She looked nothing like Julia Huxley, M.D., and everything like Frau Kara Isphording, wife of convicted embezzler Rudolph Isphording.

“Good God,” Juan greeted her, “you’re ugly enough to scare a bulldog off a meat wagon.”

Julia curtsied and smiled. “You sure are a charmer, Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo. I must admit Kevin outdid himself.” Kevin Nixon ran what the Corporation had dubbed the Magic Shop, a large space aboard the Oregon where he and his team could throw together any number of uniforms, disguises, and all manner of dirty tricks.

“We might be here for a while,” Juan said as he circled his medical officer with a critical eye. “Can you re-create this effect?”

“Kevin showed me how to do it.” Julia shook her ample hips. “This oh-so-flattering body suit is no big deal, but doing the makeup so you can’t notice the facial appliances is tricky. I think I have it, though. It’s a little creepy. Kevin knows more about cosmetics and skin care than a counter girl at Bloomie’s.”

“He was just nudged out for an Oscar for best makeup a few years before joining us,” Juan told her. He didn’t add that Nixon had turned his back on Hollywood following September 11. His sister was on her way to see him from Boston when her plane smashed into the North Tower.

“Plus,” Julia added, “he packed me enough frumpy clothes to open my own secondhand shop.”

“You don’t need to bother with the costume until we’re ready. No need to advertise there’s a Kara Isphording clone running around Zurich.”

“What, and deny all the men a gaze at my beauty?”

“The only head you’re going to turn looking like that is the head of a screw, and even then you’re going to need a pneumatic wrench.” Juan called out to gather his people together. In total there were five members of the Corporation present, including himself. It was a small team, but once Julia had done her thing, she could act as backup when they made their move.

“I’ve had a chance to go over the ground, and think I found the perfect spot. We’ll need a few days for additional recon just to be sure. I’m not married to the site, so if something doesn’t feel right, don’t hesitate to bring it up. We’ll go over the ground together later on.

“Once we’re comfortable and we have all our equipment ready, we’ll move on to phase one, and that’s snatching the real Kara Isphording.”

“Is she guarded?” Hali asked.

“Don’t know yet. That’ll be part of our reconnaissance.”

“What’s gonna be our cover?”

“All the dummy companies Rudy Isphording set up for the purchase of the Maus have Russians on their boards of directors. We’ll use that and pretend to be Russians out to spring Isphording from jail.”

“Why would he want to go?” asked Franklin Lincoln, a SEAL vet. “As I understand from the briefing Max gave, this shyster has a sweetheart deal with the prosecutors.”

“Because we’re going to play up the rumor about how Isphording had his hands in the Palestine Liberation Organization’s cookie jar.”

“Has he?”

“I’ve got Murph confirming it, but it appears old Rudy might know where some of Yasir Arafat’s missing billions are. Either way, we convince him that the PLO believes it, and he’ll know his only chance is with us.”

“And once we have him?” Julia asked.

Juan’s tone darkened. “We sweat him. Hard. Eddie’s still in China last I heard.”

“Near Fouzou,” Hali interrupted.

“So we need to learn what we can on our end and pray we’re in position to intercept the boat they’re using to smuggle him. I’m convinced Isphording’s the key to whoever’s behind the Maus and the pirates.”

“What if he’s not?” Julia asked. “What if he doesn’t know anything beyond the shell companies he set up?”

As much as he didn’t want to face that possibility, Juan knew he had to answer. “Then Eddie’s as good as dead, and we’re back to chasing individual pirates across the Sea of Japan.”

For the next several hours Cabrillo laid out his ideas in detail, refining them with suggestions from his people. They all had sharp intellects and years of covert experience. No one deluded themselves that this would be a simple job, but by the time they finished, they knew they had the best possible plan. Juan gave each of them their orders for the next several days. Some would chart traffic flows and activity around the construction site. Others were to procure and modify equipment, the most critical being a ten-wheeled truck and trailer. Juan would scout out the Isphording home and determine what, if any, security they would need to overcome as well as rent a warehouse outside the city.

Today was Tuesday. Mark Murphy had learned that Rudolph Isphording was scheduled to appear in court on the following Monday. For what Juan had in mind, they could lay a lot of the groundwork but would need the weekend to have everything in place for Monday morning. That meant they had to get to Frau Isphording no later than Thursday night if Julia was going to double her during Friday’s regular visiting hours. Juan hated the tight timeline, but there was no helping it. He didn’t dare wait another full week. God knew where Eddie or the Maus would be by then.

It was now or never.

“Com check?” Juan said into the voice-activated throat mike.

He received the ready signal from Linc and Hali Kasim. Julia merely placed a hand on his shoulder, since she wouldn’t leave his side for the next twelve hours. The night was dark and moonless because of cloud cover. Dew shone silvery white on the lawn surrounding the three-story brick house. The upscale suburban neighborhood had been quiet since an elderly man had returned to his own minimansion after walking what had to be the most constipated dachshund in history.

Cabrillo knew after watching her for three days that Kara Isphording lived alone. She had a maid during the day, but at night she was her home’s sole occupant. He also knew she had an alarm system. The doors and windows were all wired, and he’d once spied the maid deactivating the system when she’d shown up for work in the morning. He guessed it would have been installed after her husband had been arrested, so it wouldn’t be too deeply integrated into the grounds, no motion detectors or IR cameras, but then again, all it took was Isphording’s wife to push a panic button, and all hell would break loose.

“Okay, Hali, you’re up. Once Linc pops the door, you have sixty seconds to deactivate.” This was an estimate on Juan’s part but a calculated one. Kara Isphording was in her late fifties and would doubtlessly have little experience with electronics. Whoever installed the alarm would make sure a client had ample time to shut the system down so as to avoid false alarms.

Once the ex-SEAL and the Corporation’s communications specialist did their job, they were to return to the Mercedes. Juan was approaching Frau Isphording as a member of the Russian mafia here to save her husband from Palestinian terrorists. It would be a little hard explaining the presence of a Lebanese and an African-American.

“Think of it as affirmative inaction,” he’d joked as they finalized the plan.

Frank Lincoln towered over Hali Kasim as they dashed from cover behind a thick hedgerow bordering the Isphording property. Both wore black. Hali carried a small duffel for his tools. Linc had his lockpicks in a slim billfold jammed into his back pocket.

They reached the heavy oak door. Curtains were drawn over the flanking sidelights. The house was completely dark. Kara Isphording’s bedroom light had gone out three hours earlier, long enough to enter deep REM but not so long as to need to use the bathroom.

Hali hung back as Linc readied his picks. He’d practiced on an identical lock that he’d bought from a building supply store on the other side of the city. His fingers were large, but they moved with the delicacy of a surgeon’s as he eased in the tension pick, then began to set the pins with another smaller tool. It took him eight seconds to snick back the dead bolt and a further fifteen to turn the main handle.