than anyone else. The task force was disbanded as a waste of funds
