by John Sneeden
A tear ran out of his eye and mingled with the sweat that ran down his cheek. The little girl was the pride of his life, and she would be safe. There would be no hit men dispatched to kill her, and she’d grow up to be the fine woman he always knew she’d be. That thought gave him some semblance of peace as he prepared to deal with his own mortality.
After wiping the tear with a wet sleeve, he looked back down at the blinking button on the screen. Drawing a deep breath, he pressed the key.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
ZANE COULD NO longer hear the sound of footsteps he’d heard only moments before. Had it been a figment of his imagination or was the creature approaching silently now? On one or two occasions, he thought he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, only to turn and realize nothing was there.
He checked his magazine and saw that it held only two more rounds. He discarded it and clicked a fresh one into place. His only hope was to wait for the creature to show itself and then perhaps bring it down with a head shot. Its sheer size likely meant that a hit anywhere else would only serve to send it into a fit of rage.
There was a forklift to his left, so he moved up against the side and crouched down. A minute later he heard a soft shuffling sound not far away. Turning, he saw movement between two crates directly in front of him. Soon the image sharpened and he could see a large mass moving in his direction. The predator had found its prey.
The stench of rotting flesh was now suffocating, and the giant seemed to be speaking in some sort of strange tongue that was a mixture of language and clicks. It was like nothing the operative had ever heard.
Strangely, as soon as the creature stepped out into the open, it stopped. At first Zane thought it might not see him, but then he could see that it was crouching and readying itself to spring.
Zane moved away from the forklift to get a better angle. His body completely exposed, he was either going to kill or be killed. He lifted his gun, and a red dot appeared on the creature’s immense chest. He moved it upwards until it rested in the center of the head.
Just as he prepared to squeeze the trigger, an explosion ripped through the chamber. A fireball rolled in his direction, but he was thrown through the air just before it reached him. He landed against a crate some twenty yards away, his head slamming against a wood beam. Pain seared into his skull and down his spine.
He lay there for a few minutes as the smoke and debris swirled around him. In the distance he could hear something crackling. After lifting his head slightly, he saw flames breaking out. Within minutes the whole place would be consumed by fire.
As he tried to gather his strength, Zane saw the outline of a body moving toward him. His vision was still blurred by the impact of the fall, but he didn’t need to see clearly in order to know what was approaching. Remembering his gun, he felt around with his right hand, but there was nothing there. It had been separated from him in the blast.
The shadow grew closer and Zane knew that, without a weapon, it would all be over soon. At least the giant creature’s size meant that death would be quick and merciful.
The silhouette of a head soon appeared and descended toward him. Zane braced for the impact, preparing to die with dignity. And then, as he lay there waiting, two hands reached out through the smoke.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
AMANDA HIGGS SAT inside the enclosed section of a rooftop terrace on the outskirts of Florence. Her left leg was propped up on an ottoman, the lower portion encased in a walking boot, the result of her injury from a few weeks before.
The American archaeologist had traveled the world over, but the late afternoon view of Florence was perhaps the most stunning she had ever seen. Rising above the sea of rust-colored rooftops was the famed Duomo, with its eight white ribs and terracotta tiles. Beyond the city, the mountains and clouds fused together in varying shades of lavender and blue, a sight that would shame the greatest impressionist painters.
The terrace on which Amanda sat was part of a five-story luxury home owned by Valente Graziano. Valente was known as one of the city’s most respected dealers of fifteenth-century art, but more importantly, he was the favorite uncle of Carmen Petrosino.
It was Carmen who had first suggested that she, Zane, and Amanda unwind there while Amanda’s ankle healed. She told Amanda that it was the least they could do for the girl’s willingness to put her life on the line in order to find her father’s killer.
*
“Carmen.” Amanda turned to the Italian, who was sitting on her right. “Question.”
“Si?”
Amanda pointed out the window to the right. “I know that’s the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore over there.”
“The Duomo,” Zane said in his best Italian accent. He was seated on Amanda’s left, sipping a glass of Dolcetto red wine.
“Yes, the Duomo.” Amanda moved her finger to the left, pointing at a tower a few blocks away. “But what is that?”
Carmen followed her finger. “Ah, that’s the Palazzo Vecchio.”
“Ah, yes,” Amanda replied. “I remember it now from one of my college classes. Aren’t there some Roman ruins at that site?”
Carmen nodded. “There are. The fortress you see was built on top of an ancient Roman theater at the end of the thirteenth century. Today it serves two purposes: it’s a museum, and it’s also our town hall.”
“Amazing.”
“Because of its size and the beauty of its dome, the Duomo gets all the press. But for my money, the Palazzo Vecchio is the more fun place to visit.”
Zane patted Amanda’s boot lightly. “And when this baby comes off next week, we’re going to take you down there.”
Amanda beamed. “I would absolutely love that. And as much as I’m enjoying this view, I can’t wait to go exploring.”
Zane smiled. “You know, Carmen, I never grow tired of Florence. I still can’t figure out why anyone would leave all of this to do what we do.”
“If I chose to stay here, who would save you the next time you’re tied up in the back of a boat?”
