The Shadow Conspiracy

by The Shadow Conspiracy (epub)

  As Doggie took the seat opposite and continued gulping at his drink, Brulet reappeared on the main screen. ‘You’ll be fine, gentlemen. Now just relax and let me do the talking.’

  Harker and Doggie gave each other a conciliatory nod and Brulet proceeded to take the reins.

  ‘When I saw the pictures of that humanoid, I must admit the thought of something otherworldly did enter my mind, but I settled instead for some kind of terrible genetic experiment having caused the poor creature’s bizarre appearance. Given what you have learnt since, I now believe we should keep an open mind – no matter how unconventional things may seem.’

  Brulet’s broad-minded approach came as a relief to Harker, who found himself nodding. He realised that his head was beginning to clear, even if he was still feeling off colour and physically drained.

  ‘With that said, we should be asking ourselves three questions. One: if we take this assumption to be correct, then where did this creature come from? Two: why is it so important to the Mithras? And three: how do we find out this reason?’

  ‘Well, I can’t answer the first two,’ Schroder said from Harker’s phone screen, ‘but the third I can be of help with.’

  ‘Please do, John,’ Brulet replied, as Harker began to readjust himself in his seat, feeling better with every passing second.

  ‘As for the two doctors working with Barbara Holtz, I dug up the autopsy photographs of Dr Khan – and trust me, he’s dead. But Dr Michael Wexler is another thing entirely. I tracked his credit card and it was used just yesterday.’

  ‘He’s alive?’ Harker was startled.

  ‘I don’t have photographic proof, Alex, but there is a chalet registered in his name just three miles away from his last purchase. It’s a good place to start.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘The town of Zermatt, in Switzerland.’

  Harker was already rising out of his seat, but he paused as Brulet spoke out to him, his voice crackling over communication static.

  ‘You just take a further moment to rest, Alex. I will now inform the pilot, and I’m sure John will have the address and a rental car waiting for you on arrival.’

  As Brulet began to wrap up the conversation, Doggie flung his hand into the air like an enthusiastic student. ‘Talking about rental cars, what about the Fiat?’

  ‘And what car would that be, Dean Leacher?’ Brulet enquired.

  ‘The one we left in Gibraltar, covered in bullet holes… and, more importantly, hired in my name! If it’s found, the authorities will be after me like a ferret up a trouser leg.’

  To Harker the expression seemed bizarre and rather archaic, but hey, it was Doggie, a man who wore Victorian-style cravats when his colleagues wore ties.

  ‘I’ll get onto that right away,’ Schroder offered.

  Doggie visibly relaxed as Brulet gave a final nod of his head. ‘Good. Stay safe and let me know whatever you find out. Concerning the body of our strange friend, we have Mr Cordon currently performing some DNA tests. Once he’s got the results, I will of course inform you all.’ Brulet paused, and then let out a deep breath. ‘If any of this bears out my suspicions, then I don’t mind telling you, gentlemen, what a momentous discovery this will be. An intelligent, extraterrestrial life form right here on our planet.’

  ‘Dead extraterrestrial life form,’ Harker added sombrely.

  ‘Nonetheless, Alex, that new knowledge could change everything.’

  With a smile, Brulet leant forward and the screen went black. Harker turned his phone so he could speak again to Schroder.

  ‘I’ve got to say, Alex, you possess a remarkable agility of mind when it comes to handling a good mystery… But, as your friend says, you can be a gigantic pain in the arse.’

  ‘I aim to please,’ Harker replied with a tight smile.

  ‘Yeah, well your aim is completely crap. Now send me the location of that car.’

  Harker stifled a chuckle. ‘Duly noted, John, and thanks again.’

  The call now ended, Harker typed in a message identifying the precise location of the abandoned rental car. After sending this, he sat back in his seat and tried to enjoy the soft humming of the jet’s engines, while mulling over all that had transpired. What with his narrow escape from the pyramid, the extremely close shave with the minister’s killers and a mild case of decompression sickness, he now felt totally spent. Still, they had managed to get out in one piece and, despite their little spat, Doggie appeared to be thriving on it. Truth be known, the dean had shown real grit during the car chase, and by grit he meant his old friend hadn’t collapsed into a quivering wreck as might reasonably have been expected.

