ROBERT LUDLUM

THE HOLCROFT COVENANT

I Prologue

MARCH 1945

The hull of the submarine was lashed to the huge pilings, a behemoth strapped in silhouette, the sweeping lines of its bow arcing into the light of the North Sea dawn. The base was on the island of Scharh5rn, in the Helgoland Bight, several miles from the German mainland and the mouth of the Elbe River. It was a refueling station never detected by Allied Intelligence and, in the cause of security, little known among the strategists of the German High Comniand itself. The undersea marauders came and went in darkness, emerging and submerging within several hundred feet of the moorings. They were Neptunes assassins, come home to rest or going forth to press their attacks. On this particular dawn, however, the submarine lashed to the dock was doing neither. For it, the war was over, its assignment intrinsic to the origins of another war. Two men stood in the well of the conning tower, one in the uniform of a commanding officer of the German Navy, the other a tall civilian in a long dark overcoat-the collar turned up to ward off the North Sea winds--yet hatless, as if to defy the North Sea winter. Both looked down at the long line of passengers who slowly made their way toward the gangplank amidships. As each passenger reached the plank, a name was checked off against a list, and then he or she was led--or carried -aboard a submarine. A few walked by themselves, but they were the exceptions. They were the oldest, some having reached their twelfth or thirteenth birthdays. The rest were children. Infants in the arms of sternfaced army nurses, who surrendered their charges to a 2 THE HOLCROFT COVENANT

unit of navy doctors at the plank; preschoolers, and early graders clutching identical traveling kits and one another's hands, peering up at the strange black vessel that was to be their home for weeks to come. "Incredible," said theofficer. "Simply incredible." "It's the beginning," replied the man in the overcoat, his sharp,- angular features rigid. "Word comes from everywhere. From the ports and the mountain passes, from the remaining airfields all over the Reich. They go out by the thousands. To every part of the world. And people are waiting for them. Everywhere." "An extraordinary accomplishmenV' said the officer, shaking his head in awe. *This is only one part of the strategy. The entire operation is extraordinary." "It's an honor to have you here." "I wanted to be. This is the last shipment." The tall civilian kept his eyes on the dock below. "The Third Reich is dying. These am its rebirth. These are the Fourth Reich. Unencumbered by mediocrity and corruption. These are the Sonnenkinder. All over the world." "The children . . ." "Me Children of the Damned," said the tall man, interrupting. 'They are the Children of the Damned, as millions will be. But none will be like these. And these will be everywhere.90 JANUARY 197- "A ttentionl Le train de sept heures a destination de Zurich partira du qual numiro douze." The tall American in the dark-blue raincoat glanced up at the -cavernous dome of the Geneva railway station, trying to Jocate the hidden speakers. Ile expression on his sharp, angular face was quizzical; the announcement was in French, a language he spoke but little and understood less. Nevertheless, he was able to distinguish the word Zurich, it was his signal. He brushed aside the fightbrown hair that fell with irritating regularity over his forehead and started for the north end of the station. The crowds were heavy. Bodies rushed past the American in all directions, hurrying to the gates to begin their journeys to scores of different destinations. None seemed to pay attention to the harsh announcements that echoed throughout the upper chambers in a continuous metallic monotone. The travelers in Geneva's Bahnhof knew where they were going. It was the end of the week; the new mountain snows had fallen and the air outside was crisp and chilling. There were places to go, schedules to keep, and people to see; time wasted was time stolen. Everyone hurried. The American hurried, too, for he also had a schedule to keep and a person to see. He had learned before the announcement that the train for Zurich would leave from track twelve. According to the plan, he was to walk down the ramp to the platform, count seven cars from the rear, and board at the first entrance. Inside, he was to count again, this time five compartments, and knock twice on the EM door. If everything was in order, he would be admitted by a director of La Grande Banque do Genbve, 3 4 THE HOLCROFT COVENANT

signifying the culmination of twelve weeks of preparations. Preparations that included purposely obscured cablegrams, transatlantic calls made and received on telephones the Swiss banker had determined were sterile, and a total commitment to secrecy. He did not know what the director of La Grande Banque de Gen6ve had to say to him, but he thought he knew why the precautions were deemed necessary. The American's name was Noel Holcroft, but Holcroft had not been his name at birth. He was born in Berlin in the summer of 1939, and the name on the hospital registry was "Clausen." His father was Heinrich Clausen, master strategist of the Third Reich, the financial magician who put together the coalition of disparate economic forces that insured the supremacy of Adolf Hitler. Heinrich Clausen won the country but lost a wffe. Althene Clausen was an American; more to the point, she was a headstrong woman with her own standards of ethics and morality. She had deduced that the National So- cialists possessed neither; they were a collection of paranoiacs, led by a maniac, and supported by financiers interested solely in profits. Althene Clausen gave her husband an ultimatum on a warm afternoon in August: Withdraw. Stand against the paranoiacs and the maniac before it was too late. In disbelief, the Nazi listened and laughed and dismissed his wife's ultimatum as the foolish ravings of a new mother. Or perhaps the warped judgment of a woman brought up in a weak, discredited system that would soon march to the step of the New Order. Or be crushed under its booL That night the new mother packed herself . and the new child and took one of the last planes to London, the first leg on her journey back to New York. A week later the Blitzkrieg was executed against Poland; the Thousand Year Reich had begun its own journey, one that would last some fifteen hundred days from the first sound of gunfire. Holcroft walked through the gate, down the ramp, and on to the long concrete platform. Four, five, six, seven.... The seventh car had a small blue circle stenciled beneath the window to the left of the open door. It was the symbol of accommodations superior to those in first class: enlarged compartments properly outfitted for confer- THE HoLCROFT coVENANT 5

ences in transit or clandestine meetings of a more personal nature. Privacy was guaranteed; once the train was moving, the doors at either end of the car were manned by armed railway guards. Holcroft entered and turned left into the corridor. He walked past successive closed doors until he reached the fifth. He knocked twice. "Herr Holcroft?" The voice behind the wood panel was firm but quiet, and although the two words were meant as a question, the voice was not questioning. It made a statement "Herr Manfredir, said Noel in reply, suddenly aware that an eye was peering at him through the pinpoint viewer in the -center of the door. It was an eerie feeling, diminished by the comic effect. He smiled to himself and wondered if Herr Manfredi would look like the sinister Conrad Veidt in one of those 1930s English films. There were two clicks of a lock, followed by the sound of a sliding bolt. The door swung back and the image of Conrad Veidt vanished. Ernst Manfredi was a short, rotund man in his middle to late sixties. He was co.npletely bald, with a pleasant, gentle face; but the wide blue eyes, magnified beyond the metal-framed glasses, were cold. Very light blue and very cold. "Come in, Herr Holcroft," said Manfredi, smiling. Then his expression changed abruptly; the smile disappeared. "Do forgive me. I should say Mister Holcroft. The Herr may be offensive to you. My apologies." "None necessary," replied Noel, stepping into the well-appointed compartment. There was a table, two chairs, no bed in evidence. The walls were wood-paneled; dark-red velvet curtains covered the windows, muffling the sounds of the figures rushing by outside. On the table was a small lamp with a fringed shade. "We have about twenty-five minutes before departure," the banker said. "It should be adequate. And don't be concerned-well be given ample warning. The train won't start until you've disembarked. You'll not have to travel to Zurich." 1'rve never been there." "I trust that will be changed," said the banker enigmatically, gesturing for Holcroft to sit opposite him at the table. 6 71M HOLCROFT COVEtUM . '

"I wouldn't count on it." Noel sat down, unbuttoning his raincoat but not removing it "I'm sorry, that was presumptuous of me." Manfredi took his seat and leaned back in the chair. "I Must apologize once again. I'll need your identification. Your passport, please.And your international driver's license. Als% whatever documents you have on your person that describe physical markings, vaccinations, that sort of thing." Holcroft felt a rush of anger. The inconvenience to his life aside, he disliked the bankees patronizing attitude. "Why should I? You know who I am. You wouldn't have opened that door if you didn't. You probably have more photographs, more information on me, than the State Department." "Indulge an old man, sir," said the banker, shrugging in self-deprecation, his charm on display. "It will be made clear to you." Reluctantly, Noel reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew the. leather case that contained his passport, health certificate, international license, and two A.I.A. letters that stated his qualifications as an architect. He handed the case to Manfredi. "Ifs all there. Help yourself." ~ With seemingly greater reluctance, the banker opened the case. "I feel as though rm prying, but I think ... 99 "You should," interrupted Holcroft. "I didn't ask for this meeting. Frankly, it comes at a very inconvenient time. I want to get back to New York as soon as possible." "Yes. Yes, I understand," said the Swiss quietly, perusing the documents. "Ten me, what was the first architectural commission you undertook outside the United States?" Noel suppressed his irritation. He had come this far; there was no point in refusing to answer. "Mexico," he replied. "For the Alvarez hotel chain, north of Puerto Vallarta." "Me second?" "Costa Rica. For the government. A postal complex in 1973." "What was the gross income of your firm in New York last year? Without adjustments." "None of your damned business." THE HOLCROFT COVENANT 7

assure you, we know." Holcroft shook his head in angry resignation. "A hundred and seventy-three thousand dollars and change." "Considering office rental, salaries, equipment and expenses, that's not an altogether impressive figure, is it?" asked Manfredi, his eyes still on the papers in his hands. . "It's my own company and the staff is small. I have no partners, no wife, no heavy debts. It could be worse." "It could be better," said the banker, looking up at Holcroft. 'Tspecially for one so talented." "It could be better." "Yes, I thought as much," continued the Swiss, putting the various papers back in the leather case and handing it to Noel. He leaned forward. "Do you know who your father was?" "I know who my father is. Legally, he's Richard Holcroft, of New York, my mother's husband. He's very much alive." "And retired," completed Manfredi. "A fellow banker, but hardly a banker in the Swiss tradition." "He was respected. Is respected." "For his family's money or for his professional acumen?" "Both, I'd say. I love him. If you have reservations, keep them to yourself." "You're very loyal; that's a quality I admire. Holcroft came along when your mother-an incredible woman, incidentally-was most despondent. But we split definitions. Holcroft is once removed. I referred to your natural fa- ther." "Obviously." 'rhirty years ago, Heinrich Clausen made certain -arrangements. He traveled frequently between Berlin, Zurich, and Geneva, beyond official scrutiny, of course. A document was prepared that we as"-Manfredi paused and smiled--". . . is biased neutrals could not oppose. Attached to the document is a letter, written by Clausen in April of 1945. It is addressed to you. His son." The banker reached for a thick manila envelope on the table. "Just a minute," said Noel. "Did those certain arrangements concern money?" 66yes." -rm not interested. Give it to charity. He owed it" 8 THE HOLCROPT COVENANT

"You may not feel that way when you've heard the amount." "What is it?" "Seven hundred and eighty million dollars." 2

Holcroft stared at the banker In disbelief; the blood drained from his head. Outside, the sounds of the huge station were a cacophony of muted chords, barely penetrating the thick walls of the car. "Don't try to absorb it all at once," said Manfredi, placing the letter to one side. "There are conditions, none of them, incidentally, offensive. At least, none weW aware Of.99 "Conditions?Hoicroft knew he could hardly be heard; he tried to find his voice. 'TAW conditionsr' "They're spelled out very clearly. These vast sums are to be channeled into a great good for people everywhere. And, of course, there are certain benefits to yourSON personally.99 "What do you mean there's nothing offensive that you're . . . 'aware of r, The bankees magnified eyes blinked behind his glasses; he looked away briefly, his expression troubled. He reached into kis brown leather briefcase, which lay at the comer of the table, and pulled out a long, thin envelope witkcurious markings on the back side; they were a series of four circles and appeared to be four dark coins affixed to the border of the flap. Manfredi held the envelope across the table, under the light. The dark circles were not coins but waxed seals. Ali were intact. "Following the instructions given to us thirty years ago, this envelope--unlike your father's letter here-was not to be opened by directors in Geneva. It is separate from the document we prepared, and to the best of our knowledge, Clausen was never aware of it. His own words to you would tend to confirm thaL It was brought to us within hours after the courier delivered your 9 10 THE HOLCROFT COVENANT

father's letter, which was to be our final communication from Berlin." -what is itr "We don't know. We were told it was written by several men aware of your father's activities. Who believed in his cause with great fervor; who considered him in many ways a true martyr of Germany. We were instructed to give it to you with the seals unbroken. You were to read it before you saw your fathees letter." Manfredi turned the envelope over. There was writing on the front side. The words were in German and written by hand. "You are to sign below, so to state that you received it in the proper condition." Noel took the envelope and read the words he could not understand.

DIESER BRIEF IST MIT UNGEBROCHENEM SIEGEL EMPFANGEN WORDEN. NEUAUFBAU ODER TOD.

"What does it say?" "That you've examined the seals and are satisfied." "How can I be sure?" "Young man, you're talking with a director of La Grande Banque de Gen~ve." The Swiss did not raise his voice but the rebuke was clear. "You have my word. And, in any event, what difference does it make?" None, reasoned Holcroft, yet the obvious question bothered him. "If I sign the envelope, what do you do with it?" Manfredi was silent for several moments, as if deciding whether or not to answer. He removed his glasses, took a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket, and cleaned them. Finally he replied. 'That is privileged in- formation... ." "SoYs my signature," interrupted Noel. "Privileged, that is." "Let me finish," protested the banker, putting back his glasses. "I was about to say it was privileged information that can't possibly be relevant any longer. Not after so many years. The envelope is to be sent to a post-office box in Sesimbra, Portugal. It is south of Lisbon, on the Cape of Espichel." "Why isn't It relevantr Manfredi held up the palms of his hands. '01be post- THE HOLCROFT COVENANT 11

office box no longer exists. The envelope will find its way to a dead-letter office and eventually be returned to It US., "You're sure?" "I believe it, yes." Noel reached into his pocket for his pen, turning the envelope over to look once again at the waxed seals. They bad not been tampered with; and, thought Holcroft, what difference did it make? He placed the envelope in front of him and signed his name. Manfredi held up his hand. "You understand, whatever is contained in that envelope can have no bearing on our participation in the document prepared by La Grande Banque de Gen6ve. We were not consulted; nor were we apprised of the contents." "You sound worried. I thought you said it didn't make any difference. It was too long ago." "Fanatics always worry me, Mr. Holcroft. Time and consequence cannot alter that judgment. It's a bankees caution." Noel began cracking the wax; it had hardened over the years and took considerable force before it fell away. He'tore the flap open, removed the single page, and unfolded it. The paper was brittle with age; the white had turned to a pale brownish yellow. The writing was in English, the letters printed in an odd block lettering that was Germanic in style. The ink was faded but legible. Holcroft looked at the bottom of the page for a signature. There was none. He started reading. The message was macabre, born in desperation thirty years ago. It was as though unbalanced men had sat in a darkened room, studying shadows on the wall for signs of the future, studying a man and a life not yet formed.

FROM THIS MOMENT ON THE SON OF HEINRICH CLAUSEN IS TO BE TESTED. THERE ARE THOSE WHO MAY LEARN OF THE WORK IN GENEVA AND WHO WILL TRY TO STOP HIM, WHOSE ONLY PURPOSE IN LIFE WILL BE TO KILL HIM, THUS DESTROYING THE DREAM CONCEWED BY THE GIANT THAT WAS HIS FATHER. THIS MUST NOT HAPPENi FOR WE WERE BE- 12 THE HOLCROPT COVENANT

TRAYED-ALL OF US-AND THE WORLD MUST KNOW WHAT WE REALLY WERE, NOT WHAT THE BETRAYERS SHOWED US TO BE, FOR THOSE WERE THE PORTRAITS OF TRAITORS. NOT U& AND PARTICULARLY NOT HEINRICH CLAUSEN. WE ARE THE SURVIVORS OF WOLFSSCHANZE. WE SEEK THE CLEANSING OF OUR NAMES, THE RESTORATION OF THE HONOR THAT WAS STOLEN FROM US. THERE FORE THE MEN OF WOLFSSCHANZE WILL PROTECT THE SON FOR AS LONG AS THE SON PURSUES THE FATHER'S DREAM AND RETURNS OUR HONOR TO US. BUT SHOULD THE SON ABANDON THE DREAM, BETRAY THE FATHER, AND WITHHOLD OUR HONOR, HE WELL HAVE NO LIFE. HE WILL WITNESS THE ANGUISH OF LOVED ONES, OF FAMILY, CHILDREN, FRIENDS. NO ONE WILL BE SPARED. NONE MUST INTERFERE. GIVE US OUR HON- OR. IT IS OUR RIGHT AND WE DEMAND IT.

Noel shoved the chair back and stood up. "What the hell is this?" "I've no idea," replied Manfredi quietly, his voice calm but- his Jarge, cold blue eyes conveying his alarm. "I told you we were not apprised. . . ." "Well, get apprisedl" shouted Holcroft. "Read itt Who were these clowns? Certifiable lunatics?" The banker began reading. Without looking up, he answered softly. "First cousins to lunatics. Men who'd lost hope.,, "What's Wollsschanze? What does it meanr "It was the name of Hitler's staff headquarters in East Prussia, where the attempt to assassinate him took place. It was a conspiracy of the generals: Von Stauffenberg, Kluge, 118pner-they were all implicated. All shot Rommel took his own life." Holcroft stared at the paper in Manfredi's hands. "You mean it was written thirty years ago by people like thatr The banker nodded, his eyes narrowed in astonishment. "Yes, but it's not the language one might have expected of them. This is nothing short of a threat; it's un- THE HOLCROPT COVENANT 13

reasonable. Those men were not unreasonable. On the other hand, the times were unreasonable. Decent men, brave men, were stretched beyond the parameters of sanity. They were living through a hell none of us can picture today." "Decent men?" asked Noel incredulously. "Have you any idea what it meant to be a part of the Wolfsschanze conspiracy? A bloodbath followed, thousands massacred everywhere, the vast majority never having heard of Woffsschanze. it was yet another final solution, an excuse to still all dissent throughout Germany. What began as an act to rid the world of a madman ended in a holocaust all its own. The survivors of Wolfsschanze saw that happen." "Those survivors," replied Holcroft, "followed that madman for a long time." "You must understand. And you will. These were desperate men. They were caught in a trap, and for them it was cataclysmic. A world they had helped create was revealed not to be the world they envisioned. Horrors they never dreamed of were uncovered, yet they couldn't avoid their responsibility for them. They were appalled at what they saw but couldn't deny the roles they played." 'qbe well-intentioned Nazi," said Noel. "I've heard of that elusive breed." "One would have to go back in history, to the economic disasters, to the Versailles Treaty, the Pact of Locarno, the Bolshevik encroachments-to a dozen different forces-to understand." "I understand what I just read," Holcroft said. "Your poor misunderstood storm troopers didn't hesitate to threaten someone they couldn't knowl 'He will have no life . . . no one spared ... family, friends, childree That spells out murder. Don't talk to me about well-intentioned killers." "They're the words of old, sick, desperate men. They have no meaning now. It was their way of expressing their own anguish, of seeking atonement. They're gone. Leave them in peace. Read your father's letter. . ~" "He's not my fatherl" interrupted Noel. "Read Heinrich Clausen's letter. Things will be clearer. Read it. We have several items to discuss and there isn't much time." 14 THE HOLCROPT COVENAW

