Ridgeway’s frown softened. “A painting?” He shifted uncomfortably as he remembered Weinstock’s words shortly before she was killed. ‘Tell me more.”

“We don’t know that much about it,” Stratton replied. “It was apparently painted by some obscure artist named Stahl… but that’s not important What is important is the fact that there is a secret section within the Curia at the Vatican that has been searching for this religious relic for centuries. We know this because the KGB has their telephones tapped, and we’ve got the KGB’s phones tapped.”

“The Vatican is a top priority for Zhirinovksy,” volunteered Jordan Highgate. Ridgeway turned and looked at him, still standing by the door, ramrod straight and devoid of expression like a guard at Buckingham Palace. “The ultranationalist Russians want to find a way to neutralize the Vatican’s influence. They figure whatever worked for Hitler might work for them.” Highgate looked to Stratton. Stratton nodded.

“Not incidentally, what would work against the Vatican would also presumably work against the Russian Orthodox Church, which Zhirinovsky and his people need behind them if they are to assume the total control they’re after. That, as you know, would alter the global picture in the worst possible way. Don’t forget that Zhirinovsky’s threatened the occupation of an oil-rich Islamic country—Azerbaijan. Zhirinovsky insists the whole country should be Russian again even if it means ethnically cleansing the entire nation. Indeed, his election platform was based on taking back all of the former Soviet Union’s colonies and cleansing them to make them safe for Russians. His papers and speeches were filled with warm favorable references to Hitler.”

He paused. Then, “Until Zhirinovsky’s people learned of the secret Vatican task force, they, and everybody else, assumed all of the talk about the blackmail of Pius XII was just one more of the outrageous rumors connected with the Third Reich. I certainly did until I listened to the tapes, looked at the cables. And even though we’ve only got the faintest notion of what’s going on, we know there’s something there.”

“So what is going on?” Seth asked.

Stratton shook his head. “I don’t know. I really don’t know what significance the painting might have.”

“Humph! Thought you guys were supposed to know everything,” Seth fumed. He jammed both hands in the pockets of the new pants Stratton had bought for him and leaned against the wall next to the window. “How did Zoe get caught up in all this?”

“We’ve been following Rebecca Weinstock for nearly a week now,” Stratton said, “since we’d heard her name mentioned in one of the KGB tapes. She is—was—apparently a wealthy Austrian art collector. She had tried to buy the art collection in Kreuzlingen that the KGB thinks includes the painting they’re after. The KGB, through their Zhirinovsky counterparts, got to Weinstock, and you, before we did.” Stratton’s voice was apologetic.

“Does … is there anything in your information about where Zoe might be?” Ridgeway asked.

Stratton shook his head. “No,” the agent said. “But we hope she’s still in Switzerland, and possibly still alive.”