Mark watched the long Mercedes merge onto a two-lane as the freeway ended. Less than a kilometer later, the driver took a left onto a side road.
“Almost there,” Stephanie said brightly.
LaFevre said, “Dr. Schott, how soon will the model be ready for implementation?”
“I have to refine some variables, then we’ll test it. I don’t know how long that will take.”
LaFevre gave him a cold smile. “Sooner rather than later, Dr. Schott.”
“Of course.”
Mark turned away from LaFevre’s vaguely inhuman eyes to watch the small, fenced pastures and neat houses pass beyond the window. Horses and a couple of cows grazed. Stands of conifers partially blocked the view of the Alps now.
The road ended at a large wrought-iron gate complete with a guard. A tall wall stretched to either side. As the Mercedes slowed, the uniformed guard leaned out. The driver rolled down his window, allowing the guard to inspect the occupants. Then he nodded, stepped back, and the gates swung open.
“This is the office?” Mark asked incredulously.
Stephanie replied, “Originally, it was an estate. The Big Man chose this location for several reasons. We’re completely self-contained, away from distractions, and given the work we do, ensured an amount of security impossible in an office building.”
Mark frowned. “Looks more like a prison. Why do you need—”
“Mark.” Stephanie turned sober blue eyes on him. “You must understand, ECSITE handles billions of dollars for some of the world’s largest multinational corporations. Much of the information we’re privy to is highly sensitive. Were some of our client’s financial details to fall into the wrong hands, it would signal the end of ECSITE. We’d be ruined overnight. As it is, the multinationals, governments, and the big banks can come to us with complete confidence. We’ve never had a security breach.”
LaFevre added, “And God help the fool responsible if we ever do.”
Mark glanced over his shoulder, watching the gates close as the Mercedes rolled forward. The drive wound uphill through trees and meadows that opened to a curving, circular drive. Across the grass, he could see what looked like a four-story palace. The architecture was definitely Bavarian with dark timbers crisscrossing the white walls. An ornate façade surrounded the windows and doors.
“It was a palace originally,” Stephanie explained. “Various cardinals and princes lived here prior to the unification of Germany under Bismarck. Like everything else of value, it became home to a high-ranking Nazi industrialist. After the war, it housed some of the occupying Allied troops until the West German government was on its feet. The Big Man acquired it five years ago. He spends most of his time at the headquarters in Zurich, close to the banks, but the real work is done here.”
Instead of driving up to the palace, the Mercedes followed a paved road around its side and through a screen of trees. On the slope behind the house, a neat and modern-looking three-story apartment complex was nestled in the trees. On either side, wood-roofed complexes had been dug into the slope. One, Mark was curious to note, looked exactly like a tavern, complete with neon beer signs in the window, a bicycle rack, a couple of cars, and three motorcycles out front.
“Yes,” Stephanie said, following his gaze, “that’s our local restaurant and bar. It stocks one hundred and four brands of beer and sits on top of one of the finest wine cellars in Europe. The kitchen is a masterpiece and the chef is world-renowned.”
“Nice.”
The Mercedes pulled to a stop before the apartments.
Mark waited for the driver to open the door before he stepped out into the cool afternoon. The air smelled of conifers and grass.
“I’ll take you to your apartment.”
Mark bid the others goodbye and followed Stephanie down the walk fronting the long building. At number 3, she stopped, opening the door.
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected but when he entered the spacious living room furnished with a couch, music system, comfy looking recliners, and expensive carpeting, his eyes widened. Teak woodwork was polished to a shine. Behind an ornate divider, he found a model kitchen, six-burner stainless steel stove, giant refrigerator, stocked cabinets filled with fine china and crystal. The fitted wood floor had been waxed to a fine sheen. Four leather stools lined a marble breakfast bar.
“Must be a bitch to keep clean.”
“Housekeeping takes care of that.”