A man in a brown tweed overcoat and dark Tirolean bat stood by a pillar across from the seventh car. At first glance, there was nothing particularly distinguishing about him, except perhaps his eyebrows. They were thick, a mixture of black and light-gray hair that produced the effect of salt-and-pepper archways in the upper regions of a forgettable face. At first glance. Yet if one looked closer, one could see the blunted but not unrefined features of a very determined man. In spite of the pockets of wind that blew in gusts through the platform, he did not blink. His con- centration on the seventtk car was absolute. I The American would come out of that doorway, thought the man by the pillar, a much different person from the American who went in. During the past few minutes his fife had been changed in ways few men in this world would ever experience. Yet it was only the beginning; the journey he was about to embark on was beyond anything of which the present-day world could conceive. So it was important to observe his initial reaction. More than important. Vital.- "Attentiont Le train de sept heures. . The final announcement came over the speakers. Simultaneously, a train from Lausanne was arriving on the adjacent track. In moments the platform would be jammed with tourists Rocking into Geneva for the weekend, the way Midlanders scrambled into Charing Cross for a brief fling in London, thought the man by the pillar. The train from Lausanne came to a stop. The passenger cars disgorged; the platform was again packed with bodies. The figure of the tall American was suddenly in the vestibule of car seven. He was blocked at the doorway by a porter carrying someone's luggage. It was an irritating moment that might have provoked an argument under normal circumstances. But the circumstances were not normal for Holcroft. He expressed no annoyance; his face was set, unresponsive to the moment, his eyes aware of the physical confusion but not concerned with it. There was an air of detachment about him; he was in the grips of lingering astonishment. This was emphasized by the way ke clutched the thick manila envelope between his arm THE HoLcROFT COVENANT 15

and his chest, his band curved around the edge, his fingers pressed into the paper with such force they formed a fist. It was the cause of his consternation, this document prepared a lifetime ago. it was the miracle they bad waited for, lived for-the man by the pillar and those who had gone before him. More than thirty years of an- ticipation. And now it had surfaced at lasti. The journey had begun Holcroft entered the flow of human traffic toward the ramp that led up to the gate. Although jostled by those around him, he was oblivious of the crowds, his eyes absently directed ahead. At nothing. Suddenly, the man by the pillar was alarmed. Years of training had taught him to look for the unexpected, the infinitesimal break in a normal pattern. He saw that break now. Two men, their faces unlike any around them, joyless, without curiosity or expectation, filled only with hostile intent. They were surging through the crowds, one man slightly ahead of the other. Their eyes were on the American; they were after himl The man in front had his right hand in his pocket. The man behind had his left hand concealed across his chest, beneath his unbuttoned overcoat. The hidden hands gripped weaponst The man by the pillar was convinced of that. He sprang away from the concrete column and crashed his way into the crowd. There were no seconds to be lost. The two men were gaining on Holcroft. They were after the envelopel It was the only possible explanation. And if that were the case, it meant that word of the miracle had leaked out of Geneval The document inside that envelope was priceless, beyond value. Beside it, the American's fife was of such inconsequence that no thought would be expended taking that life. The men closing in on Holcroft would kill him for the envelope ndndlessly, as if removing a disagreeable insect from a bar of gold. And that was mindless I What they did not know was that without the son of Heinrich Clausen the miracle would not happenl They were within yards of him nowl The man with the black-and-white eyebrows lunged forward through the mass of tourists like a possessed animal. He crashed into people and luggage, throwing aside everything and every- x6 THE HOLCROFT COVENANT

one in his path. When he was within feet of the killer whose hand was concealed under his overcoat, he thrust his own hand into his pocket, clutching the gun inside, and screamed directly at the assailant: "Du suchst Clausens Sohnl Das Genfe Dokumentl" 1he killer was partially up the ramp, separated from the American by only a few people. He heard the words roared at him by a stranger and spun around, his eyes wide in shock The crowd pressed rapidly up the ramp, skirting the two obvious- antagonists. Attacker and protector were mi their Own miniature arena, facing each other. The observer squeezed the trigger of the gun in his pocket, then squeezed it again. Ile spits could barely be heard as the fabric exploded. Two bullets entered the body of Hol- croft's would-be assailant, one in the lower stomach, the other far above, in the neck. 'Me first caused the man to convulse forward; the second snapped his head back, the throat torn open. Blood burst from the neck with such force that it splattered surrounding faces, and the clothes and suitcases belonging to those faces. It cascaded downward, forming small pools and rivulets on the ramp. Screams of horror filled the walkway. Ile observer-protector felt a hand gripping his shoulder, digging into his flesh. He spun; the second attacker was on him, but there was no gun in his hand. Instead, the blade of a hunting knife came toward him. The man was an amateur, thought the observer, as his reactions-4instincts born of years of training-came instantly into play. He stepped sideways quickly--a bullfighter avoiding the horns-and clamped his left hand above his assailant's wrist. He pulled his right hand from his pocket and gripped the fingers wrapped around the knife. He snapped the wrist downward, vising the fingers around the handle, tearing the cartilage of the attacker's hand, forcing the blade inward. He plunged it into the soft flesh of the stomach and ripped the sharp steel diagonally up into the rib cage, severing the arteries of the hearL The man's face contorted; a terrible scream was begun, cut off by death. The pandemonium had escalated into uncontrollable chaos; the screaming increased. Ile profusion of blood in the center of the rushing, colliding bodies fueled the THE HOLCROFT COVENANT 17

hysterm The observer protector knew precisely what to do. He threw up his hands in frightened consternation, in sudden, total revulsion at the sight of the blood on his own clothes, and joined the hysterical crowd racing away like a herd of terrified cattle from the concrete killing ground. He rushed up the ramp past the American whose life he had just saved.

Holcroft heard the screaming. it penetrated the numbing mists he felt engulfed in: clouds of vapor that swirled around him, obscuring his vision, inhibiting all thought. He tried to turn tDward the commotion, but the hysterical crowd prevented him from doing so. He was swept farther up the ramp and pummeled into the three-foothigh cement wall that served as a railing. He gripped the stone and looked back, unable to see clearly what had happened; he did see a man below arch backward, blood erupting from his throat. He saw a second man lunging forward, his mouth stretched in agony, and then Noel could see no more, the onslaught of bodies sweeping him once again up the concrete ramp. A man rushed by, crashing into his shoulder. Holcroft turned in time to see frightened eyes beneath a pair of thick black-and-white brows. An act of violence had taken place. An attempted robbery had turned into an assault, into a killing, perhaps. Peaceful Geneva was no more immune to violence than were the wild streets of New York at night, or the impov- erished alleyways of Marrakesh. But Noel could not dwell on such things; he could not be involved. He had other things to think about. The niists of numbness returned. Ibrough them he vaguely understood that his life would never again be the same. He gripped the envelope in his hand and joined the screaming mass racing up the ramp to the gate. 3

Ile huge aircraft passed ovw Cape Breton Island and dipped gently to the left, descending into its new altitude and heading The route was now southwest, toward Hahfax and Boston, then into New York. Holcroft had spent most of the time in the upstairs lounge, at a single chair in the right rear comer, his black attach6 case against the bulkhead. It was easier to concentrate there; no straying eyes of an adjacent passenger could fall on the papers he read and reread, again and gam. He had begun with the letter from Heinrich Clausen, that unknown but all-pervading presence. It was an incredible document in itself. The information contained in it was of such an alarming nature that Manfredi had expressed the collective wish of the Grande Banque's directors that it be destroyed. For it detailed in general terms the sources of the millions banked in Geneva three decades ago. Although the majority of these sources were untouchable in any contemporary legal sense-thieves and murderers stealing the national funds of a government headed by thieves and murderers--other sources were not so immune to modem scrutiny. Throughout the war Germany had plundered. It had raped internally and externally. Tke, dissenters within had been stripped; the conquered without, stolen from unmercifully Should the memories of these thefts be dredged up, the international courts in The Hague could tie up the funds for years in protracted litigations. "Destroy the letter," Manfredi had said in Geneva"It's necessary only that you understand why he did what he did. Not the methods; they are a complication without any conceivable resolution. But there are those who may try to stop you. Other thieves would move in; we're dealing in hundreds of millions." 18 THE HOLCROPT COVENAW 19

Noel reread the letter for perhaps the twentieth time. Each time he did so, he tried to picture the man who wrote it. His natural father. He had no idea what Hemnch Clausen looked like; his mother had destroyed all photo- graphs, all communications, all references whatsoever to the man she loathed with all her being.

Berlin, 20 April 1945

MY SON. I write this as the armies of the Reich collapse on all fronts. Berlin will soon fall, a city of raging fires and death everywhere. So be it. I shall waste no moments on what was, or what might have been. On concepts betrayed, and the triumph of evil over good through the treachery of morally bankrupt leaders. Recriminations born in hell are too suspect, the authorship too easily attributed to the devil. Instead, I shall permit my actions to speak for me. In them you may find some semblance of pride. That is my prayer. Amends must be mad& That is the credo I have come to recognize. As have my two dearest friends an& closest associates who are identified in the attached document. Amends for the destruction we have wrought, for betrayals so heinous the world will never forget. Or forgive. It is in the interest of partial forgiveness that we have done what we have done. Five years ago your mother made a decision I could not comprehend, so blind were my loyalties to the New Order. Two winters ago-in February of 1943--the words she spoke in rage, words I arrogantly dismissed as ties fed her by those who despised the Fatherland, were revealed to be the truth. We who labored in the rarefied circles of finance and policy had been deceived. For two years it was clear that Germany was going down to defeat. We pretended otherwise, but in our hearts we knew it was so. Others knew it, too. And they became careless. The horrors surfaced, the deceptions were clear. Twenty-five months ago I conceived of a plan and enlisted the support of my dear friends in the Finanzminlsterlum. Their support was willingly given. Our objective was to divert extraordinary 20 THE HOLCROPT COVENANT

sums of money into neutral Switzerland, furids that could be used one day to give aid and succor to those thousands upon thousands whose lives were shattered by unspeakable atrocities committed in Germany's name by animals who knew nothing of German honor. We know now about the camps. Ile names will haunt history. Belsen, Dachau, Auschwitz. We have been told of the mass executions, of the helpless men, women and children lined up in front of trenches dug by their own hands, then slaughtered. We have learned of the ovens---oh, God in heaven-ovens for human fieshl Of the showers that sprayed not cleansing water but lethal gas. Of intolerable, obscene experiments carried out on conscious human beings by insane practitioners of a medical science unknown to an. We bleed at the images, and our eyes burst but our tears can do nothing. Our minds, however, are not so helpless. We can plan. Amends must be made. We cannot restore life. We cannot bring back what was so brutally, viciously taken. But we can seek out all those who survived, and the children of those both surviving and slaughtered, and do what we can. They must be sought out all over the world and shown that we have not forgotten. We are ashamed and we wish to help. In any way that we can. It is to this end that we have done what we have done. I do, not for a moment believe that our actions can expiate our sins, those crimes we were unknowingly a part of. Yet we do what we can-I do what I can-haunted with every breath by your mothees perceptions. Why, oh eternal God, did I not listen to that great and good woman? To return to the plan. Using the American dollar as the equivalent currency of exchange, our goal was ten -million monthly, a figure that might appear excessive, but not when one considers the capital flow through the economic maze of the FInanzmin&terium at the height of the war. We exceeded our goal. Using the FinanzmInUterium we appropri- THE HOLCROFT COVENANT 21

ated funds from hundreds of sources within the Reich and to a great extent beyond, throughout Germany's ever-expanding borders. Taxes were diverted, enormous expenditures made from the Ministry of Armaments for nonexistent purchases, Wehrmacht payrolls rerouted, and monies sent to occupation territories constantly intercepted, lost Funds from expropriated estates, and from the great fortunes, factories, and individually held companies, did not find their way into the ReicWs economy but, instead, into our accounts. Sales of art objects from scores of museums throughout the conquered lands were converted to our cause. It was a master plan carried out masterfully. Whatever risks we took and terrors we faced--and they were daily occurrences-were inconsequential compared to the meaning of our credo: Amends must be made. Yet no plan can be termed a success unless the objective is secured permanently. A military strategy that captures a port only to lose it to an invasion from the sea a day later is no strategy at all. One must consider all possible assaults, all interferences that could negate the strategy. One must project, as thoroughly as projection allows, the changes mandated by time, and protect the objective thus far attained. In essence, one must use time to the strategy's advantage. We have endeavored to do this through the conditions put forth in the attached document. - Would to the Almighty that we could give aid to the victims and their survivors sooner than our projections allow, but to do so would rivet attention to the sums we have appropriated. Then aU could be lost. A generation must pass for the strategy to succeed. Even then there is risk, but time will have diminished it. The air-raid sirens keep up their incessant wailing. Speaking of time, there is very little left now. For myself and my two associates, we wait only for confirmation that this letter has reached Zurich through an underground courier. Upon receipt of the news, we have our own pacL Our pact with death, each by his own hand. Answer my prayer. Help us atone. Amends must be made. 22 THE HOLCROFT COVENANT This is our covenant, my son. My only son, whom I have never known but to whom I have brought such sorrow. Abide by it, honor it, for it is an honorable thing I ask you to do.

Your father, HEDmcH CLAUSEN

Rolcroft put the letter facedown on the table and glanced out the window at the blue sky above the clouds. Far in the distance was the exhaust of another aircraft; he followed the streak of vapor until he could see the tiny silver gleam of the fuselage. He thought about the letter. Again. The writing was maudlin; the words were from another era, melodramatic. It did not weaken the letter; rather, it gave it a certain strength of conviction. Clausen's sincerity was unques- tioned; his emotions were genuine. What was only partially communicated, however, was the brilliance of the plan itself. Brilliant in its simplicity, ~xtraordinary in its use of time and the laws of finance to achieve both execution and protection. For the three men understood that sums of the magnitude they had stolen could not be sunk in a lake or buried in vaults. The hundreds of millions had to exist in the financial marketplace, not subject to discontinued currency or to brokers who would have to convert and sell elusive assets. Hard money had to be deposited, the responsibility for its security given to one of the world's most revered institutions, La Grande Banque de Gen6ve. Such an institution would not--could not-permit abuses where liquidity was concerned; it was an international economic rock. All the conditions of its contract with i4~ depositors would be observed. Everything was to be legal in the eyes of Swiss law. Covert-as was the custom of the tradebut ironbound with respect to existing legalities, and thus current with the times. The intent of the contract-the document---could not be corrupted; the objectives would be followed to the letter. To permit corruption or malfeasance was unthinkable. Thirty years ... fifty years ... in terms of the Imancial calendar was very little time, indeed. Noel reached down and opened his attach6 case. He slipped the pages of the letter into a compartment and THE HOLCROFT COVENANT 23

pulled out the document from La Grande Banque do Genave. It was encased in a leather cover, folded in the manner of a last will and testament, which it was-and then some. He leaned back in the chair and unfastened the clasp that allowed the cover to unfold, revealing the first page of the document. His "covenant," Holcroft reflected. He skimmed over the words and the paragraphs, now so familiar to him, flipping the pages as he did so, concentrating on the salient points. The identities of Clausen's two associates in the massive theft were Erich Kessler and Wilhelm von Tiebolt. The rinnies were vital not so much for identifying the two men themselves as for seeking out and contacting the oldest child of each. It was the first condition of the document. Although the designated proprietor of the numbered account was one Noel C. Holcroft, American, funds were to be released only upon the signatures of all three oldest children. And then only if each child satisfied the directors of La Grande Banque that he or she accepted the conditions and objectives set forth by the original proprietors with respect to the allocation of the funds. However, if these offspring did not satisfy the Swiss directors or were judged to be incompetent, their brothers and sisters were to be studied and further judgments made. If all the children were considered incapable of the responsibility, the millions would wait for another generation, when furthir sealed instructions would be opened by executors and by issue yet unborn. The resolve was devastating:. another generation.

THE LEGITIMATE SON OF HEINRICH CLAUSEN IS NOW KNOWN AS NOEL HOLCROFT, A CHILD, LIVING WITH ins MOTHER AND STEPFATHER IN AMERICA. AT THE SPECIFIC DATE CHOSEN BY THE DIRECTORS OF LA GRANDE BANQUE DE GENkVE -NOT TO BE LESS THAN THIRTY YEARS, NOR MORE THAN THIRTY-FIVE-SAID LEGITIMATE SON OF HEINRICH CLAUSEN IS TO BE CONTACTED AND IDS RESPONSIBILITIES MADE KNOWN TO HIM. HE IS TO REACH HIS COINHERrrORS AND ACTI VATE THE ACCOUNT UNDER THE CONDITIONS SET FORTIL BE SHALL BE THE CONDUIT THROUGH 24 THE HOLCROFT COVENANT

WHICH THE FUNDS ARE TO BE DISPENSED TO THE VICTIMS OF THE HOLOCAUST, THEM FAM- ILIES AND SURVIVING ISSUE....

The three Germans gave their reasons for the seleotion of Clausen's son as the conduit. The child had entered into a family of wealth and consequence . . . an American family, above suspicion. All traces of his mothees first marriage and flight from Germany had been obscured by the devoted Richard -Holcroft. It was understood that in the pursuit of this obscurity a death certificate had been issued in London for an infant male named Clausen, dated February 17, 1942, and a subsequent birth certiflcate filed in New York City for the male child Holcroft. The additional years would further obscure events to the point of obliteration. The infant male Clausen would someday become the man Holcroft, with no visible relationship to his origins. Yet those origins could not be denied, and, therefore, he was the perfect choice, satisfying both the demands and the objectives of the document An international agency was to be established in Zurich, which would serve as headquarters for the dispersal of the funds, the source of the funds to be held confidential in perpetuity. Should a spokesman be required, it was to be the American, Holcroft, for the others could never be mentioned by name. Ever. They were the children of Nazis, and their exposure, would inevitably raise demands that the account be examined, that its various sources be revealed. And if the account was examined, its sources even hinted at, forgotten confiscations and appropriations would be remembered. The international courts would be swamped with litigations. But if the spokesman was a man without the Nazi stain, there would be no cause for alarm, no examinations, no demands for exhumation or litigation. He would act in concert with the others, each possessing one vote in all decisions, but he alone would be visible. The children of Erich Kessler and Wilhelm von Tiebolt were to remain anonymous. Noel wondered what the "children" of Kessler and Von Tiebolt were like. He would find out soon. The final conditions of the document were no less startling than anything that preceded them. All the monies were to be allocated within six months of the release THE HoLCROFT COVENANT 25

of the account Such an imposition would demand a total commitment from each of the offspring, and that was precisely what the depositors demanded: total commitment to their cause. Lives would be interrupted, sacrifices required. The commitments had to be paid for. Therefore, at the end of the six-month period and the successful allocation of the funds to the victims of the Holocaust, the Zurich agency was to be disbanded and each descendant was to receive the sum of two million dollars. Six months. Two million dollars. Two million. Noel considered what that meant to him personally and professionally. It was freedom. Manfredi had said in Geneva that he was talented. He was talented, but frequently that talent was obscured in the final product. He'd had to accept assignments he would have preferred not to take-, had to compromise designs when the architect in him dictated otherwise; had to refuse jobs he wanted very much to do, because financial pressures prohibited time spent on lesser commissions. He was turning into a cynic. Nothing was permanent; planned obsolescence went hand in hand with depreciation and amortization. No one knew it better than an architect who once had a conscience. Perhaps he would find his conscience again. With freedom. With the two million. Holcroft was startled by the progression of his thoughts. He had made up his mind, something he had not intended to do until he'd thought things through. Everything. Yet he was reclaiming a misplaced conscience with money he had convinced himself he, was capable of rejecting. What were they Me, these oldest children of Erich Kessler and Wilhelm von Tlebolt? One was a woman; the other, a man a scholar. But beyond the differences of sex and profession, they had been a part of something he had never known. They'd been there; they'd seen it. Neither had been too young to remember. Each had lived in that strange, demonic world that was the Third Reich. The American would have so many questions to ask. Questions to ask? Questions? He had made his decision. He had told Manfredi he would need time-a few days at least-before he could decide. 26 THE HOLCROFT COVENANT

