“What’s wrong?” Summer said. “You don’t think it’s there?”
“I don’t know if it is or it isn’t. But I do know that Rudi’s never going to trust us with a travel budget ever again.”
Five hundred meters across the sea, a Russian communications specialist aboard the spy ship stopped recording the satellite call as the connection went dead.
Within the hour, Mansfield had listened to the conversation several times. He had to admit that the spy ship had finally proved its worth. Using a secure satellite line, he called Martina, who was still in Cagliari.
“Success?” she asked.
“No. We’ll be back in port tomorrow. I need you to get us on a flight to Gibraltar as soon as possible.”
“It will be done,” she said in her usual efficient manner. “Is the gold there?”
“It can be nowhere else.”
72
The raid on Hendriks’s Bermuda estate went nothing like the assault on Mankedo’s salvage yard. Ana made sure of it.
A dozen Bermuda police officers covered the main entrance while a second SWAT team of equal size approached from the beachfront. Though Ana initially had doubts about the Bermudans’ experience and training, she was soon impressed by their zeal and planning. As a British Overseas Territory, Bermuda officially recognized Europol, and the local law enforcement authorities had provided all due cooperation.
Surveillance of the property during the prior twenty-four hours had revealed no activity other than the comings and goings of the gardeners. Hendriks’s private jet had been seen at the airport recently but vanished about the time the surveillance began, which made Ana wonder if he had been tipped off by a local. No matter now, she thought. A 1950s-era atomic bomb wouldn’t likely fit on a private jet.
At six a.m. sharp, she led a Bermuda police lieutenant to a pedestrian door along the residence’s closed gated drive. Ignoring the video cameras that sprouted from the top of the walls like kudzu, the lieutenant wedged a crowbar beneath the latch and pried open the door. He radioed the beach team, then signaled to his surrounding force to proceed.
Ana was already through the door when the lieutenant followed with his armed men. They fanned out along the drive and jogged to the imposing residence. Ana and the lieutenant approached the front door with half the men and tried the handle. It was unlocked. Ana and the men readied their weapons, then burst in.
From the kitchen, a dark-skinned woman in a tattered robe screamed at the sudden intrusion of armed men. She raised her arms to the sky and rocked back on her heels as Ana and the lieutenant approached.
“Where’s Hendriks?” the policeman asked.
“Mr. Hendriks not here,” she said. “He leave two days ago. No one here but me.” Like many Bermudans, she spoke with a slight Caribbean accent.
“What’s your name?” Ana asked.
“I am Rose, Mr. Hendriks’s housekeeper. Mr. Hendriks not here.”
Two armed policemen, who had approached from the beach, appeared from the rear of the house. “All clear in back,” one said.
The lieutenant nodded. “All right. Help search the house.”
As the men left, Ana pulled the housekeeper aside. “Rose, can you tell me who was here with Mr. Hendriks?”
“Some employees from his company. Two older men were here also. Doctors, I think. They all stayed in the guest quarters.”
“Medical doctors?”
Rose shrugged. “I heard Mr. Hendriks address just one as ‘Doctor.’”
“What were they doing here?”
“They worked in the garage laboratory. All secret. I’m not allowed to go in there.”
“The building at the side of the residence?” Ana asked.
Rose nodded.
“How long where they there?”