We’d all stopped side by side, and everyone’s helmeted heads looked from me to the wall.
A gush of deep crimson liquid discharged down the ice wall, rolling as it covered imperfections. It oozed thick and bubbling, gaining momentum. Dispersed white objects protruded from the red mass that looked like splintered bones.
Where was the blood coming from? There was so much of it. The gruesome scene made me want to throw up.
My snowmobile shuddered and dropped a foot, then rose two. The ice beneath us was separating. Suddenly, plumes of water spat between the fissures, and everything broke up at once, hard turning to liquid. It happened so fast we couldn’t react in time. Panic. In an instant Sue disappeared, Jorge went down, followed by Lorraine. I was next.
I was gagging and rolled off the bed, tripping over my duvet as I rushed to the bathroom to puke.
Never had I experienced such an intense premonition before.
I’d decided to keep the experience in the meditation to myself for the time being until I could make sense of it. It was hard to not think of the blood and bone and all of us going down into the cold depths to drown. I knew I wasn’t meant to take it literally, but there was certain danger if we were to go to the seed bank.
After seeing Jack and Lee off, I went to the main living room window and looked out at the open expanse of rolling fields and pastures. The antique grandfather clock next to the dining room doorway chimed, announcing that it was four in the afternoon.
I hadn’t seen Sue all day. Rose told me that Sue and Lorraine had gone for a long run and then she’d sent them to do some shopping for her.
Jorge walked in from the foyer. I hadn’t crossed paths with the Colombian tank of a man much lately. “There’s an officer here for you.”
I followed Jorge. “Do you know what it’s about?”
“We’ll soon find out.” Jorge opened the front double door.
A female in a gray, knee-length skirt and black windbreaker was walking toward us from a white Peugeot parked in the driveway.
“How do you know she’s a police officer?” I whispered.
“She showed her badge to Sam,” Jorge replied.
The plain-clothes officer reached us. “Mr. Nick Barnes?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She extended an envelope in her right hand. “Your charges have been withdrawn. You are released to go about your business.” She had a serious-sounding voice.
I took the envelope. “Thank you.” I was free, finally.
“The one stipulation is that you report any travel outside of West Oxfordshire to Chief Inspector Plante. There is a phone number and e-mail address within the envelope.” Without another word, she walked back to her car.
I ripped the seal of the envelope and pulled out the folded piece of paper. It stated that I was cleared of any charges and house arrest. The only other thing in the envelope was Chief Inspector Plante’s business card, and I already had one of those. “It doesn’t say I have to tell Plante when I go anywhere.” I handed the paper to Jorge.
He read it. “Hmm, he wants to personally keep tabs on you.”
“Like I’m going to tell him anything.” I began walking through the foyer toward the study.
I wrote out a statement that all charges had been dropped. I added that I hoped Schmidt’s real killer was found and then posted it to our website. Then against my better judgement I sent an e-mail to journalist, Adhira Virk, basically saying I told you so. That felt like closure for me.
Just as I got up to go find her, Sue walked into the study.
“There you are,” I said.
“Why?” Sue shrugged. “What happened?”
“I was just released from house arrest.” I raised my arms. “I’m free!”
“Really?” She rushed forward and gave me a hug. “Finally!”
“It’ll be great to get out there again.” I pointed at the window.
“The seed bank?” She pulled away. “Let’s go find Jorge and Lorraine. We need to get hold of Jack too.”
Going to the seed bank was the logical next move. Could my premonition have been wrong? They were almost always right. Should I say something? I didn’t want to worry everyone. I decided that I’d keep it to myself, for now.
INTERLOGUE 2
May 4, 2003
Hendrick V preferred the smaller family estate outside Berlin to the bigger country home that his father had liked. This was closer to the action, and he didn’t need to take a helicopter to the airport; he could drive if he felt like it. Besides, the older place reminded him of his father, just like the villa on Lake Como.
He’d already begun renovations to make the Berlin home more to his taste, much to his mother’s dismay. He’d allowed his fiancée, Helga, to move in and oversee the upgrades. Hendrick’s most pronounced change yet was to move from his smaller office to his father’s study; now he had room to run his inherited empire.
Otto Schilling entered the study. “Mr. Schmidt …”
“Doctor Schmidt.” Hendrick didn’t much care for the man twice his age standing across the desk from him. However, he was the right man to be chief of security. He’d been second in command and showed a ruthless loyalty to the family. Hendrick had to let the former head of security go for appearances’ sake—he’d let someone kill the main man he was sworn to protect.
“Dr. Schmidt … Jack Carter has left Burford and is now in Dallas,” said the tall, wiry man. He’d been with the Schmidt security force for the last eighteen years after retiring from the German military where he’d started as a sniper and worked his way up to an officer. “Lee Donald is with him.”
“And why are you bothering me with this?” Hendrick said.
“Should we use this opportunity to take him out?” Otto wore round wire spectacles, had his blond hair slicked back, and was always dressed in a charcoal-gray wool suit.