'13o you really have a choicer' the Swiss -banker had asked. "Very much so," Noel hadreplied. -rm not for sale, regardless of conditions. And I'm not frightened by threats made by maniacs thirty years ago." "Nor should you be. Discuss it with your mother." "What?" Holcroft was stunned. "I thought you said. - ." "Complete secrecy? Yes, but your mother is the smigle exception." "Why? I'd think she'd be the last. . "She's the first. And only. Shell honor the confl- 99 dence. Manfredi had been right. If his answer was yes, he would by necessity suspend his firm's activities and begin his travels to make contact with the offspring of Kessler and Von Tiebolt. His mother's curiosity would be aroused; she was not a woman to let her curiosity lie dormant. She would make inquiries, and if, by any chance-liowever remote--she unearthed information about the millions in Geneva and Heinrich Clausen's role in the massive theft, her reaction would be violent. Her memories of the paranoiac gangsters of the Third Reich were indelibly printed on her mind. If she made damaging disclosures public, the funds would be tied up in the international courts for years. "Suppose she isn't persuaded?" "You must be convincing. The letter is convincing, and we'll step in, if need be. Regardless, it's better to know her position at the outset." What would that position be? Noel wondered. Althene was not your run-of-the-mill mother, as mothers were understood by this particular son. He knew very early in life that Althene was different. She did not fit into the mold of the wealthy Manhattan matron. The trappings were there-or had been. The horses, the boats, the weekends in Aspen and in the Hamptons, but not the frantic chase for ever-expanding acceptance and social control. She'd done it all before. SheM lived in the turbulence that was the European thirties, a young, carefree American whose family had something left after the crash and were more comfortable away from their less-fortunate peers. She had known the Court of St. James's as well as 71M HOLCROFT COVENANT 27

the expatriate salons in Paris ... and the dashing new inheritors of Germany. And out of those years had come a serenity shaped by love, exhaustion, loathing, and rage. Althene was a special person, as much a friend as a mother, that friendship deep and without the need for constant reaffaination. In point of fact, thought Holcraft, she was more friend than mother; she was never entirely comfortable in the latter role. 'Tve made too many mistakes, my dear," she had said to him once, laughing, "to assume an authority based on biology." Now he would ask her to face the memory of a man she had spent a great deal of her life trying to forget. Would she be frightened? That wasn't likely. Would she doubt.the objectives set forth in the document given him by Ernst Manfredi? How could she, after reading the letter from Heinrich Clausen. Whatever her memories, his mother was a woman of intellect and perception. All men were subject to change, to remorse. She would have to accept that, no matter how distasteful it might be to her in this particular case. It was the weekend; tomorrow was Sunday. His mother and Atepfather spent the weekends at their house in the country, in Bedford Hills. In the morning he would drive up and have that talk. And on Monday he would take the first steps on a trip that would lead him back to Switzerland. To an as yet unknown agency in Zurich. On Monday the hunt would begin. Noel recalled his exchange with Manfredi. They were among the last words spoken before Holcroft left the train. "The Kesslers had two sons. The oldest Erichnamed for the father-is a professor of history at the University of Berlin. The younger brother, Hans, is a doctor in Munich. From what we know, both are highly regarded in their respective communities. They're very close. Once Erich is told of the situation, he may insist on his brother's inclusion." "Is that permittedr, "rbere's nothing in the document that prohibits ft. -However, the stipend remains the same and each family has but one vote in-all decisions." "What about the Von Tiebolts?" 28 THE HOLCROFT COVENANT

"Another story, rm afraid. They may be a problem for you. After the war the records show that the mother and two children Bed to Rio de Janeiro. Five or six years ago they disappeared. Literally. The police have no infor- mation. No address, no business associations, no listings in the other major cities. And that's unusual; the mother became quite successful for a time. No one seems to know what happened, or if people do, they're not willing to say~" 'Tou said two children. Who are they?" "Actually, there are three children. The youngest, a daughter, Helden, was born after the war, in Brazil, obviously conceived during the last days of the Reich. Ihe oldest is another daughter, Gretchen. The middle child is Johann, the son." "You say, they disappeared?" "Perhaps it's too dramatic a term. We're bankers, not investigators. Our inquiries were not that extensive, and Brazil is a very large country. Your inquiries must be exhaustive. Ike offspring of each man must be found and scrutinized. It!s the first condition of the document; without compliance, the account will not be released." Holcroft folded the document and put it back in his aftach6 case. As he did so, his fingers touched the edge of the single sheet of paper with the odd block lettering written by the survivors of Wolfsschanze thirty years ago. Manfredi was right: They were sick old men trYmg to play their last desperate roles-in a drama of the future they barely understood. If they had understood, they would have appealed to the "son of Heinrich Clausen." Pleaded with him, not threatened hun. The threat was the enlSma. Why was it made? For what purpose? A i perhaps, Manfredi was right. The strange paper had no meaning now. There were other things to thin about. Holcroft caught the eye of the stewardess chaffing with two men at a table across the way and gestured for another scotch. She smiled pleasantly, nodded, and indicated that the drink would be there in moments. He returned to his thoughts. The inevitable doubts surfaced. Was he prepared to commit what amounted to a year of his life to a project so immense that his own qualifications had to be examined before the children of Kessler and Von Mebolt examined-if, indeed, he could find the latter? Man- THE ROLCROPT COVENANT 29

fredi's words - came back to him. Do you really have a choice? The answer to that question was both yes and no. The two million, which signified his own freedom, was a temptation difficult to reject, but he could reject it. His dissatisfactions were real, but professionally, things were going well. His reputation was spreading, his skills acknowledged by a growing number of clients who in turn told potential clients. What would happen if he suddenly stopped? What would be the effect should he abruptly withdraw from a dozen commissions for which he was competing? These too were questions to be considered deeply; he was not ruled by money alone. Yet, as his mind wandered, Noel understood the uselessness of his thoughts. Compared to Ibis ... covenant ... the questions were inconsequential. Whatever his personal circumstances, the distribution of millions to the survivors of an inhumanity unknown in history was long overdue; it was an obligation impossible to dismiss. A voice had cried out to him through the years, the voice of a man in agony who was the father he had never known. For reasons he was incapable of explaining to himself, he could not be deaf to that voice; he could not walk away from that man in agony. He would drive to Bedford Hills in the morning and see his mother. Holcroft looked up, wondering where the stewardess was with his drink. She was at the dimly lit counter that served as the bar in the 747s lounge. The two men from the table had accompanied her; they were joined by a third. A fourth man sat quietly in a rear seat, reading a newspaper. The two men with the stewardess had been drinking heavily, while the third, in his search for camaraderie, pretended to be less sober than he was. The stewardess saw Noel looking at her and arched her eyebrows in mock desperation. She had poured his scotch, but one of the drunks had spilled it; she was wiping it up with a cloth. Ile drunke companion suddenly lurched back against a chair, his balance lost. The stewardess dashed around the counter to help the fallen passenger; his friend laughed, steadying himself on an adjacent chair. The third man reached for a drink on the bar. The fourth man looked up in disgust, crackling his paper, the sound conveying his disapproval. Noel returned to the window not caring to be a part of the minor confusion. Several minutes later the stewardess approached his 30 THE HOLCROFT COVENANT

table. "Im sorry, Mr. Holcroft. Boys will be boys, more so on the Atlantic run, I think. That was scotch on the rocks, wasn't it?" "Yes. Thanks." Noel took the glass from the attractive girl and saw the look in her eyes. It seemed to say, Thank you, nice person, for not coming on like those crashing bores. Under different circumstances he might have pursued a conversation, but now he had other things to think about His mind was listing the things he would do on Monday. Closing his office was not difficult in terms of personnel; he had a small staff : a secretary and two draftsmen he could easily place with friends-probably at higher salaries. But why in heaven's name would Holcroft, Incorporated, New York, close up shop just when its designs were being considered for projects that could triple its staff and quadruple its gross income? The explanation had to be both reasonable and above scrutiny. Suddenly, without warning, a passenger on the other side of the cabin sprang from his seat, a hoarse, wild cry of pain coming from his throat. He arched his back spastically, as if gasping for air, clutched first his stomach, then his chest. He crashed into the wooden divider that held magazines and airline schedules and twisted maniacally, his eyes wide, the veins in his neck purple and distended. He lurched forward and sprawled to the deck of the cabin. It was the third man, who had joined the two drunks at the bar with the stewardess. The next moments were chaotic. The stewardess rushed to the fallen man, observed him closely, and followed procedure. She instructed the three other passengers in the cabin to remain in their seats, placed a cushion beneath the man's head, and returned to the counter and the intercom on the wall. In seconds a male ffight attendant rushed up the circular staircase; the British Airways captain emerged from the flight deck. They conferred with the stewardess over the unconscious body. The male attendant walked rapidly to the staircase, descended, and returned within a few moments with a clipboard. It was obviously the plane's manifest The captain stood and addressed the others in the lounge. "Will you all please return to your seats below. Theres a doctor on board. He's being summoned. Thank you very much.99 . TIM HOLCROFT COVENANT 31

As Holcroft sidestepped. his way down the staircase, a stewardess carrying a blanket climbed quickly past him. Then he heard the captain issue an order over the intercom. "Radio Kennedy for emergency equipment. Medical. Male passenger, name of Thornton. Heart seizure, I believe."

The doctor knelt by the prone figure stretched out on the rear seat of the lounge and asked for a flashlight. The first officer hurried to the flight deck and returned with one. Ike doctor rolled back the eyelids of the man named Tbornton, then turned and motioned for the captain to join him; he had something to say. The captain bent over; the doctor spoke quietly. "Hes dead. It's difficult to say without equipment, without tissue and blood analysis, but I don7t think this man had a heart attack. I think hewas poisoned. Strychnine would be my guess."

The customs inspectoes office was suddenly quiet. Behind the inspectoes desk sat a homicide detective from New York's Port Authority police, a British Airways clipboard in front of him. The inspector stood rigidly embarrassed to one side. In two chairs against the wall sat the captain of the 747 and the stewardess assigned to its first-class lounge. By the door was a uniformed police officer. The detective stared at the customs inspector in disbelief. "Are you telling me that two people got off that plane, walked through sealed-off corridors into the sealedoff, guarded customs area, and vanished?" "I can't- explain it," said the inspector, shaking his head despondently. "It's never happened before." The detective turned to the stewardess. "Yowre convinced they were drunk, missr' "Not now, perhaps," replied the girl. "I've got to have second thoughts. They drank a great deal; rm certain of it; they couldn7t have faked that. I served them. They appeared quit.- sloshed. Harmless, but sloshed." "Could they have poured their drinks out somewhere? Without drin!dng them., I mean." "Where?" asked the stewardess. "I don't know. Hollow ashtrays, the seat cushions. What's on the floor?" 32 THE KOLCROFT COVENANT

"Carpeting," answered the pilot. The detective addressed. the police officer by the door. "Get forensic on your radio. Have them check the carpet, the seat cushions, ashtrays. Left side of the ropedoff area facing front. Dampness is enough. Let me know." 'Tes, sir." The officer left quickly, closing the door behind him. "Of course," ventured the captain, "alcoholic tolerances vary.91 "Not in the amounts the young lady describecV' the detective said. "For God's sake, why is it important?" said the cap, tain. "Obviously they're the men you want. They've vanished, as you put it. That took some planning, I daresay." "Everything's important," explained the detective, 'Methods can be matched with previous crimes. We're looking for anything. Crazy people. Rich, crazy people who jet around the world looking for thrills. Signs of psychosis, getting kicks while on a high--alcohol or narcotics, it doesn't matter. As far as we can determine, the two men in question didn't even know this Thornton; your stewardess here said they introduced themselves. Why did they IM him? And, accepting the fact that they did, why so brutally? It was strychnine, Captain, and take my word for it, it's a rough way to go." The telephone rang. The customs inspector. answered it; listened briefly, and handed it to the Port Authority detective. "It's the State Department. For you." "State? This is Lieutenant Miles, NYPA police. Have you got the information I requested?" "We've got it, but you won't like it. . . "Wait a minute," Miles broke in. The door had opened and the uniformed officer had reappeared. "What have you got?" Miles asked the officer. "The seat cushions and the carpet on the left side of the lounge are soaked." lfben they were cold sober," said the detective, in a monotone. He nodded and returned to the telephone. Go ahead, State. What won't I like?" "Those passports in question were declared void more than four years ago. They belonged to two men from Flint, Michigan. Neighbors, actually; worked for the same company in Detroit. In June of 1973 they both went on a business trip to Europe and never came back." THE HOLCROFT COVENANT 33

"%y were the passports voided?" "Mey disappeared from their hotel rooms. Three days later their bodies were found in the river. They'd been shot." "Jeswl What river? Where?" wMe Isar. They were mi Munich, Germany."

One by one the irate passengers of Flight 591 passed through the door of the quarantined room. Their names, addresses, and telephone numbers were checked off against the 747's manifest by a representative of British Airways. Next to the representative was a member of the Port Authority police, making his own marks on a duplicate list. The quarantine had lasted nearly four hours. Outside the room the passengers were directed down a hallway into a large cargo area, where they retrieved their inspected luggage, and headed for the doors of the main terminal. One passenger, however, made no move to leave the cargo area. Instead, this man, who carried no luggage, but had a raincoat over his arm, walked directly to a door with thick, stenciled printing on the panel.

U. S. CUSTOMS. CONTROL CENTER AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY

Showing identification, he stepped inside. A gray-haired man in the uniform of a high-ranking customs official stood by a steel-framed window, smoking a ciprefte. At the intrusion, he turned. "I've been waiting for you," he said. "There was nothing I could do while you were quarantined." "I had the M card ready in case you weren't here," replied the passenger, putting the identification back into his jacket pocket. "Keep it mdy..You may stiff need it; the police are all over the place. What do you want to doT' "Get out to that aircraft" "You think they're there?" "YeL Somewhere. It's the only explanation." The two men left the room and walked rapidly across the cargo area, past the numerous conveyor belts, to a steel doorway marked NO ADMITTANCE. Using a key, the customs official opened it and preceded the younger man With the raincoat through the door.'They were 34 THE HOLCROFT COVENANT

inside a long cinderblock tunnel that led to the field. Forty seconds later they reached another steel door, this one guarded by two men, one from U.S. Customs, the other from the Port Authority police. The gray-haired official was recognized by the former. "Hello, Captain. Hell. of a night, isn't itr' "It's only begun, I'm afraid," said the OfficiaL "We may be involved, after all." He looked at the policeman. "Ibis man's federal," he continued, angling his head at his companion. "Im taking him to the five-ninety-one aircraft. There may be a narcotics connection."' The police officer seemed confused. Apparently his orders were to allow no one through the door. The customs guard interceded. "Hey, come on. This man runs all of Kennedy Air- port.99 The policeman shrugged and opened the door. Outside a steady rain fell from the black night sky as pockets of mist rolled in from Jamaica Bay. The with the customs official put on his raincoat. His movements were swift; in the hand beneath the coat held over his arm had'been a gun. It was now in his belt, the buttons at his waist unfastened. The 747 glistened under floodlights, rain streaking down its fuselage. Police and maintenance crews were everywhere, distinguished from one another by the contrasting black and orange of their slickers. "IT build your cover with the police inside," said the customs official, gesturing at the metal steps that swept up from the back of the truck to a door in the fuselage. -Good hunting.- The man in the raincoat nodded, not really listening. His eyes were scanning the area. The 747 was the focal point; thirty yards from it in all directions were Stanchions connected by ropes, policemen at midpoints be- tween them. The man in the raincoat was within this enclosure; he could move about freely. He turned right at the end of the parallel ropes and proceeded toward the rear of the aircraft. He nodded to the police officers at their posts, slapping his identification open casually to those whose looks were questioning. He kept peering through the rain into the faces of those entering and leaving the plane. lbree quarters around the plan% he board the angry shout of a maintenance crewman. THE HOLCROPT COVENANT 35

'Vhat the fuck are you doing? Get that winch securel" The target of the outburst was another crewman, standing on the platform of a fuel truck. This crewman had no rain slicker on; his white coverall was drenched. In the driver's seat of the truck sat another crewman, also without rain apparel. That was it, thought the man in the raincoat. The killers had worn coveralls beneath their suits. But they had not taken into consideration the possibility of rain. Except for that mistake, the escape had been planned brilliantIY- The man walked over to the fuel truck, his hand on the gun concealed beneath his raincoat. Through the rain he stared at the figure beyond the truck window, in the driver's seat; the second man was above him, to his right on the platform, turned away. The face behind the window stared back in disbelief, and instantly lurched for the far side of the seat. But the man in the raincoat was too quick. He opened the door, pulled out his re- volver and fired, the gunshot muted by a silencer. The rnnn in the seat fell into the dashboard, blood streaming out of his forehead. At the sound of the commotion below, the second man spun around on the steel platform of the, truck and looked below. "Youl In the loungel With the newspaperl" "Get inside the truck," commanded the man in the raincoat, his words clear through the pounding rain, his gun concealed behind the door panel. The figure on the platform hesitated. The man with the gun looked around. The surrounding police were preoccupied with their discomfort in the downpour, half blinded by the floodlights. None was observing the deadly scene. The man in the raincoat reached up, grabbed the white cloth of the surviving killer's coverall, and yanked him into the frame of the open door of the fuel truck. "You failed. Heinrich Clausen's son still lives," he said calmly. Then he fired a second shot. The killer fell back into the seat. The man in the raincoat closed the door and put his gun back into his belt. He walked casually away, directly underneath the fuselage toward the roped-off alleyway that led to the tunnel. He could see the customs official I 36 THE HOLCROPT COVENANT

emerging from the 747's door, walking rapidly down the steps. They met and together headed for the.door of the tunnel. 'T&at happenedr' asked the official. "My hunting was good. Theirs wasn't. The question is, what do we do about Holcroft?" "That's not our concern. It's the Tinamou's. The Tinamou must be informed." The man in the raincoat smiled to himself, knowing his smile could not be seen in the downpour. 4

Holcroft got out of the taxi in front of his apartme nt on East Seventy-third Strea He was exhausted, the strain of the last three days heightened by the tragedy on board the fight. He was sorry for the poor bastard who'd had the heart attack, but furious at the Port Authority police who treated, the incident as if it were an international crisis. Good Lordl Quarantined for damned near four hoursl And all passengers in first class were to keep the police informed of their whereabouts for the next sixty days. The doorman greeted him. "A short trip this time, Mr. Holcroft. But you got a lot of mail. Oh, and a message-It "A messageT' "Yes, sir," said the doorman, handing him a business card. 'This gentleninn came in asking for you last night. He was very agitated, you know what I mean?" "Not exactly." Noel took the card and read the name: PETER BALDWIN, ESQ.; it meant nothing to him. WELLINGTON SECURM SYSTEMS, LTD. TIM STRAND, LONDON, wlA. There was a telephone number underneath. Holcroft had never heard of the British company. He turned the card over; on the back was scribbled ST. REGIS wTEL. Rm. 411. "He insisted that I ring your apartment in case you'd gotten back and I didn't see you come in. I told him that was crazy.99 "He could have telephoned me himself," said Noel, walking toward the elevator. "I'm in the book." "He told me he tried, but your phone was out of order." ne elevator door closed on the man's last words. Holcroft read the name again as the elevator climbed to the fifth floor. Peter Baldwin, Esq. Who was he? And since when was his phone out of order? 37 38 THE HOLCROPT COVENANT

He opened his apartment door and reached for the light switch on the wall. Two table lamps went on simultaneously; Noel dropped his suitcase and stared in disbelief at the room. Nothing was the same as it was three days agol NothIng. Every piece of furniture, every chair, every table, every vase and ashtray, was moved into another position. His couch had been in the center of the room; it was now in the far-right comer. Each sketch and painting on the walls had been shifted around~ none where it had been beforel The stereo was -to longer on the shelf; instead it was neatly arranged on a table. His bar, always at the rear of the living room, was now at the left of the door. His drafting board, usually by the window, was now by itself ten feet in front of him, the stool somewhere else-God knew where. It was the strangest sensation he had ever had. Everything familiar, yet not familiar at all. Reality distorted, out of focus. He stood in the open doorway. Images of the room as. it had been kept reappearing in front of his eyes, only to be replaced by what was in front of him now. "What happened2" He heard his own words, unsure they were his at first. He ran to the couch; the telephone was always by the couch, on a table at its right arm. But the couch had been moved, and the telephone had not been moved with it. He spun around toward the center of the rOonL Where was the table? It was not there; an armchair was where the table should be. The telephone was not there, eitherl Where was the telephone? Where was the table? Where the hell was the telephone? It was by the window. There was his kitchen table by the livingmroom window, and the telephone was on top of it. The large center window that looked out at the apartment building across the wide courtyard below. The telephone wires had been taken out from under the wallto-wall carpeting and moved to the window. It was crazyl Who would take the trouble to lift tacked-down carpeting and move telephone wires? He raced to the table, picked up the phone, and pressed the intercom button that connected him to the switchboard in the lobby. He stabbed the signal button repeatedly; there was no answer. He kept his finger on it; finally, the harried voice of Jack the doorman answered. THE HOLCROFT COVENANT 39

