The stick was made of ebony and topped with a red-veined chunk of black sphalerite. Concealed by the round stone was a catch that released the sheath of the stick. Once the catch was pressed, the sword it housed was revealed. I’d never go into the field unarmed.
Due to the importance—for the governments on both sides of the Atlantic—of what we had to do, I’d been incommunicado for almost the entire month, while the world was given the impression I was visiting my son and his fiancée in Los Angeles.
Of course the Wolf was notified, and I authorised Rogers to handle any and all missions that came across my desk.
With that done, I tracked Mason to West Berlin and found him at the Museum der Kostbarkeiten, literally bumping into him as he stood before a display of Imperial Fabergé eggs on loan from the Kremlin Armoury.
“Jesus Christ, look where you’re going!”