“Okay, well, Eve and her Fixers brought someone out, but Violin says it wasn’t Casanova.”

“How sure is she?”

“You know Violin,” said Bug. “She’s sure. She gave me a good description, though, and I ran it through Q1. Looks like the guy they liberated was a lot more dangerous than Casanova.”

Church leaned back and exhaled slowly through his nostrils. “And you’re going to tell me it was Dr. Dejan Brozović.”

“Um … yeah…”

Church picked up a cookie, looked at it, set it down, and pushed the plate away.

“Molecular biologist and organic chemist.”

“They broke him out to work on R-33, didn’t they?”

“Yes,” said Church. “I’m afraid that’s exactly what they did.”

CHAPTER 113

SCANDIC BERLIN POTSDAMER PLATZ

BERLIN, GERMANY

Peggy Ann Gondek sat in the cushioned armchair beside her hotel bed and punched in a series of coded numbers on a satellite phone.

She nibbled a carrot stick as she waited for the call to go through. There was a towel spread on the duvet. She unzipped a small clamshell case and began lining up the items she needed. Mil-Comm TW25B lubricant, a thin aluminum rod, a bottle of cleaning solvent, and a brush for a .22 barrel. The call had to be routed through several security steps, so she began disassembling the Ruger SR22 that was her personal favorite. The model, not the specific weapon; she always disposed of her guns and knives before crossing borders and then picked up new equipment.

She dropped the magazine, checked the breech, and made sure there was no round in the chamber. Then she rotated the slide lock lever to the vertical to unlock the slide from the frame.

There was a click on the line.

“Hello, Mrs. Gondek,” said a cultured voice. “Have you found our friend?”

“I have,” she said.

“Good,” said Church. “We’re going to need to make contact with him. Where is he now?”

“He just got back to the hotel.” She gave the name of the hotel but did not know the room. “Don’t suppose you heard anything about an attack on a processing plant in Wannsee?”

“That was our friend?”

“It was.” Peggy Ann pushed the spring forward toward the barrel very carefully and pulled it outward to remove the spring. “He got to the hotel less than an hour after things went boom. And he looked quite … frazzled. So did the poor pooch.”

There was the slightest pause on the other end of the call. “Is he safe?”

“At the moment? Sure. Overall? No, I wouldn’t say so.”

Another pause. “Is he in control?”

Peggy Ann picked up the brush rod and sat tapping it thoughtfully against the gun barrel.

“Define ‘control,’” she said.

CHAPTER 114

HOTEL NEUER FRITZ

FRIEDRICHSTRASSE 10

BERLIN, GERMANY