"All right, all right This is the lobby. . . "Jack, it's Mr. Holcroft. Who came up to my apartment while I was away?" "Who came what, sir?" "Up to my apartmend" "Were you robbed, Mr. Holcroft?" "I don't )mow yet. I just know that everything's been moved around. Who was here?" "Nobody. I mean, nobody I know of. And the other guys didn't say anything. I'm relieved at four in the morning by Ed, and he's off at noon. Louie takes over then." "Can you call themr, "Hell, I can call the policel" The word was jarring. "Police" meant questions Where had he been? Whom had he seen?-and Noel was not sure he wanted to give any answers. "No, don't call the police. Not yet. Not until I see if anything's iniissing. It might be someone's idea of a joke. I'll call you back." - "I'll call the other guys." Holcroft hung up. He sat on the wide windowsill and appraised the room. Everything. Not a single piece of furniture was where it had been beforel He was holding something in his left hand: the business card. PETER BALDWIN, ESQ. ". . . he war very agitated, you know what I mean? ... he insisted I ring your apartment ... your phone was out of order ..... ST. REGIS HOTEL. Rm. 411. Noel picked up the phone and dialed. He knew the number well; he lunched frequently at the King Cole Grill. "Yes? Baldwin here." The voice was British, the greeting abrupt. "This is Noel Holcroft, Mr. Baldwin. You tried to reach me." "Ibank heavensl Where are you?" "Home. In my apartment. I just got back." "Back? From where?" "I'm not sure that's any of your business." "For God's sake, I've traveled over three thousand miles to see. youl It's dreadfully important. Now where were you?" The En&hman's breathing was audible over the 40 THE HOLCROPT COVENANT

phone; the man's intensity seemed somehow related to fear. -rm flattered you came all that distance to see me, but it still doesn't give you the right to ask personal questions. . . ." "I have every rightl" broke in Baldwin. "I spent twenty years with MI Six, and we have a great deal to talk aboutl You have no idea what yotfre doing. No one does but me." "You what? We what?" "Let. me put it this way. Cancel Geneva. Cancel it, Mr. Holcroft, until we've talkedl" "Geneva? . . ." Noel felt suddenly sick to his stomach. How would this Englishman know about Geneva? How could he know? A light flickered outside the window; someone in an apartment directly across the courtyard was lighting a cigarette. Despite his agitation, Holcroft's eyes were drawn to I IOMeres someone at the door," Baldwin said. "Stay on the phone. I'll get rid of whoever it is and be right back." Noel could hear Baldwin put the telephone down, then the sound of a door opening and indistinguishable voices. Across the courtyard, in the window, a match was struck again, illuminating the long blond hair of a wo behind a sheer curtain. ~ Holcroft realized there was silence on the line; he could hear no voices now. Moments went by; the Englishman did not'return. "Baldwin? Baldwin, where are you? Baldwinr For a third time a- match flared in the window across the way. Noel stared at it; it seemed unnecessary. He could see the glow of a cigarette in the blond woman's mouth. And then he saw what was in her other hand, silhouetted behind the sheer curtain: a telephone. She was holding a telephone to her ear and looking over at his window-looking, he was sure, at hmL "Baldwin? Where the hell are you?" There was a click; the line went dead. "Baldwinl" The woman in the window slowly lowered the telephone, paused for a moment, and walked away, out of sighL THE HoLcROFT CovENANT 41

Holcroft stared at the window, then at the telephone in his hand. He waited until he got the active fine, theti redialed the St. Regis. "I'm sorry, sir, room four-eleven's telephone seems to be out of order. We'll send someone up right away. May I have your number and we!ll give it to Mr. Baldwin." ... your phone was out of order... Something was happening that Noel did not understand. He knew only that he would not leave his name or number with the operator at the SL Regis. He hung up and looked again at the window across the courtyard. Whatever light there had been was gone. The window was dark; be could see only the white of the curtain. He pushed himself away from the windowsill and wandered aimlessly about the room around familiar possessions in unfamiliar locations. He was not sure what to do; he supposed he should see if anything was missing. Nothing seemed to be, but it was difficult to tell. The telephone buzzed: the intercom from the lobby switchboard. He answered it. It's. Jack, Mr. Holcroft. I just spoke to Ed and Uuie. Neither af 'em know anything about anyone going up to your place. They're honest guys. They wouldn!t screw around. None ofus would." 'Ibanks, Jack. I believe you." "You want me to call the policer "No." Noel tried to sound casual. "I have an idea someone at the office was playiag a joke. A couple of the fellows have keys." - "I didn't we anybody. Neither did Ed or----~' "It's okay, Jack," interrupted Holcroft. "Forget it. The night I left we had a party. One or two stayed over." It was all Noel could think of to say. Suddenly it occurred to him that he had not looked in his bedroom. He went there now, his hand reaching for the light switch on the wall. He expected it, but it was still a shock. Ile disorientation was now somehow complete. Again, each piece of furniture had been moved to a different position. Ile bed was the first thing that struck his eye; it was oddly frightening. No part of it touched the wall. Instead, it was in the center of the room. iso- 42 THE IROLCROFT COVENANT

lated. His bureau stood in front of a window; a small writing desk was dwarfed against the expanse of the right wall. As had happened minutes ago, when first he'd seen the living room, the images of what his bedroom looked like three days ago kept flashing before bm36 replaced by the strangeness of what he now observed. Then he saw it and gasped. Hanging down from the ceiling, strapped together with dull black tape, was his second telephone, the extension cord snaking up the wall and across the ceiling to the hook that held it. It was spinning slowly. The pain shifted from his stomach to his chest; his eyes were transfixed on the sight, on the suspended instrument revolving slowly in midair. He was afraid to look beyond, but he knew he had to; he had to understand. And when he did, his breath came back to him. The phone was in the direct path of his bathroom door and the door was open. He saw the curtains billowing in the window above the basin. The steady stream of cold wind was making the telephone spin. He walked quickly into the bathroom to shut the window. As he was about to pull the curtains, he saw a brief flash of illumination outside; a match bad been struck in another window across the courtyard, the flare startling in the darkness. He looked out. There was the woman againl The blond-haired woman, her upper body silhouetted beyond another set of sheer curtains. He stared at the figure, mesmerized by it. She turned as shi had turned before, and walked away as she had walked away minutes ago. Out of sight. And the dim light in the window went out. What was happening? What did it mean? Things were being orchestrated to frighten him. But by whom and for what purpose? And what had happened to Peter Baldwin, Esq., he of the intense voice and the command to cancel Geneva? Was Baldwin a part of the terror, or was he a victim of. it? Victim . . . victim? It was an odd word to use, he thought. Why should there be any victims? And what did Baldwin mean when he said he had "spent twenty years with MI Six"? MI Six? A branch of British intelligence. If he remembered correctly, MI Five was the section that dealt THE HOLCROFT COVENANT 43

with domestic matters; Six concerned itself with problems outside the country. The English CIA, as it were. Good Godl Did the British know about the Geneva document? Was British intelligence aware of the massive theft of thirty years ago? On the surface, it would appear so. . . . Yet that was not what Peter Baldwin had implied. You have no idea what you're doing. No one does but me. And then there was silence, and the line went dead. Holcroft walked out of the bathroom and paused beneath the suspended telephone; it was barely moving now, but it had not stopped. It was an ugly sight, made macabre by the profusion of dull black tape that held the instrument together. As if the phone had been mummified, never to be used gafiL He continued toward the bedroom door, then instinctively stopped and turned. Something had caught his eye, something he had not noticed before. The center drawer of the small writing desk was open. He looked closer. Inside the drawer was a sheet of paper. His breathing stopped as he stared at the page below. It couldn!t be. It was insane. The single sheet of paper was brownish yellow. With age. It was identical to the page that had been kept in a vault in Geneva for thirty years. The letter filled with threats written by fanatics who revered a martyr named Heinrich Clausen. The writIng was the same; the odd Germanic printing of English words, the ink that was faded but stiff legible. And what was legible was astonishing. For it had been written more than thirty years ago.

NOEL CLAUSEN-HOLCROFT NOTHING IS AS IT WAS FOR YOU. NOTMNG CAN EVER BE TIM MME...

Before he read further, Noel picked up an edge of the page. It crumbled under his touch. Oh, Godl It was written thirty years agol And that fact made the remainder of the message frightening.

THE PAn WAS PREPARATION, TM FUTURE 13 COMMITTED TO THE MMMORY OF A MAN AND HIS DREAM EMS WAS AN ACT OF DARING AND BRIOL- 44 THE HOLCROFT COVENANT

LL4,NCE IN A WORLD GONE MAD. NOTENG MUST STAND IN THE WAY OF THAT DREAM's FULFILL34ENT. WE ARE THE SURVIVORS OF WOLPSSCHANM TIMM OF US WHO LIVE WILL DEDICATE OUR LIM AND BODIES TO THE PROTECTION OF THAT MAN'S DREAM. IT WILL BE FULFILLED, FOR IT IS ALL THAT IS LEFT. AN ACT OF MERCY THAT WILL BMW TEE WORLD THAT WE WERE BETRAYED, THAT WE WERE NOT AS THE WORLD BELIEVED US TO BE. WE, THE MEN OF WOLFSSCHANZE, KNOW WHAT THE BEST OF US WERE. AS HEINRICH CLAUSEN ENEW. IT IS NOW UP TO YOU, NOEL CLAUSEN- HOLCROFT, TO COMPLETE WHAT YOUR FATHER BEGAN. YOU ARE THE WAY YOUR FATHER WISHED IT SO. MANY WILL TRY TO STOP YOU TO THROW OPEN THE FLOODGATES AND DESTROY THE DREAM. BUT THE MEN OF WOLFSSCIL4,NZE DO SURVIVE. YOU HAVE OUR WORD THAT ALL THOSE WHO INTERFERE WELL BE STOPPED THEMSELVES. ANY WHO STAND IN YOUR WAY, WHO TRY TO DISSUADE YOU, WHO TRY TO DECEIVE YOU WITH LIES, WILL BE ELIMINATED. AS YOU AND YOURS WILL BE SHOULD YOU HESITATE. OR FAIL. THIS IS OUR OATH TO YOU.

Noel grabbed the paper out of the drawer; it fell apart in his hand. He let the fragments fall to the floor. "Goddamned mantacil" He slammed the drawer shut and ran out of the bedroom. Where was the telephone? Where the hell was the gGddamned telephone? By the window-that was it; it was on the kitchen table by the fucking windowl "Maniacs1" he screamed again at no one. But not really at no one: at a man in Geneva who had been on a train bound for Zurich. Maniacs might have written that page of garbage thirty years ago, but now, thirty years later, other maniacs had delivered itl They had broken into his home, invaded his privacy, touched his belongings. ... God knows what else, he thought, thinking of Peter Baldwin, Esq. A man who had traveled thousands of THE HOLCROPT COVENANT 45

miles to we him, and talk with himsilence, a click, a dead telephone line. He looked at his watctL it was almost one o'clock in the morning. What was it in Zurich? Six? Seven? The banks in Switzerland opened at eight. La Grande Banque de (knave had a branch in Zurich; Manfredi would be them The window. He was standing in front of the window where he W stood only minutes ago, waiting for Baldwin to come back on the phone. The window. Across the courtyard in the opposite apartment. lie three brief flares of a match ... the blond-haired wornan in the windowl Holcroft put his hand in his pocket to make sure he had his keys. He did. He ran to, the door, let himself out, raced for the elevator, and pushed the button. The indicator showed that the car was on the tenth floor; the arrow did not move. God damn Itl He ran to the staircase and started down, taking the steps two at a time. He reached the ground floor and dashed out into the lobby. Jesus, Mr. Holcroft!" Jack stared at him "You scared the shit out of me I" "Do you know the doorman in the next bulldmgr' shouted Noel. "WhIch one?" "Christi That onel" Holcroft gestured to the right. -1bat's three-eighty. Yeah, sure." "Come on with mel" "Hey, wait a minute, Mr. Holcroft I Mot leave here-" "We'll only be a minute. There's twenty dollars in it for YM to "Only a minute...." The doorman at three-eighty greeted them, understanding quickly that he was to give accurate information to Jack's friend. "I'm sorry, sir, but there's no one In that apartment. Hasn't been for almost three weeks. But I'm afraid WS been rented; the new tenants will be coming in. . - ." 'Mere is someone therel" said Noel, trying to con-, trol himself. "A blond-haired woman. I've got to find out who she is." 46 THE HOLCROPT COVENANT

."A blond-haired woman? Kind of medium height, sort of good-looking, smokes a lot?" "Yes, that's the one I Who is sher' "You live in your place long, misterr' Ggiihatrq "I mean, have you been there a long time?" Whars that got to do with anydiingr "I think maybe you've been drinking... What the bell are you talking about?l Who LI that woman?" "Not is, mister Was The blond woman youre talking about was Mrs. Palatyne. She died a month ago."

Noel sat in the chair in front of the window, staring across the courtyard. Someone was trying to drive him crazy. But why? it did not make sensel Fanatics, maniacs from thirty years ago, had sprung across three decades, commanding younger, unknown troops thirty Years laterApin, why? He had called the St. Regis. Room four-eleven's telephone was working, but it was continuously busy. And a woman he had seen clearly did not exisL But she did existi And she was a part of it; h6 knew it. He got out of the chair, walked to the strangely placed bar, and poured himself a drink He looked at his watch; it was one-fifty. He had ten minutes to wait before the overseas operator would call him back; the bank Could be reached at two A.M., New York time. He carried his glass back to the chair in front of the window. On the way, he passed his FM radio. It was not where it usually was of course; that was why he noticed it. Ab- sently, he tamed it on. He liked music; it soothed him But it was words, not music, that he, heard. IUe rat-tat-tatting beneath an announcees voice indicated one of those "all-news" stations. 1'he dial had been changed. He. should have known. Nothing is as it was for you.... Something being said on the radio caught his attention. He tamed quickly in the chair, part of his drink spilling onto his trousers. 1~.. police have cordoned off the hoters entrance& Our reporter, Richard Dunlop, is on the scene, calling in from our mobile umt. Come in, Richard. What have you learnedr THE HOLCROFT COVENANT 47

There was a burst of static followed by the voice of an excited newscaster. "ne man!s name was Peter Baldwin, John. He was an Englishman. Arrived yesterday, or at least "a when he registered at the St. Regis; the police are contacting the airlines for further information. As far as can be determined,-he was over here on vacation. There was no listing of a company on the hotel registry card." "When did they discover the body?" "About a half hour ago. A maintenance man went up to the room to check the telephone and found Mr. Baldwin sprawled out on the bed. The rumors here are wild and you don7t kriow what to believe, but the thing thaiVs stressed is the method of killing. Apparently, it was vicious, brutal. Baldwin was garroted, they said. A wire pulled through his throat An hysterical maid from the fourth floor was heard screammg -to the police that the room was drenched with~l "Was robbery the motive?" interrupted the anchorman, in the interests of taste. "We haven't been able to establish that. The police aren't talking. I gather they're waiting for someone from the British consulate to arrive." "Iliank you, Richard Dunlop. Well stay in touch. That was Richard Dunlop at the St. Regis Hotel, on Fifty-fifffi Street in Manhattan. To repeat, a brutal murder took place at one of New York's most fashionable hotels this morning. An Englishman named Peter Baldwin..." Holcroft shot out of the chair, lurched at the radio, and turned it off. He stood above it, breathing rapidly. He did not want to admit to himself that he had heard what he had just heard. It was not anything he had really considered; it simply was not possible. But it was possible. It was real; it had happened. It was death. The maniacs from thirty years age were not caricatures, not figures from some melodranuL They were vicious killers. And they were deadly serious. Peter Baldwin, Esq., had told him to cancel Geneva. Baldwin had interfered with the dream, with the covenant. And now be was dead, brutally killed with a wire through his throat. With difficulty, Noel walked back to the chair and sat down. He raised his glass to his lips and drank several 48 THE 11OLCROFT COVENAW

long swallows of whiskey; the scotch did nothing for him. Ile pounding in his chest only accelerated. A flare of a matchl Across the courtyard, in the windowl There she wasl Silhouetted beyond the sheer curtains in a wash of dim light stood the blond-haired woman. She was daring across the way, staring at himl He got out of the chair, drawn hypnotically to the win. dow, his face inches from the panes of gIRSL The woman nodded her head; she was slowly nodding her head! She was telling him something. She was telling him that what he perceived was the truthl ... The blond woman you're talking about was Mrs. Palatyne. She died a month ago. A dead woman stood silhouetted in a window across the darkness and was sending him a terrible message. Oh, Christ, he was goins insanel Ile telephone rang; the bell terrified him. He held his breath and lunged at the phone; he could not let it ring again. It did awftd things to the silence. "Mr. Holcroft, this is the overseas operator. I have your call to Zurich. . . Noel listened in disbelief at the somber, accented voice from Switzerland. The man on the line was the manager of the Zurich branch of La Grande Banque de Genbve. A directeur~ he said twice, emphasizing his position. "We moum profoundly, Mr. Holcroft. We knew Herr Manfredi was not well, but we had no idea his illness had progressed so." "What are you talking about? What happened?" "A terminal disease affects individuals differently. Our colleague was a vital man- an energetic nisin- and when such men cannot function in their normal fashions, it often leads to despondency and great depression.- "What happened?' "It was suicide,- Mr. Holcroft. Herr Manfredi could not tolerate his incapacities.- "Suidder 'Ibere's no point in speaking other than the truth. Fxnst threw himself out of his hotel window. It was mercifully quick. At ten o'clock, La Grande Banque will suspend all business for one minute of mourning and reflection." "Oh, my God.. THE HOLCROPT COVENANT 49 "However," concluded the voice in Zurich, "an of Herr Manfredi's accounts to which he gave his personal attention will be assumed by equally capable hands. We fully axpect---~" Noel hung up the phone, cutting off the man's words. Accounts ... will be assumed by equally capable hands. Business as usual; a man was killed, but the affairs of Swiss finance were not to be interrupted. And he was killed. Ernst Manfredi did not throw himself out of a hotel in Zurich. He was thrown out. Murdered by the men of Wolfsschanze. For God's sake, why? Then Holcroft remembered. Manfredi had dismissed the men of Wolfsschanze. He had told Noel the macabre threats were meaningless, the anguish of sick old men seeking atonement. That had been Manfredi's error. He had undoubtedly told his associates, the other directors of La Grande Banque, about the strange letter that had been delivered with the wax seals unbroken. Perhaps, in their presence, he had laughed at the men of Wolfuchanze. The matchl The flare of ligbtl Across the courtyard the woman in the window noddedl Again---as if reading his thoughts-she was confirming the truth. A dead woman was telling him he was rightl She turned and walked away; all light went out in the window. "Come backI Come backr Holcroft screamed, his hands on the panes of glass. "Who are you?" ne telephone beneath him buzzed. Noel stared at it, as if it were a terrible thing in an unfamiliar place; it was both. Trembling, he picked it up. "Mr. Holcroft, it's Jack. I think I may know what the hell happened up at your place. I mean, I didn!t think about it before, but it kinda bit me a few minutes ago." "What was itr "A couple of nights ago these two guys came In. Locksmiths. Mr. Silverstein, on your floor, was having his lock changed. Louie told me about it so I knew it was okay. Then I began to think. Why did they come at night? I mean, what with overtime and everything, why didn't they come in the daytime? So I just called Louie at home. He said they came yesterday. So who the hell were those other guys." 50 THE HOLCROPT COVENANT

"Do you remember anything about them?" "You're damned right I dol One of tkem in particular. You could pick him out in a crowd at the Gardent He had---.r There was a loud, sharp report over the line. A gunshot! It was followed by a crash. The telephone in the lobby had been droppedl Noel slammed down the receiver and ran to the door, yanking it open with such force that it crashed into a framed sketch on the wall, smasking the glass. There was no time to consider the elevator. He mced down the stairs, his mind a blank, afraid to think, concentrating only on speed and balance, hoping to God he would not trip on the steps. He reached the landing and bolted through the lobby door. He stared in shock. The worst had happened. lack the doorman was arched back over the chair, blood pouring out of his neck. He had been shot in the throat He had interfered. He had been about to identify one of the men of Wolfsschanze and he had been killed for it. Baldwin, Manfredi . . . an innocent doorman. Dead. ... all those who interfere will be stopped... Any who stand in your way, who try to dissuade you, who try to deceive you ... will be eliminated. ... As you and yours will be should you hesitatel Or fail. ~ Manfredi had asked him if he really had a choice. He did not any longer. He was surrounded by death. 5

