Sandecker had been sitting back in his chair, fingers tented in front of him, listening to the conversational byplay. He snapped upright.
“These hoodlums are the small fry. We must go right to the top. We must find this woman with the Wagnerian name who runs Gogstad.”
“She’s a ghost,” Austin said. “Nobody even knows where she lives.”
“She and Gogstad are the key,” Sandecker said firmly. “Do we know where their headquarters are?”
“They have offices in New York, Washington, and the West Coast. There must be a dozen scattered across Europe and Asia.”
“Quite the hydra,” Sandecker said.
“Even if we knew where their central office was, it wouldn’t do much good. To outward appearances, Gogstad is a legitimate business. They’ll deny any accusations we make.”
Hiram Yaeger slipped quietly into the room and settled into a chair. “Sorry,” he said. “I had to run some stuff off for the meeting.” He looked expectantly at Austin, who took the cue.
“I was thinking about something Hiram showed me earlier. It was a hologram of a Viking ship. The same ship is the centerpiece of the Gogstad corporate logo. I reasoned that this ship must have some significance to be given such a prominent place. I asked Hiram to start playing around with Gogstad, to go beyond the scant corporate stuff Max dug up for us.”
Yaeger nodded. “At Kurt’s suggestion I asked Max to go back and brush over the historical and maritime links I had pretty much ignored before. Tons of material on the subject exist, as you might imagine. Kurt had said to look for a California connection, perhaps with the Mulholland Group. Max picked up an interesting newspaper story. A Norwegian designer of antique ships had come to California to do a replica of the Gogstad ship for a wealthy client.”
“Who was the client?” Austin asked.
“The article didn’t say. But it was easy to track down the Norwegian designer. I called him a few minutes ago and asked about the job. He had been sworn to secrecy, but it was years ago, and he didn’t mind saying he built the replica for a big woman in a big house.”
“Big woman?”
“He meant tall. A giantess.”
“Sounds like a Scandinavian folktale. What’s this about the house?”
“He said it was like a modern-day Viking compound on the shores of a large lake in California surrounded by mountains.”
“Tahoe?”
“That was my conclusion.”
“A big Viking house on the shores of Lake Tahoe. Shouldn’t be too hard to find.”
“Already done. Max linked up to a commercial satellite.” Yaeger passed around copies of the satellite photos. “There are some big places around the lake, trophy homes, resorts and hotels. But nothing like this.”
The first picture showed the icy blue waters of Lake Tahoe viewed from a high altitude as if it were a puddle. In another photo the camera had zoomed down on a dot alongside the lake, enlarging the details so that the sprawling building and the nearby helicopter pad were clear.
“Does this hovel have an owner?” Austin said.
“I was able to tap into the local assessor’s office and tax database.” Yaeger grinned. If he had a tail he’d be wagging it. “It’s owned by a realty trust.”
“That doesn’t give us much to go on.”
“How about this, then? The trust is part of the Gogstad Corporation.”
Sandecker looked up from the photos. He had kept his famous temper in control throughout the meeting, but he was furious at the kidnapping of one of his favored staffers and the wounding of another. He was enraged, too, after all she had suffered, at the abduction of the lovely Dr. Cabral. Once again a discovery with lifesaving implications was being kept from the world.
“Thank you, Hiram.” He glanced around the table with cold, commanding blue eyes. “Well, gentlemen,” he said with a voice as sharp-edged as a razor. “We know what we have to do.”
34
THE MEN WATCHING Francesca were either twins or some mad cloning experiment gone bad. The most terrifying thing was not their repulsiveness. It was their absolute silence. They sat a few yards away, one on either side, leaning on the backs of chairs that had been turned around. They were identical in every way, from their troll-like ugliness to their preference for black leather.
She tried not to look at the dark, red-rimmed eyes under beetling brows, the metallic dental work, and the bloodless pallor of the psychopathic faces. They were looking at her hungril