The trunk of the consulate car opened. Not far.
But enough.
Oh, crap.
Kelly was making a move.
He pressed the accelerator and spun the steering wheel, powering around the car in front in the opposite lane. Thankfully, no vehicles were coming his way. But the van had little get-up-and-go, the engine dragging. The gap between the car in front of him and the BMW was not much. He’d need more room to get over and he’d surely announced his presence now to the BMW’s driver.
He edged the van back into the right lane, forcing the car behind the BMW to brake. Its driver laid on the horn, which he ignored. He was now right behind the BMW with a clear view of the trunk. More important, Kelly would have a clear view of him. The trunk was still partially open and he caught a glimpse of her concerned face. Their gazes met and he shook his head, gesturing with one hand for her to keep the lid down.
She nodded her understanding.
His front bumper was only a yard or so from the BMW and they were moving at a steady clip down the rural road. Nothing defensive, as yet, from the other driver, so he decided to go on the offensive. He yanked the wheel again hard left and floored the accelerator, speeding past the BMW, then easing his way back over in front of the consulate car. Ahead he spotted an intersection with a traffic signal.
Opportunity?
Maybe.
The light was green, so he slowed to allow time for the signal to change to yellow.
The cars ahead of him reacted.
Two rushed through the intersection, then the rest congealed, stopping in a line.
He brought the van to a halt and watched in the rearview mirror as the BMW did the same. He slammed the transmission into reverse and sent his rear bumper into the BMW behind him, which lurched from the impact, surely startling everyone inside. Then he stuck his head out the open window and yelled.
“Now, Kelly. Fast.”
CASSIOPEIA CROUCHED DOWN, OUT OF SIGHT, BELOW THE MAIN DECKwhere Koger stood at the helm of Citrone’s boat. She’d been right. It came with twin diesel inboards, plenty of power to overcome the other boat, which had a solid five-minute lead. Her idea had been for them to use the horsepower advantage, and the expanse of Lake Geneva, to their benefit.
They’d found the key in the kitchen, exactly where Koger had said it would be hanging. He explained that he’d been out on the lake a few times with Citrone. They both loved to fish, and who didn’t enjoy a thirty-foot cabin cruiser with all the amenities? Citrone employed a staff of five, including a boat operator, who’d been nowhere to be seen in the house.
“He liked to show that map off,” Koger said from where he stood behind the helm. “Like I was harmless or somethin’. It really irritated me.”
“Or maybe the map is useless.”
“Yeah, I considered that too. But it has to be deciphered, and he always said only the Japanese had a way to do that.”
Koger swung to port and she felt the bow press into the swells.
“Tokyo has been obsessed with Yamashita’s gold since the 1950s. They tried repeatedly with the Eisenhower administration to learn more about what we’d done after the war. But Allen Dulles stonewalled them.”
Koger shoved the throttle forward. Propellers bit the water and the stern dug in, spray flying up. The air was chilly and she assumed the water would be even colder.
“Dulles was an asshole,” Koger said. “His philosophy with running the CIA was to make it a private army. Political meddling, coups, wars, even assassinations. Everything and anything was in his playbook, and he financed most of it through the Black Eagle Trust.”
She’d read some on the Cold War and knew that, in its early days, the CIA struggled for an identity.
“If Dulles had been good at any of that, things might have been different,” Koger said. “But he was terrible at the job. He overthrew the duly elected prime minister of Iran and replaced him with the shah. Twenty-five years later that came back to bite us. He led a coup in Guatemala and that country has never been a friend of ours since. Then there was the Bay of Pigs. A total fiasco. Everything about that was wrong from the start, but Dulles plowed ahead. Kennedy fired him shortly after.”
“And the Black Eagle Trust?”
“It just kept chuggin’ along. All under the supervision of the Bank of St. George. Eventually, Rob Citrone became the agency’s rep to the bank. He served in that capacity for nearly twenty-five years.”
Which now explained Koger’s initial description of Citrone.A man who knows an awful lot about stolen gold.Bet he does.
“You don’t find it strange he showed you the mapandits hiding place?” she asked.