Althene Holcroft sat behind the desk in her study and glared at the words of the letter she held in her handL Her chiseled, angular features-the high cheekbones, the aquiline nose, the wide-set eyes beneath arched, defined brows-were as taut, as rigid, as her posture in the chair. Her thin, aristocratic lips were tight; her breathing was steady, but each breath was too controlled, too deep, for normalcy. She read Heinrich Clausen's letter as one studying a statistical report that contradicted information previously held to be incontrovertible. Across the room, Noel stood by a curving window that looked out on the rolling lawn and gardens behind the Bedford Hills house. A number of shrubs were covered with burlap; the air was cold, and the morning frost produced intermittent patches of light gray on the green grass. Holcroft turned from the scene outside and looked at his mother, trying desperately to conceal his fear, to control the occasional trembling that came upon him when he thought about last night. He could not allow the terror he felt to be seen by his mother. He wondered what thoughts were going through her head, what memories were triggered by the sight of the handwritten words in blue ink put down by a man she once had loved, then had grown to despise. Whatever she was thinking, it would remain private until she chose to speak. Althene communicated only that which she cared to convey deliberately. She seemed to sense his gaze and raised her eyes to his, but only briefly. She returned to the letter, allowing a briefer moment to brush away a stray lock that had fallen from the gray hair that framed her face. Noel wandered aimlessly toward the desk, glancing at the bookcases and photographs on the wall. The room reflected the owner, he mused. Graceful, even elegant; but, withal, 51 52 THE HOLCROFT COVENANT

there. was a pervading sense of activity. The photographs showed men and women on horses at the hunt, in sailboats in rough weather, on skis in mountain snow. There was no denying it: There was an undercurrent of mascu- linity in tins very feminine room. It was his mother's study, her sanctuary where she repaired for private moments of consideration. But it could have belonged to a Msin- He sat down in the leather chair in front of the desk and lighted a cigarette with a gold ColibrL a parting gift from a young lady who had moved out of his apartment a month ago. His hand trembled again; he gripped the lighter as tightly as he could. 'Tkaes a dreadful habit," said Althene, her eyes remaining on the letter. "I thought you were going to give it UP." "I have. A number of timee ,mark Twain said that. At least be original.- Holcroft shifted his position in the chair, feeling awkward. -YoWve read it several times now. What do YOU thinkro "I dont know what to tbink~" said Althene, placing the letter on the desk in front of her. "He wrote it; ifs his handwriting, his way of expressing himself. Arrogant even in remorse." "You agree it's remorse thenT' "It would appear so. On the surface, at any rateI'd want to know a great deal mom I have a number of questions about this extraordinary financiat undertaking M beyond anything conceivable." Questions lead to other questions, mother. The men In Geneva don't want that." "Does it matter what they want? As I understand you, although you!re being elliptical, they're asking YOU to give up a minimum of six months of Your life and PrObably a good deal more." Again, Noel felt awkward. He bad decided not to show ker the document from La Grande Banque. If she was adamant about seeing it, he could always produce it. if she was not it was better that way; the less she knew, the better. He had to keep her from the men of Wolfsschanze. He had not the slightest doubt Althene would interfere. rm not holding back any of the essentials," he said. TEE HOLCROFT COVENANT 53

"I didn't say you were. I said you were ellipticaL You refer to a man in Geneva you won't identify; you speak of conditions you only half describe, the oldest children of two families you woift name. You!re leaving out a great deal." "For your own good." 'Ibars condescending and, considering this letter, very insulting~" "I didn't mean to be either." Holcroft leaned foiward. "No one wants that bank account even remotely connected with you. You've read that letter; you know what's involved. Tkousands and thousands of people, hundreds of millions of dollm. Theres no way to tell who might hold you responsible. You were the wife who told him the truth; you left him because he refused to accept it. When he finally realized that what you said was true, he did what he did. There may be men still alive who would kill you for that. I won't let you be put in that positiom" "I see.* Althene drew out the phrase, then repeated it as she rose from her chair and walked slowly across the room to the bay window. "Are you sure that's the concern the men in Geneva expressedr, "They-he-implied it, yes." "I suspect it was not the only concern." "No." "Shan I speculate on another?" Noel stiffened. It was not that he underestimated his mother's perceptions-he rarely did that-but, as always, he was annoyed when she verbalized them before he had the chance to state them himself. "I think ies obvious," he said. "Do your' Althene turned from the window and looked at him. "Ifs In the letter. If the sources of that account were made public, there!d be legal problems. Claims would be made against it in the international courts." "Yes." Ifis mother looked away. "It!s obvious, then. rm amazed you were allowed to tell me anything." Noel leaned back in the chair apprehensively, disturbed at Althene's words. "Why? Would you really do something?" "It's a &mptation," she answered, still gazing out. side. "I don't &mk one ever loses the desire to strike 54 THE HOLCROFT COVENANT

back, to lash out at someone or Something thats caused great pain. Even if that hurt changed your life for the better. God knows mine-ours-was changed. From a hell to a level of happiness rd given up looking for." "Dadrasked Noel. Althene turned. "Yes. He risked more than you'll ever know protecting us. I'd been the fool of the world and he accepted the fool-and the fool's child. He gave us more than love; he gave us our fives again. He asked only love in return." "You've given him that" "I'll give it till I die. Richard Holcroft is the man I once thought Clausen was. I was so wrong, so terribly wrong. . . . The fact that Heinrich has been dead these many years doesn't seem to matter; the loathing won't go away. I do want to strike back." Noel kept his voice calm. He had to lead his mother away from her thoughts; the survivors of Wolfsschanze would not let her live. "You'd be striking back at the man you remember, not the man who wrote that letter. Maybe what you saw in him at first was really there. At the end, it came back to him." "That would be comforting, wouldn't it?" "I think it's true. The man who wrote that letter wasn't lying. He was in pain." "He deserved pain, he caused so much; he was the most ruthless man I ever met. But on the surface, so different, so ffiled with purpose. And-oh, God-what that purpose turned out to bel" "He changed, mother," interrupted Holcroft. "You were a part of that change. At the end of his life he wanted only to help undo what he'd done. He says it: 'Amends must be made.' Think what he did-what the three of them did-to bring that about." "I can't dismiss it; I know that. Any more than I can dismiss the words. I can almost hear him say them, but it's a very young man talking. A young man filled with purpose, a very young, wild girl at his side." Althene paused, then spoke again, clearly. "Why did you show me the letter? Why did you bring it all backr, "Because I've decided to go ahead. That means closing the office, traveling around a lot, eventually working .out of Switzerland for a number of months. As the man in T*1E HOLCROFT COVENANT 55

Geneva said, you wouldn't have accepted all that without asking a lot of questions. He was afraid you'd learn something damaging and do something rash." "At your expense?" asked Althene. "I guess so. He thought it was a possibility. He said those memories of yours were strong. 'Indelibly printed' were his words." "Indelibly," agreed Althene. "His point was that there were no legal solutions; that it was better to use the money the way it was intended to be used. To make those amends." "It's possible he was right. If it can be done. God knows it's overdue. What - ever Heinrich touched, very lit tle of value and truth was the result." Althene paused, her face suddenly strained. "You were the one exception. Perhaps this is the other." Noel got out of the chair and went to his mother. He took her by the shoulders and drew her to him. "rhat man in Geneva said you were incredible. You are." Althene pulled back. "He said that? 'Incredible'?" "Yes." "Ernst Manfredi," she whispered. "You know him?" asked Holcroft. "It's a name that goes back many years. He's still alive then." Noel did not answer her question. "How did you know it was he?" "A summer afternoon in Berlin. He was there. He helped us get out. You and 1. He got us on the plane, gave me money. Dear God. . . ." Althene disengaged herself from her son's arms and walked across the room, toward t - he desk. "He called me 'incredible' then, that afternoon. He said they would hunt me, find me. Find us. He said he would do what he could. He told me what to do, what to say. An unimpressive little Swiss banker was a giant that afternoon. My God, after all these years. . ." Noel watched his mother, his astonishment complete. "Why didn't he say anything? Why didn't he tell me?" Althene turned, facing her son but not looking at him. She was staring beyond him, seeing things he could not see. "I think he wanted me to find out for myself. This way. He was not a man to call in old debts indis- criminately." She sighed. "I won't pretend the questions 56 THE ROLCROFT COVENANT

are put to rest. I promise nothing. If I decide to take any action, IT give you ample warning. But for the time being I won't interfere." "Thafs kind of open ended, isn't itr "M the best you'll get. Those memories are, indeed, indelibly printed." "But for now you'll do nothing?" "You have my word. Ifs not lightly given, nor will it be lightly taken back." "What would change itT' "If you disappeared, for one thing." "IT stay in touch."

Althene Holcroft watched her son walk out of the room. Her face- o tense, so rigid, only moments ago -was relaxed. Her thin lips formed a smile; her wide eyes were reflective, in them a look of quiet satisfaction and strength. She reached for the telephone on her desk, pressed the single button 0, and seconds later spoke. "Overseas operator, please. rd like to place a call to Geneva, Switzerland."

He needed a professionally acceptable- reason to close up Holcroft, Incorporated. Questions of substance could not be asked. The survivors of Wolfsschanze were killers for whom questions were too easily construed as interference. He had to disappear legitimately.... But one did not disappear legitimately: One found plausible explanations that gave the appearance of legitimacy. The appearance of legitimacy. Sam Buonoventura. Not that Sam wasn't legitimate: He was. He was one of the best construction engineers in the business. But Sam had followed the sun so long he had blind spots. He was a fifty-year-old prufessional drifter, a City College graduate from Tremont Avenue, in the Bronx, who had found a life of instant gmtification in the warmer climes. A brief tour of duty in the Army Corps of Engineers had convinced Buonoventura that there was a sweeter, more generous world beyond the borders of the United States, preferably south of the Keys. AM one had to be was good-good in a job that was part of a larger job in THE HOLCROFT COVENANT 57

which a great deal of money was invested. And during the fifties and sixties, the construction explosion in Latin America and the Caribbean was such that it might have been created for someone like Sam. He built a reputation among corporations and governments as the building tyrant who got things done in the field. Once having studied blueprints, labor pools, and budgets, if Sam told his employers that a hotel or an airport or a dam would be operational within a given period of time, he was rarely in error beyond four percent. He was also an architect's dream, which meant that he did not consider himself an architect. Noel had worked with Buonoventura on two jobs outside the country, the first in Costa Rica, where if it had not been for Sam, Holcroft would have lost his life. The engineer had insisted that the well-groomed, courteous architect from the classy side of Manhattan learn to use a handgun, not just a hunting rifle from Abercrombie & Fitch. They were building a postal complex in the back country, and it was a far cry from the cocktail lounges of the Plaza and the Waldorf, and from San Jos6. Ile architect had thought the weekend exercise ridiculous, but courtesy demanded compliance. Courtesy, and Buonoventura's booming voice. By the end of the following week, however, the architect was profoundly grateful. Thieves had come down from the hills to steal construction explosives. Two men had raced through the camp at night, they'd crashed into Noel's shack as he slept. When they realized the explosives were not there one man had run outside, shouting instructions to his accomplices. "IMatemos el gringol" But the gringo understood the language. He reached his gun-the handgun provided by Sam Buonoventuraand shot his would-be killer. Sam had only one comment: "Goddamn. In some cultures I'd have to take care of you for the rest of your life,99 Noel reached Buonoventura through a shipping company in Miami. He was in the Dutch Antilles, in the town of Willemstad, on the island of Curagao. "How the hell are you, Noley?" Sam shouted, over the phone. "Christ, it must be four, five yearsl Hows your pistol a~m?" 58 THE HOLCROPT COVENANT

"HaveWt used it since the colinas, and never expect to use it again. How are things with you?" "These mothers got money to bum down here, so I'm lighting a few matches. You looking for work?" "No. A favor." "Name it." "I'm going to be out of the country for a number of months on private business. I want a r&son for not being in New York, for not being available. A reason that people won't question. I've got an idea, Sam, and wondered if you could help me make it work." "If were both thinking the same thing, sure I can." Tliey were thinking the same thing. It was not out of the ordinary for long-range projects in faraway places to employ consulting architects, men whose-names would not appear on schematics or blueprints but whose skills would be used. The practice was generally confined to those areas where"the hiring of native talent was a question of local pride. The inherent problem, of course, was that all too frequently the native talent lacked sufficient training and experience. Investors covered their risks by employing highly skilled outside professionals who corrected and amended the work of the locals, seeing the projects through to completion. "Have you got any suggestions?" Noel asked. "Hell, yes. Take your pick of half a dozen underdeveloped countries. Africa, South America, even some of the islands here in the Antilles and the Grenadines. The internationals are moving in like spiders, but the locals are still sensitive. The consulting jobs are kept separate and quiet; graft is soaring." "I don't want a job, Sam. I want a cover. Someplace I can narne, someone I can mention who'll back me up." "Why not me? I'll be buried in this motherlode for most of the year. Maybe more. rve got two marinas and a full-scale yacht club to go to when the hotel's finished. I'm your man, Noley." "Mat's what I was hoping." "That's what I figured. I'll give you the particulars and you let me know where I can reach you in case any of your high-society friends want to throw a tea dance for you."

'Holcroft placed his two draftsmen and his secretary in new jobs by Wednesday. As he had suspected, it was TIRE HOLCROFT COVENANT 59

not difficult; they were good people. He made fourteen telephone calls to project-development executives at companies where his designs were under consideration, astonished to learn that of the fourteen, he was the leading contender in eight. Eightl If all came through, the fees would have totaled more. than he had earned during the past five years. But ndt two million dollars; he kept that in the back of his mind. And if it was not in the back of his mind, the survivors of Wolfsschanze were. The telephone-answering service was given specific instructions. Holcroft, Incorporated, was unavailable at the time for architectural projects. The company was involved in an overseas commission of considerable magnitude. If the caller would leave his name and number ... For those who pressed for further information, a post-office box in Curaqw, Netherlands Antilles, under the name of Samuel Buonoventura, Limited, was listed. And, for the few who insisted on a telephone number, Sam's was to be given. Noel had agreed to phone Buonoventura once a week; he would do the same with the answering service. By Friday morning, he had an uneasy feeling about his decision. He was taking himself out of a garden he had cultivated to walk into an unfamiliar forest. Nothing is as it was for you. Nothing can ever be the same. Suppose he could not find the Von 1"iebolt children. Suppose they were dead, their remains no more than graves in a Brazilian cemetery? They had disappeared five years ago in Rio de Janeiro; what made him think he could make them reappear? And if he could not, would the survivors of Wolfsschanze strike? He was afraid. But fear itself did not cover everything, thought Holcroft as he walked to the comer of Seventy-third Street and Third Avenue. There were ways to handle fear. He could take the Geneva document to the authorities, to the State Department, and tell them what he knew of Peter Baldwin and Ernst Manfredi and a doorman named Jack. He could expose the massive theft of thirty years ago, and grateful thousands over the world would see to it that he was protected. That was the sanest thing to do, but somehow sanity and self-protection were not so important. Not now. 6o TIM HOLCROPT COVENANT

Ilere was a man in agony thirty years ago. And that man was his rationale. He hailed a cab, struck by an odd thought, one he knew was in the deep recesses of his imagination. It was the "something else' that drove him into the unfamiliar forest. He was assuming a guilt that was not his. He was taking on the sins of Heinrich Clausen. Amends must be made. "Six-thirty Fifth Avenue, please," he said to the driver as he climbed into the cab. It was the address of the Brazilian Consulate. The hunt had begun. 6

-Let me understand you, Mr. Holcroft," said the aging attachd, leaning back in his chair. "You say you wish to locate a family that you won't identify. You tell me this family immigrated to Brazil sometime in the forties and, according to the most recent information, dropped from sight several years ago. Is this correct?" Noel saw the bemused expression on the attach6s face and understood. It was a foolish game perhaps, but Hotcroft did not know any other one to play. He was not going to name the Von Tlebolts before he reached Brazil; he was not going to give anyone the chance to complicate further a search that had enough disadvantages at the start. He smiled pleasantly. I "I didn!t quite say that. I asked how such a family might be found, given those circumstances. I didn't say I was the one looking." 'qhen it's a hypothetical question? Are you a journalistr' Holcroft considered the medium-level diplomat's question. How simple it would be to say yes; what a convenient explanation for the questions he would ask later. On the other hand, hed be flying to Rio de Janeiro in a few days. There were immigration cards to be #lled out, and a visa, perhaps; he did not know. A false answer now might become a problem later. "No, an architect." The attach6s eyes betrayed his surprise. "Then you'll visit Brasilia, of course. It is a masterpiece." "rd like to very much." "You speak Portuguese?" "A bit of Spanish. I've worked in Mexico. And in Costa Rica." "But we're straying," said the attach6, leaning for ward in his chair. "I asked you if you were a journalist, 61 62 THE HOLCROFT COVENANT

and you hesitated. You were tempted to say you were because it was expedient. Frankly, that tells me you are, indeed, the one looking for this family that has dropped from sight. Now, why not tell me the rest?" If he was going to consider lying in his search through this unfamiliar forest, thought Noel, he'd better learn to analyze his minor answers first. Lesson one: preparation. 'Mere isn't that much to tell," he said awkwardly. "I'm taking a trip to your country and I promised a friend I'd look up these people he knew a long time ago." It was a variation on the truth and not a bad one, thought Holcroft. Perhaps that was why he was able to offer it convincingly. Lesson two: Base the lie in an aspect of truth. "Yet your . . . friend has tried to locate them and was unable to do so." "He tried from thousands of miles away. It's not the same.99 "I daresay it isn't. So, because of this distance, and your friend's concern that there could be complications, shall we say, you'd prefer not to identify the family by name." "Mat's it." "No, it isn't. It would be far too simple a matter for an attorney to cable a confidential inquiry-of-record to a reciprocating law firm in Rio de Janeiro. It's done all the time. The family your friend wants to find is nowhere in evidence, so your friend wants you to trace them." The attach6 smiled and shrugged, as if he had delivered a basic lecture in arithmetic. Noel watched the Brazilian with growing irritation. Lesson three: Don't be led into a trap by pat conclusions casually stated. "You know something?" he said. "You're a very disagreeable fellow." "I'm sorry you think so," replied the attachS sincerely. "I want to be of help. That's my function here. I've spoken to you this way for a reason. You are not the first man, God knows, nor will you be the last, to look for people who came to my country 'sometime in the forties! I'm sure I don't have to amplify that statement. The vast majority of those people were Germans, many bringing to Brazil great sums of money transferred by compromised neutrsils. What I'm trying to say is simply put: Be careful. THE HOLCROFT COVENANT 63

Such people as you speak of do not disappear without to cause. "What do you mean?" "They have to, Mr. Holcroft. Had to. The Nuremberg Tribunals and the Israeli hunters aside, many possessed funds-in some cases, fortunes-that were stolen from conquered peoples, from their institutions, often firom their governments. Those funds could be reclaimed." Noel tensed the muscles of his stomach. There was a connection-abstract, even misleading under the cir cumstances, but it was them The Von Tiebolts were part of a theft so massive and complex it was beyond accounting procedures. But it could not be the reason they had vanished. Lesson four: Be prepared for unexpected coincidences, no matter how strained; be ready to conceal reactions. "I don't think the family could be involved in anything like that," he said. "But, of course, you're not sure, since you know so little.99 "LeVs say rm sure. Now, all I want to know is how I go about finding them-or finding out what happened to them." "I mentioned attorneys." "No attorneys. rm an architect, remember? Lawyers are natural enemies; they take up most of our time" Holcroft smiled. "Whatever a lawyer can do, I can do faster by myself. I do speak Spanish- I'll get by in Portuguese.*9 "I see." The attach6 paused while he reached for a box of thin cigars on his desk. He opened it and held it out for Holcroft, who shook his head. "Are you sure? It's Havana.- "I'm sure. I'm also pressed for time." "Yes, I know." The attach6 reached for a silver table lighter on the desk, snapped it, and inhaled deeply; the tip of the cigar glowed. He raised his eyes abruptly to Noel. "I can't convince you to tell me the name of this familyr' "Oh, for Christ's sake Holcroft got up. He'd had enough; he'd find other sources. "Mase," said the Brazilian, "sit down, please. Just a minute or. two longer. The times not wasted, I assure YOU. 64 THE HOLCROFT COVENANT

Noel saw the urgency in the attach6's eyes. He sat down. "What is it?" "La comunidad alemana. I use the Spanish you speak so well." "rho German community? There's a German community in Rio-is that what you mean?" "Yes, but it's not solely geographical. Theres an outlying district-the German barrio, if you will-but that is not what I refer to. rm speaking of what we can la otra cara de los alemanes. Can you understand thatr' "The 'other face' what's underneath, below the German surface." "Precisely. 'The underside,' you might say. What makes them what they are; what makes them do what they do. It's important that you understand." "I think I do. I think you explained it. Most were Nazis getting out of the Nuremberg net, bringing in money that wasnt theirs; hiding, concealing identities. Naturally, such people would tend to stick t6gether." "Naturally," the Brazilian said. "But youd think after so many years there'd be greater assimilation." "Why? You work here in New York. Go down to the Lower East Side, or Mulberry Street or up to the Bronx. Enclaves of Italians, Poles, Jews. They've been here for decades. You're talking about twenty-five, thirty years. Tbars, not much." "rhere are similarities, of course, but its not the same~ believe me. The people you speak of in New York associate openly; they wear their heritages on their sleeves. It is not Me that in Brazil. The German community pretends to be assimilated, but it is not. In commerce, yes, but in very little else. There is a pervading sense of fear and anger. Too many have been hunted for too long; a thousand identities are concealed daily from everyone but themselves. They have their own hierarchy. Three or four families control the community; their huge Germanic estates dot our countryside. Of course, they call them Swiss or-Bavarian." Once more the attach6 paused. "Do you begin to grasp what I'm saying? The consul general win not say it; my government will not permit it. But I am far down the ladder. It is left to me. Do you understandr, Noel was bewildered. "Frankly, no. Nothing you've add surprises me. At Nuremberg they called it 'crimes against humanity., That kind of thing leads to a lot of THE HOLCROPT COVENANT 65 guilt, and guilt breeds fear. Of course such people in a country that isnt their own would stay close to each oth-

"Guilt does breed fear. And fear in turn leads to suspicion. Finally, suspicion gives birth to violence. -Mat's what you must understand. A stranger coming to Rio looking for Germans who have disappeared is under- taking a Potentially dangerous search. La otra cara de los alemanes. They protect each other." The attach6 picked up his cigar. "Give us the name, Mr. Holcroft. Let us look for these people." Noel watched the Brazilian inhale the smoke from his precious Havana. He was not sure why, but he felt suddenly uneasy. Don't be led into a trap by pat conclu. sions casually stated. . . . -1 can't. I think you!re exag- gemting, and obviously you won't help me." He stood UP. "Very well," said the Bnaan. "I'll tell you what you would End out for yourself. When you get to Rio de Janeiro, go to the Ministry of Immigration. if you have names and approximate dates, perhaps they can help you.- w1banks very much," sad Noel, turning toward the door.

