The Fifth Internationale by Jack King

From the Publisher

An FBI agent uncovers a multinational conspiracy while investigating his friend's death.

Publishers Weekly

King, a former courier of top-secret information, delivers a tightly wound debut thriller centered around a complex and sometimes cloudy conspiracy theory. While working as the deputy legal attach for the U.S. Embassy in Warsaw, down-to-earth FBI agent Stan Penskie witnesses the assassination of his sister's fiance, a CIA agent who'd posited a shocking conspiracy theory. The event throws Stan's life into a tailspin and leads him on a frenzied chase after a group called the Fifth Internationale, "an elusive organization of unthinkable resources and proportions" that may be bent on destabilizing world power structures and financial markets. Through his quest, Stan meets people from various government agencies, but he has no idea who to trust or even where his investigation is leading. Readers will empathize with Stan's bewilderment as they try to untangle the story's many threads-a task that will challenge even the most diligent reader. Intelligent dialogue, relentless pacing and well-rounded characters (including a hauntingly familiar American president) compensate somewhat for the byzantine plotting, but the story's primary saving grace is its deft evocation of the Polish culture and cityscape. (Apr. 6) Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.

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The Fifth Internationale

Dorchester Publishing

Chapter One

"Thought I might find you here." The man spoke in a low voice.

"Robert!" The sudden appearance startled Penskie. He was at a loss for words and was gazing at his friend, speechless.

Water dripping down his nylon coat, his wet mane straight and flush against his forehead, Robert Sito took the seat across the table. Barely visible light gray steam rose off his shoulders; the cafe was notoriously overheated. He unbuttoned the coat, withdrew a folded newspaper from the inside pocket and placed it on the table.

* * *

Cold December rain intensified and was streaming down the window, like a filter distorting the view and making patrons unaware of the life outside the cafe. Had the rain been lighter, Penskie probably would have noticed a dark SUV pull to the curb directly across the street. He would have perhaps realized the car had stopped at an illegal place, right at an intersection, and perhaps noticed the peculiar interest with which the men had scanned the Ujazdow Cafe. Still, he would have disregarded it as an ordinary occurrence-thousands of cars parked illegally on the streets of Warsaw every day. The number of cars had outgrown the number of available parking spaces.

"Unit One to Control." The driver spoke in Polish to a microphone attached to a headset, a trace of a Russian accent in his voice. The second man, who occupied the backseat, controlled a portable electronic surveillance unit resting on a small tripod mounted to the window and directed at the cafe. The man adjusted the controls and apparently satisfied, signaled the driver.

"We're in position. The subject has made contact with ..." The driver paused uncomfortably.

"Repeat that, Unit One."

"The subject has made contact with ... the FBI man."

There was a brief silence before the voice responded. It was quiet but firm.

"Continue surveillance and stand by for further instructions, Unit One."

The driver and his companion exchanged disconcerted looks.

* * *

Robert Sito was very anxious as he leaned over the table and murmured, "I'm in deep trouble, Stan. I mean ... I don't know what to make of this anymore."

He quickly looked around and pushed the newspaper across the table.

Stan opened the paper, still surprised by the coincidence of his friend's arrival, and gasped. There was a light brown folder inside the newspaper. Large print on the cover read: Tajne Specjalnego Znaczenia, Urz_d Ochrony Pa_stwa's seal underneath.

"What the hell is this?"

"It means 'Top Secret' ..."

"I know what it means, Rob." Penskie nervously scanned the room, his voice at a hissing whisper: "We can both end up in crap even at the suspicion of me ever being in the proximity of something like this!"

"Believe me, we already are in it so deep we can only hope we're not going to drown!"

(Continues...)

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