〃Would you like a hand with the tests？〃
〃Appreciate the thought； but no thanks。〃 Reed took back the log。 〃Well； I'd better go open up the Factory。〃
The Factory was the crew's nickname for the Spacelab。
On the monitor； Megan watched Reed maneuver his way to the mid…deck； then float into the tunnel that connected to the Spacelab。 It never failed to amaze her that only the curved walls of the tunnel and its outer skin separated Reed from the frozen waste of space。
Megan turned to Bill Karol。 〃Who sent that transmission？〃
Karol checked his screen。 〃There's no name attached； just a number。〃
Steadying herself； Megan read over his shoulder。 The six…digit number was familiar but she couldn't grasp why。
〃Someone was in a hurry；〃 Stone； the pilot； said laconically。 〃Probably a last…minute snafu in the ground lab。〃
〃But you said this didn't e through mission control；〃 Megan said。
〃What I meant was that there wasn't any of the usual chatter。 But hell； Megan； who else could have sent it？〃
As the two men returned to their duties； Megan backed away。 Something was not right。 A moment ago she'd remembered where she'd seen that number before。 It was Dylan Reed's NASA ID。 How could he possibly have sent a message to himself？
As soon as Dylan Reed entered the Spacelab； he overrode the circuits that controlled the cameras' recording activity at the Biorack。 Pulling back the Velcro strap on one of his pants pockets； he removed the stubby； titanium cylinder that Bauer had given him less than twenty…four hours ago。 Although the tube had been carefully sealed； Reed understood that he was dealing with a 〃hot〃 product that had been left unrefrigerated for too long。 He opened the freezer and slipped the tube next to the maise cells and nematode worm specimens； then reset the cameras。
Relieved that the variola was secure； Reed began to prepare the Biorack for the procedures he would carry out。 At the same time； he tried to fathom what had happened back on earth to cause Bauer to move up the schedule so dramatically。 The last he'd heard； Beria had been set in motion to remove Smith。 Since Bauer had been able to transmit his message； and there had been no emergency relays from ground control indicating any unusual developments； the logical conclusion was that Beria had run into a problem… serious enough for Bauer to act。
Reed knew that Bauer would not contact him again unless it was absolutely necessary。 The pilot and the flight mander would not be suspicious about one message lacking the usual NASA doublespeak； a second would be challenged and investigated。 Since at the moment Reed had no way of contacting Bauer； he had to rely on blind faith and finish the work the old Swiss had begun。
Reed would have preferred to be rested for his task。 As it was； he would have to ignore the liftoff fatigue and pace himself for the grueling session ahead。 As he slipped his feet into the restraints embedded in the floor in front of the Biorack； he estimated the amount of time the job would take。 If his calculations were right； the rest of the crew would be having their dinner just as he was finishing up。 They would all be in one place； just as he wanted。
Nathaniel Klein's eyes were as hard and flat as river rock。 Sitting in Rosebud's living room； he listened without ment as Smith presented his account of how Beria had been taken and the details of the subsequent interrogation。
〃A known killer is connected to a Swiss bank and one of its principal officers；〃 he murmured。
Smith indicated the cassette on the coffee table。 〃Beria gave up a lot more than that。 Some of the top people in Russia and Eastern Europe have had him on their payrolls。 Events that seemed to make no sense to us can all be traced back to assassinations and blackmail that Beria was a party to。〃
Klein grunted。 〃Fine。 We have a lot of dirt and one day it might be useful。 But there won't be a 'one day' unless we find the smallpox！ Where are Beria and Kirov right now？〃
〃At a secure location。 Beria's heavily sedated。 Kirov's watching him。 The general forwarded a request： he'd like to bring Beria back to Moscow… quietly… as soon as possible。〃
〃We can certainly arrange that… as long as you're sure he has nothing left to tell us。〃
〃I'm sure； sir。〃
〃In that case； I'll arrange transport at Andrews。〃
Klein rose and paced in front of the picture window。 〃Unfortunately； taking Beria didn't solve our problem。 You know how notorious the Swiss are about keeping their financial dealings secret。 The president might be able to get them to open up the Offenbach Bank without disclosing why we need their cooperation； but it's a long shot。〃
