by AD Starrling
A heavy frown dawned on the face of the Director of National Intelligence.
An hour had passed since they returned from the Thüringer Forest. Conrad had called the Sit Room for an update the minute they reached the Learjet parked on the tarmac in Erfurt.
‘And the motive for his involvement in this affair?’ asked Connelly finally.
‘We suspect it’s going to boil down to money,’ said Conrad. ‘The authorities are going to check out Obenhaus’s apartment in Leipzig. We’re waiting to hear if they’ll let us join the team doing the search.’
‘Good,’ said Connelly with a firm nod.
Laura stirred next to Conrad. ‘How’s Westwood getting on with the Russian PM?’
Connelly rubbed her forehead and sighed. Exhaustion lined her face. ‘This incident in Germany will certainly help ease things. We’re still at DEFCON 4, but I anticipate the alert state might be downgraded in the next few hours once the Russians receive confirmation on the intelligence coming out of Berlin.’
‘Have the other investigation paths yielded anything of interest?’ said Conrad.
Connelly’s face brightened slightly. ‘The dead guy from Brazil had his face and prints modified as well, same as the other two assassins,’ she said. ‘The medical examiner did however uncover the traces of a laser-treated tattoo under his hairline.’
An image flashed up next to Connelly’s face on the video link. Conrad inhaled sharply as he stared at the faint image of a snake’s head that had been etched in ink on the shaved skin covering the back of the dead man’s skull. He recognized the symbol.
‘Fer-de-Lance,’ he whispered, his mind racing.
‘What?’ asked Laura, puzzled.
Conrad glanced at her, excitement flushing through him. ‘Fer-de-Lance. The common lancehead,’ he explained. ‘It’s a venomous viper found in South America.’ He gazed at Connelly. ‘If I remember correctly, it’s also the symbol of someone who belongs to the Barba Amarilla drug cartel.’
‘Exactly.’ Connelly’s eyes gleamed. ‘Forensics have performed a high-resolution, three-dimensional facial reconstruction based on the guy’s skull structure.’
The computerized model of what the man from Brazil would have originally looked like appeared below the image of the tattoo.
‘We believe the third assassin was one Julio Vargas, the Barba Amarilla group’s top hitman,’ Connelly continued. ‘He’s currently wanted on four continents.’
Conrad frowned. ‘Did you check with Donaghy—?’
‘Yes,’ Connelly cut in. ‘CIA’s confirmed that the Barba Amarilla cartel is one of the groups that recently disappeared from the intelligence community’s radar. Donaghy’s currently talking to an operative who just emerged from an undercover operation in Africa.’
Conrad could feel pieces of the puzzle starting to coalesce.
‘What about the MD helicopter?’ Anatole asked Connelly.
‘We’re still going through the list provided by the manufacturer,’ replied the Director of National Intelligence. ‘We’ve ruled out all government agencies who purchased either of the two suspected models. That leaves us with forty private organizations and individuals. The ones we’ve looked into so far are all above board.’ Connelly sighed. ‘There’s not a whiff of scandal or criminal activity about them.’
The sound of a commotion suddenly rose in the background on the video link. Creases wrinkled Connelly’s forehead. She turned and spoke to someone off the screen. ‘What is it?’
‘We’ve got something on the stuff that killed the prisoner in Crystal City,’ someone said excitedly.
Conrad recognized the FBI agent’s voice. Lewis stormed into view behind Connelly a second later.
‘You were on the right track about that poison,’ the man told Conrad with a fierce smile. ‘We didn’t find anything in the dead guy’s blood chemistry, but we got something on the skin and muscle biopsy taken from his arm. Our forensic toxicologists believe the substance might be a neurotoxic alkaloid. It degraded too rapidly for them to be able to determine its exact molecular structure, although they think it was co-crystallized with another compound to increase its bioavailability. Moscow just confirmed that the poison used by the secret service agent who killed their president has a similar chemical profile.’