The Brazilian walked rapidly out of the office into a large anteroom that served as a reception area. A young man sitting in an armchair quickly got to his feet at the sight of his superior. "You may have your office back now, Juan." "Tbank you, Excellency." IMe older man continued across the room, past a receptionist, to a pair of double doors. On the left panel was the great seal of the Repi6blica Federal de Brasil; on the right was a plaque with gold printing that read OFIC10 DO C6NSUL GENERAL. The consul general went inside to another, smaller anteroom that was his secretary's office. He spoke to the girl and walked directly to the door of his own office. "Get me the embassy. The ambassador, please. if hes not there, locate him. Inform him that it's a confidential matter; hell know whether he can talk or not." Brazil's highest-ranking diplomat in America's major city dosed the door, strode to his desk, and sat down. He picked up a sheaf of papers stapled together. The first sev- 66 THE HOLCROPT COVENANT

eral pages were photocopies of newspaper stories, accounts of the killing on British Airways flight 591 from London to New York, and the subsequent discovery of the two murders on the ground. The lot two pages were copies of that aircrafts passenger manifest. The diplomat scanned the names: HoLcRovr, NOEL. DEP. OENEvA. BA *577. 0. LON. BA *591. x. NYC. He stared at the in- formation as if somehow relieved that it was still there. His telephone hummed; he picked it up. "Yes?" 'M ambassador is on the line, sir." "fhank you." The consul general heard an echo, which meant the scrambler was in operation. "Mr. Ambassador'r' "Yes, GeraldG. What's so urgent and confidential?" "A few mmutes ago a man came up here asking how he might go about locating a family in Rio he had not been able to reach through the usual channels. His name is Holcroft. Noel Holcroft, an architect from New York city." "It means nothing to me," said the ambassador. "Should itr' "Only if you've recently read the list of passengers on the British Airways plane from London last Saturday." "Flight five-ninety-oner, The, ambassador spoke sharply. "Yes. He left that morning from Geneva on British Airways, and transferred at Heathrow to five-ninety-one." "And now he wants to locate people in Rio? Who are theyr' "He refused to say. I was the 'aftach6' he spoke with, naturally." "Naturally. Tell me everything. I'll cable London. Do you think irs possible-~ The ambassador paused. "Yes," the consul general said softly. "I think it's very possible he is looking for the Von Tiebolts." "Tell me everything," repeated the man in Washington. "Ihe British believe those killings were the work of the Imamou."

Noel felt a sense of dila vu as he looked around the lounge of the Braniff 747. The colors were more vivid, the uniforms of the aircraft's personnel more fashionably cut. Otherwise, the plane seemed identical to that of British Airways flight 591. The difference was~in TIM HOLCROPT COVENANT 67

attitude. This was the Rio Run, that carefree holiday that was to begin in the sky and continue on the beaches of the Gold Coast. But this was to be no holiday, thought Holcroft, no holiday at all. The only climax awaiting him was one of discovery. The whereabouts or the nonwhereabouts of the family Von Mebolt. They'd been in the air for more than five hours. He had picked his way through a dismissable meal, slept through an even more dismissable film, and finally decided to go up to the lounge. He had put off going upstairs. The memory of seven days ago was still discomforting. The unbelievable had happened in front of his eyes; a man had been killed not four feet from where he'd been sitting. At one point he could have reached over and touched the writhing figure. Death had been inches away, unnatural death, chemical death, murder. Strychnine. A colorless crystalline alkaloid that caused paroxysms of unendurable pain. Why had it happened? Who was responsible and for what reason? The accounts were specific, the theories speculative. Two men had been physically close to the victim in the lounge of Flight 591 from London. Either one could have admini te d the poison by way of the victim's drink; it was presumed one had. But again, why? According to the Port Authority police, there was no evidence that the two men had ever known Thornton. And the two men themselves-the suspected killers-had met their deaths by gunshot in a fuel truck on the ground. They had disappeared from the aircraft, from the sealedoff customs area, from the quarantined room, and themselves been murdered. Why? By whom? No one had any answers. Only questions. And then even the questions stopped. The story faded from the newspapers and the broadcasts as dramatically as it had appeared, as though a blackout had been called. Again, why? Again, who was responsible? "Irliat was scotch on the, rocks, wasn't it, Mr. HolCroft." The d6jil vu was complete. The words were the same but spoken by another. The stewardess above him, placing the glass on the round Formica table, was attractive--as the stewardess in Flight 591 had been attractive. The 68 THE HOLCROFT COVENANT

look in her eyes had that same quality of directness he remembered from the girl on British Airways. The words, even to the use of his name, were uttered in a similar tone, only the accent varied. It was all too much alike. Or was his mind-his eyes, his ears, his senses--preoccupied with the memory of seven days ago? He thanked the stewardess, almost afraid to look at her, thinking that any second he would hear a scream beside him and watch a man in uncontrollable agony lunge out of his seat, twisting in spastic convulsions over the divider. Then Noel realized something else, and it discomforted him further. He was sitting in the same seat he had occupied during those terrifying moments on Flight 591. In a lounge constructed identically with that lounge a week ago. It was not really unusual; he preferred the location and often sat there. But now it seemed macabre. His lines of sight were the same, the lighting no different now from the way it was then. That was scotch on the rocks, wasn't it, Mr. Holcroft? An outstretched hand, a pretty face, a glass. Images, sounds. Sounds. Raucous, drunken laughter. A man with too much alcohol in him, losing his balance, falling backward over the rim of the chair. His compamon reeling in delight at the sight of his unsteady friend. A third n --the man who would be dead in moments-trying too hard to be a part of the revelry. Anxious to please, wanting to join. An attractive stewardess pouring whisky, smiling, wiping the bar on which two drinks had been reduced to one because one had been spilled, rushing around the counter to help a drunken passenger. The third anxious man, embarrassed perhaps, still wanting to play with the big boys, reaching.... I A glass. The glassl The single, remaining glass on the bar. The third man had reached for that glassl It was scotch on the rocks. 1he drink intended for the passenger sitting across the lounge at the small Formica table. Oh, my God! thought Holcroft, the images racing back and forth in sequence in his mind's eye. The drink on the bar-the drink a stranger named 71ornton had taken-had been meant for himl The strychnine had been meant for himl The twist- THE HOLCROFT COVENANT 69

Ing, horrible convulsions of agony were to be hisl The terrible death assigned to himl He looked down at the glass in front of him on the table; his fingers were around it. That was scotch on the rocks, wasn't W.. He pushed the drink aside. Suddenly he could no longer stay at that table, remain in that lounge. He had to get away; he had to force the images out of his mind. They were too clear, too real, too horrible. He rose from the chair and walked rapidly, unsteadily, toward the staircase. The sounds of drunken laughter weaved in and out between an unrelenting scream of torment that was the screech of sudden death. No one else could hear those sounds, but they pounded in his head. He lurched down the curving staircase to the deck below. The light was dim; several passengers were reading under the beams of tiny spotlights, but most were asleep. Noel was bewildered. The hammering in his ears would not stop, the images would not go away. He felt the need to vomit, to expunge the fear that had settled into his stomach. Where was the toilet? In the galley ... behind the galley? Beyond the curtain; that was it. Or was it? He parted the curtain. Suddenly, his eyes were drawn down to his right, to the front seat of the 747's second section. A man had stirred in his sleep. A heavyset man whose face he had seen before. He did not recall where, but he was sure of itl A face creased in panic, racing by, close to his. What was it about the face? Something had made a brief but strong impression. What was it? The eyebrows, that was itl Thick eyebrows, the coiled, matted hair an odd mixture of black and white. Salt-and-pepper eyebrows; where was it? Why did the sight of those strangely arresting brows trigger obscure memories of another act of violence? Where was it? He could not remember, and because he could not, he felt the blood rushing to his head. The pounding grew louder; his temples throbbed. Suddenly, the man with the thick, coiled eyebrows woke up, somehow aware that he was being stared at. Their eyes locked; recognition was absolute. And there was violence in that recognition. But of what? When? Where? Holcroft nodded awkwardly, unable to think- The 70 THE HOLCROFT COVENANT

pain in his stomach was knifelike; the sounds in his head were now cracks of thunder. For a moment he forgot where he was; then he remembered and the images returned. The sights and sounds of a killing that but for an accident would have claimed his life. He had to get back to his seat. He had to control himself, to stop the pain and the thunder and the pounding in his chest. He turned and walked quickly beyond the curtain, past the galley, up the aisle to his seat. He sat down in the semidarkness, grateful there was no one beside him. He pressed his head into the rim of the chair and closed his eyes, trying with all his concentration to rid his mind of the terrible sight of a grotesque face, screaming away the last few seconds of life. But he could not. That face became his face. Then the features blurred, as if the flesh were melting, only to be formed again. Thi face that now came into focus was no one he recognized. A strange, angular face, parts of which seemed familiar, but not as a whole. involuntarily, he gasped. He had never seen that face but suddenly he knew it. Instinctively. It was the face of Heinrich Clausen. A man in agony thirty years ago. The unknown father with whom he had his covenant. Holcroft opened his eyes, which stung from the perspiration that had rolled down his face. There was another truth and he was not sure he wanted to recognize it. The two men who had tried to W him with strychnine had themselves been murdered. They had interfered. The men of Wolfsschanze had been aboard that plane. 7

The clerk behind the desk of the P6rto Alegre Hotel pulled Holcroft's reservation from the file. A small yellow message envelope was stapled to the back of the card. The clerk tore it off and handed it to Noel. "This came for you shortly past seven o'clock this evening, senhor." Holcroft knew no one in Rio de Janeiro, and had told no one in New York where he was going. He ripped open the flap and drew out the message. It was from Sam Buonoventura. He was to return the overseas call as soon as possible, regardless of the hour. Holcroft looked at his watch; it was nearly midnight. He signed the register and spoke-as casually as he could, his mind on Sam. "I have to telephone Curagao. Will there be any trouble at this hour?" The clerk seemed mildly offended. "Certainly not with our telefonistas, senhor. I cannot speak for Curagao." The origins of the difficulty notwithstanding, it was not until one-fifteen in the morning that he heard Buonoventura's rasping voice over the line. "I think you've got a problem, Noley." "I've got more than one. What is it?" "Your answering service gave my number to this cop in New York, a Lieutenant Miles; he's a detective. He was hot as hell. Said you were supposed to inform the police if you left town, to say nothing about leaving the country." Christ, he had forgotten! And now he understood just how vital those instructions were. The strychnine was meant for himl Had the police reached the same conclusion? "What did you tell him, Sam?" "Got hot myself. It's the only way to handle angry 71 72 THE HOLCROFT COVENANT

cops. I told him you were off in the out4slands doing a survey for a possible installation Washington was interested in. A little bit north, were not too far from the Canal Zone; it could mean anything. Nobody talks." "Did he accept that?" "Hard to tell. He wants you to call him. I bought you time., though. I said you radioed in this afternoon and I didn't expect to hear from you for three or four days, and I couldn't make contact. Thats when he yelled like a cut bull." "But did he buy it?" "What else could he do? He thinks we're all fuckingA stupid down here, and I agreed with him. He gave me two numbers for you. Got a pencil?" 64 Go ahead." Holcroft wrote down the numbers--a Port Authority police telephone and Miles's home-thanked Buonoventura, and said hed be in touch next week. Noel had unpacked during the interminable wait for the Curacao connection. He sat in a cane-backed chair in front of the window and looked out at the nightwhite beach and the dark waters beyond, reflecting the bright half moon. Below, on that isolated section of the street bordering the ocean walkway, were the curving, black-and-white parallel lines that signified the Copacabana, the golden coast of Guanabara. There was an emptiness about the scene that had nothing to do with its being deserted. It was too perfect, too pretty. He would never have designed it that way; there was an absence of character. He focused his eyes on the windowpanes. There was nothing to do now but think and rest and hope he could sleep. Sleep had been difficult for the past week; it would be more difficult now. Because he knew now what he had not known before: Someone had tried to kill him. The knowledge produced an odd sensation. He could not believe that there was someone who wanted him dead. Yet someone had to have made that decision, had to have issued the order. Why? What had he done? Was it Geneva? His covenant? We're dealing in millions. Those were not only the dead Manfredi's words; they were his warning. It was the only possible explanation. The information had got out, but there was no way to know how far it had spread, THE HOLCROPT COVENANT 73

or who was affected by it, who infuriated. Or the identity of the unknown person-or persons-who wanted to stop the release of the Geneva account, to consign it to the litigations of the international courts. Manfredi was right: The only moral solution was found in carrying out the intent of the document drawn up by three extraordinary men in the midst of the devastation their own monster had created. Amends must be made. ft ww the credo Heinrich Clausen believed in; it was honorable; it was right. In their misguided way, the men of Wolfsschanze understood. Noel poured himself a drink, walked over to the bed, and sat down on the edge, staring at the telephone. Next to it were the two numbers written on a hotel message pad, given to him by Sam Buonoventura. They were his links to Lieutenant Miles, Port Authority police. But Holcroft could not bring himself to call. He had begun the hunt; he had taken the first step in his search for the family of Wilhelm von T"tebolt. Step, helll It was a giant leap of four thousand air miles; he would not turn back. Tkere was so much to do. Noel wondered whether he was capable of doing it, whether he was capable of making his way through the unfamiliar forest. He felt his eyelids grow heavy. Sleep was,coming and he was grateful for it. He put down the glass and kicked off his shoes, not bothering with the rest of his clothes. He fell back on the bed and for several seconds stared at the white ceiling. He felt so alone, yet knew he wasn't. There was a man in agony, from thirty years ago, crying out to him. He thought about that man until sleep came.

Holcroft followed the translator into the dimly lit, windowless cubicle. Their conversation had been brief; Noel had sought specific information. The name was Von Tiebolt; the family, German nationals. A mother and two children-a daughter and a son-had immigrated to Brazil on or about June 15, 1945. A third child, another daughter, had been born several months later, probably in Rio de Janeiro. The records had to contain some informatiori. Even if a false name was used, a simple crosscheck of the weeks involved-two or three either way -would certainly unearth a pregnant woman with two children coming into the country If them were more 74 THE HOLCROPT COVENANT

than, one, it was his problem to trace them. At least a name, br names, would surface. No, it was not an official inquiry. There were no criminal charges; there was no seeking of revenge for crimes going back thirty years. On the contrary, it was "a benign search." Noel knew that an explanation would be asked of him, and he remembered one of the lessons learned at the consulate in New York: Base the lie in an aspect of truth. The family Von Tiebolt had relations in the United States, went the lie. People who had immigrated to America in the twenties and thirties. Very few were left, and there was a large sum of money involved. Surely, the officials at the Ministirio do Imigracdo would want to help find the inheritors. It was entirely possible that the Von Tiebolts would be grateful . . . and he, as the intermediary, would certainly make known their cooperation. Ledgers were brought out. Hundreds of photostats from another era were studied. Faded, soiled copies of documents, so many of which were obviously false papers purchased in Bern and Zurich and Lisbon. Passports. . But there were no documents relating to the Von Mebolts, no descriptions of a pregnant woman with two children entering Rio de Janeiro during the month of June or July in 1945. At least, none resembling the wife of Wilhelm von Tiebolt. Ilere were pregnant women, even pregnant women with children, but none with children that could have been Von Tiebolt's. According to Man- fredi, the daughter, Gretchen, was twelve or thirteen years old; the son, Johann, ten. Every one of the women entering Brazil during those weeks was accompanied either by a husband or a false husband, and where there were children, none--not one-was more than seven years of age. This struck Holcroft as being not only unusual but mathematically impossible. He stared at the pages of faded ink, at the often illegible entries made by harried immigration officials thirty-odd years ago- Something was wrong; his architect's eye was troubled. He had the feeling he was studying blueprints that had not been finished, that were filled with minute alterations-tiny lines erased and changed, but very delicately, so,as not to disturb the larger design. THE HOLCROFT COVPNANT 75

Erased and changed. Chendcally erased, delicately changed. That was what bothered himl The birthdatesl Page after page of miniature figures, digits subtly alteredl A 3 became an 8, a I a 9, a 2 a 0, the curve retained, a line drawn down, a zero added. Page after page in the ledgers, for the weeks of June and July of 1945, the birthdates of all the children entering Brazil had been changed so that none was born. prior to 19381 It was a painstakingly clever ruse, one that had to be thought out carefully, deliberately. Stop the hunt at the source. But do it in a way that appeared above suspicion. Small numbers faithfully-d hastily-recorded by unknown immigration personnel more than thirty years ago. Recorded from documents, the majority of which had been long since destroyed, for most were false. There was no way to substantiate, to confirm or deny the ac- curacy. Time and conspiracies had made that impossible. Of course there was no one resembling the Von Tieboltsl Good Lord, what a deceptionl Noel pulled out his lighter-, its flame would provide more fight on a page where his eye told him there were numerous minute alterations. "Senhorl That is forbiddenl" The harsh command was delivered in a loud voice by the translator. "Thow old pages catch fire easily We cannot take such risks." Holcroft understood. It explained the inadequate light, the windowless cubicle. "I'll bet you can't," he said- extinguishing kis fighter. "And I suppose these ledgers ~~t be removed from this room" "No, senhor." "And, of course, there are no extra lamps around, and you don't have a flashlight. Isn't that right?" "Senhor," interrupted the translator, his tone now courteous, even deferential. "We have spent nearly three hours with you. We have tried to cooperate fully, but as I'm sure you!re aware, we have other duties to perform. So, if you have finished. . ." "I think you made sure of that before I started," broke in Holcroft. "Yes, rm finished. Here."

