“Colonel Smith, good afternoon. I’m an admirer of yours. My name is Nathaniel Frederick Klein.”
In the open sliding-glass doorway between the house and the deck stood a man of medium height, dressed in a rumpled charcoal suit. He held a calfskin briefcase in his left hand. With his right, he dropped picklocks into his jacket pocket. He had a receding hairline, wirerimmed glasses pushed up high on his long nose, and pale skin that had not seen the sun for any length of time since summer.
“Dr. Smith,” Jon corrected him. “Just get in from Washington?”
Klein gave a short smile. “Dr. Smith, then. Yes, came straight here from the airport. Care to keep guessing?”
“I don’t think so. You look like a man with a lot to say.”
“Do I?” He sat in a deck chair. “Very astute of you. But then, from everything I’ve learned, that’s one of the characteristics that makes you most valuable.” He rattled off a short history of Jon’s life, from birth through education and the army.
As he talked, Jon felt himself sinking deeper into his deck chair. He closed his eyes again. He sighed.
When Klein finished, Jon opened his eyes. “Got that all in your briefcase, I expect. Memorized it on the flight.”
Klein allowed himself a smile. “Actually, no. I’ve got a month’s worth of magazines. I’m behind in my reading. The flight gave me a chance to catch up. Field and Stream. That sort of thing.” He loosened his tie, and his shoulders slumped with weariness. “Dr. Smith, I’ll come right to the point. You’re what we call a mobile cipher—”
“A what?”
“Mobile cipher,” he repeated. “You’re at loose ends. You’ve just had a terrible tragedy that has irrevocably changed your life. But you’re still a doctor, and I know that’s important to you. You have training in arms, science, and intelligence, and I’m wondering what else is important to you. You have no family, and only a few close friends.”
“Yeah,” Jon said drily. “And I’m unemployable.”
Klein chuckled. “Hardly. Any of the new international private investigative agencies would welcome you. Obviously none of that appeals to you. One look at your resume is enough to convince anyone with common sense that you’re something of a maverick, which means that despite your years in the army, you’re really a self-starter. You like to run your own show, but you still have a strong sense of patriotism and a commitment to principle that made the army attractive, and you won’t find that in any business.”
“I have no plans to start a business.”
“Good. You’d probably fail at it. Not that you wouldn’t enjoy starting one. You’ve got an entrepreneurial nature. If you were driven to do it, you’d go through all the hell of setting up a business, make it hugely successful, and then once it was running smooth as hot butter, you’d either sell it or run it into the ground. Entrepreneurs by definition make lousy managers. They get bored too easily.”
“You think you’ve got me figured out. Who the hell are you?”
“We’ll get to that in a minute. As I said, ‘mobile cipher.’ I think we’ve established the ‘mobile’ part. The ‘cipher’ refers to how the unfortunate events in October altered you. The external changes are easy to tally—quits job, sells house, goes on a pilgrimage to the past, refuses to see old friends, is living clear across the country. Have I left anything out?”
Jon nodded to himself. “Okay, I’m hooked. Let’s get to the internal changes. But if this is a free therapy session, believe me, I’m not interested.”
“Touchy, too. That’s to be expected. As I was saying, we don’t know—indeed, you probably don’t know either—how much this has changed you inside. You are, in effect, at this moment a cipher to yourself as well as to everyone else. If I’m right, you feel at odds with the world, as if you’ve lost your place in it. Also, that you can’t seem to find a reason to go on living.” Klein paused, and his voice softened. “I lost my wife, too. To cancer. So please know that I have tremendous sympathy for you.”
Jon swallowed. He said nothing.
“And that’s why I’m here. I’ve been authorized to offer you employment that should interest you.”
“I don’t need or want a job.”
“This isn’t about ‘job’ or money, although you’ll be well paid. This is about helping people, governments, environments, whoever or whatever is in crisis. You asked who I am, and I can’t completely divulge that information unless you’re willing to sign a secrecy agreement. I will tell you this: There are interested parties, high up in government, who have taken a personal interest in you. They are forming a very small, very elite group of self-starters like yourself—mavericks who have strong ethics but few encumbrances in the world. It might mean occasional hardship, travel certainly, and danger. Not everyone would be interested. Even fewer would be capable. Do you find this idea at all appealing?”
Jon studied Klein. Sunlight glinted off his glasses, and his expression was solemn. Finally he asked, “What’s this group called?”