〃This can't be a government…to…government operation； sir；〃 Smith said quietly。 〃We don't have the time； and like you； I suspect that the Swiss would stonewall us。〃 He paused。 〃But Herr Weizsel might be more forthing。 I have Peter Howell standing by in Venice。〃
Klein glanced at Smith and understood what it was he was really talking about。 He took a moment to weigh the risks。
〃All right；〃 he said at last。 〃But make sure that he understands there can't be any exposure or ebacks。〃
Smith went into the small room that had bee Klein's nerve center at Camp David and made the call。
〃Peter； Zurich is a go。〃
〃I thought it might be；〃 the Englishman replied。 〃I'm booked on the early evening flight。〃
〃Peter； I got to Beria。 He gave up Weizsel but that's it。 I need to know the name of the paymaster。〃
〃If Weizsel knows； so will you。 I'll talk to you from Zurich； Jon。〃
〃Good。 Now； do you happen to have a tape recorder handy？ I have something that might be useful。。。。〃
Smith walked back into the living room and told Klein that Peter Howell was on his way to Switzerland。 〃Has there been any word on the Lincoln； sir？〃
Klein shook his head。 〃As soon as you called to say that you had Beria； I reached out to a contact in the D。C。 metropolitan police force。 He put the car on the hot sheets； making it look like it had been involved in a legitimate hit…and…run。 Nothing so far。 And nothing on the driver either。〃 He paused。 〃At first I thought that there was a logical explanation for the NASA sticker on the car。 Now。。。〃
〃Treloar was NASA；〃 Smith said。 〃Why wouldn't he have had a car waiting to pick him up at Dulles？ He wasn't expecting to be followed or chased。〃
〃But then that same vehicle trailed you； didn't it？〃 He looked at Smith carefully。 〃And something else that's connected to NASA。 Dr。 Dylan Reed had a late…night visit from an individual we haven't been able to identify。〃
Smith glanced at Mein sharply。 He knew that Klein lived in a world where secrets were shared only when absolutely necessary。 Now the head of Covert…One was admitting that he had a source right in the heart of NASA。
〃Megan Olson；〃 Smith said。 〃At this point； with the launch so close； it can't be anyone else。 You should have told me； sir。〃
〃There was no need for you to know about Megan；〃 Klein replied。 〃By the same token； she doesn't know about you。〃
〃Why tell me now？〃
〃Because we still don't have any lead on the smallpox。 You'll recall that I believed it was in the D。C。 area because that's where Treloar flew in。〃
〃Right。 From London； he could have gone anywhere。〃
〃Now I'm thinking that perhaps there's a connection between Treloar and Reed。〃
〃Is that why Megan is down there； to watch Reed？〃 Smith demanded。
〃Why don't you tell me if there's anything you know about Reed that might indicate he could be involved in something like this。〃
Smith shook his head。 〃I don't know Reed all that well。 But his reputation at USAMRIID was sterling。 Do you want me to go back and see what I can find？〃
〃No time；〃 Klein replied。 〃I need you for something else。 If we don't solve this mystery； there'll be plenty of time to investigate Reed when the shuttle es home。〃
Klein picked up two dossiers。 〃These are the files on the two soldiers Howell encountered at Palermo。〃
〃They look pretty thin； sir；〃 Smith observed。
〃Don't they？ The records have been sanitized。 Dates； locations； assignments； chain of mand… a lot unaccounted for。 And the phone number Nichols gave up doesn't exist。〃
〃Sir？〃
〃Not officially。 Jon； I haven't done more because I don't know what we're dealing with here。 But we must find out where this military thread leads。 I want you to do exactly what you did in Houston： touch the web and see what kind of spider crawls out。〃
Three hours after leaving Venice； Peter Howell checked into Zurich's Dolder Grand Hotel。
〃Do you have any messages for me？〃 he asked the front desk clerk。
Howell was handed a thick vellum envelope。 Opening it； he found a single sheet of scented notepaper with an address written on it。 Although the message was unsigned； Howell knew its author… an octogenarian grande dame who had been involved in espionage ever since World War II。
How on earth can Weizsel afford to dine at Swan's Way on a banker's salary？ Howell wondered； and thought it might be a good idea to find out。
After changing into a business suit； Howell took a taxi into the heart of the city's financial district。 By now it was eight o'clock and the area was deserted except for several brightly lighted storefronts。 One of