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Chapters (54)
  1. Title Page
  2. Table of Contents
  3. Prologue
  4. PART ONE
  5. Chapter One
  6. Chapter Two
  7. Chapter Three
  8. Chapter Four
  9. Chapter Five
  10. Chapter Six
  11. Chapter Seven
  12. Chapter Eight
  13. PART TWO
  14. Chapter Nine
  15. Chapter Ten
  16. Chapter Eleven
  17. Chapter Twelve
  18. Chapter Thirteen
  19. Chapter Fourteen
  20. Chapter Fifteen
  21. Chapter Sixteen
  22. Chapter Seventeen
  23. PART THREE
  24. Chapter Eighteen
  25. Chapter Nineteen
  26. Chapter Twenty
  27. Chapter Twenty-one
  28. Chapter Twenty-two
  29. Chapter Twenty-three
  30. Chapter Twenty-four
  31. Chapter Twenty-five
  32. Chapter Twenty-six
  33. Chapter Twenty-seven
  34. Chapter Twenty-eight
  35. Chapter Twenty-nine
  36. Chapter Thirty
  37. Chapter Thirty-one
  38. PART FOUR
  39. Chapter Thirty-two
  40. Chapter Thirty-three
  41. Chapter Thirty-four
  42. Chapter Thirty-five
  43. Chapter Thirty-six
  44. Chapter Thirty-seven
  45. Chapter Thirty-eight
  46. Chapter Thirty-nine
  47. Chapter Forty
  48. Chapter Forty-one
  49. Chapter Forty-two
  50. Chapter Forty-three
  51. Epilogue
  52. ALSO BY ROBERT LUDLUM
  53. Critical Praise for Robert Ludlum
  54. Copyright Page

“No,” he said, and he knew he had a silly grin on his face but could do nothing about it.

She made a tsking noise of mock reproach. “Big hunk like you, laid low by a Balkan Sobranie?”

Blondie thought he was a big hunk? That was encouraging. A major positive data point in the multivariate mess that was his sex life. His grin became wider.

At the same time, he found his thoughts growing oddly scrambled, though he also found it hard to care.

“Let’s get in my car and go for a drive,” she said, and her voice sounded as if it were coming from miles away, and something inside him was saying, Maybe this isn’t a good idea, Kaz, and he found he could do nothing but say yes.

He would go with the beautiful stranger. He would do what she said. He would be hers.

He was only dimly aware of her smoothly shifting the gears of her blue convertible and driving off somewhere with the controlled movements of somebody who had a schedule to keep.

“I’m going to show you the time of your life, Kazuo,” she said, her hands brushing his crotch as she reached over to lock his door.

A thought glinted and flashed: I never told her my name. It was followed by another thought: Something is very wrong with me. And then all such thoughts disappeared into the dark void that was now his mind.

PART THREE

PART THREE

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

The Hasid, nervously clutching his battered hard-sided briefcase, walked over to the railed edge of the upper foredeck in an old man’s shuffle. His eyes were vaguely fearful, owing more, it seemed, to his temperament than to his particular circumstances aboard the Stena Line HSS. The giant twin-hull ferry took just four hours to travel from Harwich to Hoek van Holland, where special trains, stationed right alongside the ferry, brought passengers to Amsterdam’s Centraal Station. The high-speed ship did all it could to make the trip comfortable: on board were several bars, a couple of restaurants, a number of shops, and a movie theater. The Hasidic man with the battered case did not have the appearance of someone who would avail himself of these diversions, however. He was a recognizable type: the diamond dealer—could there be any doubt of it?—who had no interest in such luxuries as he purveyed, like a teetotaler running a distillery. Other passengers glanced at him and looked away. It wouldn’t do to stare. One would not want the Hasid to get the wrong idea.

Now the salty breeze ruffled the man’s full white beard and earlocks, his black woolen coat and trousers. The round black hat remained firmly planted on his head as the man continued to take in the pewter sky and the gray-green seas. The vista wasn’t inspiring, but the Hasid seemed to find comfort in it.