Hendrick pondered that question. It was an opportunity. He was planning on eliminating every member of that group but had to have Barnes and Carter killed simultaneously for a clean break. After that, Clark and Popov could be disposed of at his leisure. Right then everything depended on Barnes conviction. “Make sure Carter’s movements are watched for now. Do you still have someone on the Burford house?”
“Yes, sir.”
Hendrick brought up the calendar on his computer screen. “I will be going to Oxford on Monday and then to the Colombian lab ten to fourteen days after that, depending on how soon I can finish this round of my studies.” He wished he could be done with school and fully concentrate on his businesses. “You will be escorting me, not one of your lackeys.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now send in Chief Inspector Plante. I’ve kept him waiting long enough.”
“One other thing, Herr Doctor.”
“What?”
“I thought you should know that a man was in Nordkapp, inquiring about the seed bank and how he could get to it.”
“Any idea who he was?” Hendrick asked. “Was he questioned?”
“No, he’d disappeared by the time Naintosa security arrived. We’re sure he never made it anywhere near the seed bank. We do have a vague description—a fat American.”
“Well then, don’t bother telling me unless it becomes important. I’m far too busy.”
The head of security gave a slight bow and clicked his heels before walking out of the room. Otto had a permanent limp after being shot in the right leg ten years ago by Hendrick V—by accident.
Hendrick didn’t worry about some fat American trying to get to the seed bank. It had been tried before, usually by renegade journalists or environmentalists, with no success. He sat in his new oxblood leather swivel chair and anticipated why Plante had come. Hopefully it was an update on Barnes and that a trial date was set.
Within a moment, Chief Inspector Jacques Plante came through the doorway. “Monsieur Schmidt.”
“Doctor Schmidt.”
“Excuse me, Dr. Schmidt. Thank you for seeing me on
short notice.” Jacques walked around the desk and shook Hendrick’s hand. Then he sat down in a brown leather chair on the opposite side.
“What brings you here today, Chief Inspector?”
“We have new evidence regarding your father’s murder.”
“Good, I want Nick Barnes put away for the rest of his life.” Hendrick’s eyes narrowed. “It’s too bad we can’t execute him or put him in a gas chamber.”
“None of that is going to be happening.” Jacques leaned forward. “We have footage of a man named Dale Samson, who has a striking resemblance to Barnes, picking his pocket for the hotel receipt. And the person caught on the airport camera has proven to be Samson. He’s employed by Naintosa in your security division, correct?”
Hendrick hadn’t expected this. He thought he’d set Barnes up enough and Interpol wouldn’t bother investigating into it further. He tried not to show any emotion. “You are mistaken, Chief Inspector, it was Nick Barnes who killed my father, not this other man. A man whom you say worked for Naintosa?”
“We don’t have evidence that Samson killed your father; however, he suspiciously seems to be a decoy to set Barnes up. That would mean there was someone giving him orders to be the diversion. That someone planned the murder and likely was the one who injected your father with Cirachrome or hired someone to do it for them. And that someone I suspect is part of your own organization.”
“That’s preposterous. You think someone inside my father’s own company murdered the man responsible for their own livelihood; the man who gave them a reason to exist?”
Jacques leaned farther forward, placing his hands on the desk. “Maybe it was because they were getting tired, in their eyes, of the bad decisions your father was making or the pace of progress. Maybe they wanted control themselves.”
Hendrick’s face heated. He tried to control himself from a threatening outburst that might incriminate him.
“Do you know Dale Samson, Hendrick? Have you had recent contact with him?”
Hendrick tried as hard as possible to act calm, even flippant, but it wasn’t working. “No, I don’t know the man. I can’t know everyone in Naintosa’s employ. Chief Inspector, are you accusing me of having something to do with my father’s death?”
“Did you?”
Hendrick grit his teeth. “My father, and now I, pay you very handsomely to look after our interests. I do not pay you to accuse me. I pay you to investigate the people who should be investigated … not me!” He wanted to fire him right there but knew that would give Jacques total freedom to investigate him. Maybe it was time for Jacques to have an unfortunate accident.
“But I have to adhere to the law.” Jacques kept his focus on Hendrick. “And don’t you want to catch the right person or persons who killed your father?”
“Of course.” Hendrick tried to keep eye contact but couldn’t. “And I think you have that person already. Nick Barnes.”
“It’s not proving to be him.” Jacques leaned back in the chair, as if relieving pressure. “Davis and Carlo know and agree. We’ve let Barnes go and are changing the course of the investigation.”
“Why would you involve Davis and Carlo?” Hendrick didn’t want them involved with this in any way. The plan was to have Davis and Carlo respect him and treat him as an equal until the day he’d have dominance over them.
“They, too, want the right person caught for your father’s murder. He was their friend and colleague.”
Hendrick would have to begrudgingly accept their involvement, for now. “If you let Barnes go, he’ll disappear. Then when you finally figure out he really was the actual killer, you won’t be able to find him.”
“I couldn’t keep him under house arrest. You’ll have to have your people monitor him.”
“Trust me, I will.”
Jacques rose from the chair. “We will be speaking more about this soon.” He turned and walked to the door.
Hendrick said behind him. “Jacques, investigate properly. It wasn’t an inside job.”
