Page 51 of Stuart Woods' Golden Hour

“Rats, I believe.”

She shivered and sucked in a breath. “Yuck. Keep them away from me.”

“I will do mybest.”

18

Braun was in his DassaultFalcon 2000LXS jet, heading for a meeting in Geneva, when Dieter called.

“I just heard from our freelancers in Venice,” Dieter said. He’d been forced to use local talent to watch the station, since their Rome-based team wouldn’t make it to Venice before Schmidt’s train arrived. “Neither Schmidt nor Rogers were on board.”

“Not on board?” Braun scoffed. “That doesn’t make any sense. They had to be.”

“The watchers were in place when the train arrived, and when neither man got off, they even searched inside.”

“They must have checked the wrong train!” Braun insisted.

“I thought so, too, but have confirmed it was the correct one.”

“Then where is Schmidt?”

“He must have left at an earlier stop. I’m assuming with Rogers. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Have you tried calling him?”

“Numerous times but only got his voicemail. I contacted our Rome-based team. They were still an hour out of Venice, so I’ve told them to check security footage at the stops between where Schmidt boarded and Venice. We should know soon where he and Rogers got off.”

“Dammit, Dieter! The longer this takes, the more likely Rogers slips through our hands. I will not stand for that!”

“I understand.”

Braun stewed for a moment, his annoyance at Schmidt’s incompetence reaching a breaking point. “I want you to go to Italy and oversee this in person.”

“I’m already on the way to the airport.”

This was why Braun liked Dieter. The man had a way of reading his mind and doing what needed to be done. “Good. And one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t ever want to see Schmidt again.”

“Understood.”

Per Dieter’s instructions, the teamfrom Rome that had been heading to Venice split into groups of two. Each group took one of the three stops between where Schmidt had told Dieter he’d boarded the train in Florence and where he was supposed to get off in Venice.

Dieter was boarding his flight to Italy when the team leader texted him that neither man had left the train at any of the stops.

That didn’t make any sense. Schmidt had been clear about boarding that specific train in Florence. Had he lied? Or had he and Rogers hopped off between stops for some unknown reason?

He shot off a text, telling the team leader to send someone to Florence to see if Schmidt had lied about catching the train.

The two men sent toFlorence used the same “we’re searching for an underage relative who ran off with an older man” ruse they’d used in Bologna. The sympathetic security chief took them straight to the surveillance room, where it took only a few minutes to find video of both Schmidt and Rogers boarding the Venice-bound train.

Just as they were about to leave, the security officer helping them received a phone call.

“Pronto?”The man listened for a moment. “Where?” As the person on the other end spoke, the man glanced at Dieter’s men. “Can you give me a description?” Another pause, then, “I may know something. I will call you back.” He hung up and looked at the men again. “The person who is with your cousin, do you know what he looks like?”

“We do. Why?”

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