“At the moment, Covert-One. Officially part of the army, but really independent. Nothing glamorous about it or the work, although the work will be vital.”
Jon turned away to gaze at the ocean as if he could see the future. He still carried the pain of Sophia’s death, but as the days passed, he was learning to live with it. He could not imagine ever falling in love again, but perhaps someday he would think differently about it. He remembered the brief moment when Klein had surprised him: He had reached for his Beretta. It had been a completely automatic response, and he never would have guessed that he would have done that.
“You’ve come a long way for an answer,” Jon said noncommittally.
“We think it’s an important question.”
He nodded. “Where do I get in touch with you if I decide that I’m interested?”
Klein stood. He gave off the air of a man who had accomplished what he had set out to do. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a simple white business card. On it was his name and a Washington phone number. “Don’t be put off by whatever business answers. Just tell them your name and that you’d like to speak to me. We’ll take it from there.”
“I didn’t say I was going to do this.”
Klein nodded knowingly. He looked across the expansive view. A white seagull flew past, its feet tucked high as it rode the ocean air. “Nice here. Too many palm trees for my taste though.” He picked up his briefcase and headed into the house. “Don’t bother to get up. I know my way out.” And he was gone.
Jon sat there another hour. Then he opened the gate on his porch and walked down onto the sand. It was warm on his feet. Automatically he turned east for his daily walk. The sun was behind him, and ahead the beach seemed to stretch into infinity. As he strolled, he thought about the future. He figured it was time.
Also by Robert Ludium
The Matarese Countdown
The Apocalypse Watch
The Road to Omaha
The Bourne Ultimatum
The Icarus Agenda
The Bourne Supremacy
The Aquitaine Progression
The Parsifal Mosaic
The Bourne Identity
The Matarese Circle
The Gemini Contenders
The Hulcroft Covenant
The Chancellor Manuscript
The Road to Gandolfo
The Rhinemann Exchange
The Cry of the Halidon
Trevayne
The Matlock Paper
The Osterman Weekend
The Scarlatti Inheritance
By Gayle Lynds
Mosaic
Masquerade
THE HADES FACTOR
Suddenly a large Doberman bounded in front of Jon Smith. Snarling, it spun to face him. Smith froze. The dog planted all four paws, lifted his muzzle, and growled long and deep. His sharp teeth glistened white and moist, so pointed that with one slash, they could tear out a man’s throat.
Smith’s heart thunder
ed. He stared unmoving at the dog.
“Sorry.” Griffin’s voice behind him was almost sad. “But you asked if there was bad trouble. Well, there is—but not for me.”
As the dog continued to make low growls of warning in his throat, Smith remained immobile except for his face. He sneered in contempt. “You’re saying I’m in some kind of trouble? Give me a break.”
“Yes.” Griffin nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, Smithy. That’s why I wanted to meet. But it’s all I can tell you. You’re in danger. Real danger. Get the hell out of town, fast. Don’t go back to your lab. Get on a plane and—”
“What are you talking about? You know damn well I’d never do that. Run away from my work? Damn. What’s happened to you, Bill?”
Griffin ignored him. “Listen to what I’m saying! Call Detrick. Tell the general you need a vacation. A long vacation. Out of the country. Do it now, and get as far away as possible. Tonight!”
“That won’t cut it. Tell me what’s so special about this virus. What danger am I in? If you want me to act, I’ve got to know why.”
“For Christ’s sake!” Griffin exclaimed, losing his temper. “I’m trying to help. Go away. Go fast! Take your Sophia.”
Before he had finished speaking, the growling Doberman abruptly lifted his front paws off the path and whirled, landing ninety degrees south. His gaze indicated the far side of the park.
Griffin said softly, “Visitors, boy?” He gave a hand signal, and the dog raced into the trees. Griffin turned on Smith and exploded, “Get out of here, Jon! Go. Now!”
ROBERT LUDLUM’S THE HADES FACTOR. Copyright © 2000 by Myn Pyn LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
Design by Kathryn Parise
eISBN 9781429906692
First eBook Edition : January 2011
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGINC-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Ludlum, Robert.
The Hades factor / Robert Ludlum and Gayle Lynds.—1st. ed.
p. cm.
ISBN 0-312-26437-2
1. Communicable diseases—Fiction. 2. Physicians—Fiction. 3. Viruses—Fiction. I. Lynds, Gayle. II. Title.
PS3562.U26 H3 2000
813’.54—dc21
00-025685
First Edition: July 2000
The Hades Factor Page 42