Laura ran a hand through her hair and exhaled sharply. ‘What does that tell us though?’
Some of the animation faded from the FBI agent’s face. ‘Well, not much at the moment,’ he admitted. ‘But if we could get our hands on a sample of the original product before it has a chance to break down, we might be able to figure out its ori—’
‘Hang on!’ Connelly interrupted. She was scowling at something to her right. ‘I’ve got Donaghy on a separate video channel.’ She glanced at the camera projecting to the Learjet. ‘I’ll link everyone up.’
A second window opened on the aircraft’s computer monitor. The CIA agent’s face appeared in the center of it. She was speaking through her cell phone in what looked to be the back of a moving vehicle.
‘Can you hear me, Greene?’ she said.
Tension tightened the muscles in Conrad’s neck at her expression. ‘Yes, we hear you fine.’
‘I’m on my way to the White House right now, but this thing was too big not to let you guys know about straightaway,’ said Donaghy brusquely. ‘I’ve just finished debriefing one of our undercover agents. If what he says is true, we may be about to have a war on our hands!’
Shocked silence resonated across the communication channels.
‘What do you mean, Claire?’ said Connelly guardedly.
Donaghy’s eyes grew stormy. ‘It seems someone’s been busy raising an army.’
Conrad went still at her words.
‘Three days ago, our operative came across evidence of what looks like dozens of training camps across the globe,’ the CIA agent continued. ‘He saw pictures of four of the missing warlords and cartel leaders we’d been concerned about. One of them was the Barba Amarilla drug lord. Our agent wasn’t able to glean any more intel. It took the poor guy forty-eight hours to exfiltrate through a war zone. He reckoned they were on to him.’ Lines puckered her brow. ‘Whoever our mole is, he or she may very well be responsible for the disappearance of our other undercover agents and sources in the last couple of years.’
Sweat dampened Conrad’s palms. Connelly’s face was frozen.
Lewis straightened. ‘What are you worried about, Donaghy?’ he said, his tone dismissive. ‘The US army can take on a bunch of guerrilla fighters with their arms tied behind their backs.’
The CIA agent was silent for a beat. ‘Lewis, can you see my face clearly?’
‘Uh-huh,’ the FBI agent confirmed with a puzzled frown.
‘Do I look like I’m goddamn joking to you?’ snarled Donaghy.
‘Enough, the both of you!’ barked Connelly.
‘The details that our operative glimpsed before he took off suggest the enemy is incredibly well-equipped,’ Donaghy continued in the chilly silence that followed. ‘Their soldiers have the latest combat gear and weapons.’ She hesitated. ‘There’s some pretty heavy money behind these operations. The people providing the training to the men and women recruited in these troops were professional mercenaries. If our operative is right in his assumption, God only knows how big this army could be. It’s pretty clear they are preparing for a battle.’
‘What makes you think this has anything to do with our current investigation?’ said someone out of sight of the Sit Room camera.
Conrad recognized the Homeland Security agent’s voice.
Connelly looked to her right. ‘We’d have to be complete fools to ignore this, Petersen!’ snapped the Director of National Intelligence.
‘I don’t understand how the hell an army that size cou
ld stay hidden,’ said Lewis, his doubt plainly displayed on his face. ‘And where would all the people they enlisted have come from?’
Conrad had just asked himself the same questions. The answers had been frighteningly easy to come across.
‘The world is a big place, Lewis,’ the immortal said quietly. ‘Whole cultures and species once rose and vanished from the face of the Earth without us having the faintest inkling it was happening.’ He broke off for a beat. ‘Think about it—there are currently millions of disgruntled individuals out there who blame their dire existences on this planet’s most powerful nations, be it through those countries’ direct actions in wars or inaction, which create abject poverty, famine, and disease. Angry, disillusioned people are easy targets for extremists. From the heads of state who were attacked yesterday, it’s clear someone doesn’t like the political and economic dominance of these nations. And the fact that Russia and China were also targeted tells us that this is not simply an East-West divide.’
