Day of Wrath

Thorn waited another thirty or forty seconds and then did the same thing. He walked right past the young captain without making eye contact and turned the corner.

Their would-be escort never saw them. He was looking for a man and woman traveling together — not apart. More to the point, Thorn realized, the younger man was expecting them to be looking for him just as hard as he’d been searching for them.

Helen joined him right around the corner. “How long have we got?” she asked.

“Unless they’ve bred all initiative out of junior officers, I’d say we’ve got about five minutes before he starts looking for us,” Thorn replied with a wry smile.

Helen started walking even faster.

It took them another few precious moments to sort through the welter of signs for Scandinavian Airlines System once they reached the main terminal and ticketing area. Thorn glanced back the way they’d come.

No sign of pursuit. Not yet, at any rate.

He shook his head. It felt damned strange to be relieved not to see an American army uniform. He didn’t like it. Like Helen, he’d always been secure in his actions — taking risks, but always sure of his course. His years of service with Delta Force had offered him the chance to escape the dull, grinding routine of the peacetime Army, but he’d still had the sense of being part of a larger whole. But now they’d both jumped completely outside the hierarchies that had provided purpose and direction for so much of their adult lives.

They got into line at the S.A.S ticket counter and scanned the monitor showing the airline’s scheduled departures.

Helen nodded toward the flickering display. “There’s a direct flight for Bergen at eight.”

“No good.” Thorn checked his watch. “We’re not going to get away with hanging around here for two hours. If we’re going through with this, we need to put some airspace between ourselves and our Army watchdog back there.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward customs.

“True.” Helen narrowed her eyes. “There, Peter.” She pointed to a string of letters and numbers at the top of the monitor. “There’s a flight to Oslo in half an hour. It’ll be boarding any time now.”

Thorn reached out and gently turned her to face him. She didn’t pull away.

“Look, Helen. This is where it gets real. We can still find that captain and make up some excuse for missing him at customs. We’d be home by tomorrow morning.”

“There’s no time for this, Peter,” she protested softly. “I’ve made up my mind.” Shifting in his grasp slightly, she pulled him toward the counter as the line moved forward.

Office of the Deputy Chief of Mission, U.S. Embassy, Moscow “What?”

Deputy Chief of Mission Randolph Clifford stared at Charlie Spiegel in disbelief.

Spiegel could only restate what he’d already said. “I saw them to the airport. I saw them board the plane.”

“Then why weren’t they on the plane when it landed in Berlin?”

The CIA officer shrugged. “I can’t answer that, sir. If the Army’s telling the truth about having somebody there to meet them, then Colonel Thorn and Special Agent Gray obviously got past him somehow.”

“Why? And where did they go?”

Spiegel grinned. “I understand Bavaria’s nice in the summer.”

Clifford was not amused. “You assume this disappearance was voluntary.

What if they were abducted?”

Spiegel turned serious. “Unlikely, given their background.

You saw my report on Pechenga, sir. If somebody tried to take Helen Gray or Thorn off that plane against their will, believe me, we’d have heard of it by now.”

Clifford nodded stiffly. He rubbed at his temples, evidently fighting the beginning of a world-class headache. “I can’t believe this. A senior Army officer. Hell, and a senior FBI agent! Violating travel orders, vanishing off the face of the earth …” He looked up at Spiegel in disbelief. “Have Thorn and Gray both gone crazy?”

“It doesn’t sound like they’ve got much to lose by going off on their own,” the CIA officer responded. “Have you notified the German authorities?”

“No.” The diplomat rubbed harder at his forehead. “We won’t get any help there. Thorn and Gray haven’t committed any crimes — none that matter to the Germans anyway. The most I could do was get our own embassy and military to agree to report to us if they turned up.” The frustration in Clifford’s voice was clear.

“If I’d been through what they’ve been through, I’d take some time off before going home to face the music,” Spiegel said flatly.

“This may be their way of telling us all to go to hell.”

Clifford reddened. “I suggest you get back to work, Mr. Spiegel.” He nodded toward the door. “Just figure out what Thorn and Gray are doing. And why.”