Day of Wrath

And the authorities here do tend to frown on outsiders waylaying their policemen in dark alleys.” He glanced at Thorn again.

“I assume it was necessary?”

Thorn shook his head grimly. “Not as it turned out.” He frowned. “We were suckered in.”

The ex-S.A.S officer nodded. “So General Farrell indicated.”

He shrugged. “At any rate, as the poet said, these things ‘gang aft a-gley.” Who knows, you may even have done those policemen a bit of a favor. Their broken heads will mend. And perhaps the next time they won’t traipse so blithely into an ambush.”

Helen forced a pained-sounding laugh. “Seems like a tough way to learn a lesson, Mr. Griffin.”

For just an instant, the ex-S.A.S officer let the mask of the civilized businessman fall away — revealing the hardened warrior beneath.

“Bruises are often the only way to teach such lessons, Miss Gray. And action-even hasty action — is always preferable to vacillation and delay. But I suspect you and Colonel Thorn already understand that.

Which is why you are still alive — and so many of your enemies are not.”

Thorn sat in silence for the rest of the short trip to Griffin’s flat — mulling that over. The retired British soldier was right about the need for rapid, decisive action. But until Sam Farrell could find a way to get them out of Europe, he and Helen would be forced to play a waiting game.

Washington, D.C. Lawrence Mcdowell sat in a chair facing FBI Director David Leiter’s desk, watching his superior discreetly as the other man skimmed through his hastily prepared report on last night’s fiasco in Berlin. You’re in a strong position, he told himself nervously, just stick to your story. Thorn and Gray aren’t here to contradict you — so stay cool.

After an agonizingly long minute, Leiter raised his eyes from the report. He scowled. “Damn it. This situation is completely out of control, Mcdowell. What the hell were you thinking about?”

Mcdowell decided to play dumb. “Sir? I’m not sure I understand you completely.”

“You violated my orders, damn it!” the FBI Director growled.

“I told you specifically that I didn’t want Special Agent Gray or Colonel Thorn arrested!”

“You told me not to have our people arrest them,” Mcdowell fudged. He licked his lips. “The German police took matters into their own hands.”

“Cut the crap!” the other man snapped. “You set this whole thing in motion.”

Mcdowell spread his hands. “To be honest, sir, I really don’t see that I had any other choice — not after Agent Gray briefed me on their illegal actions in Wilhelmshaven. The German authorities already had good descriptions of them.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “I’m sure you wouldn’t have wanted me to condone possible manslaughter and flight to avoid prosecution.”

Leiter pursed his lips. “That’s how it’s stacking up?”

“The situation is … ambiguous,” Mcdowell suggested artfully.

“Certainly, Thorn and Gray’s overreaction last night suggests either guilt — or complete paranoia. Both the German policemen they attacked are in the hospital suffering concussion.

And one of them has a broken jaw.”

The FBI Director frowned. “You should still have cleared this with me, Mcdowell. Damn it, you’ve completely overstepped your authority here.”

“Under the circumstances, sir, I thought it best to handle this matter at a lower echelon,” Mcdowell replied. “Given the current climate in Congress, it seemed unwise to give your critics any more ammunition.

This way whatever happens to Special Agent Gray is my responsibility — and not yours.”

That should hit a nerve, he thought.

Fed up with a succession of FBI blunders, overreaching, and unproven allegations of corruption in some of the Bureau’s administrative sections, several congressional committees were conducting in-depth probes of the organization. In fact, the Director had spent most of the previous day testifying under oath — and in front of television cameras — about several of those incidents. Having a senior field agent on the run from German law enforcement agencies would be the icing on the cake for the Bureau’s hungry congressional watchdogs.

For a terrifying second, though, he was afraid he’d pushed the wrong buttons. Leiter’s face reddened dangerously.

Mcdowell decided to play his last card. “If you wish, sir, I’ll be happy to submit my resignation over this whole affair …” He let his voice trail off, leaving the rest of his intentions plain, but unspoken: If you don’t back me up, I’ll go running to those same congressional committees — and I’ll tell them the Director of the FBI was willing to turn a blind eye to potential felonies committed by one of his agents while overseas. Given all the toadying he’d done to ingratiate himself with the ranking members in both political parties over the years, Mcdowell was confident they’d listen to him.

He watched the Director’s anger fade into resignation and breathed an inward sigh of relief. The other man must have made the same calculations and come to the same conclusion.

“All right, Assistant Director Mcdowell,” Leiter said slowly.