The Death Trust (49 page)
That explained why Gruyere had treated Scott’s fatal glider crash as a homicide from the first. She already had suspicions planted by the victim himself. It also resolved for me where Abraham Scott had gone after his trip to Iraq and before he went to Riga. He’d looked up an old flame, to see if she could apply some heat to get some answers. “Was Cutter a member of The Establishment?” I asked.
“I won’t comment on whether the Vice President was or wasn’t a member of any hypothetical group or organization of that name. I will say, though, that Jefferson Cutter had spent a lot of time in the former Soviet Union. He believed a strong and stable Russia was in America’s best interests. Let’s just say he was out of step.”
Exhaustion was beginning to creep over me. I wanted to retreat to the warmth of a morphine-induced slumber. I also wanted to get out of bed and give the general officer a good shake. She’d been manipulating me from the get-go. My eyelids had become as heavy as sheet lead. After a few minutes of lucidity, it was getting difficult to concentrate. Had I dreamed all this? No, there was one inescapable fact: Anna Masters was dead. That reminded me. I said, “Why was Anna in von Koeppen’s vehicle?”
Gruyere almost smiled, damn her. “From her notes, I gather she intended to question the general about the missing CAC cards. Perhaps Anna caught him leaving to go somewhere—her Mercedes was parked outside the Ramstein administration block—and so, to save time, she chose to go with him.”
I closed my eyes. So Anna had figured it out, tied the CAC cards to von Koeppen. “Has she been buried yet, ma’am? If not, I’d like to go to the funeral.”
“No, you can’t, I’m afraid.”
Of course. Anna had been dead almost a week. She’d have been laid to rest by now and—
“Anna’s not dead, Vin.”
It took several heartbeats for my brain to register what Gruyere had just told me. Not dead? The room was silent except for the
beep, beep, beep
of the machine, which was suddenly racing. “But th—”
“Special Agent Masters was pretty banged up after the crash. When I heard what had happened, I flew straight to Ramstein to get her out of there safely. Her death was announced to remove her from the attention of people who may have wanted to do her an injury. I had her repatriated immediately to the safety of this facility.”
“She’s…here?”
General Gruyere pulled back the curtain separating my bed from the one beside it. “It looks worse than it is. Anna’s out of immediate danger now. The doctors had her in an induced coma for several days. She’s sleeping. Her injuries are extensive: punctured lung, fractured skull, broken ribs, and she has lost a toe. But Masters is fit and strong. The doctors expect her to make a full recovery.”
That shake I wanted to give Gruyere? I could now happily exchange it for a hug. Like me, the person in the next bed was full of tubes. I couldn’t recognize her—her head was heavily bandaged and what I could see of her face was badly bruised. Anna? A wave of relief crashed over me. No, not relief. Joy. Anna? Alive?
“I’ll be leaving now, Vin. I doubt that our paths will cross again. I have to say that it has been interesting working with you. There’s a handpicked security detail on this room. I don’t think you’ll need them but their presence might make you feel more…comfortable. Get some rest and get well—both of you.”
Gruyere turned to leave and then stopped. “Oh, and this came for you today.” She removed a card from her breast pocket and put it in my fingers. It was a postcard. It showed a picture of the Sydney Opera House. A couple of giant-sized, tanned, naked girls rode on the building’s sails. A speech bubble coming from one of the women announced suggestively,
We love it down under!
There had to be a mistake here. I didn’t know anyone in Sydney, Australia. I turned the card over and read the scrawl. It said,
“Please take care of my cat”
and was signed
“V.”
Acknowledgments
I’d like to recognize and thank a few people without whose help and/or expertise this story would have died.
Lieutenant Colonel Keith, not his real name, is currently serving with the U.S. Army somewhere in Asia. He has also served in the army’s CID, its criminal investigation division. I pestered LTC Keith for clarification on a range of issues and details on a daily basis for over a year.
Second on the list is Major Woody, also not his real name, USAF (retired). The major flew F-16s out of Ramstein, one of the key settings in the novel, and made sure the narrative pertaining to the base wasn’t wildly off-course.
Allan has a couple of important contracts with the U.S. Department of Defense, which is why you’re not getting his full name. Allan read drafts and pointed me in a few interesting directions.
About the Author
DAVID ROLLINS is a former advertising creative director who lives in Sydney, Australia. He is the author of
The Death Trust
and
Knife Edge,
both international bestsellers. Bantam Books will publish
Knife Edge
in 2008. Visit his website at
www.davidarollins.net
.
THE DEATH TRUST
A Bantam Book / October 2007
Published by
Bantam Dell
A Division of Random House, Inc.
New York, New York
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2005 by David Rollins
Bantam Books is a registered trademark of Random House, Inc., and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Rollins, David
The death trust / David Rollins.
p. cm.
eISBN: 978-0-553-90421-5
1. United States. Air Force. Office of Special Investigations—Fiction. 2. Government investigators—Fiction. 3. Generals—Crimes against—Fiction. 4. Germany—Fiction. I. Title.
PR9619.4.R66D43 2007
823'.92—dc22
2007010271
v1.0