“Again, there’s no way he’s going to buy that.”
“Actually, he will. Last evening we leaked through secured channels that your job is on the line.”
She was civil service, not a political appointee, and worked for the attorney general. Once Daniels’ term ended and a new AG was appointed by the next president, though she would not be fired, she could be reassigned. So far, she’d survived several changes in administrations and had many times wondered when her luck would run out.
“And why is my job in jeopardy?”
“You’ve been stealing.”
Had she heard right?
“From your discretionary account, the money used for your covert operations. I’m told, on any given day, there’s several million dollars at your personal disposal, not subject to any regular GAO audit. Unfortunately, information has come to us that that around $500,000 is unaccounted for.”
“And how did this information come your way?”
“That would be classified,” Daniels said. “But you’re going to tell Rowan that you have a problem, one his subpoena may draw attention to. Ask him what you can do to make it go away.”
“Why would he believe me?”
“Because you actually have been stealing, and I have the records to prove it.”
THIRTY-TWO
SALZBURG
SALAZAR WAS READY.
He told himself to calm down, be patient.
“Our next item,” the auctioneer said, “is an original Book of Mormon, bearing the Palmyra, New York, identification and the statement, printed by E. B. Grandin, for the author, 1830. Its provenance is detailed in the catalog, verified by experts. A rare find.”
Fair market value was 150,000 euros, give or take a few thousand. He doubted anyone here possessed the resources to outbid him as, so far, items had sold for only modest amounts. But he’d learned not to underestimate the zeal of collectors.
“The opening bid is one hundred thousand euros,” the auctioneer said. “We will work off increments of one thousand euros.”
That was common for a Dorotheum sale. The house generally started things rolling. If no one bid that amount, the item was returned to its owner. If no house floor was proffered, that meant the highest bid won, no matter what that might be.
He flicked his right hand, signaling that he opened with one hundred thousand. He’d already informed the auctioneer that he would be bidding on this item.
“We have one hundred thousand.”
“One hundred twenty thousand,” a man said from across the aisle.
“One fifty,” Salazar stated.
“The bid is 150,000 euros. Is there more?”
No one replied. He was pleased.
“One hundred sixty,” a new voice said.
He turned and saw Cotton Malone standing at the rear of the hall.
“It’s the man from earlier,” Cassiopeia said.
“That it is,” he whispered.
Malone stepped toward the chairs and sat in an empty one.
“We have a bid of 160,000 euros,” the auctioneer announced.
“One hundred seventy,” Salazar said.
“Two hundred thousand,” Malone called out.
The auctioneer seemed surprised.
So was Salazar. “I request to know if the gentleman is certified.”
That was allowed, particularly when bids exceeded market value. Otherwise, owners and speculators could run up the price through nonsensical amounts that they were not prepared to honor.
“Herr Salazar wishes to know your credentials,” the auctioneer asked.
MALONE STOOD FROM HIS CHAIR. HE’D ATTENDED ENOUGH auctions to know this might happen, which was why he’d removed from the knapsack beneath his bed back in Copenhagen his Justice Department credentials, which Stephanie had allowed him to keep. Rarely in his former occupation had he ever carried them. He fished the leather wallet from his pocket and flashed the gold badge and photo identification to the auctioneer.
“Cotton Malone. United States Justice Department. Good enough?”
The auctioneer never flinched. “So long as you can honor your bid.”
“I assure you I can.”
“Then, let us proceed. The bid is two hundred thousand euros. Herr Salazar?”
“Two fifty.”
CASSIOPEIA GRABBED SALAZAR’S ARM AND WHISPERED, “YOU told me the value of this book, which is far less than you just bid.”
“Things have changed.”
“Three hundred thousand,” Cotton said.
SALAZAR TURNED AND FACED HIS ADVERSARY. TRUE, HE’D wanted the Americans to come, even hoped that Malone himself would appear. But he’d not expected this type of challenge.
“Four hundred thousand,” he said, his eyes on his opponent.
“Four hundred fifty,” Malone quickly replied.