“Listen, I may have been drugged, but I seem to remember it was Connor who manned up and dove in that freezing water to get me,” he replied with a sly grin. He took another sip of the Dolcetto. “And besides, didn’t you know that I was there by design? How else was I going to penetrate the organization unless I allowed myself to be taken?”
Carmen shook her head. “Bugiardo! Do I have to tell Antoneo to cut you off?” Her uncle’s faithful butler had been refilling their drinks on the terrace. “You seem to be under some sort of alcohol-induced delusion. I actually remember the details a little differently. Something about you passing out from fear, and then Mironov’s men taking you without even having to fire a shot.”
“So now the story is that I just passed out from fear, eh?”
The phone on the table next to Zane began to vibrate. He looked at the screen, frowned, and then excused himself.
“So tell me,” Amanda said after Zane walked down the hall. “Is this where you spend most of your time when you’re in Florence?”
“No, I’m usually at my parents’ house. I do visit Uncle Valente quite a bit, though.”
“Not to get personal, but why are we here and not with your parents?”
Carmen paused, trying to hear what Zane was saying in the other room. When she realized she couldn’t hear him, she said, “First of all, Uncle Valente has a much better view.” She gestured toward the city. “Second, we’re here because it was the only way Dr. Ross would approve it.”
Amanda seemed confused. “Huh?”
“I’d better explain. Dr. Ross was not happy about us coming here with you to begin with. Typically, when we finish an operation, we go dark for a few months at one of our black sites in the States. It gets us off the radar, and we use the time to train and recharge our batteries. And initially that is exactly what we were going to do. But then Zane and I came up with a crazy idea. We decided that you needed a real vacation, not just some time at home sitt
ing in front of the TV. You were truly a big help, and we felt you deserved something special.”
“Really? You thought I was that important?”
“You put your life on the line. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen someone act in such a selfless way. You wanted to help find your father’s killer, and you didn’t seem the least bit concerned about what kind of danger that might put you in.” Carmen stared at her for a moment. “You were great, and we wanted you to have the best vacation possible.”
“You two are the best. You feel like the family I never had.” Amanda looked up as a flock of birds flew in front of the window and toward the city, as though drawn to its beauty. “But you said Dr. Ross didn’t want you to?”
“It’s not that he didn’t care about your recovery,” Carmen explained. “And he certainly didn’t have a problem with us paying for your vacation. But let’s just say he’s not one who violates organizational procedure very easily. There is a reason we do what we do, and in this case, he felt like we should follow procedure and go dark, especially since the Russian underworld is like a hornet’s nest right now. They get that way after one of their own is killed.” The Russian had died from his injuries a day after the events at CERN.
“To them he is a hero, a man Russians can be proud of. And they protect their own.” Carmen took another drink of wine. “Let me put it this way. If an operation arises in Russia or one of its former satellites, I seriously doubt Zane and I will be involved in any way.”
“So, how did you ever talk him into it?”
“Ross? It wasn’t easy. We stressed the uniqueness of this situation. We reminded him that a private American citizen had risked her very life to help us. Zane and I are usually pretty adept at making our case. How do you say it in English? We know how to push his buttons?”
“And that was enough?” Amanda asked.
“No. His preference was to give you an all-expenses-paid vacation to some tropical resort without yours truly and without Zane. He said Zane and I were prime targets and therefore needed to stay away from friends and family. Which is when I suggested we stay here.”
“But Valente is your uncle. I hope I’m not putting you guys in any sort of danger.”
“You’re not. Valente is only a distant uncle, and I’ve always kept our relationship private. Because of his wealth, and because of his status in the community, I’d say three-quarters of the people who live in and around Florence know who he is.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“No, but it’s not how I want to be known. I love him because he’s one of the most loving men I know. To me, he’s not a millionaire art dealer… he’s just my uncle.”
Carmen stopped as Zane walked back into the room and sat down. “That was the Oracle. Apparently, we ruffled quite a few feathers in Bern and in Paris.”
“Uh oh.”
“Since we don’t technically exist, the Director has stepped in and taken the reins. All the Swiss and French know is that we were intelligence operatives.”
“But it still sounds like a diplomatic nightmare.”
“The good news is that the Director was able to smooth everything over with the Swiss. The French may take a little more work, although he thinks that in the end they’ll forgive us as well. He reminded them that the largest particle physics laboratory in the world might have become a giant crater had we not intervened.”
“Was that enough to placate them for now?”
“Their response was that we should’ve brought them in once we knew where Markus VanGelder was being taken.”
“We had our reasons for not telling them,” Carmen said, “but it’s understandable that they would be pissed.”
*
As Zane took another sip of the Dolcetto, he thought about all that had happened over the last few weeks. He would always be grateful for his new friend, Pastor Philippe Bachand. It was Philippe who had grabbed him after the explosion, which had been the result of the collider being powered down so quickly. It was also Philippe who had used every remaining ounce of strength to drag him back to the elevator, whisking him away to safety just as the underground chamber became choked with flames.