As soon as Jacques left the room, Hendrick pressed the intercom button on the phone and asked Otto to come see him.
This wasn’t easily going away like he’d hoped it would. He didn’t have time to be worrying about his father’s murder anymore, but he had no choice. He just wanted to move forward with the population control plan, unimpeded. With Barnes free, he’d have to take matters into his own hands and eliminate the paltry, annoying opposition himself.
The chief of security walked into the room.
“Close the door,” Hendrick instructed.
Otto did as he was asked and then walked up to Hendrick’s desk.
“Where is Dale Samson now?” Hendrick asked.
“He’s working at the Colombia compound.”
“Eliminate him and leave no trace.”
Otto hesitated. “I don’t think that is a good idea. You may need him in the future as an alibi.”
Hendrick pondered that for a moment. Scheisse, he’s right. “At least make sure he never leaves the compound.”
“Of course, Herr Doctor.” Otto turned to leave.
“Wait.” Hendrick raised his hand. “Have you located Peter Bail?”
Otto swivelled back. “Yes, in Belize.”
“Make contact. I have a job for him.”
Hendrick was about to shut down his computer for the evening when an e-mail arrived from his head scientist, Dr. Smith. He looked at the priceless antique bronze clock near the fireplace and did the calculation—it was just after 1:00 p.m. in Florencia, Colombia, where the message had originated.
Dr. Smith was concerned; Hendrick could tell by the choices of words used. Dr. Smith was getting field findings that showed the general populace, especially in the United States, were showing symptoms from the genetically engineered food and pesticides years ahead of when they should be. They were already moving into Stage 4. That was not good.
Hendrick opened the attachment and reviewed the data. At the new rate, fatal diseases would reach critical mass five, maybe even seven, years earlier than 2020. They were not prepared. The good seed meant for the seed bank could be compromised, as well as the land set aside to grow the unaltered organic food. The life-extending cancer drugs weren’t reacting as they should. They weren’t even close with the actual colon cancer cure. The Plycite gene was still years away from being effectively mass produced in corn. Everything was being thrust out of balance.
His father had made a mess, and now Hendrick had to clean it up.
He wrote a terse response to Dr. Smith, asking how this could be happening and not to tell anyone.
CHAPTER 10
Feel like a post-dinner drink?” Sue half-smiled.
We cleared our plates from the table.
We’d had a busy day getting ready for the expedition to the seed bank and had decided to meet with the Council in Oslo along the way.
When we entered the kitchen, Rose was talking quietly on the phone. She was doing that often lately; before, she never used to call anyone.
When Rose saw us, she placed her hand over the bottom of the receiver. “I’ll clean up. You two go relax.”
We gave Rose her privacy and went out to the living room.
“What do you want to drink?” Sue walked over to the bar.
“Aberlour.” We always had my favorite Scotch on hand. I hoped no one was keeping track of the amount I’d been going through recently. Rose had to be aware, because she was in charge of replenishing supplies.
“Of course.” Sue poured three fingers into two glasses and then added two ice cubes each.
I’d sat down on the couch. Sue joined me, handing over my drink.
Sue hadn’t brought up the kiss from the other night, and I was debating if I should. This would be as good of a time as any, but did I really want to talk about it?
The ice hadn’t had a chance to cool and dilute the Scotch, so the first sip was harsh, but I welcomed the burning sensation as the liquid went down.
I gazed at her, anticipating what she was going to say, but she didn’t say anything. I took another, bigger, drink.
Sue swirled the contents of her glass. “I’ve been thinking about us.”
I paused. “What about us?”
Sue looked at me intently. “Our relationship. Where it could go.”
Okay, the kiss would tie into the conversation somehow. “And where do you think it could go?”
Instead of answering, Sue carefully placed her glass on the side table. She framed my face with her hands and pressed her lips against mine. Her mouth was warm and gentle. I could feel a buzzing in my brain that had nothing to do with the alcohol.
After a moment, she pulled back, hands still around my face. “Is that okay?”
I nodded.
She leaned in and kissed me again, this time pulling me in closer. I blindly set my glass down on what I hoped was something solid and held onto her arms. Every nerve in my body was tingling.
Sue pulled away, searched my face for a second, then rose from the chair. I took her outstretched hand, and she led me out of the room.
Neither of us said a word as we walked down the hallway to her bedroom. I was having a hard time forming a coherent thought. Sue’s hand was the only thing keeping me on the ground.
As we reached the door, something made me stop. I suddenly felt weird, like all the feelings I’d buried for Sue were rising, uneven and confused, to the surface. I was torn between striding into that room and running back to the safety of the living room with its unassuming Scotch.
“What’s wrong?” Sue asked.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I responded. “I mean, we’ve been friends for so long … this could change everything.”
She squeezed my hand. “Change can be a good thing.” She opened the door and pulled me inside.
The two bedside lamps lit the tidy white bed and small pile of books on the nightstand. I’d been inside Sue’s room before, but this time it looked different. I never noticed the small bottles of perfume on the vanity or the pale-blue robe tossed casually on the chair. Heels and sneakers sat by the closet like she’d just stepped out of them.
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