Page 70 of Tightrope

Luther shrugged. “Officially, Smith didn’t even exist.”

“But you’re sure that there was a Smith?” Amalie pressed.

Luther was amused. “Within the intelligence community there are very few secrets. Smith’s real identity was never revealed but it was impossible to ignore the results of his work. He was a legend but no one knew his name. There were no photographs of him. He might as well have been a ghost. The only thing we can be sure of is that he must be about my age, perhaps a little older.”

“Because he served in the Great War?” Raina said. “Yes, of course, that makes sense.”

“What makes you so sure that Smith is a man?” Amalie asked.

Raina gave her another approving look. “That’s a very good question.”

“I’ve considered the possibility that Smith is a woman,” Luther said. “It’s an interesting idea and I haven’t entirely discounted it. But I think it is reasonable to assume that we’re dealing with a man.”

“It seems to me that a woman could toss a grenade as well as a man,” Amalie asked.

“Luther is convinced that Smith is male because within theintelligence community there is a widespread conviction that women are not suited to the work,” Matthias said.

“I’ve got a name for you,” Raina said. “Mata Hari.”

“An intriguing lady,” Luther admitted. “But a lousy spy and possibly somewhat mad. She was probably set up by the Germans. The French shot her because they needed a scapegoat. As I said, I’m not saying it’s impossible that Smith was female, but odds are we are dealing with a man, one who is holding a very big grudge.”

Raina took a sip of her cocktail and lowered the glass. “He no doubt feels that he risked his life for the agency that recruited him, and in the end he was cast aside like so much useless trash.”

Luther shrugged. “He’s right.”

“Hold on here,” Amalie said. “How do you know anything at all about Smith’s motives? Matthias said that the only man who knew his identity was his superior, and that man is dead.”

“Brackens was shot at his desk,” Luther said. “The authorities called it a heart attack.”

“Of course,” Raina said dryly.

“That was the official story, but no one in the intelligence world believed it,” Luther said. “My department was called in to investigate. There is no doubt in my mind but that Smith murdered his spymaster.”

“Your department investigated?” Amalie asked. “Would that be Failure Analysis?”

“No,” Luther said. “I founded Failure Analysis a few years ago. But during the war and for a few years afterward I worked for and eventually became the director of a small government intelligence agency known as the Accounting Department. We conducted internal investigations for other spy agencies. When you’ve got a problem within a clandestine agency, you can’t just pick up the phone and call the police or even the FBI. A proper investigation would run the risk of revealing too many secrets. The Accounting Department was established to handle those sorts of sensitive investigations.”

“What made you so sure that Smith murdered his superior?” Amalie asked.

“Aside from the body, you mean?” Luther gave her a sharklike smile. “The first clue was that a lot of top secret files disappeared on the night Brackens was shot. I’m very sure that Smith took them and used the information to establish himself in his new career.”

“I see,” Amalie said.

“Not long after Brackens’s death, the Accounting Department picked up the first hints of a dealer who specialized in the buying and selling of weapons and ammunition,” Luther said. “The operation had Smith’s fingerprints all over it. The department chased him for a few years but he was like smoke. He disappeared just as we got close. Still, I think we would have nailed him if we’d had a little more time.”

“Why did you run out of time?” Amalie asked.

“My entire team and I were replaced.”

Raina gave him a considering look. “They fired you? Just like Smith?”

“And like a lot of other people,” Luther said. He swallowed some of his martini and lowered the glass. “I did not, however, murder my superior on the way out the door.”

Matthias smiled. “Instead, you founded Failure Analysis, Incorporated. These days you force the government to pay your outrageous fees whenever they want your services.”

Amalie looked at Luther. “What about the mob connections?”

Luther’s eyes gleamed with dark humor. “Those connections provide me and my firm with an excellent cover, Miss Vaughn.”

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