He walked in the bright afternoon sunlight, trying to make sense out of things, the soft ocean breezes carew ing his face, calming his anger and his frustration. He strolled on the white boardwalk overlooking the iminacu 76 THE HOLCROPT COVENANT

late sand of Guanabara Bay. Now and then he stopped and leaned against the railing, watching the grown-up children at their games. The beautiful people, sunning and stunning. Grace and arrogance coexisted with artifice. Money was everywhere, evidenced by the golden, oiled bodies, too often too perfectly formed, too pretty, all flaws concealed. But again, where was character? It was somehow absent on the Copacabana this afternoon. He passed that section of the beach that fronted his hotel and glanced up at the windows, trying to locate his room. For a moment he thought he had found it, then realized he was wrong. He could see two figures behind the glass, beyond the curtains. He returned to the railing and lit a cigarette. The lighter made him think about the thirty-year-old ledgers so painstakingly doctored. Had they been altered just for him? Or had there been others over the years looking for the Von Tiebolts? Regardless of the answer, he had to find another source. Or other sources. La'comunidad alemana. Holcroft recalled the words of the attach6 in New York. He remembered the man's saying there were three or four families who were the arbiters of the German community. It followed that such men had to know the most carefully guarded secrets. Identities are concealed every day. . . . A stranger coming to Rio looking for Germans who have disappeared is undertaking a potentially dangerous search . . . "la otra, cars de los alemanes." They protect each other. There was a way to eliminate the danger, Noel thought. It was found in the explanation he had given the translator at the Ministry of Immigration. He traveled a great deal, so it was plausible that someone somewhere had approached him, knowing he was flying to Brazil, and asked him to locate the Von Tiebolts. It had to be a person who dealt in legitimate confidentiality, a lawyer or a banker. Someone whose own reputation was above reproach. Without analyzing it deeply, Holcroft knew that whoever he decided upon would be the key to his explanation. An idea for a candidate struck him, the risks apparent, the irony not lost. Richard Holcroft, the only father he had ever known. Stockbroker, banker, naval officer . . . father. The man who had given a wild young THE HOLCROPT COVENANT 77

mother and her child a chance to live again. Without fear, without the stain. Noel looked at his watch. It was ten minutes past five-past three in New York. Midafternoon on a Monday. He did not believe in omens, but he had just come upon one. Every Monday afternoon Richard Holcroft went to the New York Athletic Club, where old friends played gentle squash and sat around thick oak tables in the bar and reminisced. Noel could have him paged, talk to him alone--ask for help. Help that was to be rendered confidentially, for confidentiality was not only the essence of the cover but the basis of his protection. Someone, anyone, had contacted Richard Holcroft-man of statureand asked him to locate a family named Von Tiebolt in Brazil. Knowing his son was going to Rio, he quite logically asked his son to make inquiries. It was a confidential matter; it would not be discussed. No one could turn away the curious with greater authority than Dick HoIcroft. But Althene was not to be told: That was the hardest part of the request. Dick adored her; there were no secrets between them. But his father-damn it, stepfather -would not refuse him if the request was based in genuine need. He never had. He crossed the smooth marble floor of the hotel lobby toward the bank of elevators, oblivious of sights and sounds, his concentration on what he would say to his stepfather. As a result, he was startled when an obese American tourist tapped his shoulder. 'vMey calling you, Mac?" The man pointed toward the front desk. Behind the counter the clerk was looking at Noel. In his hand was the familiar yellow message envelope; he gave it to a bellhop, who started across the lobby. The single name on the slip of paper was unknown to him: cARARRA. There was a telephone number below, but no message, Holcroft was bewildered. The lark of a message was unusual; it was not the Latin way of doing things. Senhor Cararra could phone again; he had to reach New York. He had to build another cover. Yet, in his room, Holcroft read the name again: cARmmA. His curiosity was aroused. Who was this Cararra that he expected to be called back on the basis, of a 78 THE HOLCROFT COVENANT

name alone, a name the man knew meant nothing to Holcroft? In South American terms it was discourteous to the point of being insulting. His stepfather could wait a few minutes while he found out. He dialed the number. Cararra was not a man but a woman, and from thesound of her low, strained voice she was a frightened woman. Her English was passable but not good; it did not matter. Her message was as clear as the fear she conveyed. "I cannot talk now, senhor. Do not call this number again. It is not necessary." "You left it with the operator. What did you expect me to do?" "It was a ... trro." "Yerro? Mistake?" "Yes. A mistake. I will call you. We will call." "What about? Who are you?" Was tardel" The voice descended to a harsh whisper and was abruptly gone with the click of the line. Mas tarde ... mas tarde. Later. The woman would call him again. Holcroft felt a sudden hollowness in his stomach, as sudden as the abrupt disappearance of the frightened whisper. He could not recall when he had heard a woman's voice so filled with fear. That she was somehow connected with the missing Von Tiebolts was the first thought that came to his mind. But in what way? And how in God's name would she know about him? The feeling of dread came over him again . . . and the image of the horrible face contorted in death, thirty thousand feet in the air. He was being observed; strangers were watching hinL The whine of the telephpne receiver interrupted his thoughts; he had forgotten to hang up. He depressed the button, released it, and made the call to New York. He needed his protection quickly; he knew that now. He stood by the window, staring out at the beachfront, waiting for the operator to call him back. There was a flash of light from the street below. The chrome of a car grille had caught the rays of the sun and re- flected them skyward. The car had passed that section of the boardwalk where he had been standing only minutes ago. Standing and absently, glancing up at the hotel windows, trying to spot his room. The windows. . . . The angle of sight. Noel moved THE HOLCROPT COVENANT 79

closer to the petnes and studied the diagonal line from the spot below-where he had been standing--to where he stood now. His architect's eye was a practiced eye; angles did not deceive him. Too, the windows were not that close to one another, befitting the separation of rooms in an oceanfront hotel on the Copacabana. He looked up at this window, thinking it was not his room because he saw figures inside, behind the glass. But it was his room. And there had been people inside. He walked to his closet and stood looking at his clothes. He trusted his memory for detail as much as he trusted his eye for angular fines. He pictured the closet where he had changed clothes that morrung. He had fallen asleep in the suit he had wom from New York. His light-tan slacks had been on the far right, almost against the closet wall. It was habit: trousers on the right, jackets on the left. The slacks were still on the right, but not against the wall. Instead, they were several inches toward the center. His dark-blue blazer was in the center, not on the left side. His clothes had been searched. He crossed to the bed and his open attach6 case. It was his office when he traveled; he knew every millimeter of space, every compartment, the position of every item in every slot. He did not have to look long. His attach6 case had been searched as well. The telephone rang, the sound an intrusion. He picked it up and heard the voice of the Athletic CluWs operator, but he knew he could not now ask for Richard Holcroft; he could not involve him. Things were suddenly too complicated. He had to think them through. "New York Athletic Club. Hello? Hello? ... Hello, Rio operator? Theres no one on the line, Rio. Hello? New York Athletic Club. . . " Noel replaced the receiver. He had been about to do something crazy. His room had been searchedl In his need for a cover in Rio de Janeiro, he had been about to lead someone directly to the one person closest to his mother, once the wife of Heinrich Clausen. What had he been thinking of? And then he realized that nothing was wasted. Instead, another lesson had been learned. Carry out the lie logically.- then reexamine it, and use the most credible part. If he could invent a reason for such a man as 80 HOLCROPT COVENANT

Richard Holcroft to conceal the identity of those seeking the Von Tiebolts, he could invent the man himself. Noel was breathing hard. He had almost committed a terrible error, but he was beginning to know what to look for in the unfamiliar forest. The paths were lined with traps; he had to keep his guard up and move cautiously. He could not permit himself a mistake like the one he had nearly made. He had come very close to risking the life of the father that was, for one he had never ktiown. Very little of value or truth ever came from anything he touched. His mother's words, and like Manfredi's, meant as a warning. But his mother-unlike Manfredi-was wrong. Heinrich Clausen was as much a victim as he was a villain of his time. The anguished letter he had written while Berlin was falling confirmed it, and what he had done confirmed it. Somehow his son would prove it. La comunidad alemana. Tliree, four families in the German community, the arbiters who made irreversible decisions. One of them would be his source. And he knew exactly where to look.

Ile old, heavy-set man with thick jowls and steel-gray hair, cut short in the fashion of a Junker, looked up from the huge dining-room table at the intruder. He ate alone, no places set for family or guests. It seemed strange, for as the door was opened by the intruder, the voices of other people could be heard; there were family and guests in the la~ge house, but they were not at the table. "We have additional information on Clausen's son, Herr Graff," said the intruder, approaching the old man's chair. "You know about the Curagao communication. Two other calls were made this afternoon. One to the woman, Cararra, and the second to a men's club in New York." "The Cararras will do their job well," said Graff, his fork suspended, the puffed flesh around his eyes creased. "VAiat is this club in New York?" "A place called the New York Athletic Club. It is---~" -"I know what it is. A wealthy membership. Whom was he calling?" 'The call was placed to the location, not to a person. Our people in New York are hying to find out." TIRE HOLCROFT COVENANT 81

The old man put down his fork. He spoke softly, insultingly. "Our people in New York are slow, and so are YOU. of "I beg your pardon?" "Undoubtedly among the members will be found the name of Holcroft. If so, ClauseWs son has broken his word; he's told Holcroft about Geneva. That is dangerous. Richard Holcroft is an old man, but he is not feeble. We always knew that if he lived long enough, he might be a stumbling block." Graff shifted his large head and looked at the intruder. 'qhe envelope 'arrived in Sesimbra; there is no excuse. The events of the other night had to be clear to the som Cable the Tinamou. I doift trust his associate here in Rio. Use the eagle code and ten him what I believe. Our people in New York will have another task. The elimination of a meddling old man. Richard Holcroft must be taken out. The Tinamou will demand it" 8

Noel know what he was looking for: a bookstore that was more than a place to buy books. In every resort city there was always one major shop that catered to the reading requirements of a specific nationality. In this case, its name was A Livraria, Alemlo: the Germ- Bookshop. According to the desk clerk, it carried all the latest German periodicals, and Luftkansa flew newspapers in daily. That was the information Holcroft sought. Such a store would have accounts; someone there would know the established German families in Rio. If he could get just one or two names. . . . R was a place to start. Tke store was less dm ten minutes from the hotel. wrm an American architect," he said to the clerk, who was halfway up a ladder, rean-anging books on the top shelf. "I'm down here checking out the Bavarian influence on large residential komes. Do you have any material on the subjectr' "I didet know it was a subject," replied the man in fluent English. "There's a certain amount of Alpine design, chalet-style building, but I wouldn't call it Bavarian." Lesson six, or was It seven? Even If the lie Is based In an aspect of truth, make sure the person you use it on knows less than you do. "Alpine, Swiss, Bavarian., They're pretty much the same thing.99 - "Really? I thought there were considerable differences." Lesson eight or nine. Don't argue. Remember the objective. "Look, to tell you the trut~ a rich couple in New York are paying my way here to bring back sketcheL They were in Rio last summer. They rode around and 82 THE HOLCROFT COVENANT 83

spotted some great homes. 17hey described them as Bavarian.09 'Those would be in the northwest countryside. Ihere are several marvelous houses out there. The Eisenstat residence, for example; but then, I think they're Jewish. Tbere's an odd mixture of Moorish, if you can believe it. And, of course, there~s the Graff mansion. That's almost too much, but it's really spectacular. To be expected, I imagine. Graffs a millionaire many times over." "VAW's the name again? Graff?" "Maurice Graff. He's an importer; but then, aren!t they allr' -whort "Oh, come now, don't be naive, If he wasn't a general, or a muckedy-muck in the High Command, rll piss port wine." -You're English.- "I'm English." "But you work in a German bookstore." "Ich spreche gut Deutsch." "Couldn't they find a Germanr' "I suppose there are advantages hiring someone like myself," said the Britisher cryptically. Noel feigned surprise. "Really?" "Yes," replied the clerk, scaling another rung on the ladder. "No one asks me questions."

The clerk watched the American leave and stepped quickly down from the ladder, sliding it across the shelf track with a shove of his hand. It was a gesture of accomplishment, of minor triumph. He walked rapidly down the book-fined aisle and turned so abruptly into an intersecting stack that he collided with a customer examining a volume of Goethe. "Verzeihung," said the clerk under his breath, not at all concerned. -Schwesterchen," said the man with the thick blackand-white eyebrows. At the reference to his lack of masculinity, the clerk turned. "Youl" 'The friends of Tinamou. are never far away," replied the man. "You followed him?" asked the clerk. "He never knew. Make your call." 84 TFIE HOLCROPT COVENANT

~ Ile Englishman continued on his way to the door of an office at the rear of the store. He went inside, picked up the telephone, and dialed. It was answered by the aide of the most powerful -n in Rio. "Senhor Graff's residence. Good afternoon." "Our man at the hotel deserves a large tip," said the clerL "He was right. I insist on talking to Herr Graff. I did precisely as we agreed, and I did it superbly. I've no doubt he'll be calling. Now, Herr Graff, please." "rll pass along your message, butterfly," said the aide. "You'll do no such thingl I have other news rU tell only to him's "%Ut does it concern? I don't have to tell you he's a busy man.,' "Shall we say a countryman of mine? Do I make myself clear?" "We know hes in Rio; he's already made contacL You'll have to do better than that." "Hes still here. In the store. He may be waiting to talk to me." The aide spoke to someone nearby. The words, however, were distinct. "It's the actor, mein Herr. He insists on speaking to you. Everything went as scheduled during the past hour, but there seems to be a complication. His countryman is in the bookshop." The phone passed hands. "What is it?" asked Maurice Graff. "I wanted you to know that everything went exactly as we anticipated. . . ." "Yes, yes, I understand that," interrupted Graff. "You do excellent work. Now, what's this about the Engldnder? He's there?" "He followed the American. He was no more than ten feet from him. Hes still here, and I expect he'll want me totell him what's happening. Should I?" "No," replied Graff. "We are perfectly capable of running things here without interference. Say to him that were concerned hell be recognized; that we suggest he remain out of sight. Tell him I do not approve of his methods..You may say you heard it from me personally." "Thank you, Herr Graff I It will be a pleasure." "Yes, I know it will." THE HOLCROPT COVENANT 85

Graff handed the telephone back to his aide. "Ibe 71namou must not let this happen," he said. "It starts -again." "What, meinHerrr, "All over again," continued the old man. "The interference, the silent observations, one upon the other. Authority becomes divided, everyone~s suspect" "I don't understand." "Of course you don't. You weren't them" Graff leaned back in his chair. "Send a second cable to the Tinamou. Tell him that we request he order his wolf back to the Mediterranean. He's taking too many risks. We object, and cannot be responsible under the circumstances.09

It took several phone calls and the passage of twenty-four hours, but word that Graff would see him finally came, shortly past two o'clock the next afternoon. Holcroft leased a car at the hotel and drove northwest out of the city. He stopped frequently, studying the tourist map provided by the rental agency. He finally found the address, and swung through the iron gates into the ascending drive that led to the house at the top of the hill. - The road leveled off into a large parking area of white concrete, bordered by green shrubbery that was broken up by flagstone paths leading through groves of fruit trees on either side. The clerk at the bookstore had been , right. The Graff estate was spectacular. The view was magnificent: plains nearby, mountains in the distance, and far to the cast the hazy blue of the Atlantic. The house itself was three stories high. A series of balconies rose on both sides of the central entrance: a set of massive double doors--oiled mahogany, hinged with large, pitted triangles of black iron. The effect was Alpine, as if a geometric design of many Swiss chalets were welded into one and set down on a tropical mountain. Neel parked the car to the right of the front steps and got out 'Mere were two other automobiles in the parking area-a white Mercedes limousine and a low-slung, red MaseratL The Graff family traveled well. -Holcroft gripped his attach6 case and camera and started up the marble steps. 86 THE HOLCROFT COVENAM

"Irm, flattered our minor architectural efforts are appreciated," said Graff. "It's natural, I suppose, for transplanted people to create a touch of their homeland in new surroundings. My family came from the Schwarzwald. The memories are never far away." "I appreciate your having me out here, sir." Noel put the five kastily drawn sketches back into his attach6 case and closed it "I speak for my client as well, of course." "You have everything you need?" "A roll of film and five elevation sketches are more than I had hoped for. Incidentally, the gentleman who showed me around will tell you the photographs were limited to the exterior structural detail." "I don7t understand you:' "I wouldn't want you to think I was taking pictures of your private grounds." Maurice Graff laughed softly. "My residence is very well protected, Mr. Holcroft. Besides, it never crossed my mind that you were examining the premises for purposes of theft. Sit down, please." '11ank you." Noel sat opposite the old man. 'These days some people might be suspicious." "Well, I won't mislead you. I did call the P8rto Alegre Hotel to see if you were registered. You were. You are a man named Holcroft from New York whose reservation was made by a reputable travel agency that obviously knows you, and you use credit cards cleared by computers. You entered Brazil with a valid passporL What.more did I need? The times are technically too complicated for a man to pretend to be someone hes not, wouldn7t you agreer, "Yes, I guess I would," replied Noel, thinking that it was the moment perhaps to shift to the real purpose of kis visit He was about to speak, but Graff continued, as if Sling an awkward silence. "How long wW you be in Rio?" he asked. "Only a few more days. I have the name of your architect, and naturally I'll consult with him when he's free to see me." "I'll have my secretary telephone; there'll be no de. lay. I have no idea how such financial arrangements are made--or, indeed, if there are any-but I'm quite sure bed let you have copies of the plans if they would be helpft# to you." THE HOLCROFT COVENANT 87

Noel smiled, the professional in him aroused. "Ifs a question of selective adaptation, Mr. Graff. My calling him would be as much a matter of courtesy as anything else. I might ask where certain materials were pu'rchased, or how specific stress problems were solved, but that'd be it. I wouldn't ask for the plans, and I think he'd be reluctant to say yes if I did." "There would be no reluctance," said Graff, his bearing and intensity a reflection of a military past. . . . If he wasn't a general, or a muckedy-muck in the High Command, I'll piss port wine.... "It's not important, sir. I've got what I came for." "I see." Graff shifted his heavy frame in the chair. It was the movement of a weary old man toward the end of a long afternoon. Yet the eyes were not weary; they were strangely alert "An hour's conference would be sufficient, then?" "Easily." "I'll arrange it." "You're very kind." 'Men you can return to New York." "Yes." It was the moment to mention the Von Tiebolts. Now. "Actually, there's one other thing I should do while I'm here in Rio. It's not terribly important, but I said I'd try. I'm not sure where to begin. The police, I imagine." 'rbat sounds ominous. A crime?" "Quite the contrary. I meant whichever department of the police it is that could help locate some people. They're not in the telephone directory. I even checked unlisted numbers; they don't have one." "Are you sure they're in Rio?" "They were when last heard from. And I gather the other cities in Brazil were checked out, again through the telephone companies." "You intrigue me, Mr. Holcroft. Is it so important these people be found? What did they do? But then you said there was no crime." "None. I know very little. A friend of mine in New York an attorney, knew I was coming here and asked me to do what I could to locate this family. Apparently it was left some money by relatives in the Midwest." "An inheritance?" "Yes." 88 THE HOLCROFT COVENANT

