There’d not been another woman in his life since, as no one could ever take her place. If only he’d told her that—just once—maybe things would have turned out differently.
He hated sports and cared little for games, so he buried himself in work, his closest companions books, movies, and museums. In that order. He lived a solitary life and constantly told himself that one day he’d be happy.Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, right?Wrong. More like life, disappointment, and more disappointment. He’d long struggled to find meaning in the wild swings of good and bad fortune that constantly came his way. But fate seemed to have finally shined a light on him.
He was involved with something big.
And he had the president of the United States as an ally.
He’d worked every hot spot in the world, dealt with every kind of lowlife imaginable. Now he was director of special operations. But not much “special” ever happened in Europe anymore. The Cold War was long gone, his post regarded as a nothing job where you really could not get yourself into much trouble. Which spoke volumes as to what the CIA brass thought of him. Trinity might be right. His time was ending. So why not go out with a bang. Do something that made a difference. Decades in the field had taught him patience, planning, and guile. But, most of all, to always play for keeps—
Or don’t play at all.
He paid the cabbie and stepped into the apartment building, trudging up the stairs to the third floor. He’d been provided the address on the way over by secure text after reporting Miller’s death. There was nothing particularly special or attractive about the building. Just one of a zillion nondescript multi-housing projects located all around Munich. Over 1.5 million people lived in the city. Another 4.5 million in the outlying areas. A huge, sprawling metropolis. Easy to get lost in. Even easier to be forgotten in.
He approached the apartment and his senses sprang alert.
The door hung partially open.
He looked around, saw no one in the hall, and found his weapon. Not a sound came from inside. He pushed the door open with his right foot. The place was a wreck. Somebody had tossed it. Not a book, file, or computer in sight.
He inspected every room.
The same.
Whatever had been here was long gone.
Only one explanation.
The Scythe.
Chapter 47
RIFE WAS PLEASED WITH THE DAY SO FAR.
He’d taken out Randy Miller, nearly killed Malone and Koger, and managed to retrieve everything that Miller had accumulated on the last kingdom. Once Koger called for the meeting, Paul Bryie had learned from Miller about the German station chief’s interest in Bavarian history. Especially the last kingdom. Miller had told Bryie a lot, especially what he’d managed to uncover at the military archives in southern Bavaria among documents that had been there forgotten since the war. Hundreds of thousands of pages of German and American military records. Of little interest now, other than to historians.
Miller had collected a fair amount of material, mainly reports from an OSS team that had been dispatched to Bavaria in 1945 to look into the last kingdom. The Office of Strategic Services was the precursor to the CIA, operating during World War II as America’s primary intelligence agency. It was headed by General William Donovan and mainly coordinated espionage activities behind enemy lines for all branches of the services. At its peak, tens of thousands of people worked for it. Truman dissolved it in 1945, but a lot if its personnel and leaders morphed, two years later, into what became the CIA.
Earlier, he’d sent a team to Miller’s apartment, which removed everything relating to the last kingdom. He’d ditched the helicopter in an open field outside of the city, then he and Terry Knight had headed back to the house south of Munich. His men had delivered what they’d found from Miller’s apartment, reporting that no one had beat them there.
That was good.
As he fully expected Derrick Koger to head straight for it.
“I tried to tell Miller to keep things to himself,” Paul Bryie said, who’d driven south from Munich to join them. “He was hell-bent on telling Koger everything.”
Hence why the big man had to die. “It’s not a problem anymore.”
“You missing Koger and Malone is a problem,” Bryie said.
Like he needed reminding. “I got it. But I’ll deal with them. Right now, we’re at least three steps ahead and, thanks to Miller, I think we can get even further along the road.”
He’d already paged through the old files Miller had removed from the archives. Lots of brittle paper with fading ink. But a few, with varying dates, had been intentionally isolated by Miller into a separate file marked “Important,” each on stationery with the letterhead “Office of Strategic Services. Interoffice Memo. Secret.”
TO: General William Donovan
FROM: Lt. Mike Burke
SUBJECT: Germany/Japan Cooperation