The Garden of Betrayal - Lee Vance [117]
“No,” Shimon said eventually, waving Ari’s gun away. “I accept Mark’s proposal. This is a complicated situation, and we’re more likely to get to the bottom of it if we pool our knowledge.” He reached out to pat my knee again. “I don’t believe Mark would betray us. Rashid trusted him. And after all, he knows what kind of people we are.”
It felt like the umpteenth time I’d explained it all, the only advantage being that I had enough of a handle on the various threads at this point to be concise. I separated my narrative into twinned tales: Petronuevo, Munoz, and Kyle on the one hand, and the Saudi data and Rashid on the other. Neither Shimon nor Ari took notes, so I assumed I was being recorded.
“There are two links between what happened seven years ago and what’s happening now: First, Theresa Roxas. She was Munoz’s girlfriend, and she was the one who gave me the Saudi information. Second, Smith. He instructed Mohler to set up Petronuevo, and he was at the hotel when Rashid was killed. We figure out who either of them are working for, and we know who’s behind this whole thing.”
Shimon swung gently from side to side in his chair, looking preoccupied. The truck had parked, which was good, because the movement in the windowless space had been making me seasick.
“And the motive for Rashid’s murder?”
“Maybe he knew something about the Petronuevo transaction, or maybe he was going to tell me something about the Saudi data.”
Shimon scratched his head and sighed.
“Or both. Petronuevo isn’t a name I recognize, but Rashid might well have known more. I can tell you that he thought the Saudi data was a clever fake, stitched together from pieces of genuine information. Our own best estimate is that the fields have another fifteen to twenty-five years before they begin to run down, dependent on the economic climate.”
“Which still doesn’t leave much time for a transition,” I said.
“We’ve shared our conclusions,” he said, voice tinged with frustration. “With your government, and with others. Regretfully, we weren’t believed, because we couldn’t reveal our source. People suspect our motives—everyone knows we want more American involvement in the region.”
I understood the problem. It was a difficult situation with potentially dramatic consequences for the global economy, but I didn’t have time to give it any more thought just then.
“I’ve lived up to my half of our bargain. Now tell me why you were following Mohler.”
Shimon’s eyes narrowed as he switched on the menace again.
“I feel compelled to warn you—”
“That if I open my mouth about anything you tell me, you’re going to shut it for me. I get it.”
“As long as we’re clear,” he said, permitting himself a grim smile. “The organization I work for has close ties to a similar organization in Germany. A few days ago, a colleague of mine received a visit from one of our German friends, a man I’ll call Hans. Hans told us that his people had recently captured an ex-Stasi hoodlum wanted for murder. The Stasi prisoner suggested a deal—his freedom in exchange for information about the people who actually perpetrated the Nord Stream attack.”
“Not the Ukrainians?” I asked, too drained of adrenaline to feel much shock.
“No. A team of former East German Special Operations soldiers, current whereabouts unknown. The Stasi prisoner had purchased supplies for them—surface-to-air missiles from Pakistan. Our German friends were able to verify the purchase of the missiles and to trace the money back to its point of origin.”
“Let me guess,” I said, sensing another piece of the puzzle about to fall into place. “The trail led back to Ganesa, and to Karl Mohler.”
“Right. We’d only just put him under observation.”
I closed my eyes for a second, visualizing the note cards Kate had taped to the wall of our hotel room and feeling a surge of cold satisfaction. I’d been right to suspect that everything was linked—Ganesa to Nord Stream