Zane finished the last of the Dolcetto and set the glass on the table. He still felt uneasy about some of the memories he had of the events at CERN. How much of what he remembered was true? He still didn’t know, even after spending time with a DC shrink the Oracle had recommended. The mind is a powerful thing, the man had said; it had the capacity to perceive the real, and it also had the capacity to fabricate that which was not real. He said exhaustion, the lingering effects of the drugs, and the smoke inhalation could very well have combined to create a cocktail of fantastical images.
And if some partition had been opened, letting in some unspeakable horror, the abrupt shutting down of the collider had apparently sucked everything back through the portal before it closed again. The French and Swiss authorities claimed to have searched every square inch of the buildings and all seventeen miles of tunnel. They never found Marrese, and they never found anything else.
The operative planned on visiting Pastor Philippe at some point in the future, but he still wasn’t sure if he’d ask him what he saw that night. The answer might raise more questions than it answered. The operative thought that he'd rather just let the images fade.
Antoneo suddenly appeared from the back of the room with an open bottle of Dolcetto, prepared to refill the operative’s empty glass. Zane wasn't sure whether he should continue drinking but finally nodded. It was vacation, so why not? He turned to Carmen and picked up where they had left off. “The Director reminded the Swiss and French that we didn't know VanGelder was there until we actually went in. And there wasn’t sufficient time to bring in a police force big enough to handle the job. By the time we got there, they had already commandeered the facility and starting up the collider.”
“True,” Carmen replied, “but you still can’t blame them for being a little hot.”
“No, you’re right,” Zane said. “To be honest, we were very fortunate that most of our operation took place on Swiss soil. They tend to be pretty even-tempered about these kinds of things.”
“So there are no repercussions?” Carmen asked.
“Only one. If we ever need to operate on Swiss soil again, we have to get permission from the FIS first.”
“I guess it could’ve been worse. Did the Oracle say whether we were going to abide by that?”
“He said, ‘We’ll see.’”
Carmen laughed.
“The good news is that the FIS is great to work with. I’ve already been in touch with my contacts over there, trying to help in their search our friend, the priest.”
Amanda leaned forward in her chair. “Wait a minute, are you talking about Marrese? He wasn’t caught?”
“No, he wasn’t.” Zane studied his wineglass. He had a vague memory of seeing Marrese’s body being thrown against the tunnel wall, although like everything else, he couldn’t be sure it hadn’t been a hallucination. Who knew whether the former priest was alive or dead? The explosion had been so intense that even if a body were there, it had probably been incinerated.
“Weren’t his disciples arrested? Don’t they know where he is?”
“Yes, but they’ll never give him up. Their group was essentially a cult, and these disciples were brainwashed by the master of such things. They would rather die than betray him.”
“And what about the German?”
“He died instantly,” Carmen answered. “We would have preferred to have taken him alive so that he could face justice, but Keiko did the only thing she could to save all of us, including Dr. VanGelder.”
Amanda’s eyes began to water upon hearing the robot’s name. She stared at the floor for a moment before speaking, “And Keiko, did—”
But she was unable to finish, choked up with emotion. She knew the answer to the question and didn’t need to ask. Carmen placed a hand on Amanda’s knee and sque
ezed it. Carmen then exchanged an odd glance with Zane, who turned to the back of the room and spoke using his limited Italian. “Antoneo, can you bring Amanda another orange juice please?”
The butler bowed slightly, gave him a knowing smile, and disappeared down the hall.
Carmen put her arm around Amanda and pulled her close. “I know it must be hard. Keiko was special. She was almost like one of us, only without all the complications. Your father would have been proud.”
Amanda sniffled, tears flowing down both cheeks. She had been tough for so long, but it was time to release all of the emotions that had built up over the last several weeks.
“And I’ll say this,” Carmen continued. “I don’t know if love is the right word, because I’m not sure any of us truly knows what that means, but she cared about you and your father deeply.”
Amanda began to sob, overwhelmed with grief.
But suddenly there was a sound at the back of the room that caused her to stop crying. It was a low whine, like the movement of mechanical parts. Strange, yet familiar.
As the noise approached, Amanda lifted her head but didn’t turn around. She seemed confused and yet strangely excited at the same time.
Soon the whining stopped, and a gloved hand appeared at her side, holding a glass of orange juice.
Turning around to see who was holding the glass, Amanda’s eyes widened, and she let out a shout of joy. Standing next to her chair was Keiko, her synthetic skin even more vibrant and fresh than before the explosion. The humanoid smiled and bowed slightly.
Despite her badly sprained ankle, Amanda leapt from her chair and wrapped her arms around the robot. Keiko responded by lifting her arms and wrapping them around Amanda as best she could.
Amanda pulled back and looked into the robot’s eyes. “I… you …”
“I was not supposed to be here?” Keiko's mouth turned up in a smile.
Amanda looked over at Carmen and Zane for help. “How did this happen?”
Zane set his glass down, walked over, and placed his hand on the robot’s shoulder. “Your father placed two explosive devices in Keiko’s body. One of those devices was in her legs and contained enough power to destroy anything around her. Our guess is that Alexander Mironov had requested that. Your father also placed a smaller one inside her titanium torso. The smaller one was meant to destroy her internal technology in case a competitor took her. That way, her body could be reused in the event that it was recovered.