  ‘You handled yourself well today, Tom,’ Harker said, offering this compliment as though awarding a prize. ‘You really held it together – and I apologise for having a go.’

  Doggie leant forward with a grin spread across his face. ‘Calmed down, have you now? And yes, I think I did.’ Then the smile vanished. ‘And I apologise too. I didn’t mean to make fun of you. But I’ll admit my nerves have been overstimulated somewhat.’

  His apology was about as good as it would get when it came to Doggie, and Harker smiled warmly. ‘Apology accepted, Tom. Shock affects us all in different ways.’

  ‘Maybe so, but I don’t have to remind you that it’s not the first time I’ve stood firm in the face of danger, my friend. Far from it.’

  ‘Faced much gunfire before, have you, Tom?’

  The intended jibe did little to knock the wind out of the dean’s sails and he sat there proudly with a single eyebrow raised. ‘I will admit my experience of being on the receiving end of a lead dinner is minimal, but every time I enter a charity event, address the University council to seek a budget increase, or deal with thousands of students all baying for my blood for whatever is the offence of that day, I can assure you it’s all-out war.’ He looked up stoically towards the ceiling. ‘These things demand a stern resolve which a man can only draw from the depths of his own soul.’

  ‘Looks like it’s not the only thing that’s got drawn out of you,’ Harker mused with a smile, and gestured to the stain by Doggie’s zip.

  Doggie’s eyes widened and he glanced down before crossing his legs. ‘I told you it’s a coffee stain. You should know that as it was you who knocked the cups out of my hands back at the hospital.’

  ‘Of course it was. My mistake, Tom.’ Harker was glad they were back to their usual banter. ‘Interesting how coffee just keeps getting yellower these days.’

  ‘Enough!’ Doggie roared. ‘I’ll admit I may have relaxed a tad too much during our escape, but it only goes to prove my naturally steely nerve when faced with danger, to push ahead, no matter what.’

  ‘Yeah… a stainless-steel toilet.’

  ‘Oh, shut up, Alex. You try escaping armed killers when your bladder’s full with four cups of coffee.’

  ‘I’m just messing with you, Doggie. I know it’s a coffee stain.’ Harker was lying through his teeth. ‘But you should buy yourself a new pair of trousers once we land… and a pack of Huggies while we’re at it.’

  Chapter 13

  A strip of blue and white plastic tape cordoned off the crime scene as an officer wearing a white hazard suit and a mask positioned yellow markers around the body of Environment Minister Harold Cortez. A blue cover had been laid over the body itself but the concealment of such a bloody sight had done little to stave off interest from a crowd of nosy onlookers currently being held back by the police. Media cameramen bustled amongst them, doing their upmost to get a clear shot and so adding to what could only be described as a civilised frenzy.

  With such commotion occurring right in front of the hospital, no one noticed the diminutive man in a lengthy tan overcoat who was jimmying the side fire exit with a crowbar. The lock finally gave way with a crack, and he glanced around to check if anyone had noticed before sneaking inside and pulling the door closed behind him.

  The stairwell was cool and quiet as the little man slipped off his
coat, turned it inside out to reveal a white inside, then slipped it back on. He pulled out a shiny metal stethoscope from his pocket, hung it around his neck, then made his way to the adjoining door and pulled it open a just a smidgen. The corridor was clear, as most of the hospital workers now stood around the main entrance, gawping at the events being playing out on the front steps.

  There was a smoothness to the man’s gait as he made his way along the corridor. He seemed in full control of every muscle and tendon in his body, like a dancer whose every movement is minimal and precise.

  The intruder came to a stop at the end of the corridor, looked up to check one of the signs, and with a pleased expression followed its direction.

  The nurse at the reception desk did not even acknowledge his passing by. Along with her immediate colleagues, she remained glued to the television screen where the headline ‘Minister Gunned Down’ scrolled along the news ticker.

  Further on, he came to a halt at a set of double doors and, with one final glance back at the preoccupied reception staff, pushed one open and disappeared inside.