“Better and better.” He might have found this level of opulence in one of the high-dollar houses in Jackson but never in Laramie. A glance into the bathroom shocked him. The fixtures were gold, the toilet a porcelain work of art.
“The best part is upstairs.” Stephanie climbed the carpeted steps, Mark following as he shook his head.
The first floor was divided into two rooms. He just stared at the office. The walls were covered with walnut bookshelves above matching cabinets engraved with floral scenes. He almost sank in the carpet as he walked over to the central cherry-wood desk. In the States, he couldn’t have touched anything like it for less than ten grand. The computer monitor and keyboard were unlike anything he’d seen at Best Buy.
“Where’s the mouse?” he asked.
“Don’t need it. The system follows your eye movements. Blink twice to left-click. Blink three times to right-click. Once you get used to it, a mouse becomes as primitive as a stone ax.”
Two more of the impressive recliners had been placed strategically to face the solid glass wall that looked out upon the valley and the Alps beyond.
“Unbelievable.”
A door led out onto the teak-wood deck that overhung the ground floor. Lounge chairs, a heavy glass table, and small refrigerator rested on the decking.
Stephanie cocked her head. “So, do you think you can work here?”
“No problem.” He ran his fingers along the small wet bar and opened the cabinet to discover more crystal on one side, a line of bottles on the other.
Walking with a seductive sway to her hips, Stephanie called, “Bedroom is here, along with the master bath.”
She led him to a large room with a huge bed. A plunge pool filled one corner, the blue water swirling. The wall to his right was mirrored but opened into a walk-in closet. The master bathroom had been finished in white marble. Thick glass enclosed the combination tub—big enough for two—and multiple-head shower. Gold-plated fixtures sparkled in the sunlight that streamed through a skylight in the ceiling.
Another of the expensive toilets stood next to a bidet.
Mark pointed across the bed to the glassy gray wall. “What’s with that?”
“Anything you want.”
“Huh?”
“The wall is a holographic projector. Any vista you can imagine or program: a beach in the Bahamas, the surface of the moon, Times Square in New York, a trip down the Amazon, the French Grand Prix? You name it.” She tapped a key on the bedside console, drawing up a menu screen. After scrolling, she said, “This is my favorite.”
A second after pressing a button, the wall erupted in color. Mark stared in disbelief at a rainforest waterfall. The sound of falling water mixed with the songs of tropical birds.
“Amazing.”
She gave him a teasing look. “You have no idea until you’re in the plunge pool, a cool glass of wine in your hand. Depending upon what you’re doing in the pool, your fantasies can soar.”
She pressed another button and the screen turned back to glassy gray. The sounds of the waterfall vanished.
“They’ll bring your bags shortly.” Stephanie walked past him. “If you’re up to it, how about a glass of champagne to celebrate, and then I’ll leave you to get some rest?”
“Oh, I’m always up for champagne.”
Mark watched Stephanie walk to the office wet bar. When she bent to open the refrigerator, it was to display a perfectly toned ass.
His limbic system began leaking hormones.
Stephanie straightened, gave him a grin, and loo
sened the twist on a bottle of Dom Perignon. He opened the cabinet and lifted down two flutes. With a pop, the cork shot across the room.
She poured, set the bottle down, and clinked his glass in a toast.
“Welcome to the ECSITE team, Dr. Schott.”
“It’s quite the welcome.”
“Your model has the potential to make this company a great deal of money. You’ve become a most important person.”
She reached back to unpin her hair. A wealth of light blonde spilled onto her shoulders, answering one of his lingering questions. Then she unbuttoned her suit jacket and slipped it off, removing any doubt about her physical assets. Laying her jacket on the bar, she walked to one of the recliners, settled back and kicked off her shoes.
He retreated to the other, watching as she sipped, smiled, and closed her eyes to savor the taste. “So, have the worries started yet?”
To his surprise, the chair seemed to conform to his body, almost massaging. “Worries?”