A glum silence descended on the comms lines.
‘I have to let the President and the Joint Chiefs know about this,’ said Connelly finally. Her eyes flitted to the other individuals in the Sit Room before falling on Conrad through the video link. ‘Will you tell the other man who assigned you this task about these latest events?’ she added quietly.
‘Sure,’ said Conrad.
The connection ended. The screen went dark.
‘Holy crap,’ Stevens murmured shakily.
A sudden ringing broke the leaden silence in the cabin.
Anatole reached inside his suit pocket and took out a cell. His eyebrows rose when he looked at the screen. ‘Speak of the devil,’ he said wryly. ‘It’s Dvorsky.’ He answered and passed the phone to Conrad.
‘Hi,’ Conrad said into the mouthpiece.
‘This situation is turning out to be more complex than I originally anticipated,’ the leader of the Bastians announced in a strained voice. ‘I’m not looking forward to telling Westwood and the UN Security Council about the latest finding from our end.’
Conrad tensed. ‘What is it?’
‘Our people had a look at the hair sample you sent us. We didn’t get any match on the Bastian databases,’ said Victor.
‘Why should that—?’ Conrad started, perplexed.
‘We uncovered something far more worrying,’ Victor cut in. ‘That woman you chased in Crystal City? She’s a human-immortal half-breed.’
Conrad’s fingers whitened on the cell. Laura took a step toward him, alarm dawning on her face. He made a reassuring gesture with his other hand. Relief replaced her anxiety.
‘A half-breed?’ he repeated.
‘Yes,’ said Victor. ‘And we’re not just talking any immortal lineage here. She’s the descendant of a pureblood Crovir. As such, she is a rare species indeed. There are only a handful of immortals alive today who can claim to be the direct descendants of the original beings who created our races.’
Blood thundered deafeningly in Conrad’s ears. He could never have foreseen something of this magnitude coming out of this investigation. ‘How is that possible?’ he said with a frown. ‘I thought the offspring of an immortal and a human—’
‘Dimitri Reznak crossed path with a sect of similar origins eleven months ago,’ Victor interjected. ‘We’re liaising with his scientists to cross-check the genetic data from this woman in case there’s a link.’ There was a short lull. ‘The descendants of a pureblood immortal-human offspring do not possess the number of lives we do, but they share our other abilities, namely faster healing and an extended life span.’
Conrad was aware of a barrage of anxious stares as he gazed blindly into space and started to come to grips with the overreaching ramifications of this latest development. ‘You’re right. This puts a whole other light on this situation.’
He told the Bastian leader about their findings in Germany and the recent leads coming out of Washington.
‘It seems we’ve seriously underestimated the enemy,’ Conrad concluded grimly. ‘Whoever they are, they may have been planning this thing for years, if not decades.’
‘And now they’re getting ready for a war,’ Victor concurred in a deadly voice. ‘The political and economic upheaval caused by the assassination of the world’s most powerful leaders would have created the perfect window of opportunity for them to strike. The affected governments would invariably have been too slow to mobilize their military in the face of a fresh attack.’
The Bastian leader paused. Conrad could picture the frown darkening his mentor’s face.
‘But still,’ Victor continued pensively, ‘however big their army is, they could not hope to win against the combined forces of the humans and immortals.’
‘True,’ Conrad muttered. The same thought had crossed his mind. ‘That’s if they know about the existence of the immortal societies. We must be missing something.’
‘I agree,’ Victor said after a short silence. ‘And I suspect it’s something big. I’ll be in touch if I find out anything more.’ The Bastian leader ended the call.
Conrad returned the cell to Anatole and apprised the others of the immortals’ discovery.
Anatole pulled a face. ‘Yeah, I heard about that sect. According to Reznak, they were a bunch of unholy fanatics.’
Headlights flashed through the windows of the Learjet. A transporter van braked to a stop next to the plane.