  The room was dim, with only a single wall light illuminating a large cylindrical recompression chamber. He glided over to look through the small glass portholes fitted on the side.

  Barbara Holtz lay there motionless, dressed in a blue hospital gown. Her breathing appeared slow but regular, and a light sheen of sweat covered her forehead. The man pulled away from the porthole, scanned the chamber’s exterior for the red communication button and pressed it with his index finger, before once again turning his attention to the porthole.

  ‘Barbara… can you hear me?’

  Holtz remained still, so he spoke again, louder this time.

  ‘Barbara, can you hear me? It’s time for you to wake up.’

  Her eyelids began to flutter, then slowly her eyes opened and she gazed up to see the smiling face of Herbert Pelosi at the porthole window.

  ‘Doctor,’ she said weakly, ‘where am I?’

  ‘You’re safe, Barbara. You’re in hospital. You took a nasty turn while you were diving, so we’ve had to put you in this chamber to treat you for decompression sickness.’

  The news had her raising one hand and knocking it against the inside of the cylinder, in growing panic at the confined space she found herself in.

  ‘Please relax, Barbara,’ Pelosi said in a kindly tone. ‘You’re quite safe now, but we need to keep you here for a little while – until you’re better.’

  Holtz’s hand dropped back to her side and she gave a feeble nod. ‘What’s your name, Doctor?’ she asked, her eyelids drooping as she continued to relax.

  ‘Oh, I’m not a doctor, Barbara,’ Pelosi said with a smile. ‘I’m an associate of Mr Berger and he wanted me to speak to you regarding your visitors at the site.’

  The mention of that name had Holtz’s eyes flicking wide open, and her breathing began to quicken.

  ‘I didn’t say anything, I promise.’

  Pelosi maintained the smile but a frown was now forming across his forehead. ‘That’s not exactly true, is it, Barbara? I heard you gave a tour to Professor Alex Harker, didn’t you?’

  She shook her head. ‘He’s just a colleague and I only wanted his professional advice. It’s for the good of the site.’

  Pelosi’s smile evaporated completely and he tut-tutted. ‘Now, that’s not what we agreed to, is it? Only people approved by Mr Berger were supposed to have access, and I think that was made very clear to you from the outset.’

  Now wild-eyed, Holtz began shaking her head rapidly. ‘No, no, I would never betray Mr Berger. I swear that on my life.’

  Pelosi was already waving his hand in an attempt to calm her. ‘We realise that, Barbara, but you need to tell me how much Harker knows.’

  Hearing footsteps outside, Pelosi released the communications button and, like a cat, glided over and behind the door just before it was pushed open. A nurse’s head poked inside and looked over at the recompression chamber. Pelosi was already extracting a leather-handled switchblade from his pocket, his thumb pressed against the switch, when the nurse disappeared back into the corridor, clearly satisfied that nothing was amiss.

  Expressionless, Pelosi popped the weapon back in his pocket, stepped back to the chamber and pressed the button to resume their conversation.

  ‘Now, what does Harker know?’ he asked, without missing a beat.

  ‘He knows that Dr Khan and Dr Wexler were both working with me, and I showed him the fresco and one of the coins, but that’s all.’

  ‘Does he know what any of it means?’

  ‘No, I swear, he has no idea.’

  Tears were now running down Holtz’s cheeks, and Pelosi raised a finger to his lips. ‘Shhh, Barbara, it’s going to be OK. But we need to get you out of here. There are likely to be too many questions.’

  The suggestion seemed to calm her and Pelosi reached for the blue pressure-control knob at the top of the chamber. ‘I’m now going to slowly release the pressure inside the chamber. It may sting your ears a little bit, but I have another one waiting for you only a ten-minute drive from here. OK?’

  His plan met with a wide-eyed scepticism from Holtz, and as he began to lower the pressure, the pain became obvious in her expression. With the valve all the way down, and Holtz’s eyes fluttering, Pelosi reached over to unlock one of the smaller pressure valves leading from the chamber, then poked his finger inside and wiggled it. ‘We’ll have this finished in no time,’ he declared.

