The Coil Read Free

run for reelection. None faced a serious challenge….
    â€œTake Sir Robert,” Mellencamp said. “He bled out in a bathtub like some mad Roman senator, supposedly because he’d been discovered sweating up the sheets with a few whores. Ridiculous that he’d kill himself over such a minor matter.”
    â€œIn certain circles around London, it was known he used call girls.”
    â€œExactly. He must’ve been afraid something else would come out. Something huge, for him to commit suicide.” Mellencamp sighed. “And now Raab’s resigned with the excuse of financial shenanigans. It’s unbelievable he’d resign at midnight like a run-of-the-mill thief because of some minor illegality like a slush fund.”
    â€œAt least he can’t ram through his choice for director-general of trade now. The environmental restrictions would’ve set back international markets ten years.” The voice on the other end of the line hesitated and resumed thoughtfully: “Maybe that’s it. Maybe Raab was blackmailed into resigning because of some appointment he was going to make, and the slush fund was just an excuse to give the public.”
    Mellencamp nodded. “But how does that relate to all the congressmen who’ve dropped out here before the election? Three from the far right, three from the far left. If we’re correct, and the Carnivore’s files are what the blackmailer’s using—”
    â€œThen something has to connect the congressmen, Robert Childs, Chancellor Raab, and you. Perhaps you should do what the blackmailer wants, Themis. After all, he threatened your life. It’s not such a big request. A minor change in that new EU–U.S. agreement—”
    Mellencamp erupted: “I told you no! ” and then sank into stony silence. He had revealed to Cronus what was necessary about his being blackmailed, no more. He would not discuss it further.
    But Cronus was already talking again, his voice intense as he pondered. “What is it that you have in common? You come from different countries. Different lines of work, although all of you are involved in politics somehow. All of you are men. White men and in power. We know you hired the Carnivore, or your wife did.”
    Mellencamp snapped, “Leave her out of it.” Ruth had died five years before, and he still grieved. She had made a misstep when she was young. With a boyfriend, she had gone to the Carnivore to stop a U.S. senator who had raped her younger sister. The senator and his powerful father, who had always protected him, died together in a yachting accident in the Mediterranean.
    Cronus continued: “Our investigators found the Carnivore was connected to Raab and two of the six congressmen. The blackmailer doesn’t seem to be after money. Is there some kind of overall plan, or is this simply a madman operating on whim?”
    â€œLord knows,” Mellencamp said tiredly.
    â€œOur people have come up with nothing but dead ends. They say it’s like looking for a ghost in the fog. Whoever’s got the files seems to know exactly how to remain beyond our reach. Which makes me ask again: Are you sure the assassin’s daughter knows nothing?”
    Mellencamp sat up, wary. “Almost completely certain.”
    The voice was cold, businesslike. “She’s the last living link to the Carnivore. She must be eliminated before she can hurt us.”
    This was what Mellencamp had feared. “Each death draws a spotlight,” he argued. “The greater the accumulation of light, the more attention is attracted. Kill her, and we increase the risk to ourselves that we’ll be discovered. Instead, it’d be much better for us—much safer—to control her.”
    There was a surprised silence.
    Mellencamp spoke into it, his tone now disinterested. He must not act as if he was asking a favor. Cronus would want to negotiate, and this was not