“Sit,” she said when Thomas and I appeared in the doorway. “I have been working through the night, and I believe I finally see the shape of what we are facing.”
Bisch materialized from somewhere with fresh coffee. It was strong and black, exactly what I needed. After handing us each a cup, Bisch took up a position by the door, his pale eyes watchful. I noted his placement. He was close enough to hear everything and positioned to block the only exit.
Stop it, I told myself.You’re seeing threats everywhere.
But I couldn’t quite make myself stop.
“The conspiracy has three layers,” the Baroness began, pointing to a diagram she had sketched on alarge sheet of paper. “At the top, we have the architects. These are the people directing the operation. I do not yet know who they are, but I believe they include elements of the Order’s surviving leadership and their Soviet handlers.”
“Cardinal Severan?” Thomas asked.
“Perhaps. It is possible—even likely—that he survived Rome.” Her expression darkened. “If he is involved, this becomes considerably more dangerous. Severan is not merely a fanatic; he is a strategist. One might call him a visionary, in his own twisted way.”
She moved to the second layer of her diagram.
“Below the architects, we have the facilitators, the people who make the operation possible. These are the money men, primarily. This is where Sternberg AG comes in.” She tapped a cluster of documents. “Sternberg is a shell company, originally created to move stolen art for the Nazis. Now, it is being used to move funds between Soviet sources and Swiss recipients. The money flows through a maze of subsidiaries and front organizations, but I have traced several payments directly to accounts controlled by Ministers Lüthi and Brenner.”
“You’re certain they’re compromised?” I asked.
“I am certain they are receiving money they should not be receiving. Whether they know where it comes from—whether they understand what they are part of—that I cannot say.” She shrugged. “Itmay not matter. Once you have taken the money, you are compromised regardless of your intentions.”
“And the third layer?”
“The operatives.” She gestured at the photographs scattered across the desk. “These are the people who carry out the actual work. They perform surveillance, intimidation, and elimination.” Her jaw tightened. “These are the Order’s foot soldiers, rebuilt and reorganized under new management. They are disciplined, professional, and utterly ruthless.”
I studied the diagram, trying to absorb the scope of what she was describing.
Three layers.
Dozens of people, maybe hundreds or more.
An organization that had survived what we thought was its destruction and rebuilt itself with Soviet backing.
“How do we fight something this big?” I asked.
“We do not fight all of it,” the Baroness said. “We cannot. We are four people—five, if we count Otto—against an organization with resources we can barely imagine.” She paused. “But organizations have weaknesses. They have pressure points. If we can identify the right ones and apply force in the right places, we can make the entire structure collapse.”
“What pressure points?” Thomas asked.
“The money.” She pointed to a name on one of the financial documents. “There is a banker in Bern called Engel. He helped move resistance funds during the war. He was invaluable, absolutely invaluable, and he has remained a friend ever since.” Her voice softened. “I trust him, perhaps more than I should trust anyone right now, but he knows things about the financial networks that no one else knows. If Sternberg is moving money through Swiss banks, Engel will know how to trace it.”
“And the forger you asked Bisch to contact?” I asked. “What was his name? Maurer?”
“Maurer was one of Aldric’s closest wartime associates. If anyone knows what Aldric discovered before his death, it will be him.”
“Assuming he’s willing to talk,” Thomas said. “Weber was, and look where that got him.”
“Maurer is . . . different.” The Baroness’s expression was complicated. “He owes me his life several times over. He knows the risks, but he also knows that some debts can only be paid in blood.” She took a moment. “We will meet with him another day. Today, I must see Engel. I need you to come with me.”
“Why us?” I asked.
“Because I am being watched. I have been since I returned to Bern. Whoever is coordinating this operation knows I am investigating, and they are keeping close track of my movements.” She smiledgrimly. “Two American tourists accompanying a Swiss aristocrat on her errands will attract less attention than a woman known to be head of Swiss intelligence meeting privately with a banker who handles sensitive accounts.”
“We’re your cover,” Thomas said.
“You are also my protection.” Her eyes met mine, and I saw something there I hadn’t expected—vulnerability. “I am not too proud to admit that I feel safer with you beside me, William. Both of you. Whatever shadows are closing in, I would rather face them with allies at my back.”
It was as close to asking for help as the Baroness ever got.