  Pelosi moved over to one side of the room, where he began messing around with a large steel washbasin, then he returned and plugged the pressure valve back into place.

  ‘Shouldn’t be long now,’ he whispered before letting go of the communication button, as Holtz offered a groan. The change in pressure was already having an effect.

  Water began seeping into the chamber through the pipe, and rose across Holtz’s legs.

  Pelosi pressed the communication button one final time, whereupon her groans turned into screams blasting across the intercom. ‘Now, don’t you worry about a thing, Barbara. Just let it happen,’ he said with a smile. ‘That nurse shouldn’t be back here for a good thirty minutes yet, which gives us more than enough time to conclude our business.’

  Just as with his entrance, no one noticed the diminutive man in a long overcoat exiting the hospital side door and hurrying off down the nearest side street. With the commotion still in full flow outside the main entrance, no one paid him a second glance. In fact, he would already be crossing the border into Spain before the drowned body of Barbara Holtz, mouth wide open in terror, would be discovered by the duty nurse.

  Chapter 14

  The hum of excited chatter and occasional bellowing laughter was oddly intoxicating to Harker as he and Doggie made their way up the cedarwood steps to the impressive wooden chalet. This residence had been dug right into the side of the mountain, and its two floors, balconies, overhanging roofs and multitude of large windows must have cost a fortune to build. Down below, the town of Zermatt glowed, nestling in a deep gorge amidst the Swiss Alps. It was home to not only the wealthy but to thousands of tourists who came each year seeking adventure and the skiing the nearby mountains were renowned for.

  At the front door they both looked back down towards the twinkling lights, with the Matterhorn towering over the town like a guardian, its snowy peaks bathed in a silvery light from the full moon overhead.

  ‘It seems Dr Wexler has done well for himself,’ Doggie remarked, his tone tinged with a hint of bitterness that only a close associate could detect. ‘On the other hand, it’s probably rented.’

  ‘Not bad for a dead man,’ Harker replied before going straight to the crux of the dean’s comment. ‘Your own house is rather lovely too, Tom.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant.’

  With a smile Harker grasped the heavy round knocker and gave it two hefty raps. He then took a step back and glanced down at Doggie’s recently purchased trousers. ‘Loving the
new threads, by the way.’

  On arriving at Heathrow airport during the evening, and expecting an hour’s travel wading through the London traffic, Harker had demanded that the Dean use the first available clothing store to replace his stained trousers. Under duress Doggie had been frogmarched into an unknown establishment ‘Bob’s Best Buys’ in the duty-free section, though judging by the scarceness of stock and ‘Everything must go’ signs, Bob’s business was not only going to the wall but his taste in fashion was the most likely cause. Doggie had opted for a pair of brown nylon trousers which, to be fair, was the best of a bad selection. It was remarkable to Harker how a simple change in trousers could transform the usually impeccable-looking Dean into a sad-looking bohemian with just a single purchase. The fact that they were two inches shorter than the Dean’s inside leg measurement hadn’t helped either. Thanks for the memories, Bob!

  Above the sound of glasses clinking and the merriment inside, footsteps could now be heard approaching, and Harker took another step backwards as the door swung open to reveal an attractive woman in her fifties wearing an expensive-looking red dress with frills at the shoulders.

  ‘Yes, can I help you?’ she asked in French and using a haughty tone.

  ‘We’re here to see Michael Wexler,’ replied Harker.

  ‘You’ve got the wrong address. There’s no one of that name here. And in case you haven’t noticed, we are entertaining this evening, so I’ll have to ask you to leave.’

  Judging by the glassy look in her eyes and the way she swayed back and forth with each sentence, the woman in red was unquestionably on the way to having one hell of a hangover in the morning.

  ‘We know that he’s here,’ Harker replied firmly, sounding like a man of authority. ‘A serious situation has arisen and it’s crucial we speak with Dr Wexler immediately.’

  The woman continued to stare at him with that vague look which anyone who has spent a night of heavy drinking with friends would recognise, and their already uncomfortable conversation now descended into nothing short of a staring match.