“The niggling ones that say, ‘This is all too good to be true? What’s the catch?’”
“Not really, but… What’s the catch?”
“Two things. First, your model had damn well better work. We take failure very seriously here. Second, we take security even more seriously than failure. No emails, phone calls, letters, or other unauthorized communication. The compound is monitored, and our technology shuts down everything that is not authorized. Understand? The consequences will be severe if you attempt to circumvent our security.”
“With billions at stake? Of course, I understand.”
“On the other hand, if you produce, the rewards will compensate for the other inconveniences. Yes, the room’s nice. But you’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg, so far.”
Confused, he said, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, don’t ask any questions and deliver on your promises and nothing is out of your reach.”
“Nothing?” he gave his most charming smile.
She sipped her champagne, then leaned toward him until their lips almost touched. “Nothing.”
Chapter Thirteen
By the time Anika pushed open the door to the anthropology building, she couldn’t even remember the taste of the steak she’d mechanically devoured as the implications of her work overloaded her normally analytical brain.
Behind her, Maureen Cole seemed unflappable as they climbed the stairs on the building’s west side. When Anika turned into the hall, it seemed alien—a fixture from another world.
The Department of Defense is not simply afraid my model can forecast the end of the world. They want to use it to plot the collapse of one or more of America’s enemies. It’s the only logical conclusion for all the hullabaloo.
Dazed, she walked down the hall, fumbled for her key, and unlocked her door. Flicking the lights on, she stopped short.
The first thing that hit her was the bare walls where her intricate chart had been, then the fact that her computer was missing. The photo of her father lay where the monitor had been. Even the term papers she was supposed to grade were gone. Her trash can had been emptied; the missing file cabinet beside it left nothing more than an impression on the carpet.
Maureen stopped behind her. “Your books are gone, too.”
“I don’t understand,” Anika murmured, shaking her head. “Who—who would do this?”
“Dr. Cole?” a male voice asked from the doorway.
A middle-aged man in a sport coat, brown dockers, and laced shoes extended a small leather wallet with a badge and photo. He had a pleasant face, pug nose, and wide mouth. “I’m Brandon Salazar, FBI. I was asked to assist you.”
Maureen checked his credentials and handed them back.
“My research!” Anika cried. “Someone’s taken all of my stuff! We were only gone an hour.”
Maureen gave Salazar a cold look. “Did the FBI confiscate the contents of Ms. French’s office?”
Salazar glanced around. “Not us, no. We need to maintain the integrity of the crime scene, okay? Don’t touch anything. Both of you. Please, step into the hall.”
As Anika backed out of the room, Salazar asked her, “Do you have any idea who might have done this?”
“No.” Anika stood, weak-kneed and nauseous.
Maureen said, “When we left earlier, a man was staring at one of the displays out in the hallway. He didn’t look like a student. Older, muscular, buzz-cut head, which is common enough, but the way he stood, well, it reminded me of the kind of man someone would hire to get things done.”
Salazar glanced at her then looked down the hallway. “Hmm.” He said thoughtfully. “Are you aware that the Sheriff’s Office discovered a dismembered body south of town on the railroad tracks?”
“A body? Whose?”
“They’re keeping it pretty quiet for now but the DNA recovered from beneath the victim’s fingernails says his assailant was likely an assassin we’ve tangled with before.”
Anika couldn’t help herself. “There’s a murder in Laramie, ECSITE is interested in my model, and my office was just trashed. The possibility that those three things are not connected is two-point-six-five million to one. That’s based upon a population of three hundred and twenty million and the probability that… God, listen to me. People are committing murder over my model.”
Salazar said, “The suspect was obviously waiting for you to leave before he stripped the office.”
Maureen shook her head. “Thank goodness your dissertation is still in the car. But maybe we’d better get back to it. Fast. Then we have one other place to search, Agent Salazar.”
Chapter Fourteen
Salazar pulled into the drive behind Denise’s Tahoe.
