The Reykjavik Assignment (Yael Azoulay #3)(111)

“Which was Efrat Global Solutions?”

“Exactly.”

“So Efrat, which had its long and bloody fingers in almost every war zone in the world, was really a force for good, working behind the scenes to save lives.”

Stein smiled. “Yes.”

“Mom tried to tell me the same thing, when I saw her in New York. Do you really expect me to believe that?”

“It’s a lot to process, I understand.”

Yael did not answer, swam out into the lake. Stein remained at the side. The water was very buoyant and she floated on her back for a while, staring at the sky, picking out the constellations, listening to the seabirds squawk. A torrent of questions tumbled through her mind. She sorted them into a list.

Her father was leaning against the wooden jetty, his body floating in the water, watching her as she swam back.

Yael positioned herself a couple of yards away and began to speak.

“Kosovo in 1998. You supplied military advisers and intelligence to the Serbs.”

“We had people on the ground, yes. They fed us back information. It was passed to NATO. The NATO bombing started, the ethnic cleansing ended. Hundreds of thousands of people went home. Alive. Kosovo is now an independent state.”

“Iraq. You worked with Saddam Hussein, through a front company.”

“Same story. We only operated in Kurdistan. We gathered information, supplied disinformation to Saddam. Kurdistan is now a de facto independent state. The only success story of that war.”

“Darfur. Your operatives liaised with the Janjaweed, the regime’s militia.”

“We were tasked by the Pentagon with intelligence gathering. We could get in where they could not. At that time, eight or nine years ago, there was serious planning going on for western intervention. But it didn’t happen.”

“Either way, Efrat made plenty of money. It profited from the wars and the killing and the destruction.”

Stein rested his hand on Yael’s shoulder. She flinched for a second. Stein said, “Yes, it did. That is the world in which we live.”

Yael brushed Stein’s hand off. “Congo—KZX and the Bonnet Group? The coltan plot? You were distributing weapons.”

“They were duds.”

“What?”

“Old, rusty AK-47s. They didn’t work. Was there a genocide in Congo?”

“No.”

“Why not? Because you were alerted.”

“By Fareed.”

“And who instructed him to do that?”

Yael closed her eyes for a moment, slid back under the water. The wind had picked up now, was blowing hard and cold. Her father had told Fareed to leak the sound file about the planned attack on the Tutsi refugee camp so she could stop it? It was too much to think about. “Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that I am prepared to believe something of what you claim. Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I tried. You wouldn’t take my calls. You didn’t reply to my e-mails or letters.”

“You brought Kapitanovic here so he could kill Akerman.”

“I did, yes.”

“You facilitated a murder.”

Stein stared out over the water. Small waves were breaking the surface. “Akerman had facilitated many more. He was a dead man walking. Kapitanovic had been waiting a long time. It was much worse than you know. Akerman was on the Bosnian Serbs’ payroll. He had been since the start of the siege. He used to tip the Serbs off when the Muslim soldiers’ raiding parties broke out. He had blood on his hands. He’s no loss.”

“And Bonnet?”

Stein’s face darkened. “Charles Bonnet, more than anyone else, is responsible for the death of David. I don’t know what he told you. He was in operational command. Sure, Fareed dreamed it up, a cock-eyed scheme. But Bonnet was tasked with making it happen. Every step of the way. He was working for the DGSE, the French intelligence service, and they knew better than anyone the kind of slaughter that was planned.”

“Who was on the roof in New York?”

“Me and Kapitanovic. I was the spotter. He took the shot.”

“He missed.”

“Only thanks to you.”

“Why didn’t he fire again? Bonnet was still in range, lying on the ground. Kapitanovic had a laser scope. He couldn’t miss.”

“There still was a risk.”

“Of what?”

“Hitting my daughter.”

“The car bomb in DC. The police got a tip-off. Was that you?”

Stein tipped more water over his head, did not reply.

Yael leaned back and exhaled slowly, watching the steam float. “How does Mom know Reinhardt Daintner?”

Stein started with surprise. “What?”

“I saw them at the Columbia reception. He had his hand on her arm. They looked very comfortable in each other’s company.”

“KZX was a client of ours, once. Barbara handled their account.”

“A client or one of your backers?”

“Does it matter?”

Yael waited before she replied. She was no longer sure that she knew the answer. “What do you want, Aba?”

Stein stretched out his arm and picked up the black waterproof bag from the wooden walkway. He took out a thin brass nameplate. “Remember this?”