Laura stepped to a porthole. ‘It’s Schulze.’
The German security agent met them at the bottom of the aircraft’s steps.
‘It was hard going getting a deal out of my superiors and Bauer’s boss, but you’re in,’ he announced with a grin. ‘We’re on our way to Leipzig now. Another team’s already at the site.’
A rush of gratitude flowed through Conrad. ‘Thanks, Schulze.’
They climbed in the van and set off into the night. The clock on the transporter’s console was reading nine pm when they reached Leipzig. Schulze pulled up behind an unmarked police car and a mobile crime scene investigation unit parked outside an imposing, Neoclassical corner building overlooking a dark park. Conrad recognized the exterior of the edifice from Luther Obenhaus’s intelligence photograph.
Schulze stepped out and went to confer with the police officer in the car. He returned a moment later. ‘Obenhaus’s condo is on the top floor. Criminal Police and Crime Scene are already up there.’
They headed inside the building and walked past the distraught night superintendent to an old, black and gold cage elevator on the far side of the lobby. The metal doors clinked behind them. A faint rattle shook the floor of the cabin as they ascended to the sixth floor.
A policewoman guarded a pair of oak doors at the end of a silent corridor. She checked Schulze’s ID and studied Conrad and his team cursorily before letting them through.
Luther Obenhaus’s apartment took up the top east corner of the complex. It was filled with an eclectic mix of old and modern furnishings and reeked of luxury. Conrad studied the original artworks gracing the wood-paneled walls of the hallway and reception rooms. He caught a glimpse of an opulent, Italian-marble kitchen and a similarly styled bathroom.
Despite his gambling problems, it was evident Obenhaus had not spared any expense when it came to his personal comfort.
A team of detectives and crime scene technicians were busy working the place. Schulze found the investigator in charge and made the introductions in English.
‘Bauer told me about you guys,’ said the female detective, whose name was Peters. She had a hint of a Berlin accent. ‘Thanks for saving him.’ She flashed a smile at Conrad. ‘From what we’ve determined of the place so far, you’re gonna want to see the study.’
Obenhaus’s home office was one of the larger rooms in the apartment. It featured floor-to-ceiling windows tha
t overlooked the communal gardens. A grand piano dominated a corner of the carpeted floor.
Peters indicated the computer on a walnut desk. ‘We’ve had a look at that already. There isn’t much on it. Looks like our guy was using a portable hard drive.’
Conrad’s heart sank at her words. He recalled the damaged equipment they had discovered at the dead man’s lodge.
‘Don’t worry,’ Peters added. ‘There are still plenty of files to go through.’ She gestured to the folders lining the bookcases along the walls.
A technician appeared in the doorway of the study. ‘Excuse me. I think you guys should take a look at this,’ he said in German.
They exchanged curious glances and followed the man across the suite and down a corridor to a bedroom. A wood panel on the wall opposite the door stood ajar. Conrad’s heart leapt. There was a steel safe in the brickwork behind it.
‘I’ve seen similar set-ups in apartments like this one,’ the technician explained. ‘There’s always a safety deposit box in these kinds of places.’
They crowded around the opening and observed the coded security panel on the strongbox.
‘We might have to wait until morning before we can get one of our specialists to have a go at this,’ said Peters pensively.
‘Why don’t we ask Maximilian Obenhaus?’ Laura suggested. ‘He might know the code.’
‘Good idea,’ said Conrad.
He borrowed her cell and made the call. ‘Hi, Mr. Obenhaus? I’m sorry to bother you. I know this is the last thing you want to hear at the moment, but I’m with the police in Luther’s apartment in Leipzig. We found his safe. Would you happen to know the code?’
‘Try Wagner 050845,’ said Maximilian Obenhaus after a thoughtful pause. ‘Wagner was born less than a mile from that apartment building. He was Luther’s favorite composer.’
‘And the date?’ said Conrad, curious.