“Um, you might want to leave me here.” Anika felt sick. “I’ve seen Denise once today. My presence might not be helpful.”
Maureen turned in the seat. “Sorry. After what happened at your office, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
“All right.”
Anika stepped out of the car into the cool evening breeze and followed Salazar and Maureen toward the door. The darkness seemed to echo threat, barely mollified by the yellow light in the family room.
Salazar rang the bell.
They waited.
He rang it again and opened the screen door. Before he could knock, he frowned. “Step away from the door,” he ordered.
Maureen didn’t hesitate. She grabbed Anika by the hand and ran back to the car where she shoved Anika down behind the hood. “Stay there,” she said. “Something’s wrong.”
Around the nose of the hood, Anika watched Agent Salazar draw his pistol and shove open the door, calling, “FBI, Ms. Schott, are you here? Is anyone here? I’m Agent Salazar. Hello? Anyone home?”
Anika felt faint as she watched Salazar shove the door completely open and step into the living room. The wide-screen TV was on the History Channel, the voice-over talking about missing ghosts.
“Do you smell something burning?” Maureen looked at Anika.
“Yes.”
“Ms. Schott?” Salazar bellowed. “Hello? Anybody home?”
A couple of minutes later, Salazar appeared in the doorway again, and called, “Dr. Cole? Dr. French? No one’s home. Please, come inside.”
Anika, heart pounding, ran forward. “What happened? Where are they? What’s burning?”
“A pot was left on the stove. I turned it off.”
Salazar stepped out of the way to allow Anika and Maureen to enter. Anika hurried down the hall, pushed open the door, and found Mark’s office empty of all but a few books. But he would have taken his things to Munich, wouldn’t he?
“Denise?” she called in rising desperation.
But for the television in the front room, the house was silent.
“How many people live here?” Salazar asked.
“Just Denise and the two boys.”
“How old are the boys?”
“Nine and fourteen.”
Salazar holstered
his weapon, looked around, then walked to a family picture hanging on the wall and stared at it. “Is this relatively recent?”
Anika nodded and Salazar pulled his phone from his belt, stepped away and spoke urgently to someone on the other end.
Anika, unnerved, whispered, “Where could they be? Are they all right?”
“There are two cars in the driveway, a BMW and a Tahoe. Did they have another car?”
“No.”
Salazar tucked his phone into his pocket. “Laramie police are on the way. They’re checking the hospitals and doctors in case someone had a medical emergency.” He looked at Anika. “You said you saw Ms. Schott earlier today? Did she look distraught?”
“Yes.” Anika swallowed hard. “She thought I might have been going to Germany with Mark. We… There were troubles between us. In the past, I mean.”
Salazar took the implications in stride. “Did she say anything else? Perhaps someone had been bothering her?”
“The car.”
“What car?”
Anika struggled to clear her thoughts. “She told me she’d taken Mark to the airport but she was so upset she couldn’t sleep. She saw a car on the street. For some reason, she thought it was watching the house.”
“Did she say what kind?”
“No. She thought it might have been me.”
“Had you ever done that before?” Salazar asked it so reasonably.
“What? God, no! Why would I want to watch his house?”
“The question is,” Cole said coolly, “Why would someone else?”
“Denise didn’t know anything!” Anika protested. “She’s just a professor’s wife. She couldn’t have cared less about his research. And she certainly didn’t know the first thing about the model!”
Salazar shot a glance at the smoking pot on the stove. “Maybe not everyone was aware of that.”
Chapter Fifteen
The meadowlark singing its familiar lilting notes sounded uncommonly close. Mark rolled over, and the fine silken sheets slipped across his naked body. He blinked his eyes open, caught movement, and stared at a herd of bison grazing in a green meadow no more than a few feet from where he lay. The mirrored wall was showing him Yellowstone National Park, no doubt about it.
Fracture Event: An Espionage Disaster Thriller Page 6