'Men perhaps legal counsel here in Rio "My friend sent what he termed 'inquiries of record! to several law fums down here," said Noel, remembering the words of the attach6 in New York. "There weren7t any satisfactory responses." "How did he explain that?" "He didn't. He was just annoyed. I guess the money wasn't enough for three attorneys to got involved." "Three attorneys?" "Yes," replied Noel, astonished at himself. He was filling a gap instinctively, without thinking. "There's the lawyer in Chicago--or St. Louis-my friend's firm in New York, and the one down here in Rio. I don't imagine what's confidential to an outsider is confidential between attorneys. Perhaps splitting a fee three ways wasn't worth the trouble." "But your friend is a man of conscience." Graff arched his brows in appreciation. Or something else, Holcroft thought. "I'd like to think so." "Perhaps I can help. I have friends." H-olcroft shook his head. "I couldn't ask you. You've done enough for me this afternoon. And, as I &'Aid, it's not that important." "Naturally," said Graff, shrugging. "I wouldn!t care to intrude in confidential matters." The German looked over at the windows, squinting. The sun was settling above the western mountains; shafts of orange light streamed through the glass, adding a rich hue to the dark wood of the study. "The name of the family is Von Tiebolt," said Noel, watching the old man's face. But whatever he expected to find, nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. Old Graffs eyes snapped open, their glance shooting over at Holcroft, filled with loathing. "You are a pig," said the German, his voice so low it could barely be heard. 'This' was a trick, a devious ruse to come into my housel To come to mel" 'You're wrong, Mr. Graff. You can Call my client in NewYork...." "Pigl . . ." the old man screamed. "The Von Tieboltsl Verrfiterl Below filthl Cowardsl Schweinhundel How dare youl" Noel watched, mesmerized and helpless. Graffs face THE BOLCROPT COVENANT 89

was discolored with rage-, the veins in his neck were at the surface of his flesh, his eyes red and furious, his hands trembling, gripping the arms of the chair. "I don't understand," said Holcroft, getting to his feet. "You understand . . . you garbage! You are looking for the Von Tieboltsl You want to give them life againl" 6'17hey're dead?" "Would to the Almighty they werel" "Graff, listen to me. If you know somethint---" "Get out of my housel" The old man struggled up from the chair and screamed at the closed door of the study. "Wernert Komm'herJ" GraWs aide burst through the door. "Mein Herr? Was ist---~' "Take this impostor awayl Get him out of my housel" The aide looked at Holcroft. 'This way. Quicklyl" Noel reached down for his attach6 case and walked swiftly toward the door. He stopped and turned to look once more at the enraged Graff. The old German stood Eke a bloated, grotesque manikin, yet he could not control his trembling. "Get outl You are contemptiblel" Ile final, searing accusation shattered Noel's selfcontrol. It was not he who was contemptible; it was the figure of arrogance in front of him, this swollen image of indulgence and brutality. This monster who betrayed, then destroyed, a man in agony thirty years ago ... and thousands like him. This Nazi. "You're in no position to call me names." "We'll see who , s in what position. Get outf' "I'll get out, General, or whatever the hell you are. I can't get out fast enough, because now I understand. You don't know me from the last corpse you bastards burned, but I mention one name and you can't stand it. You're torn apart because you know---and I know-that Von Tiebolt saw through you thirty years ago. When the bodies piled up. He saw what you really were." "We did not conceal what we werel The world knew. There was no deception on our partl" Holcroft stopped and swallowed involuntarily. In his burst of anger, he had to seek justice for the men who had cried out to him from the grave; he had to strike back at this symbol of the once-awesome might and do- go THE HOLCROFT COVENANT

cay that had stolen a father from him. He could not help himself. "Get this clear," said Noel. "I'm going to find the Von Tiebolts, and you're not going to stop me. Don't think you can. Don't think you've got me marked. You haven't. I've got you marked. For exactly what you are. You wear your Iron Cross a little too obviously." Graff had regained control. "Find the Von Tiebolts, by all means. Wc'U be therel" I "I'll find them. And when I do, if anything happens to them, I'll know who did it. I'll brand you for what you are. You sit up here in this castle' and bark your orders. You're stiff pretending. You were finished years agobefore the war was over-and men like Von Tiebolt knew it. They understood, but you never did. You never will." "Get oud" A guard raced into the room; hands grabbed Noel from behind. An arm plunged over his right shoulder and down across his chest. He wa& yanked briefly off his feet and pulled backward out of the room, He swung his at- tach6 case and felt the impact on the large, weaving body of the man dragging him through the door. He rammed his left elbow -into the stomach of that unseen body and kicked viciously, jabbing his heel into his at- tacker's shin bone. The response was immediate; the man yelped; the grip across Noel's chest was momentarily lessened. It was enough. Holcroft shot his left hand up, grabbing the cloth of the extended arm, and pulled forward with all his strength. He angled his body to the right; his right shoulder jammed into the chest that rose behind him. His assailant stumbled. Noel rammed a last shoulder block into the elevated chest, throwing his attacker into an antique chair against the wall. Man and delicate wood met in a crushing impact; the frame of the chair collapsed under the weight of the body. The guard was stunned, his wide eyes blinking, his focus temporarily lost. Holcroft looked down at the man. The guakd was large, but his bulk was the most threatening part of him. And the bulk was just that; like old Graff, a mountain of flesh packed under a tight-fitting jacket. Through the open door Holcroft could see Graff start TNE HOLCROPT COVENANT 91

for the telephone on his desk. The aide he had called Werner took an awkward step toward Noel. "Don't," said Holcroft. He walked across the large hallway toward the front entrance. On the opposite side of the foyer several men and women stood in an open archway. None made a move toward him; none even raised his voice. The German mentality was consistent, thought Noel, not unhappy with the realization. These minions were awaiting orders.

"Do as I've instructed," said Graff into the telephone, his voice calm, with no trace of the fury he had exhibited only minutes ago. He was now the general officer issuing commands to an attentive subordinate. "Wait until he's halfway down the hill, then throw the gate switch. It's vital that the American thinks he has escaped." The old German hung up and turned to his aide. "Is the guard hurt?- "Merely stunned, mein Herr. He's walking around, shaldn off the effects of the blow." "Holcroft is angry," mused Graff. "He's filled with himself, exhilarated, consumed with purpose. Tbafs good. Now he must be frightened, made to tremble at the unexpected, at the sheer brutality of the moment. Tell the guard to wait five minutes and then take up pursuit. He must do his job well." "He has his orders; he's an expert marksman." "Good." The former Wehrmachtsgeneral walked slowly to the window and squinted into the final rays of the sun. "Soft words, lover's words . . . and then sharp, hysterical rebukes. The embrace, and the knife One must follow the other in rapid succession until Holcroft has no judgment left Until he can no longer distinguish between ally and enemy, knowing only that he must press forward. When finally he breaks, we'll be there and hell be ours." 9

Noel slammed the huge door behind him and walked down the marble steps to the car. He swung the automobile into reverse, so that his hood faced the downhill drive out of the Graff estate, pressed the accelerator and headed for the exit. Several things occurred to him. The first was that the afternoon sun had descended behind the western mountains, creating pockets of shadows on the ground. Daylight was disappearing; he needed his headlights. Another concern was that GrafPs reaction to the mention of the Von Tiebolts, had to mean two things: The Von Tiebolts were alive, and they were a threat. But a threat to what? To whom? And where were they? A third was more of a feeling. than a specific thought. It was his reaction to the physical encounter he had just experienced. Throughout his life he had taken whatever size and strength he possessed as a matter of course. Because he was large and relatively well coordinated, he never felt the need to seek physical challenge except in competition against himself, in bettering a tennis game or besting a ski slope. As a result, he avoided fights; they struck him as unnecessary. It was this general attitude that had made him laugh when his stepfather had insisted he join him at the club for a series of lessons in self-defense. The city was turning into a jungle; Holcroft's son was going to learn how to protect himself. He took the course, and promptly forgot everything he had learned when it was over. If he had actually absorbed anything, he had done it subconsciously. He had absorbed something, reflected Noel, pleased with himself. He remembered the glazed look in the eyes of the guard. The last thought that crossed his mind as he turned 92 THE HOLCROFT COVENANT 93

into the downhill drive was also vague. Something was wrong with the front seat of the car. The furious activity of the last minutes had blurred his usually acute eye for such things, but something about the checkered cloth of the seat cover bothered him. ... Terrible sounds interrupted his concentration: the barking of dogs. Suddenly, the menacing faces of enormous long-haired black shepherds lunged at the windows on both sides of the car. The dark eyes glistened with hatred and frustration; the fur-lined, saliva-soaked jaws slapped open and shut, emitting the shrill, vicious sounds of animals reaching a quarry but unable to sink their teeth into flesh. It was a pack of attack dogs-five, six, seven-at all-windows now, their paws scratching against the glass. An animal leaped up on the hood, its face and teeth against the windshield. Beyond the dog, at the base of the hill, Holcroft saw the huge gate beginrung to move, the movement magmBed in the beams of his headlights. It was starting the slow arc that would end with its closingl He pressed the accelerator against the floor, gripped the wheel until his arms were in pain, and drove at full speed, swerving to his left, through the stone pillars, missing the steel gate by inches. The dog on the hood flew off to the right in midair, yelping in shook. The pack on the hill had pulled up behind the gate in the darkening twilight. The explanation had to be that a high-frequency whistle---beyond human ears-had caused them to stop. Perspiring, Noel held the pedal against the floorboard and sped down the road. He came to a fork in the countryside. Did he take the right, or the left? He could not recall; absently he reached for his map on the seat. That was what had bothered himl The map was no longer them. He took the left fork, reaching below the seat to see if the map had fallen to the floor. It had not. It had been removed from the carl He arrived at an intersection. It was not familiar; or, if it was, the darkness obscured any familiarity. He turned right, out of instinct, knowing he had to keep going. He kept the car at high speed, looking for anything that he could relate to the drive out from Rio. But the darkness was full now; he saw nothing he remembered. The road made a wide, sweeping curve to the right and 94 TM HOLCROFT COVENAM

then there was a sharp, steep incline of a hill. He re. called no curve, remembered no hill. He was lost. The top of the hill flattened out for approximately a hundred yards. On his left was a lookout, bordered by a parking area enclosed by a chest-high wall fronting the cliff. Along the wall were rows of telescopes with round casings, the type activated by coins. Holcroft pulled over and stopped the car. There were no other automobiles, but maybe one would come. Perhaps if he looked around he could get his bearings. He got out of the car and walked to the wall. Far below in the distance were the lights of the city. Between the cliff and the lights, however, there was only darkness. . . . No, not total darkness; there was a winding thread of light. A road? Noel was next to one of the telescopes. He inserted a coin and peered through the sight, focusing on the weaving thread of light he presurnod was a road. It was. The lights were spaced far apart; they were street lamps6 welcome but out of place in a path cut out of the Brazilian forests. If he could reach the beginning of that road. . . . The telescope would move no farther to his right. Goddalmn itl Where did the road begin? It had to be.... Behind him he beard the sound of an engine racing up the hill he had just -climbed. Thank Godl He would stop the car, if he had to stand in the middle of the wed to do it. He ran from the wall, across the concrete, toward the tarred pavement. He reached the edge and froze. Ile car lunging over the final, incline into the lookout area was a white Mercedes limousine. The same car that stood gleaming in the afternoon sun on top of another hill. Graffs car. It stopped abruptly, tires screeching. The door opened and a man got out. In the reflecting spill of the headLghts he was recognizable: Graffs guardl He reached into his belt. Holcroft stood paralyzed. The man raised a gun, aiming at him. It was unbelievablel It could not be happeningl The first gunshot was thunderous; it shook the silence like a sudden cracking of the earth. A second followed. The road several feet away from Noel exploded in a spray of rock and dust. Whatever instincts remained be- yond his paralysis, his disbeftef, commanded him to run, TIM HOLCROFT COVENANT 95

to save himself. He was going to diel He was about to be killed in a deserted tourist lookout above the city of Rio de laneirof It was hisanel His legs were weak; he forced himself to race toward the rented car. His feet ached, it was the shwigest sensation he had ever felt. Two more gunshots filled the night, there were two more explosions of ity and concrete. He reached the car and fell below the door panel for protection. He reached up for the handle. Another gunshot, this one louder, the vibration deafening Accompanying the detonation was another kind of explosion, one that rang with the violent smashing of glass. The car's rear window had been blown out. There was nothing else to dol Holcroft pulled the door open and leaped inside. In panic he turned the ignition key. The engine roared; his foot pressed the accelerator against the floor. He Jammed the gearshift into drive; the car bolted forward in the darkness. He spun the wheel; the car swerved, narrowly missing impact with the wall, His instincts ordered him to switch on the headlight& In a blur he saw the downhill road, and in desperation he aimed for it. The descent was filled with curves. He took them at bigh speed, sliding, skidding, barely able to hold the car in control, his arms aching. His hands were wet with ,Sweat; they kept slipping. Any second he fully believed he would mush; any moment now he would die in a final exPlosion. He would never remember how long it took, or precisely how he found the winding road with the intermittent streetlights, but at last it was there. A flat surface heading left, heading eaY4 the road into the city. He was in dense countryside; tall trees and thick forests bordered the asphalt, loombig up like the sides of an immense canyon. Two can approached from the opposite direction; he wanted to cry with relief at the sight of them He was approaching the outskirts of the city. He was into the suburbs. The streeflights were close together now, and suddenly there were cars everywhere, turning, blocking, passing. He never knew he could be so grateful to see traffic. He came to a traffic light; it was red. He was again grateful-for its actually being there., and the brief rest it 96 THE HO=OFT COVENAM

brought him. He reached into his shirt pocket for his cigarefteL God, he wanted a cigarettel A car pulled alongside him on his left. He stared once more in disbelief. A man beside the driver-a an he had mver wen before in his life-had rolled down his window and was raising a pistol. Around the barrel was a perforated cylinder-a silencer. The unknown Was Amen the gun at himl Holcroft recoiled, ducking his head, spinning his neck, yanking the gearshift, plunging the accelerator to the floor-He heard the terrible spit and the crash of glass behind him. Ile rented car sprang forward into the irim tersection. Horns blew crazily; he swerved in front of an approaching automobile, turning at the last second to avoid a collision. The cigarette had fallen from his lips, burning a hole in the seat. He sped into the city.

The telephone was moist and glistening with sweat in Noers hand. "Are you listening to iner' he shouted. "Mr. Holcroft, calm down, please." The voice of the attach6 at the American Embassy was disbelieving. "Well do everything we can. I have the salient facts and well pursue a diplomatic inquiry as rapidly as possible. However, it Is past seven o'clock; it'll be difficult reaching people at- this hour." "Difficult to reach people? Maybe you didn't hear me. I was damn near killedl Take a look at that carl The windows were blown outl" "Wre sending a man over to your hotel to take possession of the vehicle," said the attach6 matter-offactly. "I've got the keys. Have him come up to my room and get thern." I "Yes, well do that. Stay where you are and well call YOU back." Ihe attacM hung up. Chrisd The man sounded as if he had just heard from an irritatmg relative and was anxious to get off the phone so he could go to dinnerl Noel was frightened beyond any fear he had ever known. It gripped him and panicked him and made breathing difficult. Yet in spite of that sickening, all- THE HOLCROFT COVENANT 97

pervasive fear, something was happening to him that he did not understand. A minute part of him was angry, and he felt that anger growing. He did not want it to grow; he was afraid of it, but he could not stop it. Men had attacked him and he wanted to strike back. He had wanted to strike back at Graff, too. He had wanted to call him by his rightful name: monster, liar, corrupter. ..-Nazi. Ile telephone rang. He spun around as if it were an alarm, signifying another attack. He gripped his wrist to steady the trembling and walked quickly to the bedside table. "Senhor Holcroft?" It was not the man at the Embassy. The accent was Latin. "What is it?" "I must speak with you. It is very important that I speak with you right away." "Who is thisr' "My name is Cararra. I am in the lobby of your hotel.99 "Cararra? A woman named Cararra called me yesterday." "My sister. We are together now. We must both speak with you now. May we come up to your room?" "Noi rm not seeing anyonel" Ile sounds of the gunshots, the explosions of concrete and glass-they were all still too sharp in his mind. He would not be an isolated target "Senhor, you MUSU" "I won'd Leave me alone or I'll call the police," "They can't help you. We can. We wish to help you. You seek information about the Von Tiebolts. We have information." Noes breathing stopped. His eyes strayed to the mouthpiece of the telephone. It was a trap. The man on the phone was trying to trap him. Yet, if that were so, why did he announce the trap? "Who sent you here? Who told you to call me? Was it Graff?" "Maurice Graff does not talk to people like us. My sister and 1, we are beneath his contempt." You are contempdblel Graff hold most Of the world 98 nM HOLCROFT COVENMT

in contempt, thought Holcroft He breathed again and tried to speak calmly. "I asked you who sent you to meHow do you know I'm interested in the Von Twbolts?" "We have friends at Immigration Clerks, not unPortant People. But they listen; they observe. You will understand when we speak." The Brazilian!s words suddenly accelerated; the phrases tumbled awkwardly. Too awkwardly to be studied or rehearsed. "Please, senhor. See us. We have information and it is information you should have. We want to help. By helping you, we help ourseives.19 Noers brain raced. Ile lobby of the P6rto Alegre was always- crowded, and there was a certain truth in the bromide that there was safety in numbers. If Cararra and his sister really knew something about the Von Tiebolts, he had to see them. But not in an isolated situation, not alone. He spoke slowly. "Stay by the reception desk, at least ten feet in front of it, with both hands out of your pockets. Have your sister on your left, her right hand on your arm. III be down in a little while, but not in the elevator. And you won!t see me first. I'll see you." He hung up, astonished at himself. Lessons were being learned. They were basic, no doubt, to those abnormal men who dealt in a clandestine world, but new to him. Cararra would not have his hand gripped around a gun in his pocket; his sister--or whoever she waswould not be able to reach into a purse without his noticing. They would have their attentions on the doorways, not the elevators, which of course he would use. And he would know who they were. He walked out of the elevator in a crowd of tourists. He stood briefly with them, as if one of the party, and looked at the man and woman by the front desk. As instructed, CararrWs hands were at his side, his sister's right hand linked to her brother's arm, as if she were afraid to be set adrift. And he was her brother; there was a distinct similarity in their features. Cararra, was in his early thirties, perhaps; his sister, several years younger. Both dark-skin, hair, eyes. Neither looked at all imposing; their clothes were neat but inexpensive. They were out of place among the furs and evening gowns of the hotel's guests, aware of their awkward status, their faces ernbarrassed, their eyes frightened. Harmless, thought Hol- THE HOLCROFT COVENANT 99

croft. Then he realized he was making too fast a judgment. They sat in a back booth of the dimly lit cocktail lounge, the Cararras across the table from Noel. Before they'd gone inside, Holcroft had remembered that the embassy was supposed to call him back. He told the desk that if the call came, it was to be relayed to him in the lounge. But only the embassy-no one else. I "Tell me first how you learned I was looking for the Von Tiebolts," said Noel after their drinks arrived. "I told you. A clerk at Immigration. The word was passed discreetly, last Friday, among the sections, that an American would be coming in asking about a German family named Von Tiebolt. Whoever took the request was to call in another, a man from the policia do adminisftWdo. Tbes the secret police." "I know what it is. He called himself, a 'translator.' I want to know why you were told." "The Von Tiebolts were our friends. Very close friends." "Where are theyr' CArarra exchanged a brief look with his sister. The girl spoke. "Why do you look for themr, she asked. "I made that clear at Immigration. IVs nothing out of the ordinary. They were left some money by relatives in the United States." Brother and, sister again looked at each other, and again the sister spoke. "Is it a large amount of, money?" "I don't know," replied Holcroft. "It's a confidential matter. I'm merely a go-between." "A what?" Again the brother. "Un tercero," answered Noel, looking at the woman. "Why were you so frightened on the telephone yesterday? You left your number, and when I called you back, you told me I shouldn't have. Why?" "I made a . . . mistake. My brother said it was a bad mistake. My name, the telephone number-it was wrong to leave them." , . "It would anger the Germans," explained Cararra. "If they were watching you, intercepting your messages, they would see that we called you. It would be danger. ous to us." "If they're watching me now, they.know you're here." 100 THE HOLCROrr COVENANT

"We talked it over," continued the woman. "Vft made our decision; we must take the risk." "What risk?" "The Germans despise us. Among other things, we are Portuguese Jews," said Cararra. "They think like that even now?" "Of course they do. I said we were close to the Von Tiebolts. Perhaps I could clarify. Johann was my dearest friend; he and my sister were to be married. The Germans would not permit it." "Who could stop themr' "Any number of men. With a bullet in the back of Johanifs head." "Good Christ, that's crazy1" But it was not crazy, and Holcroft knew it. He had been a target high in the hills; gunshots still rang in his ears. "For certain Germans such a marriage would be the final insult," said Cirarra. "There are those who say the Von 7"iebolts were traitors to Germany. These people still fight the war three decades later. Great injustices were done to the Von 1"iebolts here in Brazil . They deserve whatever can be done for them. Their lives were made most difficult for causes that should have died years ago-,, "And you figured I could do something for them? What made you think thatr' "Because powerful men wanted to stop you; the Germans have a great deal of influence. Therefore you, too, were a powerful man, someone the Graffs in Brazil wanted to keep from the Von Tiebolts. To us that meant you intended no harm to our friends, and if no harm, you meant well. A powerful American who could help them." "You say the 'Graffs in Brazil."17hat's Maurice Graff, isn't it? Who is he? What is he?" "The worst of the Nazis. He should have been hanged at NUmberg." "You Anow GraffT' asked the woman, her eyes on Hoicroft. .1 went out to see him. I used a client in New York as an excuse, said he wanted me to look over Graffs house. rm an architect. At one point, I mentioned the Von Tiebolts, and Graff went out of his mind. He began screaming and ordered me out. When I drove down the hill, a pack of attack dogs came after the car. Later,

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