Eden's Gate by David Hagberg

He’d seemed tense before, but now he seemed relaxed.
    â€œObviously it will be money. I can set up a meeting and secure the introductions. But what do you need him for?”
    Speyer took a leather-clad notebook and Mont Blanc pen from his vest pocket, jotted down the names of four men, tore out the paper and passed it to Mann. “I need to hire these four men, and I must be assured of their loyalty to me, and their complete discretion.”
    Mann read the names and looked up. “Russians still in Germany?”
    Speyer nodded. “They are deep cover, and so far as I know they want to keep it that way. But they have some information and the connections with German Television One that I need.”
    â€œThe fewer the people involved, the better off you’ll be,” Mann warned.
    â€œI know. But if the information I have is accurate, and if it fits with what these four can tell me and do for me—providing they’ll cooperate—then we’ll be home free.”
    Mann sat back, sipped his sherry, and gave Speyer a long, appraising look. “You have been after this holy grail—whatever it really is—for a long time, Helmut. I’ll help even though I don’t know what it is. I owe at least that much to you.”
    â€œThank you, Herr General,” Speyer said. “And believe me that you don’t want to know the details. How soon can you arrange the meeting?”
    â€œLater tonight, I should think. If that’s not too soon for you.”
    â€œJust perfect,” Speyer said.
    â€œYou must understand that you are playing at a dangerous game. The Russians no longer want to be connected with us; they have
their own problems. The old ideologies are gone. It’s purely a matter of money now, and personal gain. Lukashin is a master at it.”
    â€œI’ll keep that in mind, my old friend,” Speyer said. “Thank you.”
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    Sitting alone in his second floor study, Thomas Mann had another thought. The arrangements for the meeting tonight were set, but something didn’t seem right with the new man. He phoned an associate in Helena, Montana. “I have a mutual friend with me here in Washington,” he said.
    â€œI shouldn’t be surprised, with the trouble in Kalispell,” said Konrad Aden. Like Mann, he was a prominent attorney and businessman, but he was also the western chief of staff for the Friends, a loose worldwide organization of former Stasi officers in hiding around the world. He dealt with only the most prominent of men in the U.S. west of the Mississippi.
    â€œIs he in any immediate trouble?”
    â€œNo, nothing like that. He has friends out here. But he was seen coming out of the Grand Hotel after the shooting. I have some reliable people on their way down to cover his tracks. He may have missed something.”
    â€œI’ve heard nothing about a shooting.”
    â€œIt won’t hit the national news,” Aden said. He told Mann everything that had happened, including the current lack of progress in the police investigation.
    â€œIt sounds like a set-up to me. I suspect he’s actually brought the shooter here with him. Tall, well dressed, says he’s John Browne, former South African Intelligence.”
    â€œHe could be the same man,” Aden said. “What are they up to?”
    â€œI don’t know yet. But clean up the mess out there, and if you find out anything new let me know.”
    â€œIs Browne legitimate?”
    â€œHelmut seems to think he is, but I’ll do my own checking. The problem is one of coincidence, I should think.”
    â€œI agree.” Aden chuckled. “Helmut was always the brash one. Our risk taker.”
    â€œAge has not changed him,” Mann said, and he rang off.
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    They had their own beautifully appointed, spacious rooms, each with a bathroom. Speyer came down to Lane’s sitting room, and tossed him the Beretta. “You might